Through the Eyes of Madness—Part Seventeen
By: David K. Montoya

Tidwell stared at the foam green walls and it reminded him of the morgue holding area at the station. What's up with that color, he thought to himself. The detective was in a local waiting room in a nearby clinic, he was called in a couple of days ago—but, did not get the message until he returned home from work that morning.

He anticipated the worst.

But promised himself that he would handle everything on a day–by–day basis. Tidwell tried to redirect his thoughts and looked at the medical poster on the wall. To his left was one of the different trimesters of pregnancy, which was oddly drawn, it looked like the fetus were designed to resemble Peanuts characters, while examining the stages of development, the detective expected to find Snoopy flying his doghouse.

To Tidwell's left was a diagram of a set of lungs, which for some weird reason caused him to crave a cigarette. I always thought lung cancer was the way I was going out, he thought. I guess I was wrong.

His dark humor caused himself to chuckle inwardly quietly.

"I'm warped." Tidwell said and shook his head. "No wonder my last girlfriend split on me."

Tidwell again, chuckled to himself, but his mind wandered to someone before his previous relationship. His heart instantly ached as the memory returned and processed across his synapse, in that moment the smell of her perfume lingered by.

With a knock at the door, Tidwell's heart fell into the pit of his stomach. In an almost croak said, "Come in."

The door slowly opened and an older, Middle Eastern entered. For a male, he was rather on the short side, Perhaps five, five, Tidwell thought to himself. His distended belly caught the detective's attention and noted the thinning hair.

Maybe he was ill too. Tidwell thought to himself.

The man held Tidwell's medical records in his hand, and without looking up asked in a heavy Persian accent, "Mister Tidwell?"

"Detective," Tidwell immediately replied.

"My apologies. Detective Tidwell. I am Doctor Vaziri, I am one of the Oncologist that work here at the clinic."

Tidwell nodded.

"All right, let's see here," the doctor said while he glanced at the records in front of him. "So, you had prostate surgery a few months ago?"

"It was more of a procedure, they froze the cancer cells," Tidwell corrected.

"Yes. Yes. Procedure. That was the word I was trying to think of," Said Dr. Vaziri with a self–amused chuckle.

Tidwell groaned.

"How are you dealing with the side effect of the procedure?" The Doctor asked.

"I'm dealing." Tidwell answered.

"Still having pain?"

"Only when I tried to force the urine out, and I—," Tidwell answered honestly. He was going to continue but was cut short as his cell phone rang.

"I see,"Dr. Vaziri said, and walked over to a small desk right below the Peanut Development poster that had a computer on it. He sat down and started typing, Tidwell watched as the doctor lost eye contact with him and read the text on the screen but regained it when he pause and then glanced at him. "If it is important, you can answer it."

"Sorry," Tidwell said, he silenced the phone and then stuffed it into his pants pocket.

"Oh," the doctor said while he read Tidwell's medical information.

Tidwell caught the doctor's disconcerting tone and asked, "What?"

"You are still working," Dr. Vaziri asked with shock in his voice. "Since when?"

"Well yeah. I was told the cancer was frozen and I was good to go," Tidwell explained. Then a unpleasant thought slipped across his mind. "Why do you ask?"

"Your tests came back." The doctor said.

"How bad?" Tidwell asked.

"The follow up MRI shows that it's metastasize into other organs," Dr. Vaziri said with a sigh. Tidwell had been in the business of giving bad news for most of his life and knew that, that was not the worst of the information.

Tidwell exhaled heavily and robbed his hands over his face. The doctor did not say anything comforting, but the detective was passed that point of reassurance.

"How much time am I given," Tidwell asked bluntly.

"According to the charts for this sort of thing … ninety days." Vazari hesitantly answered.

"Fuck." Tidwell said underneath his breath.

"We'll put you on medical leave, and that way you can re—"

"The bloody Hell you will," Tidwell said and jumped to his feet. "You do not tell anyone!"

"But you should spent your remaining time comfortable."

"Fuck that noise, Doc," Tidwell responded with agitation. "All I have is my work. Do NOT take that away from me!"

"Thing about your family, Mister Tidwell," Dr. Vazari asked. "Don't they deserve to share your last moment with you?"

Tidwell's face twisted in anger, but his eyes opened in realization and smiled at that thought.

