By Sissy

Rush hour traffic! Alex always hated it when she had to be on the highway this time of the day, but today, she had no choice. She’d been called to Ft. Worth for a last minute deposition and now she’s on her way to pick up Angela at HOPE house before going home.

The closer she gets to Dallas, the thicker the traffic becomes and it seems, the angrier the drivers are. Her eyes and mind are alert to the cars on either side, behind and in front of her, as all the drivers seem bent on being first to wherever they are going.  She feels like a driver at the Indy 500.

Suddenly, a car on the left side, beeps his horn, switches his turn signal on, and then immediately begins to pull over into her lane. She taps her brake, but is unable to slow as the car behind her is practically on her bumper. Glancing to the right, she sees just enough room to pull over before the car on her left takes her place in the lane. Now the car behind her in the new lane leans on the horn letting her know what he thinks of her moving over in front of him. He moves up as close as he can possibly get behind her, continually blowing his horn until she finally turns onto the ramp that takes her off of the interstate into downtown Dallas.

Thankful that she is out of that madness, she takes a deep breath and slows to a saner speed.  She stops when the light turns yellow, glad to have a chance for her nerves to quiet down. But when she feels a bump from behind and glances in the rear view mirror, she sees the same driver that had been tailgating her. His face is contorted in rage as he flails his arm out of the window at her. She sees his mouth working, but thankfully cannot hear what he is saying. The whole time she is sitting at the stoplight he keeps bumping into her, sending tight little jolts up her back and neck.

When the light turns green she moves swiftly through the intersection, hoping the guy would go off into a different direction, but he doesn’t, he stays right on her tail. Not wanting this lunatic to follow her to the HOPE House where she needs to pick up Angela, she drives instead to the Courthouse, hoping the idea of running into a lawman would deter him and leave her alone.

But she is oh, so wrong. The disgruntled driver stays with her the entire way to the parking lot behind the courthouse. She pulls into a parking space and before she can shut the engine off, the crazy driver pulls right up behind her, hitting her bumper again, sending a sharp pain up through her neck.  When she sees him get out of his car coming toward her, she panics, but knows he can’t get in. She looks toward the back of the courthouse, just as Walker and Trivette come out.  She hits the horn, holding it, as the man at her window begins pounding on it with his fists.

Hearing the horn, Walker looks up and smiles when he sees that it’s Alex. But when the horn continues to blow he knows something is wrong. Then the man pounding at her window comes into view and Walker pulls his gun and takes off into a sprint towards her car.

When the angry driver sees the Ranger running towards him with a gun in his hand, his anger recedes somewhat and he rushes to get back into his car and swiftly drives away.

Leaving the cause of his anger behind, he vows that he will get even.  His day had started going sour when his wife had told him to get out and never come back; she was filing for divorce, then had really hit rock bottom when he had gotten a pink slip at work. Then the dumb blonde had cut in front of him on the freeway, and that had been the last straw.  He needed to take his rage out on someone, and she had become the target.

Going home, he finds his clothes in bags and boxes on the front porch and the locks changed on the doors. Knowing the nosy old bitch, Mrs. Wallace, is watching next door, he throws his clothes in the car and drives away.


When the crazy man drives off, Alex unlocks her door and steps out as Walker approaches her car. “What the hell was that all about,” he demands.

She turns to face him, still shaky, “I think … that was a classic case of road rage.”

“Road rage? What happened?”

“Coming back from Ft. Worth, a car forced me out of my lane right in front of this guy … and I don’t think he was too happy.  It seems like all the drivers were in a sour mood today, and his was the worst.”

“He followed you all the way from the interstate? He must’ve really been torqued. I’m glad you didn’t stop and try to confront him, God knows what he would have done.”

“Not me.  I’ve heard too many stories about ‘road rage’ and I wasn’t going to take any chances, that’s why I didn’t go get Angela, I didn’t want him following me to the HOPE House.”

