Three little piggies, p.1
Three Little Piggies, page 1
Three little piggies
D.W. Sheneman
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person, place, or theory are in no way intended or to be inferred as fact or reference.
The work is the particular property of the Author. It may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission unless part of a Review, Interview, or Public push of the work and other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Contains adult situations. 17+ only
Manuscript Prepared by
Edits by Heather Fiveson
Queen Apocalypse Publishing
Copyright ©2024 Shenemann
ISBN-
All rights reserved
Acknowledgments:
I want to thank my mother Leanne Durrett who showed up to nearly every event I ever attended. She was always in my corner supporting me no matter what. Even when she found out I was writing about horny little demons. I love you mom, and thank you for always cheering me on.
Chapter 1
Quinn
The rain pelted down on my umbrella as I stared up at the sign that read Sunshine Café. It had been over a year since I had visited this place. Why would Cameron ask me to come here? He knew the significance this place held in my heart. He knew how soul-shattering it would be for me to step foot into this shop. This was the place where I met Luke. The man I had given my entire soul to. My future husband and future father of my children. Three years later, there was no husband, and there were no children. All that remained was the crippling ache of loss that shrouded my world in darkness.
Looking down the street, I realized there wasn’t any other place for us to meet. This entire strip was filled with restaurants or bars that hadn’t opened yet, and Cameron didn’t have a car. A person could only go so far on one of those little pre-paid scooters the city offered. Sucking in a deep breath, I stepped towards the door and pulled it open.
The setting of the little shop hadn’t changed. The walls were still painted an obnoxiously bright orange with bright white tables and chairs. The glass counters were filled with fresh muffins and bagels ripe for selling. The pungent scent of freshly brewed coffee floated through the air as the line of customers waited to put in their morning order. No force on earth could get me into that line. I couldn’t stand being face-to-face with anyone who wore the same uniform as Luke had on the first day we met.
Shaking my umbrella, I looked around the large room until I spotted Cameron sitting at one of the tables in the corner. He was sipping an iced coffee and had another one sitting on the opposite side of the table. Luckily, he knew what I liked. Unable to look at the counter any longer, I rushed over to him and plopped into the opposite seat.
Silently, he slid his phone to me. I looked down at the screen to see a news article. Police Officer Brutally Murdered.
“You called me down here for this? Here of all places?”
Cameron set down his coffee and leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. “This place is the perfect place for you to read that article.”
Pushing the phone back to him, I crossed my arms and adopted the same relaxed pose. “She isn’t the one who murdered Luke.”
He pushed the phone back. “True, but they gutted her like a pig, and I don’t think they are done. Keep reading.”
Rolling my eyes, I did so. My gaze locked on a specific sentence, and my jaw dropped slightly. Apparently, police had found a note on the body that said, “The first little piggy.”
“It’s been all over the news. They even stuffed an apple in her mouth.”
I took a sip of my iced coffee. Pumpkin spice—the man knew me, so I had to give him that. “What does any of this have to do with me?” It was no secret that I had a severe dislike for most police officers, especially the ones in our city. They were useless most of the time and clearly could get away with murder simply because of the badges they wore.
“You’re the reporter, so report. Dig up some dirt on this cop. Find out why she was targeted. That note says whoever did this is going to do it again.” He shrugged. “At least that’s my take away from it.” Leaning forward, he locked his dark brown eyes on mine. “Luke was my best friend all through high school. When I came out, he was the only one who had my back, even over my family. What happened to him was wrong; he didn’t deserve it. I’m tired of cops thinking they can shoot first and ask questions later. If this cop was dirty in some way, shape, or form, you need to bring that to light. For him.”
Annoyed, I began tapping my fingers on the table. “Why? This has nothing to do with Luke.”
Pursing his lips, he looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “True, but what if this killing is because of something she did that was covered up? You know the station is going to try and twist this to make her look like a saint. What if she isn’t a saint?” Leaning closer, he dropped his voice lower. “What if she deserved it?”
Taking another long sip of my coffee, I stared into his eyes. Visions of that night started running through my mind. Luke and I were just playing a video game. It was nearly midnight when there was a loud pounding on our apartment door. He got up to answer it, the game controller still in his hand, and then everything went wrong. After the cop shot him dead, they swore they thought the controller was a gun. There were no questions asked, no time to think; they just opened fire. Later, I found out my neighbor called them, claiming he heard Luke beating on me.
“I can’t do this,” I murmured, standing.
I could feel my head getting fuzzy, and it was getting harder and harder to catch my breath. Without a second glance towards my friend, I made a dash for the exit. I practically ran out onto the drenched sidewalk. As the rain poured, I realized I had forgotten my umbrella and coffee. It didn’t matter; I would never step foot in that place again for as long as I lived.
Wrapping my arms around my torso, I tried to control the violent sobs that wanted to escape. I was so tired of crying. I was tired of the night terrors, tired of the flash backs. I wanted nothing more than to carry on with my life, but I couldn’t while that son of a bitch who murdered Luke walked free. He got nothing for what he did, not even so much as a slap on the wrist.