"You know, Doc, I was about to say that I have no family other than my bitch of a mother," Tidwell said softly, and tried to gather his composure. "But, that's not true. I mean… I guess, I have an adopted son, daughter–in–law and grandson. They are good people, Doc."

"Then go spend it with them." The Doctor said cautiously.

Tidwell chuckled, at that comment.

"I plan to do just that, but there is one problem."

"What is that Detective?"

"In order for me to see my family, I have to be at work," Tidwell said while he shook his head with a warm smile.


The Copeland house was quiet, an unusual occurrence even in the early morning hours. Lisa sipped her coffee while she watched the trees outside her home sway in the wind. After one more sip, she placed it down and walked to her son's room.

Lisa peaked in to the room and found Curt snuggled into his bed, fast asleep. Softly closing his door, she stepped back out into the hallway and saw her husband, he stood in the living room checking his text messages. It had been a long time since she noticed him, in a intimate manner. But now, with each step toward him, desire radiated through her.

Lisa ached and grabbed him by the hand.

"Come on," Lisa said sensuously and pulled him down the hall into their bedroom. She felt her hunger weaken as Grayson took his free hand and closed the door behind them. She felt his mouth—it tasted like fresh coffee, pungent, but delightful. She gasped for a breath while she felt his hands on her body pulling away her panties.

Grayson strong hands moved from her hips to between her legs. Lost in the moment, Lisa wrapped her slender arms around him and gently racked her nails up and down his back, while he frantically removed his pajama pants. Once both of his hands were free, he scooped her up off her feet—bringing her to him.

Lisa self–adjusted and wrapped her legs around his bare hips.

They kissed. Passionately. Unlike last time they were together. Something had returned. Still in his arms, he pushed her back against the door and a commanding thrust that caused her head to bounce back and hit the door.

Lisa felt him pass through.

There as a gasp from both.

His motions into her begin to build momentum, it felt like a bolt of lightning coursed through her with each heave. In that moment, their humanity was lost, and animal instinct was dominate. She was almost to tears with ecstasy, as she positioned her pelvis higher and then lower until a jolting climax was achieved.

"Almost," Grayson panted. Lisa felt his arm quivering, and knew he was almost there. She gyrated here body faster and faster. Finally, a release and felt his seed travel into her.

"Good?" Lisa asked.

Grayson nodded. His wife loosened her legs around his body and lowered them to the floor. She leaned against him, out of breath, but pleased.

As the two tried to catch their breaths, Grayson noticed from a distance his cell phone loudly ringing. He looked over to his wife and she gave him a nod of approval, he fetched up him pajama pants and headed out the bedroom toward his cell.

Grayson found it next to his cup of coffee, he picked it up and glanced at the screen it said, work, and became hesitate to answer.

"Who is it," Lisa said as she moved down the hall toward her husband.

"Work," Grayson hesitantly answered.

"Then answer it." Lisa said.

"But I just got home," Grayson said with unease.

Lisa watched up to Grayson and slipped her tongue into his mouth. She took the phone from him and answered, "Hello? Hi Captain, yeah he's right here."

She handed him the phone with a wink, Grayson placed it next to his ear and said, "Yes sir."

"Copeland, Whick here. The AFIS just came back," the Captain said in a gruff tone. "They've been trying to call Tidwell but couldn't get a hold of him—so they handed it off to me. Anyway, the Jack the Ripper copycat is a local, the name is Patrick O'Neil Junior, forty–nine, and his last known address is 1888 Mitre Street, apartment #430.

"Get here, now, you lead the raid on this bastard."

"I will be right there Cap," Grayson answered with his words full of excitement. He ended the call, and looked at his wife, she saw the exhilaration in his eyes.

She gave him a fake smile.

"They ID'd the killer," Grayson said, then placed a kiss on her cheek. "I need to go."

"I know Gray," Lisa said, still with the fake smile.

Grayson turned and begin to walk away but paused and turned back toward his wife. "Lisa?"


"I love you," Grayson said. He watched as her fake smile transformed in to an authentic one.

"I love you too, Gray," Lisa said tenderly to her husband. "But, Gray?"

"Yeah," Grayson replied.

"Please be careful," Lisa asked.

"I promise, that I will." Grayson said with a confident smile. …

To be continued…


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