Accused Criminal

Denny stayed for lunch, and helped Lana keep her mind off of the events that had transpired. Initially, Lana had wanted to tell her friend what she had overheard, but then her fear shut down her throat.

When Denny left, she was in a better mood, but suspicion, fear, and anger crept back into her slowly as evening approached and the thought of Howard’s return filled her.

As she cooked dinner, Lana thought of what poison she could give her husband. She would require something nearly scentless and that could severely damage if not kill with just one bit. Anything that Howard could smell would cause him to be suspicious, and if he could taste it, he may not eat more than one bit and instead insist on a new meal.

She couldn’t risk an attempt that would leave him barely injured. If Howard survived and suspected Lana had any suspicions, and he had enough strength to even make a phone call, she would be dead.

Howard arrived for dinner, took his plate of poison free turkey and green-beans and entered his office without so much as a “Hi honey, how was your day?”.

Lana took her own plate of food and sat outside the office door, concentration canceling her hunger. She wanted to hear more; she wanted her anger to be solidified so that she would know what to do.

The first few calls that Howard made were to arrange lunches and dinners for clients, and then he fell quiet.

Lana was becoming uncomfortable waiting on the floor for something to happen, for her husband and Shannon to begin speaking via the phone. If she were a spy, Lana thought, she could slip into the office while Howard was out and tap his line. Then she could listen to his calls from the comfort of...well anywhere besides the floor.

Her neck was stiff and the back of her head had fallen against the wall. That, in combination with her slowly healing injuries made the outlook of her evening look pretty bleak. She was going to be stuck sitting on the floor, sore and uncomfortable. Lana probably couldn’t even stand up without causing herself more pain.

She was in the process of contemplating just how to stand up without cringing when she heard her husband pick up the phone.

“You’re taking your time, Shannon.” Her husband’s gruff voice cut through the door.

There was a long response, her husband silent in his office. Then a bout of anger took him. “If your man hadn’t screwed up in the first place we wouldn’t be in this mess! Lana is supposed to be dead, not dancing around the house with some stupid smile on her face!” A long, rather painful pause, and her husband began his rant again. “Tell me you have a plan.” He sighed, and Lana could imagine a weary man hunched over the desk, his brow pinched and a hand scrubbing down his long face.

“Here,” Howard hissed into the phone. “You want to… Shannon! I don’t want my daughter drawn into this. She is not to be hurt in the slightest.”

Lana stood abruptly, her joints creaking and pain jolting down her limbs. Her heart had leapt into her throat and the pit of her stomach chilled. Despite the pain, fear kept her on her feet. She couldn’t afford to be weak, injured, and caught unaware.

Howard, her husband, wanted her dead.

Scurrying toward the kitchen, Lana attempted to level her breathing. She had been seeking confirmation, eager to stay the loyal wife with the perfect family. Now she her proof.

When her breathing calmed and her legs stopped quivering, Lana thought she might make a plan. Legs still quivering, her chest tightened and her breaths became labored. Next her fists shook as they clenched and unclenched. Eventually, she couldn’t remain standing. So, Lana laid down on the floor and continued to hyperventilate.

Cameron walked into the kitchen and looked down at her mother. “I’ll just make myself a plate then.” Stepping around her, the sixteen year old piled food onto a plate. “I’m going to eat in my room.” She walked to the edge of the kitchen and then looked back. “You’re pale.” Then she left, brown hair swinging across her shoulders and the pad-pad-thud of her feet fading.

She evened out her breathing a few moments after that.
The sight of her daughter reminded Lana that she had to be strong, not just for herself but for Cameron. Lana’s condition affected her daughter too. She had to pull herself together and make a plan to escape Howard’s tenet and ultimately her murder.
As she climbed to her feet, Lana’s thoughts began to churn. Panic remained in the forefront of her thoughts, mingled with thoughts of blood, murder, and escape.

Each item she saw became a weapon which both frightened and inspired her. The lamps in the living room would be good for bashing, their shards then useful for slicing. Caught on the stairs, the edges of the steps would serve as tools to cause head trauma, both bashing and cutting with one hard thrust if she threw Howard’s head onto the stairs with all her might. A tumble of the banister, or through it, would bruise the entire body and maybe knock a grown man unconscious. At the top of the stair, there were frames on the wall, more opportunities for slashing and cutting skin. Their bedroom was perhaps the worst room in the house, aside from the kitchen filled with knives. The sheets could be used to strangle. More picture frames were there for breaking into shards for stabbing, cutting, slicing. The bed posts were sturdy and would hold up against bashing. Pillows could be used to smoother in the middle of the night. The dresser had removable drawers which could bash; if broken they could stab or slice through skin, dragging splinters through open cuts. As a whole the dresser could also be used for bashing, throwing a body against it and smashing a head into the solid wooden surface. Pens, scattered on the dresses’ top and the bedside tables, would be decent stabbing objects. The clocks, both hers and his, could hit but their wires were much more dangerous and intriguing. They weren’t very strong; couldn’t strangle, but if she waited for the right moment, they could electrocute. If he took a bath it would be easy, but Howard didn’t often take baths.

Lana shook her head as she curled her arms around her slender torso.

There were more items, dangerous items. Everything in the room could be used to keep her safe from Howard, but she didn’t feel safe.