On a hot summer day, young police Officer Shamus Reynolds finds a letter on his desk. He takes no notice of this innocent piece of paper until he reads it. Somehow, someone has written things about him, things that he has never shared with anyone. And an accusation lies within the letter... something that Reynolds has never done.
A tale of action and excitement. Be sure to tune in.


4. Chapter Four

Suzanne was taking a stroll through her garden on a sunny July morning. The air was damp and cool, since it was early in the morning. Later on it would become moist and excruciatingly hot. The woman pulled her brown hair with streaks of grey out of her eyes, as she studied her flowers. She inhaled the sweet scents and examined the state of her garden that was blooming in the hot summer time. The red camellias met her eyes along with the full pink crape myrtle. She adored her blue rhododendrons, the beautiful orange day lilies, and of course her prized zinnias that came in every color.
In the summer, her flowers always confirmed that she had truly found peace and rest in her life. This was her home.

She carefully sprinkled them with water, taking care that each flower got the specific amount of drops that they needed. Suzanne loved her garden as if it was her child; ever since her two sons had moved away, her care was needed elsewhere. She needed to spend her time wisely, so her interest for gardening sparked as the only company in her life had gone straight through the door.
The green grass tickled under Suzanne’s bare feet as she made her way to the back door, leading into the great white house in which she lived. She washed the dirt off her fingers thoroughly and cleaned her face. She studied herself in the bathroom mirror, backlit with flattering lights, and looked at each wrinkle on her face. She was once very beautiful, and definitely still was. The way her aura bloomed with happiness and positive energy had gained her many friends over the years. Her gray eyes were warm and inviting, immediately sending the signal to strangers that she was a nice human being.
Suzanne did not mind the fact that she was getting older; she embraced it instead. All of her life, experiences and hard work was bestowed upon her face, and felt like a map to her. Each crease in her forehead, and crinkle at the corner of her mouth represented a different memory. Suzanne smiled at her reflection and thought about how her friends and family were doing.

Her husband had left her many years ago. She had loved him with every part of her soul and being. And she had thought that he felt the same way. Frank had left their family when Shamus had reached the mere age of nine, and Earl seven. They were just becoming such lively young spirits when their father disappeared at the mercy of a twenty year old tramp. The kids never quite understood what had happened and she had never felt the need to ruin the image of the loving father they had once had, even though she knew that they, in their adult years, had finally grasped everything she had not told them.

Suzanne had gone into a state of shock. She was twenty four years old when she got engaged, and two years later she had a beautiful son resting in her arms, with a caring husband to share the work of parenthood with. Then, at the age of thirty five, Frank left and the lonely mother did not know what to make of herself. It was the worst period of her life, and still in the present moment does she scold herself for not being stronger.
Her gray eyes had seemed colder and far away. Unreachable. She was crushed and as a way to escape the pain, she shut down. Friends tried to help her, even her father Martin, whom Earl had received his middle name from, called and asked if she wanted to come and stay with them for a while. Sweetly she declined and assured him that she was fine, even though her soul internally being torn apart and her mind was falling to pieces. It was the only moment in her life that she decided to walk the path alone and stay independent. In the process of doing so, her precious sons were slipping away from her tender care, and didn't know what to do. Suddenly they had no parents to take care of them. They played and smiled a little less, which only broke Suzanne's heart even more. She could do nothing but blame herself for what had happened when she saw this. Nothing else mattered anymore; only her sons. As fast as she had gone into the depression, she snapped out of it and became the reachable and wonderful person she truly was again. She grew exceptionally strong for her sons, and hid her pain and fears deep in her heart, and only after a couple of years did she manage to let go of the anger and resentment she felt toward Frank. She realized that hating someone only made less space for love, and that it turned you into a bitter person. Not that she ever showed it to anyone.

The experience taught her some very valuable lessons, and as she looked in the mirror she thought of how grateful she was for everything in her life. Never did she hold grudges, but instead tried to see the good in everyone. The merry brunette learned to forgive and forget which is a very valuable skill to have.

Deeply entwined in her trail of thoughts, Suzanne was startled by her phones’ sudden burst of noise. She made her way to the great and open kitchen, filled with old wooden furniture in which her family used to eat dinner and breakfast together every day, many years ago.

“Hello?” Suzanne smiled as she spoke. She always loved getting phone calls, as they were usually delivered by friends and family.
She could hear whispers coming from the other end, as if a group of people were arguing something. At last she heard an angry muffled ‘fine’, and the person who had called put the phone up against their ear.

“Is this Suzanne Pendergrast Reynolds?” A deep voice asked.
“Yes, this is she.” The fifty three year old knew that this was not a personal call and that it was more official than that.
“Umm. I’m afraid that I have some bad news for you.” Said the voice generously.
A deep sinking feeling crawled through Suzanne’s veins, turning her blood to ice. With a nervous voice she gently replied:
“I am terribly sorry, but there has been an... errr...accident.” The man answered softly.
“What kind of accident?” Her heart was racing faster than she had ever experienced.
“Your son, Shamus Reynolds has committed suicide.”


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