Stormy Ch. 02

Finding Cherie dead on the deck shocked me to my core. I was alone, the real alone, no partner in my life. I raced to call 9-1-1 then found a blanket to cover her. I searched for some kind of note, a message of good-bye, anything that I could cling to, nothing.

The next several hours involved police statements, recounting our day, evening, our argument about incest, and my reaction to leave her standing naked as I went to my room. All the time, the coroner investigated and Cherie's body remained on the deck. The police and coroner searched for evidence of foul play to link me to her death. I was a person of interest.

The coroner finally removed her stiff lifeless body onto a gurney and zipped the body bag. Now it would be days of waiting for autopsy reports. Her death, 'under suspicious causes,' hit the paper and, naturally, I was the last to see her alive and a person of interest.

When the autopsy report went public, the coroner reported natural causes, a burst aneurism. The police cleared me of any responsibility. Well that meant nothing to my clients, they all paid for services rendered to date and terminated our association.

I tried to get my lawyer to go after the police, coroner, and press for destroying my business and my life. The legal system protects itself well and covered dirt faster than a cat covering shit. I decided to have an estate sale, sell the contents of our home, sell the house and go somewhere, anywhere. I was a plague on my social group.

Cherie had a large life insurance policy to which I was beneficiary. I had money to live on for a few years and maybe longer if I became a complete recluse. Time would tell. I loaded my car with the few things I still owned and watched my life disappear in the rear view mirror.

I destroyed my iPhone, cancelled all my online social media accounts, and saved only a few pictures with special meaning. I bought one of those disposable phones and gave the number to no one. I was a free spirit although there was no spirit left.

I drifted for a couple months. If someone looked up aimless in the dictionary, my picture would appear. Somehow, I ended up in gold country in California working a claim I bought for ten thousand dollars.

Now, almost five years later, I have taken about 100 ounces of gold to the assayer. Five years work just to recover my investment does not sound like good returns; however, that would change in the coming weeks.

I worked deeper into the claim than I ever had and began finding veins of gold rich ore. Within a month, I processed 50 ounces. After two months, I had 200 processed ounces. The mother load as miners call it. After three months of processing, I had almost six hundred ounces. The assayer will not believe this hall and when word leaks out, big mining companies will offer millions for the claim.

It was not long before my name made the papers again. I owned the richest claim since the Gold Rush. Just as I thought, mining companies beat paths to my door. I held out another year digging another 800 ounces before selling for eight and a half million.

I fell into a deep sleep my last night on the claim. My dreams were vivid of the last day Cherie was alive. I vividly saw her naked body and heard myself call her fucking stupid. In the last sequence of the dream, Cherie was with me in this little miners cabin. As my dream dissolved, I heard Cherie exclaim, "I love you, Alex."