Unforeseen Obsessions

His blood seeped through her fingers. Alex pressed her shaky hands to the wound on Sam's stomach, but the blood continued to flow. "Please stop. God, please make it stop," she begged. She didn't know what had happened or exactly how long he'd been there. Everything had been fine when she'd climbed into the shower minutes earlier, but when she'd stepped out and wrapped the oversize towel around her, the house was unusually quiet. As she'd dressed, she had yelled for Sam. He didn't answer. She had checked every room. No sign of him. A rush of crisp, cold air had swept by her when she entered the bedroom for a second pass. The patio door was ajar. Beyond the door, Sam laid in a curled heap in their backyard. She'd run to him. His left hand clutched his abdomen, and his right gripped around the handle of his 9mm police issued Glock. Blood poured from his wound, coated his hand, and ran down his arm. His hand loosened and drifted to the ground. Instinctively, she pressed her palm tighter to his wound. It didn't curb the bleeding. Her hand was now coated as well. Her husband's eyelids opened weakly and then drifted shut again. He pulled in a shallow breath before his lids fluttered open again. His gaze met hers. "Call 911, I've been stabbed," his voice not much more than a whisper. Alex sprang to her feet and ran back into the house. Her bloody fingers trembled as they fumbled over the phone's numeric keypad. She somehow managed to make the call. The dispatcher answered, but Alex's erratic breathing prevented her from finding a voice. Tears ran down her cheeks. She sucked in a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. Her voice squeaked as she told the dispatcher her husband had been stabbed. With the cell phone gripped in her hand, she ran back to Sam, sinking next to him. She propped his head on her thighs. While she cradled his cold face between her hands, she swayed back and forth, holding his knowing gaze. "Stay with me, Sam, don't leave me. Stay with me, I love you." He stared up at her with his bright green eyes. "I love you too." His eyes darkened as he labored for another breath. "Listen to me, Alex, only trust Peter. Tell him...tell him that..." He gurgled. Blood misted from his mouth and coated his lips. Sirens sounded at a distance then closer. But it was too late. Sam was gone. Tears burned her eyes as she continued to kneel on the snow-dusted yard. She shivered in the cold. Her husband's head rested on her lap. "Alex...Alex." She lifted her gaze to find Peter, Sam's partner, squatting in front of her. He must have heard the 911 call over his radio. She watched through teary eyes as Peter placed his hands on Sam's shoulders and gently slid him off her lap. He rose to his feet, pulling her up with him. She stared into his warm brown eyes. He looked as confused as she felt. Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to him as she sobbed into his chest. After a few moments, he guided her away from Sam so the EMTs had room to work. Though they attempted to revive her husband, she knew there was nothing they could do for him. She had seen the unmistakable transition in his eyes. Alex struggled to stop her tears and put her thoughts in order. She lifted her head from Peter's chest and stepped back. His gaze held hers. Her throat constricted. Though she knew what she wanted to ask, sound escaped her. She swallowed hard and fought for a voice. "What happened here? I don't understand. Who would do this to Sam?" she asked Peter, Sam's best friend since grade school. Peter's watery gaze never left hers. The pain in his eyes was heartbreaking. He cleared his throat. "I don't know." Peter glanced toward the EMTs. Alex looked in that same direction to find that they'd loaded Sam onto a gurney and covered him up. She could no longer see his precious face. Her seized. She'd never see her husband's face again. Life as she knew it would be forever changed. She wished she'd had died alongside him. Through cloudy eyes, she watched as the EMTs wheeled the gurney through the snow and around the corner of the house. A crater the size of the Grand Canyon filled her chest. Her knees grew weak. Peter grabbed her and held her up. She was sure she would have fallen if he hadn't. Steady in Peter's arms, she scanned the backyard to find several of Sam's fellow police officers milling around her property. One of the officers took photographs, another wrote something on a piece of paper attached to a metal clipboard, and two inspected the patio and sliding glass doors leading to their bedroom. They'd begun dusting the door for prints. She could hear the officers whispering but couldn't make out what they were saying. Whenever she caught a glimpse of their gazes, their eyes read disbelief and sympathy. She stared into space. "This can't be happening. Tell me this isn't happening. This is small town Wisconsin. We read about this sort of thing not live it," she murmured. Peter squeezed her hand.