“Good thinking, he might have come in after you.”

“Well, he’s gone now. I think I’ll go get Angela and go on home. Are you done for the day?”

“Yes, but I need to pick up the part for the lawn mower before I come home. If I don’t get the grass mowed soon, we’ll have to bale it.”

“Okay, hon, I’ll see you at home.” She tilts her face up for his kiss, letting her hand caress his cheek, as he moves his lips softly over hers.

He lifts his head and gives her a warm smile, his body reacting to her touch the way it always does. He takes her hand and helps her back into the car, bending down to brush his mouth over hers once more before whispering, “I love you,” then shutting the door. He watches till she backs out of the space and moves into the street.

Walking back to where Trivette is standing, “Hey, man, what was that all about?”

“Trivette, I think it was a case of road rage, and I’m not too happy about it.”
”Man, I wouldn’t be either. I’ve heard some weird stories about that. Some people really get carried to the extreme from some slight that happens on the road and this hot weather doesn’t help.”

“I know. Thank God, we have the weekend, maybe everything will calm down. Maybe we’ll get a good rain and cool everyone off.”


It did rain and the temperature cooled, but the angry motorist, Jack Templeton, did not. He is still in a rage over the injustices that fell upon him that day. He paces the floor in the small motel room that he rented, ranting and raving, swearing to get even.  First he would take care of his wife and then he would show his boss, also a woman, what he thought of her. He will have his day.


But it’s different in the Walker household, as the morning starts off on different note.

“Ahhhh … WALKER … Oh, God, please…” Alex cries out, begging for desperate release from the explosive pressure between her thighs, her hips arching, she finds her hands tangled in his hair, holding his head in place, as his tongue spears deep into her heat, she moans and shakes helplessly. Release bursts through her like a fiery river and he slides his body upward to cover her with his own as she collapses from the intense climax. While she is still gasping with the shattering sensations, he settles between her thighs and leans over her, bracing his arms on the bed beside her. She looks down between them, watching as he slowly disappears inside her and then looks up to see him staring intently at her. As he begins to thrust into her, she places her hands on his forearms, bracing herself. His pace increases, pounding into her swiftly and deeply, her body moving under the steady lunging of his body. She wraps her bare legs around his waist, her fingernails digging into his arms, crying out and twisting to meet his thrusts.

As they move together, their mouths mimic their lower bodies, his tongue lashing into her mouth, her lips sucking and pulling at his tongue. Their pulses pound in an untamed rhythm, their bodies gliding slickly as they move together to touch new heights. He takes her with powerful thrusts without restraint and she gives herself fully, gladly, meeting him stroke for silken stroke.

Deep inside her the pressure climbs, coiling, tightening. She rides the crest of his passion, of her own white-hot need, until it shatters her. Until wave after wave of pleasure washes over her and the spasms rack her again.

He moves faster, harder, taking her even higher. One more powerful thrust, one more maddening surge into her, and he shudders in her arms, helpless and gasping. Then he collapses on top of her, his breath labored and ragged while she floats back to reality.

It’s a long time before either of them can move, and then it’s Walker who eases his weight onto his elbows and looks down at her with eyes that are still dark and intent.

Alex lifts her arms to wrap them around his neck, “I love you,” she murmurs, then traces her finger around his lips, “but I think we need to get up.”

“Uh-uh, I’m not through with you, yet,” he says, as he begins to spread little butterfly kisses over her face, her neck.

A sharp intake of breath, her voice raspy, “I … think we’ll have to postpone it … till tonight?”


“Honey … Angela…”

“Huh?” lifting his head, his eyes still glazed over with desire, then the noise from his daughter’s room penetrates his ears, and he groans and rolls to his back, laying his arm across his eyes in frustration, knowing that if she isn’t attended to she will climb out of the crib and come looking for them.

Alex giggles as she rolls out of bed, and grabbing her robe at the foot of the bed and slipping it on, goes to take care of Angela.

