Slammed Shut

Chapter One


The warm water lapped at the tips of her toes as Shannon stood at the edge of the Gulf staring out at the dolphins playing between the waves. Greg stood quite a ways back, giving her the time alone she needed. This case had been particularly hard on Shannon. It hit too close to home, became more personal with her than she normally allowed her cases to be. He smiled, thinking, Shannon gets involved in all her cases...that's what makes her so good at what she does.

He watched as she slowly walked down the beach, longing to go to her and hold her in his arms. She looked so small walking down the beach in comparison to the vastness of the Gulf. Five feet and one hundred pounds wasn't usually the size of a woman who decided she wanted to spend the last half of her life investigating cold cases.

He remembered the first day Shannon walked into the Anna Maria station. Most of the guys snickered and made those faces they usually made when a woman was assigned to their department. Shannon's size along with her short curly blonde hair caused more snickers than usual. The fact that she was already in her late forties didn't help either. He couldn't help remembering how he had admired her that first day, not only for the guts he knew it had to take to start a career like that at her age, but mostly for the way she stood up to the guys and almost at once was accepted by them.

Her easy way of fitting in and her sharp witty sense of humor had won them all over and her skills as an investigator were all it took for her to become part of the team. And yet, Greg thought, you never quite forgot that she was a woman. Her charm and poise got her into places none of them could get in. He smiled remembering how she had cracked the case that sent Johnny Merrco away for life, when she waltzed into the private men's club where he had been hiding for two months. The men in that club, including Johnny, were taken off guard by her entrance, and Greg laughed, wowed by her presence. He glanced over at her. She's one hell of a woman, he thought.

He sat down on the beach and looked out at the Gulf. Early morning on the beach usually meant a brilliant sunrise behind them, with the  with the illusion of crystal blue water. How many mornings had Greg and Shannon sat there, sipping orange juice, dressed in T-shirts and blue jeans they had thrown on after a night of sipping rum and cokes and making love for hours. This was their haven. The small beach front cottage she had bought with the insurance money from her husband's death five years ago. It's where they came after the close of a case, to regain their sanity.

Greg thought about the work they had both chosen to do. One of those jobs that someone has to do, but only a certain type of person could do it well. Solving cold cases is extremely emotional work. Not that the murder itself isn't, but dredging up the past for those involved in cold cases is like digging up the dead. Most people involved have moved on, accepted the past and pretty much gotten on with their lives. Stirring up the emotions from five, ten, sometimes twenty-five years ago can literally destroy lives that have been rebuilt since then. Unfortunately, the one who committed the murder also moves on. Paying no price for the crime that was committed. Those who work the cold cases don't like that. They want them caught. They want them to pay. They want justice. They want revenge for the victim. It's what drives them to solve what hadn't been solved years ago.

Shannon had that drive. Stronger than anyone Greg had worked with before. She had a passion for wanting the victims and those who knew and loved them, to finally rest in peace. She was relentless when it came to pursuing the truth and she didn't care what old scars she had to open to find it. It's what made her the best detective on the team. She never gave up until she filed the papers with the word "Closed" stamped on the front of them.

Greg turned and watched Shannon approach the path that ran from the beach to parking lot, 50 yards away. Steven’s path. Steven had been her first case, even though at the time she was the owner of a small boutique. Not a Cold Case Investigator.

Steven and Shannon had only been married a few short years when he was murdered, but she had loved him with a passion and was devastated by his death. After three months of investigation, the police still had no leads, no evidence left at the crime scene, and no witnesses to give any testimony as to what happened that morning when Shannon's life was ripped to shreds. There was nothing more they could do. Steven's files were shut and placed on the shelves where they kept all the boxes filled with unsolved murders. The Cold Case files.

Shannon wouldn't accept that. Her husband had gone out for his usual early morning run, and never came back. Two hours later another jogger found his body, half hidden by the sea grasses on the path he had taken to get to the beach. Greg looked up for a moment as Shannon approached that path, knowing what she was thinking. Remembering. At first, he had thought it was sort of morbid that Shannon had bought the cottage on the beach where her husband had been murdered, but as he got to know her, he knew she bought it for reasons other than being masochistic. Steven ran here because he loved it here. He had talked about his dream to live on this beach when he retired, even though he knew he'd never have that kind of money. Shannon had bought the beach house with his money, for HIM. He was on the beach he loved when he took his last breath, and even though losing him the way she did was hard on her, Shannon wanted to be close to the place he loved so much.

She had been told by the detectives that Steven had obviously been attacked by a vagrant. Brutally murdered and robbed of the wallet he carried in the back pocket of his running shorts. They even took his shoes. Something the detectives claimed was a sure fire clue to it being some unknown bum who probably didn't own a decent pair of shoes. And yet, there was only one small purchase of a meal put on one of the credit cards and no vagrants ever found wearing his tennis shoes. When they found the wallet, it still had the fifty dollars in it Steven carried. "Just in case", he always said. Just in case he twisted his ankle running and had to take a cab home. Just in case he met a hungry, homeless person on his jog. Just in case he passed a flower vendor on his way home, to buy Shannon a bouquet of wild flowers. He passed that vendor every morning and Shannon woke up every day as he leaned down, kissed her cheek, and laid the bouquet on his pillow as he walked past the bed into the bathroom for a shower.

That morning, Shannon woke a half hour later than usual. There was no kiss to wake her. No bouquet laying on the pillow next to her. Just a foreboding sense of dread. She tried to shake the feeling, but knew something was wrong. And yet she waited. What could she do? Call the police and tell them that her husband was half an hour late from his morning jog? Go out looking for him, only to pass him on his way home? She got up, told herself that he probably got into some sort of discussion with the flower vendor and got in the shower.

An hour later she was ready to go to work, even though she knew she wouldn't be able to leave to open the boutique until Steven got home. When the doorbell rang, Shannon started shaking. She made her way down the hallway to the stairs and slowly walked down them, as the doorbell rang again.

Somehow, she wasn't surprised to see the two police officers when she finally opened the door. Disappointed was what she felt. She knew they'd be standing on the brick walkway, she just hoped she was wrong for knowing that.

The male officer looked official and stiff but Shannon saw compassion on the face of the young female cop. Maybe this was the first time she had to do this, her voice quivered as she spoke the words Shannon didn't want to hear..."Mrs. Brill? I'm so sorry to have to..." Shannon didn't have to hear anymore.

Greg watched as Shannon made her way from the path back to the water. She brushed her hand across her face, as she stood staring out at the water. He knew as much as she loved the serenity of the ocean on calm sunny days, Shannon preferred the water this way when she was feeling this way. She told him once that after a storm, when the waves were slamming down on the beach that it helped with the anger that still lived inside her. She smiled and said, "If it's OK for the ocean to get angry, it's OK for me too. We'll both calm down and become peaceful again. We release some of the anger, a little at a time, and then the calm slowly reappears. And we're fine."

"One hell of a woman," Greg thought again.