Nearly jumping out of my skin, I squeaked at the sound of an umbrella opening.
I turned to see Cameron holding the umbrella in one hand while offering me my coffee with the other. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have asked you to go in there.”
Taking the coffee, I offered up a small smile. I didn’t want him to think what he had done was good, but I didn’t want him to feel bad.
Instead, I decided to change the subject. “Do you want me to give you a ride home? Maybe we can talk about this more there.
He smiled warmly, taking a sip of his own coffee. “I’d love a ride. It’s raining cats and dogs out here.”
Smiling softly, I allowed him to hold the umbrella as we walked. It was the logical thing to do since he was so much taller than me. When we started walking, I was forced to jump back as a motorcycle came speeding past.
My jaw dropped. “That guy is crazy!” I grunted, slowly stepping out into the street again. “He doesn’t even have a helmet. And it’s raining. Why would anyone ride a bike when it’s raining?”
My friend stared after the man. “I’m glad he didn’t wear one. Did you get a look at that guy? He’s hot as fuck. I need a bad boy in my life.”
I giggled. I didn’t really get a look at the man as he passed, so I couldn’t tell how good-looking he was. All I saw was one of those biker vests and an assortment of tattoos on his arms and neck. “What about Kevin? Should you really be looking at other men?”
Cameron opened the passenger side door of my Jeep. “He is old news.”
Jamming my keys into the ignition, I gave him a shocked look. “I thought things were going so well.”
He shrugged, fastening his seat belt. “We only went on four dates. Kevin is boring as fuck. The first time I went to his place, we didn’t even fuck. He just wanted me to watch him livestream his video game. I just couldn’t after that. What about you? When are you getting back into the dating world?”
That question caught my breath and twisted my stomach into knots. “I’m not ready,” I declared, pulling out of the parking spot and heading to Cameron’s house.
“It’s been a year, Quinn. Technically, over a year. Luke would want you to move on.”
He was right. Luke died in late August. It was now the first week of October. But it still felt too soon. Luke and I had been together for three years before his death. How could I move on after only a year?
“We could turn around and chase after that biker guy,” he chuckled. “Maybe he plays for both teams, and we could share. It wouldn’t hurt you to get laid.”
I decided I wouldn’t dignify that with a reply, so I turned the radio up.
Chapter 2
Quinn
Cameron lived in a tiny two-bedroom home he inherited from his dad and stepmom after they passed away two years back. The rain was little more than a drizzle as we rushed to the porch.
The moment I stepped into the living room, I was greeted by the chirping of a pet raccoon. “You’re not going to let that little shit out, are you?” I asked, shivering a bit.
“Don’t act like you don’t love him,” he teased as he walked towards his bedroom. It wasn’t until I met Cameron that I found out a person was allowed to own a pet raccoon as long as they were bred in captivity and not caught in the wild. The cr
“Put something dry on,” Cameron instructed as he tossed me a blue t-shirt. Without hesitation, I yanked off my soaked shirt. I should have taken off my bra as well, but I figured that might be rude. My friend may be gay, but there was something weird about showing off my boobs to someone I wasn’t intimate with.
Cameron walked to the kennel and unlocked the door, releasing the critter. With zero hesitation, it bolted towards me with happy chirps. Groaning, I practically jumped onto the nearest seat. The little guy would get some lovin’ with or without my permission. It was better to be sitting so he could climb the chair instead of digging his claws into my legs.
A second before the animal reached the chair, Cameron snatched him up. “I’ll go put him in his room.”
It was comical to watch the raccoon struggle, his little eyes begging for me to show him attention. “We’ll play later, Rudy, I promise,” I said, scratching the critter behind his ears before he was tossed into the other bedroom.
“I’m going to the Rez to visit my grandparents for Christmas. You’re still good on babysitting, right?”
With a low grumble, I nodded. My friend came from an Indigenous reservation in Oklahoma. His mother passed away when he was ten, and his father met a woman online and moved them across the country. Despite living paycheck to paycheck, the man made it a point to visit his grandparents and other relatives at least once a year. I don’t know what I would have done had I not been charged with watching Rudy the first Christmas without Luke. The crazy little critter made it almost impossible to wallow in my sorrow.
“So, should we pick up where we left off?” asked Cameron, taking a seat on his ugly green recliner.
Looking around for something to fidget with, I realized we left our coffees in the Jeep. It would have been the perfect way to dodge the subject, but I felt like I owed it to Cameron to speak up. He was Luke’s best friend and wanted justice just as much as I did.
“I’m not even a real reporter. I work for a tiny little online news blog.”
“That covers stories on social justice. Which is why digging up dirt on this cop is right up your alley.”
“What am I supposed to find that the big-time reporters won’t?”
“You still have that friend that works at the police station, don’t you?”
I grimaced. “I haven’t spoken to her since Luke died. She actually stood up for that piece of shit that killed him!”
