I stared as they moved in tune, working around each other perfectly, as if they’d done it a million times before. How many times had they cleaned up after his murders? A shiver ripped through my body, turning my blood cold. Would I have to see something like that again?
My eyes fixed on the small sliver of Violet I could still see. She looked peaceful, as if she were sleeping. Of course, I knew she wasn’t. Rose zipped the bag up, and I sagged in relief, mentally thanking her for creating the plastic shield between Violet’s face and my eyes. But I knew I’d never forget it. My head pounded and heart raced as I struggled with what I’d just witnessed.
“Good-bye,” Poppy whispered and placed her hand over where Violet’s heart was.
I watched in horror as they stood up and collected a bucket, filling it with water. They were going to mop up the blood and then it would be like it never happened.
The water in the bucket quickly turned pink as it mixed with the blood; it looked like one of my mum’s cocktails, and I tried to pretend that’s exactly what it was. My stomach turned when Poppy lifted the mop to rinse it, a string of blood stretched between the floor and the sponge pad and dripped back to the floor.
The horribly strong metallic smell bulldozed its way through the eye-watering lemon scent and I gagged. As quickly as the blood had poured onto the floor, it was gone. They were fast but thorough—not one spot was left unclean. How many times?
If it weren’t for Violet lying in a bag in the corner of the room, you would never know someone had just been murdered here. That was the scariest, most horrific thing I had ever witnessed, and they just cleaned it all up as if they were mopping muddy footprints. Their brief moment of sadness seemed long gone.
“He’ll be back to get the body after he’s had a shower,” Poppy said, sighing and looking at Violet. The body. She wasn’t even a person to them anymore. Was that why they get through it and how they’re able to be so calm now? See a body, not a person. I tried. I pictured Violet—the body—with no face and no name. I took everything away from her until she was just a lump of meat. But I still wanted to collapse and scream until I lost my voice.
I sat back down and gripped my hands to try to stop them from shaking. “How many people has he…you know?” I whispered. Murdered. Poppy looked away and I gritted my teeth. Violet wasn’t the first; he’d done it before. That was what I’d heard the other night. I whimpered, curling into a ball on the sofa.
Rose lowered her head and replied, “Eight since I’ve been here, including Violet.”
9
CLOVER
Saturday, March 25th (2005)
Loneliness was like a terminal disease. With every passing day you faded just that little bit more. I had felt as if I were dying for the past four years and I’d had enough. Combing my hair one last time, I slid my wallet in my back pocket and picked up my keys. The girls’ room was finished and had been for three days now. There was just one thing missing before I would be ready for them—their clothes.
On the way to the department store, I stopped off at my local florist to buy a bunch of yellow tulips for my mother. They were her favorite. I never liked them, but I appreciated their natural beauty and purity.
“Good morning, Colin,” Mrs. Koop said and smiled from behind the fresh-flower-filled counter.
I returned her smile and inhaled the fresh aroma of a mixture of flowers. “Good morning.”
“Would you like your usual?”
I nodded once. “Please.”
“Coming right up, dear.” She turned her back and gathered a handful of bright tulips, tying them with yellow ribbon. “How are you doing?”
“I’m fine, thank you. And yourself?”
“Oh, same old, same old,” she replied and gave me her motherly smile. “That’ll be ten pounds, please.” I handed over cash. “Thank you. Have a lovely day.”
“And you, Mrs. Koop.”
I drove to the graveyard, smiling to myself. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day for early March. It wouldn’t be too much longer and I would be alive again. I wouldn’t drown in the silence and emptiness of my home anymore.
For a minute I sat in the parking lot and stroked the tulip’s delicate, silky petals. No man had tampered with them or damaged them. They were pure and innocent—something that wasn’t often found in this world of greed, disgrace, and self-gratification. The wrong people were protected while the innocent were left to be picked at like a lion’s prey. I wanted to stop that. I wanted my family to be protected from the outside evil. I will stop that. I will protect them. I knew how and I was willing to do it. It seemed as if I were the only one out there willing to do what it took.