After dressing Angela, she leaves her playing in her room and returns to the bedroom, finding Walker gone. She moves to the window and sees him walking toward the barn.  She smiles, knowing he is doing double duty, taking care of the horses and working off his frustration.

She takes a shower, dressing lightly as the temperature is, again, suppose to soar up into the 90’s, picks up Angela and goes downstairs to start preparing breakfast. Her Cowboy will be hungry when he comes in.

Entering the house he smells the wonderful odors coming from the kitchen and takes the stairs, two steps at a time. He showers and pulls on a muscle t-shirt and shorts and heads downstairs. Hearing the soft humming, and Angela’s childish attempt to sing along, Walker inches up to the kitchen door, to find Alex, dressed in a white cotton tank top and cut off jeans, busy getting the ingredients together for their breakfast. She seems to be oblivious of him leaning against the door jam, but he is definitely aware of her. He can tell she has no bra on by the sway of her breasts as she bends, turns and twists and the soft jiggle as she beats the eggs for scrambling and although they had made delicious love before rising this morning he feels a tightening in his groin again.

WAL…” she looks up to see him in the doorway, “…ker! Oh … sorry. Breakfast is ready.”

He moves toward her, “Good … I’m hungry.” He takes her in his arms and begins kissing her, letting his hand slip up under her tank top to cup her warm breasts.

“Walker … behave yourself, your daughter...” she murmurs as his touch sends her senses spiraling, the blood rushing through her veins. Her hands climb his chest and circle his neck, letting her fingers play with the hair at the nape.

The shrill ring of the phone pulls them apart, and Walker grumbles, “Trivette … it’s got to be Trivette.”

“Yeah,” he barks into the phone.

“Walker, Thompson has been sited at Pendleton’s Place in Ft. Worth, he’s under surveillance but we need to get over there as soon as possible.”

“Where are you?”

“At headquarters.”

“Okay, I’ll pick you up in 20 minutes.”

“Gotta go hon,” he says, running out of the kitchen. Hearing him pounding up the stairs, she sighs deeply, thinking another weekend shot to hell. She stands at the door, thinking of the picnic they had planned on taking, and wondering if they will ever have a complete weekend without interruptions.

He comes downstairs, fully dressed, ready for work, and seeing Angela waiting at the foot of the stairs, picks her up in his arms.  “Good morning, angel,” he kisses her, “Daddy’s gotta go.” He hands Angela into Alex’s hands, says, “I love you. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” then pulling them both into his arms, kisses his wife deeply and then dashes out the door to his truck.


Going on 10:00 and Walker’s still not home, unable to sleep, she walks quietly through the house, the darkness and solitude having a calming effect on her nervous energy. He had called about nine and said for her not to wait up; it looked like it was going to be an all-nighter.  She had asked him to be careful and then gone upstairs, and after checking on Angela, had gotten into bed, but unable to sleep, had gone downstairs.

Leaving the door open so as to hear Angela, she steps out onto the front porch. The night air is crisp and refreshing and she breathes it deep into her lungs. Sitting on the swing, she sets it into a gentle sway with one bare foot, bringing the other up underneath her.

She has confidence in her husband’s ability to take care of himself but she still worries, even more so when she is at home alone with nothing to occupy her thoughts. Days are better but only because she is kept busy with being the Deputy District Attorney.


            Jack Templeton moves stealthily around the house, staying in the shadows. His house, the one he’d worked his butt off to make payments on.  He grins evilly as he bends down to the basement window, knowing he can get in because the lock on it has been broken forever.

            From the basement he makes his way quietly up the stairs, where he picks up a bat that’s leaning in the corner, and pushes open the door into the kitchen. He makes his way down the hall to the master bedroom, finding the door slightly ajar, he sees his wife laying on the bed with her back to him.  He moves closer to the bed, the moonlight from the window falling across his face, disfigured with hate. He raises the bat and brings it down … again … and again, all the time laughing hysterically, “Take that you old bitch, I hope you’re happy now.”