Twisting one of his long braids, Cameron sighed, “I just feel like there is more to this story. The killer’s note said, ‘The first little piggie.’ The first thing that comes to my mind is the story of the three little pigs. Which means there are going to be at least two more. This can’t be random.”
“It could simply mean the guy is going after some cops who locked him up. It doesn’t mean that specific cop was crooked.” The next words to come from my lips left a sour taste in my mouth. “Not all cops are bad.”
Cameron rolled his eyes. “He shouldn’t have gotten away with it, Quinn. At the very least, he should have been kicked off the force. If someone is that trigger happy, they have no right to have that kind of power. If a person is so afraid for their life that they don’t take the time to notice if it’s a gun or not, they don’t need to be a cop.”
I was so done with the conversation. Every part of it was causing me anxiety. I could feel my stomach acid churning; all of the stress was bound to give me an ulcer. Getting to my feet, I grabbed my wet top. “I’ll bring you your shirt tomorrow. I really have to get going.”
He nodded without saying anything. I wasn’t sure what more he expected from me. There was hardly anything I would find out. Most news articles I wrote were barely considered news. Most of the time, my stories were based on some viral video that had gone around. I was lucky if I could snag an interview with the person who originally posted it. Other than that, all I wrote was nothing more than click bait to keep getting a paycheck. I wasn’t a real investigative reporter.
Besides, I didn’t really care about this female officer. Was it shitty how she died? Yes, but the only cop I really cared about was Officer Rick Moralles. The man who pulled the trigger and killed my soul mate.
I headed to my apartment, which was only a five-minute drive from Cameron’s. I had moved out of the place I shared with Luke, unable to withstand the loneliness. Without a roommate, I had to settle for the cheapest apartment I could find. It was a shit hole filled mostly with meth heads, and my door had been kicked in more times than I could count, but at least it wasn’t where he died.
Eventually, I had to buy several padlocks just to keep people out. I didn’t bother locking my Jeep, however. I’d rather have them open my door and find nothing than smash my window and still see nothing of value.
I could hear my neighbor’s music blasting through the hallway. There was no point in calling the landlord; he never did anything. Honestly, it wouldn’t even be such a big deal if wherever he was playing his music wasn’t right next to my bedroom.
After unlocking all my extra padlocks, I entered my apartment and practically fell onto my couch. This morning had been so draining. If my shitty neighbor would turn down his music, I might have tried to take a nap. Instead, I decided to dive into the fan fiction I was writing. It was based on a book about a fairy prince and his human mate. It was a fantastic book, but I had fallen head over heels with the villain. He should have been the one to get the girl instead of the prince, and I decided to create my own world based on the story. So far, people loved it. I published a new chapter every week, and my fans were eating it up.
I spent the entire day writing. When I looked at the time, it was already nine o’clock. My neighbor’s music had finally died down, but I didn’t feel like sleeping. In fact, I yearned for a change of scenery. Scrolling through social media, I saw a couple of acquaintances were out partying at a local bar. A drink didn’t sound half bad.
I changed into a cute little green dress with matching heels, fixed my makeup, brushed my hair, and decided to hit the town. Part of me wanted to call Cameron, but I ultimately decided against it. I didn’t need him bringing up that dead cop again. No, I needed to go have fun, not get dragged down into the abyss by sad memories.
I parked a good distance away before walking to a bar called The Nutcracker. The place was a local favorite, with good music, food, drinks, a pool table, and, of course, a super-hot bartender. The bar’s sign, a woman grabbing a cowboy between the legs, flashed with neon pink and blue lightd. As I walked inside, I noticed there was nobody I recognized, but I shrugged it off as I ordered a drink.
Chapter 3
Quinn
Outside, just past a group of smokers, I noticed two motorcycles parked up front. I recognized one of them. It looked a lot like the white and black Harley that sped recklessly past me earlier. Taking a sip of my drink, I chuckled. Cameron would be so jealous if I hooked up with the biker he had been eyeballing.
As that thought crossed my mind, I swallowed hard. Why would I ever be thinking about hooking up with anybody? Finishing off my drink, I turned on my heels to order another Long Island Iced Tea at the bar. New drink in hand, I went outside again.
Maybe it would be best to contact Cameron. Being alone at a bar seemed pathetic. As long as he didn’t bring up that cop, we could let loose and have some fun for once. Just as I pulled my phone from my purse, it slipped from my hands and clattered onto the sidewalk. I bent down to pick it up and felt something slap my ass hard. Rage boiled up within me; I snapped upright and spun around to face the pervert—a short, fat man swaying from side to side with a large, toothy grin.
I was about to give him a piece of my mind when someone beat me to it. He gripped the ass by his shirt collar and pulled him close. “Apologize to the lady,” hissed the man who came to my rescue.
The short pervert gave the guy holding him a once over, then looked at the man’s companion and started trembling. They were both tall, muscular, heavily tattooed, and wearing biker vests.
