Category : Books-Fiction

Sub Category : Suspense/Mystery

	
(still writing on this project also) 


Funny how it rains when the soul mourns the loss of a loved one. Cage thought as he sat listening to the preacher speak of her, her life and the loss of it. Couldn’t have taken anyone else? Seriously lord, you had to take her? He found himself asking. The tears fell as if he weren’t in control, thank god for the rain. He thought as he stood to lay a single red rose upon her casket. I’ll never be the same, Dixie. His thoughts threatened to scream within his mind. Bad day for a mourning man to legally carry a gun and badge. but vengeance would come in the name of a Texas Ranger, Cage Whitlock. 

	“I’ll find the people responsible for this I swear”. he softly spoke as he turned towards his truck to leave. “They’re gonna pay” it came out as a declaration rather than a promise. 

	“Cage, we’re here if you need anything.” Sissy Hawthorne said sympathetically. 
“Thanks Ma’am” Cage Replied as he put his black cowboy hat on.” I’ll be alright” he lied he’d never be the same, nor would he ever be alright. She was gone, stolen when they’d just been married, but being the ever-strong cowboy he’d been brought up to be, he put a good front on. Just the cowboy way of things. he remembered his grandfather used to say all the time. He’d have time to cry when he was alone. 

As he drove north on I-45 heading towards his home in northwest Houston, he couldn’t help but remember when they’d bought their duplex. An older home near the beltway and 249. Dixie begged him saying she just had to have it. Vaulted ceilings with custom light fixtures decorated with fine rose paintings. The walls were a light rose color, and most of the flooring was a mauve colored tile. The bedrooms had rose carpeting, with a rather large back yard. She’d painted the front yellow with the bricks. Planted rose bushes all over making it seem more home like. It was nestled in a quiet neighborhood off of Antione Dr on Sprangletop ct. 
Built in the early 1950’s it was quaint, but now it wouldn’t feel like home. It would feel empty and only serve to remind him of her. 

Pulling into his driveway everything seemed to be in a haze all he wanted was to forget, to crush those who took her life. He spent most of the night just lying awake on their bed. Sleep came but not a restful sleep, more like the kind that you get when you are just worn out. In the morning when he awoke to his alarm it took everything he could to get up and stumble towards the kitchen and the coffee pot. Seeing the state of the kitchen he couldn’t help but chuckle, Dixie would’ve killed him for this mess. “ah well guess I’m gonna have to do the dishes now” he spoke out loud. “Well Hun looks like ya finally got me to do the dishes” he finished as he started the pot of coffee, and began trying in vain to find a clean coffee cup and spoon. “I’m lost without you” he said his voice cracking. 

	


	Cage had been born and raised in Houston, before becoming a Texas Ranger he’d enlisted in the Marine Corp. Been a sniper and a decorated one at that. Of course, growing up in Texas most men are good with a gun, kind like it’s in the water down here. At 6’2’ tall and 190 lbs of lean muscle he could be intimidating. With Raven, dark hair and cobalt blue eyes, some would say he could’ve been a model but that wasn’t who he was, he was a cowboy, a Marine and a ranger. His chiseled features had more than once gotten him attention he didn’t want or need from women, so he’d be quiet often making folks think he was stuck up or shy. Neither of which bothered him at all. He’d rather avoid all that drama if he could, nothing like women hanging on you when you don’t want them too. But Dixie hadn’t been like that, hell it took him weeks to just get her number. She didn’t think he was into her for anything other than what most men wanted, so he had to wear her down. 


	As he sat on the couch he opened the case file for her murder, funny how this terrible act came down to facts and a number to classify a life taken so horribly. They had some DNA and some prints but no motive and no suspects. He’d worked with less and solved cases before, but those victims weren’t his wife. She’d been walking to her car after a trip to the mall. Someone shot her in the back as she fumbled for her keys. Rummaged through her purse, took her money and credit cards. Then they slit her throat, which he presumed from experience is how they cut themselves. They’d even taken her car, a 2001 Ford Mustang she affectionately called “Ruby” because of the color. He’d bought her that car, now they had an APB out for it. Knowing Texas lawmen like he did, they’d find it quick. 
It wasn’t the car he wanted but the memory of what it meant to her. He’d surprised her with it. The car of her dreams, the car he called a “money pit” she’d laughed at that and said “all the good ones are Hun”. 

	As he glanced over the photos of the scene he noticed that they’d taken her wedding rings. Those would be easy to track as they belonged to his grandmother. They were one of a kind. He grabbed his phone to call his SGT. To inform him, had to be a start, right? He thought as the phone clicked to SGT. Buckner’s voicemail. He didn’t bother leaving a message, he hated those damned things anyway. Just figures he’d have to call him back.