            He finally drops the bat and turns away from the bed and the mangled body of his wife. He glances down at his clothes, sees all the blood, and goes across the hall to the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes and steps into the shower, standing under the hot water, until it turns cold. He wraps a towel around his torso and gathering up his clothes and takes them to the laundry room, tosses them in the washer, sets the time and temperature, puts in soap and closes the lid.

            Going to the living room, he turns on the television and sits down on the couch where he dozes off. He wakes an hour later, puts his clothes in the dryer and returns to the couch in front of the TV and dozes off again. The next time he wakes, the room is bright with the early morning sunlight coming in the windows. He gets his clothes out of the dryer and puts them on and leaves the house by the front door, unconcerned that he has witnesses. He has a broad smile on his face, “One down, two to go.”


            Walker looks down at Alex, snuggled against his side, then leans over and kisses her softly on the top of her head. When he had come home early this morning he had found her asleep on the swing, and picked her up and taken her to bed, never waking her. He checks on Angela, finding his daughter asleep on her belly with her knees drawn up under her, her bottom up in the air. He leans over and kisses her on the cheek, pats her bottom lightly and returns to the bedroom, where Alex is still lying right where he put her. He takes his gun and belt off, putting them on top of the dresser, pulls his boots off and unbuttoning his shirt goes into the bathroom, shutting the door so as not to disturb his wife. Coming from the shower, he drops the towel on the floor and slips under the sheet and when he touches her she rolls into his arms, sighs deeply, knowing instinctively that all is right with her world.

Alex wakes to the insistent ringing of the phone, moans at the unwelcome intrusion and snuggles deeper into the warmth of her husband’s body.  She opens one eye slightly and seeing the room awash with sunshine, rises up enough to see the clock on the nightstand.  Just barely 6:00a.m.

Walker reaches for the phone with one hand, tightening the other around Alex, pulling her back down to his side. “Walker.”

“Short night, Walker. There’s been a brutal murder on the north side. A woman was beaten to death and according to an eye-witness, it was her husband.”

“He was caught beating her?”

“No, he was seen walking out of the house. His neighbor said he left the door wide open and she knew that the woman had thrown her husband out earlier in the evening. Got worried and went over to check. Found her in the bedroom, beaten with a baseball bat. He left it lying on the floor beside the bed.”

“When did it happen, Trivette?”

“This woman is an early riser, and after she saw this guy leave she high-tailed it right over, called it in immediately.”

“Okay, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“What is it, honey?” Alex asks when he pulls his arm from under her and sits up on the edge of the bed.

“A murder; a woman was beaten to death, apparently by her husband.”

“Oh, God.”

He stands, goes to the dresser, throws clean socks onto the bed and getting clean underwear, slips them on and grabs a clean pair of jeans out of the closet, struggles into them and as he zips up and buttons, he returns to the bed to put his socks and boots on.

“Go back to sleep Alex, I don’t imagine it was to comfortable sleeping in the swing.”

“In the swing?” And then she remembers, “I did fall asleep there, didn’t I. And you carried me up to bed.” She pulls herself up on her knees and wraps her arms around his neck from behind. “My hero; you’re so good to me.”

He turns, pulling her across his lap, “I am at that. But that’s because I love you so much.”

“I love you, too, and I’d show you just how much if you didn’t have to leave.” She pulls his head down to hers; giving him a taste of just what he is missing.

“There’s always tonight.” He reaches down to cup her, squeezing gently and letting his fingers part the soft flesh, and finding her moist and ready, he murmurs, “Keep it warm for me.”


He kisses her, stands and moves to the dresser to get his gun and belt. “You want to come in later, maybe we can have lunch at C.D.’s?”

“I’d like that.” She watches him walk toward the door, “Honey, be careful.”

