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The Ax by: Stacey Bell *Completed*

Novel By: Dolphin198818
Mystery and crime

A rookie police officer, Sam Huntington, who just moved to New York City with his newly wife Chelsea. They seemed to have it all, until one day, when he gets a call that changed everything. Now that his wife has been murdered, will he find out who the killer is and get revenge....more importantly...will he ever find the murder weapon that killed his wife to help him catch the killer? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Jul 6, 2012    Reads: 6    Comments: 3    Likes: 1   

Chapter 1

I looked over to Chelsea's side of the bed, and realized it wasn't just a dream. So, I look at the alarm clock, and it read six-thirty a.m. Oh man, I had an hour to get ready and head to work. I wiped the sweat off of my face with my hands, and quickly get into the shower.

Once I get out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my waist, showing my chest and muscles, before looking at my face in the mirror. As I look down at the sink, I noticed that Chelsea's pink toothbrush was still sitting in the toothbrush cup along with my blue toothbrush. I picked it up, and turned it in my hands as I say to myself. 'It's been thirteen years, and I still can't seem to throw away your things.'

I dropped the toothbrush into the sink, as soon as I heard my doorbell ringing, because I wasn't expecting anyone to ring my doorbell at seven a.m. I looked at my little round clock on the wall, beside the door to check the time. That reminded me that I should call into work, because I know that I'm going to be late. I walk out of the bathroom, and answered the front door.

When I opened the door, behind it stood the woman that was in my dream, checking the evidence on my wife. She had aged a little, but her hair color had not changed. 'Hey Sam,' says Rachelle as she looked at my chest, because I forgot that I was still in my towel.

'Rachelle, what are you doing here?' I ask when she walks in, and I close the door behind her. She was not invited in, she just walked in.

'I just thought that I would bring you a doughnut and a coffee, and drive you to work,' smiles Rachelle as she lays the bag of doughnuts down on the kitchen counter and handed me a cup of black coffee, just how I like it, but then I realize that I didn't have time to eat or drink anything, because I was running way late.

'The coffee is good, but I'm going to be late,' I told her not listening to what she had said before. I sat my coffee down on the counter.

'It's fine Sam, when I seen your truck out front, I called in and told them that you were going to be a little late,' she explains as she pulls out her doughnut, lay it on the napkin (that she pulled out of the bag before hand), and pushes the doughnut with the napkin towards Sam.

'Alright,' I say to her taking the doughnut, and being a little suspicious of Rachelle. I was always suspicious of Rachelle, because eve since my wife died, she would always pop up out of nowhere.

'So, I have to tell you; that I transferred over to being a police officer, so both of us will be partners, isn't that exciting?' she asks me with a wide smile, showing her teeth. She was sitting on the bar stool, and eating the doughnut.

I wasn't really happy about this, I liked my old partner, and he wasn't as crazy as her, but I lied. 'That's fantastic,' I say as I lied. 'What happened with Brian?' I ask. Brian has been my partner ever since I started at the police station.

'Oh, he transferred to a new police station this morning,' says Rachelle before taking a sip, and looking at me as I did so.

This was strange; first of all, Brian would of told me if he was transferring, and secondly, he wasn't going anywhere, because he was retiring in a year himself. Rachelle looked over, and seen the wedding picture of Chelsea and I.

I remember that day like it was yesterday; we both had graduated college, so we where in out late twenties. Chelsea looked so beautiful in her white gown and vail, and I was in a black tux. The picture was taken outside underneath a big willow tree, since those where her favorite. The memory faded as Rachelle spoke. 'Was this Chelsea, before…well, you know,' said Rachelle as she looked at the picture, and not at me.

'Yeah,' I managed to say, before I began to cry. Rachelle sat the picture back down before she spoke.

'Did they ever find the murderer or the murder weapon?' she asks curiously as she took another sip of her coffee.

'No,' I slowly say.

'How long has it been?' asks Rachelle.

'Thirteen years…it'll be thirteen years this Friday,' I say not wanting to really talk about the situation.

'Thirteen years, and they still haven't any leads,' says Rachelle. I didn't know if that was a question or a statement, so I changed the subject.

'Well, I'm going to go and get dressed, so we can leave,' I say before walking to my bedroom, and closing the door. I sat on my bed to think. It's going to be thirteen years since my wife's murder, and they have yet to find the killer or the weapon for that matter. 'I'm going to have to get back into the file and look over the evidence, I know I said I would never look into the case again, but I have to find your killer Chelsea, it's been thirteen years, and they probably have been killing for that long,' I say as if my wife was still there with me. 'Wish me luck,' I say before getting up, and putting on my police uniform.


When we arrived at the station, I checked in with our dispatcher, Kelsey. She had token over the check in center when Patty had retired. 'Hi,' I say as I wrote my name down on the check in book, followed by Rachelle.

'Oh hey Sam,' Kelsey smiled back at me. I think she likes me, because I'm the only one who she smiles at in the mornings or in the afternoons when I leave. Don't get me wrong, Kelsey is gorgeous, with her long dark brown hair to the middle of her back, which is always straightened, she was a little chubby, but not that chubby, and she was in her thirties, which I was in my forties now, so I don't know what she would see in me, but I'm still in love with my wife, so nothing's going to happen.

Rachelle went to her desk on the other side of the building, and I went straight to the evidence room, where they kept all of the cases that were closed or still opened. The evidence room was on the fourth floor, and my office was on the third, so I had to take the elevator up. I didn't feel like walking the stairs today. When I reached the room, I had to sign my name and time I was there. The two chubby, bald, middle aged, policemen, buzzed me in, and I proceeded to find Chelsea's box.

It took about ten minutes to find her box. When I found it, it was sitting on the third row up from the bottom shelf, between Mr. Donaldson: which read cased closed on the box in black magic marker, and on the other side of Chelsea's box was Mrs. Nixon: her case was also closed. So, when I found Chelsea's box, I ran my fingers a crossed her name, before taking a deep breath, and letting it out, before removing the box from the shelf, and I carried it back to my desk.


When I reached my desk, I sat the box down, and flopped into my rolling chair. I stared at the box for a few minutes, before sitting up straight, and taking the lid off, and sitting it down on the floor. I then proceeded to go through her file. As I grabbed her case file, and opened the file folder to the first page; I seen the picture of Chelsea lying on the floor in the puddle of blood. I felt a tear slipped from my eyes, and I quickly wiped them off, and sucked it up. 'I have to do this for Chelsea,' I say to myself, as I continue to flip through the file.


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