The Contract Killer - Chapter 5 – Partial Chapter - Rough

Dominique had the taxi driver drop her off in the heart of George Town.  The city, which was once an old western town with architecture that exemplified the Wild West, was humming with vehicles, people and music.  People of every culture walked down M St., a popular tourist attraction with all its restaurants, clubs, beauticians, and clothing boutiques.  Policeman on foot, horse, and vehicle were at every corner waiting for someone to break the law.  Dominique contemplated going to one of the officers for protection. She’d even thought to report the crime that she’d witnessed, but every time she neared a cop she got cold feet, remembering the horrifying experience of witness protection.  She couldn’t live her life through that torment and pain again.  She didn’t want to create a new identity and move to a foreign city.  She’d just gotten used to calling herself Dominique, and how many years ago had she changed her name.  Twenty?  Her mother was in no condition to go through the rigmarole of witness protection so she’d have to leave her behind, and she couldn’t be without her mother indefinitely.  What was she going to do?  The killer got a good look at her.  She knew he did because his face was etched in her mind.  She wasn’t one hundred percent sure, but she thought he looked just like the man that murdered her father.  He was older but had similar features.  He had brown hair with strands of grey and a dark complexion as if he constantly tanned.  He had a square jaw line with a dimple that reminded her of John Travolta and eyes so dark they looked black.  It was him.  She was convinced, but the police said they put him away for life.  Then again, life was a relative term and could mean twenty years depending on the state, the circumstances and good behavior.  Technically speaking, he could have served his time.  He could be a free man.

            She walked up three blocks, and bought a pay as you talk phone from a street vendor since she’d thrown her Sprint phone out of the window of the taxi cab while traveling over the 14^th Street Bridge, soon after she spoke to her mother.  She looked around, taking mental notes of her surroundings.  She was paranoid.  She felt as if a thousand eyes were set upon her and she couldn’t prevent from shaking.  The throng of people all around her only added to her anxiety, but she charged ahead.  She held keys in her hand to stab anyone that made a false move, but she was able to use them to open her townhouse door instead.  She turned off the alarm and closed all the blinds before she turned on the lights.  She tried to remain calm but she couldn’t keep her body from trembling, as much as she concentrated on being still.  She wanted to scream, so she turned on the television and went into the bathroom to grab a towel.  She pressed it against her face and released her emotions.  She screamed until she became blubbering mess.  Janice was dead and Dominique had the blood on her hands to prove it.  Why did this keep happening?  Why was she again the witness of a horrendous crime? 

To Be Continued...