“Always.” Then he is gone. When she hears the front door close, she snuggles back under the sheets, and still tingling where he had touched her, she shuts her eyes and goes back to sleep.


Walker pulls up to the curb and feels his throat tighten when he sees the yellow tape strung around the front of the house, knowing what he’s going to find inside.  He takes a deep breath, ducks under the tape and as Trivette moves over to talk to the neighbors, he walks up the sidewalk and through the door.

A policeman points down the hall, “Down there. It’s pretty bad.”

Walker doesn’t say anything, just nods and moves down the hall. He steps into the room where the forensics team is busy looking for evidence, and seeing the coroner, moves over to stand next to him.

“Hi Bill. Pretty bad isn’t it?”

“Yeah, the worst. But, thankfully, she never saw it coming. She died almost instantly.”

“How long has she been dead?”

“My guess is about 5 hours, we’ll know more after the autopsy. A person was seen leaving early this morning. But what doesn’t make sense is that after he killed her, he took a shower and washed and dried his clothes. And he evidently watched TV while he waited because when we got here it was still on.”

“So I’ve been told.”  Walker turns to leave, “Send over the full report as soon as you can, okay?”

The coroner nods and Walker leaves the room and the house. Stepping outside, he takes a deep breath, trying to clear the stench of death out of his senses. He looks around for Trivette, and finding him by the truck, moves over to stand by him.

“What did you find out?”

            “Mrs. Wallace, the neighbor and good friend of Mrs. Templeton, says she saw Mr. Templeton leave the house at 5:30. When he left the door open she went to investigate.”

            “We need to get a picture of Mr. Templeton.”

            “Got one, Mrs. Wallace had one,” Trivette hands him a snapshot of a middle-aged couple, “Mr. and Mrs. Templeton.”

            “Let’s get this out over the air, put an APB out on this guy. He sounds like a time bomb ready to blow.”


            It’s 12:30 by the time Walker makes it to C.D.’s. He’s still shaken by what he had seen that morning, no matter how many times he’s been called to investigate the atrocities that man inflicts upon man, he can’t get use to it.

            He pushes open the door to the Bar and Grill and hears the happy giggles of his daughter and all the bleak and oppressiveness of his morning disappears.  Coming into the room, he sees Angela sitting on her mother’s lap, with Jonesy playing and laughing with her. When she sees her daddy she starts wiggling to get down. Alex sees the object of her daughter’s desire and stands her on the floor, where she immediately runs to her daddy, crying, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!”

            Walker scoops her up into his arms, gives her a hug and kisses her, “How’s my little angel?” He asks as he walks over to the bar.

            “Hi, Cowboy,” Alex murmurs as she waits for his kiss.

            “Hi, honey.”

            Seeing the lingering affects of his newest case, “Rough, huh?”

            “Yeah, it was.”

            They move to a booth and order lunch, and Alex makes sure the conversation stays light, giving him a chance to regroup his thoughts before having to go back and start the process of searching for the one responsible for his disturbing morning.

            When Alex sees Jimmy come in the door, she looks at her husband and watches as his face changes from that of a loving husband and father to one pulled back into the mode of a lawman.

            Walker stands, as does Alex, slipping his arms around her waist and holding her close, he kisses her softly, “I’ll be home as soon as I can,” gives her another kiss and then turns and walks out the door with his partner.


            Alex sits curled up in a chair, an open book in her lap, but she hasn’t read a word in over an hour. At every sound she glances out the window, but the truck she is waiting for doesn’t appear. Giving up on the book, she closes it, stands and goes out on the front porch.

            The temperature has cooled since the sun has gone down, making the night pleasant and comfortable. Feeling a soft touch against her leg, she looks down and sees Toy, who has to be the ugliest cat in existence, looking up expectantly at her. She reaches down and runs her fingers over his head and down his back, starting up a loud purr of contentment.

