Sara alighted from her horse and ran like her life depended on it from the ramshackled house she shared with her mother to the local morgue. Chaotic were her thoughts that she didn't think her horse would get her there faster.
She was out of breath, her lungs on fire by the time she stormed into the morgue. The old man behind the front desk who was doubled as the receptionist and mortician looked up. He frowned at her, an eyebrow raised with contempt as he gave her a once-over.
His eyes were dull and yellowish, saggy with bags making her wonder if he knew one of the boxes in the morgue would be his home soon enough with his horrible lifestyle of cheap beer and junk food.
“Whaddya want?” He growled, displaying a row of yellow, crooked teeth.
She drew her pistol and pressed the barrel under his chin in a fast move, catching him off guard. He gasped, rage slowly filling his eyes. The old bastard wasn't even scared of dying or he was plain stupid to underestimate her. She might have grown up before their eyes in the town but they had no idea how life had hardened her.
“My mama was brought in here a few hours ago. Where is she?” Sara pushed the pistol deeper into the folds under his chin.
He raised his hands and tipped his head towards a door. “She in there.”
“For your sake, I hope you haven't removed anything from her.”
He showed more plagued teeth in a grin. “She got nothing ‘cept one cheap necklace inside her corset.”
“Where's the necklace? I want it.”
He hesitated so she brought the butt of the pistol down against his temple. He yelped and fell off his chair to the floor, scrambling on all fours to get away from her.
Sara hauled him up by his collar and the dirty shirt ripped by the side. She shook her head. Cheap, old bastard. “You thief. That was no cheap necklace. Give it to me now or you die.”
The contempt vanished from his eyes when he saw the young woman wasn't there to play around. With trembling hands, he dug into his pocket and pulled out the necklace.
Sara snatched it and opened the pendant shaped like a blue teardrop. It was a locket with a tiny key to the iron box hidden under the floorboards of their house where she and her mother kept everything they had taken over the years.
They never robbed ordinary people, only those who had grown rich from corruption, bribery and theft and kept their valuables locked away in places they thought no one could ever get to. Sara and her mother got to them.
The old mortician saw the key and before he could speak, she knocked him out with the pistol. She stepped through the morgue door and stopped for a moment, staring at her mother on a table beneath a white sheet.
She pulled the sheet back and inhaled at the sight of bruises on her face and a dark mark around her neck. Her hand trembled as she looked at the necklace. Whoever had done this must know about her and her mother.
She ran outside and back to the house to ride her horse back to the morgue. The old man was still out. She carried her mother's body and secured it on the horse before mounting it and galloping away.
Sara did not look back but she would find out who had gotten to her mother. And when she did, the necklace would be the last they ever saw.
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "cheap necklace”.
Thank you for visiting my blog.
Image by: Lorenzo Manera