            When she sits down on the swing, Toy jumps up and lies down at her side.  Having appointed himself to be Angela’s guardian, ever since the snake incident, Toy is usually hard to find, unless Angela is around, but for some reason when Walker is away late at night, he sticks fairly close to the house.  She, unconsciously, begins to stroke the soft fur of the large cat, “What are you doing up here, Toy, no more mice in the barn?”

            Suddenly Toy stands stretches and jumps down from the swing, strolling unhurriedly out to where the car is parked. Then Alex’s hears it, the unmistakable sound of the Ram. She stands at the rail as two beams of light slice through the darkness moving slowly up the drive. The truck stops and Walker steps out, leans over and strokes the large ball of fur, then continues on up to the porch to take his wife in his arms, holding her tight against him.

            She feels the tension slowly ebb from his body as if the warmth of her body pushes away the harsh realities of his job letting in the love of his home and family.


            Monday morning is hot and humid with the threat of rain making the day dreary as well as unbearable. And Jack Templeton still has a bone to pick, with his boss. He sits slouched down in his car, across the street from the building where he used to work, waiting … waiting for the one responsible for at least half of his misery.  The person responsible for the other half … well, she won’t be giving him any more grief.

            His body suddenly stiffens as he sees Wilma Winberger, his boss, parking her car in her reserved spot, and making her way to the door. Jack grabs the tire iron that he had previously taken from the trunk and quickly gets out of his car and hurries across the street. When she unlocks and pushes open the door, Jack pushes in right behind her.

            When Winberger turns around to face the intruder, her face pales and she begins backing away. Terror grips her as she sees the hate on Jack Templeton’s face.  She begins pleading and begging for her life, but when her former employee reaches out to grab her, she screams and struggles to get free. But her fear is no match for Jack Templeton’s rage as he raises the tire iron over his head.

            Jack looks down at the crumpled mass at his feet, straightens and backs away, dropping the tire iron to the floor. Laughing like a lunatic he stumbles back toward the door. Passing the janitor’s closet he opens it and grabs a pair of coveralls, slips them on, and continues on out the door.

            Sliding into his car, he starts the engine and moves out into the street. It’s done. Ain’t no one going to treat Jack Templeton like dirt and get away with it. I showed them, both of them! He’s sitting at a stop sign when an SUV crosses the street in front of him. Damn, that’s the same dame who cut in front of me.

            Alex has plenty of time to get Angela to the HOPE House before going to work, but has a lot on her mind and doesn’t notice that a car has zigzagged through traffic to come up behind her. When she stops at a light, she gets a hard bump on her bumper. Looking up in the rear view mirror, she sees a man waving out his window at her. Panic takes over as she recognizes the man as the same one from the interstate the Friday before.  She has Angela in the back seat, Oh God! Frantically she digs out her cell phone and pushes the button that direct dials her to Walker.


            “Walker, he’s after me again. And I’ve got Angela, he’s crazy.”

            He hears the soft cries of his daughter over the phone, “Alex, who’s after you?”

            “The guy from the interstate, the one with the road rage. He’s behind me, ramming me from behind.”

            “Where are you, Alex?”

            “I’m at…” she looks out the window for a street sign, “14th street and Meridian.”

            “Okay, I’m just three blocks away. Hang on, honey, I’m coming.”

            She gets another bump from behind, this time Angela cries out, “Mommy, stop it!”

            “I’m trying, baby, but the car…”

            Another bump, harder, the light changes and Alex gives it the gas and proceeds through the intersection with the man bent on revenge right behind her.  He stays right on her tail, practically pushing her along. At the next light when she stops he hits her harder, jarring her teeth. Angela is beginning to cry, “Mommy, make him stop!”

            “Daddy’s coming, honey. Then he’ll stop.” The light changes and she starts through the intersection, hearing a siren in the distance, and knowing it’s her husband. “Hurry, Walker, please hurry,” She murmurs, as she glances up in the mirror. The driver has dropped back and is now speeding towards her, this time with the intent to do some real damage. Alex tries to speed up but traffic in front of her makes it impossible to get out of his way.  Fear fills her at the thought of Angela getting hurt. Finding no way to turn to the side, she looks in the mirror again but this time she sees a silver gray truck pass the angry driver, easing in behind her. She breathes a sign of relief as Walker widens the distance between his truck and her SUV and when the Ram jerks she knows the car has rammed Walker’s truck.

            Walker stops and is out of the cab in a jiffy, pulling open the door of the car and yanking out the driver by the front of his coveralls, pulling them open down the front. Seeing the blood on the man’s shirt, he looks up into a face contorted in rage, and recognizes Jack Templeton.

            Grabbing his arms, Walker turns him around into the car, “Spread’em, Templeton.”

            Templeton, not sure how the Ranger knows his name, turns defensive by pushing back against Walker, shoving him out into the street. Turning, Templeton starts running, zigzagging through the traffic.   He turns around to see where the Ranger is and that’s when the truck gets him, knocking him at least 10 feet, landing in a crumpled heap.

            Walker kneels beside him, feeling for a pulse. Jack opens his eyes and mutters out loud, “I got them. I … got all … three of them.” His head falls to the side and Walker wonders at his last words.

A man at his side says, “I’ve called for an ambulance, they should be here any minute.”

            “There’s no hurry now,” Walker says, turning away, moving back to where he left his truck.

            When Walker stopped in traffic, Alex had pulled to the side of the street at the first opportunity, waiting for him.

            “Alex, are you and Angela all right?” he says when he pulls up along side of her car.

            “Yes, we’re fine. Walker, do you know who that was?”

“Why don’t you take Angela to HOPE house and then come to Ranger Headquarters. I’ll explain everything there.”

Alex gets off the elevator and walks down the hall to Ranger Headquarters. Pushing open the door, she finds Walker at his desk with Trivette, Sydney and Gage sitting in chairs close by. Walker stands when he sees his wife, “Come on over here, honey, and I’ll fill you in about why this guy was so full of road rage.”

She looks at him puzzled, “He had a reason? I thought it was just the heat and the bumper to bumper traffic.”

            “That probably had a lot to do with it, and you being forced into his lane was like a match to gasoline. But, what started it was that his wife kicked him out of the house that morning. Then, when he got to work, he was given a pink slip, fired, let go. So he was really in a rage by the time he got on the road to go home.”

            “And my cutting him off, gave him someone to vent his anger on.”

            “Yes, but that’s not all. Remember that call I got yesterday morning? The woman who was beaten to death was his wife.  He had taken a baseball bat to her, and we just found out a few minutes ago that he had laid in wait at his work place this morning and beaten his boss to death with a tire iron.”

            Alex’s face turns white, and when her legs begin to shake, Walker immediately moves her over to sit in his chair. “Oh, God, Walker, if you hadn’t stopped him, he might have … Angela…”

            “Don’t think on that, honey. We did stop him, that’s what counts.”

            Trivette stands and puts his hand on Alex’s shoulder, “Which just goes to prove you don’t ever want to stop and confront an angry person in an automobile.”


            That night, Angela is sleeping soundly, but unbeknownst to them, Toy is sleeping under her crib, and Alex lies nestled in her husband’s warm embrace.

            “I can’t imagine how that man was feeling, like the world had turned against him, to make him lose his sanity like that.”

            “We all react differently to rejection and disappointment.”

            “I guess. I think the only thing that would make me lose it like that, would be if anything were to happen to you and Angela. But then, I’d probably just collapse in on myself and wither away.”

            “You’re not going to lose either one of us, remember that,” he says pulling her up and kissing her deeply.

            “Speaking of remembering … do you still remember where you left off … when you got that phone call just two days ago?”

            “Hmm … I do,” his voice husky with desire, “indeed I do. Seems to me I was about … here.” He murmurs as his hand slides down her body.

The End