Naomi parked her car near the driveway at Melanie and David’s house with a lump in her throat and her hands shaking. Two police cars were parked out front, bathing the house in blue and red lights. An officer was setting up police tape near the front door, which was hanging open.

Outside the perimeter stood an ambulance, with medics moving around the back of it. A tall black man in a suit noticed her first, and made his way toward her as she got out of her car, unsure of what to do next.

Keep breathing, she reminded herself.

The familiarity of the scene in front of her only added to the fear and anxiety swirling inside her. And to say she did not like talking to the police would be an understatement.

“Ms. Moore?” the man walking toward her asked, a badge dangling from his neck.

She recognized his voice immediately, and clasped her hands in front of her to keep them from shaking.

“Detective Hill,” she nodded, as the man came to a stop in front of her. “Can you take me to Melanie?”

“I have to warn you – she was very distraught when we arrived. The paramedics gave her a mild sedative, so she might not be entirely coherent,” Hill replied, eyeing her with some curiosity.

“I didn’t expect her to be not distraught after her husband’s been killed,” Naomi said, her tone coming out more clipped than she had intended.

Hill raised his brows at her. He hadn’t told her more than that there had been a murder, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out the victim had to be David. He and Melanie didn’t have any children, and since they were getting ready for a trip, Naomi didn’t think they would have had visitors over tonight.

“Did you know David well?” Hill asked, getting out a small notepad and pen from his breast pocket.

“Well enough,” Naomi replied. “Melanie is one of my closest friends. I was invited over to dinner often.”

“And as far as you know they were happily married?” Hill asked, jotting something down.

“Excuse me?” Naomi shot back, her voice rising. “What exactly are you asking?”

She still didn’t have any details about what could have possibly happened, but she knew one thing – Melanie was not a murderer. That this detective, who knew nothing about her friend, would even suggest something like that…

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” Hill immediately replied, tucking his notebook back into his pocket. “This can wait. I’ll take you to Mrs. Jones,” he said, gesturing toward the ambulance.

Naomi followed him to it, all the while staring daggers at the man’s back. Admittedly, she might have been prejudiced against the man, since he was law enforcement. She could admit that, since in her experience, cops only wanted to close cases.

It didn’t matter if they were actually solved or not.

Taking a deep breath, she put those thoughts aside, though. She was here for one reason – to be there for Melanie, not to criticize the police. After all, they didn’t know Melanie like she did. Could she really blame them for wanting to look at things from all angles?

Hill led her to the back of the ambulance, and said something to the paramedics in a low voice. She couldn’t make out what was said, but the man and woman Hill spoke to, clad in navy slacks and a white shirt, stepped aside after words were exchanged.

Hesitating for a moment, Naomi moved closer, to find Melanie sitting on a stretcher in the back of the ambulance, her eyes red and swollen and mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Spatters of blood covered her arms and face, and she was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants with the county logo on it. Naomi guessed that her own clothes had already been taken into evidence. Naomi climbed up, catching Melanie’s attention as she did.

“Oh, honey,” Naomi sighed, a pit in her gut so deep that she couldn’t know if it even had a bottom.

“Naomi,” Melanie said, trying to get to her feet, but staggering.

“Hey, hey,” Naomi replied, rushing over and making her sit back down. “I’m here.”

Instantly, Melanie began to sob. Naomi sat down next to her, wrapping her arms around her friend’s shoulders. She rubbed Melanie’s back as the woman cried, not knowing what else to do.

Nothing she could say could make things better. She knew that all too well.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Hill pacing awkwardly a couple feet away, shooting glances their way.

“David,” Melanie got out in between sobs. “Oh god, David. He’s…”

“I know,” Naomi said. “They told me. I’m so sorry, Melanie.”

Taking in a deep, shuddering breath, Melanie pulled away from her, a glazed look in her eyes. The sedatives must have been kicking in again, as her crying quieted, and she wiped her cheeks.

“I was in the bedroom packing,” Melanie said, an odd calmness to her voice. “I heard a loud crash, and then David yelled… I ran out, and there was this man…” she trailed off, before locking eyes with Naomi. “But he wasn’t a man at all, Naomi. I don’t know what he was, but he wasn’t a man,” she insisted, grabbing onto her shoulders. “I know what I saw, Naomi, and he wasn’t a man,” she repeated again, her face twisting in anguish.

Stunned, Naomi opened her mouth but no words came out. Clearly, Melanie was in shock. But then, wasn’t that what the cops had said when she had told them her story, once upon a time? She couldn’t bring herself to tell Melanie to calm down, or that she should get some rest, or any of the other placating bullshit.

Like sleeping is going to change the fact her husband is dead, she scoffed in her mind.

“It was a monster, Naomi,” Melanie said, her fingers digging into Naomi’s shoulders, now. “A terrible, terrible monster. You believe me, right?” she asked, her grip becoming painful. “Have I gone crazy?”

Before Naomi could answer, one of the paramedics came back, hopping into the ambulance and waving Naomi out of the way.

“She’s getting worked up again. We need to get her to the hospital,” the man said, gently prying Melanie’s fingers off Naomi’s shoulders.

Naomi stood, but grabbed onto Melanie’s hands before getting shooed away.

“You’re not crazy,” she told her, but Melanie didn’t look that convinced. “I’ll meet you at the hospital, okay?” she added, earning only a weak nod from Melanie.

And then, before she could even fully process what had just happened, she was whisked back outside the vehicle, and the ambulance drove off, leaving her standing in the middle of the street.

Hill approached her once again, looking somewhat concerned.

“What did she say?” he asked, and Naomi seriously contemplated not replying, just turning on her heel and getting back in her car.

But she had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well, and it would do no good for Melanie if the police thought Naomi was somehow covering for her. Melanie had said nothing incriminating, but evading the detective’s questions might make the man think she had.

“She said her husband’s killer was a monster,” Naomi said plainly, watching for Hill’s reaction.

He didn’t look surprised.

“Yeah, that was what she told the responding officers, too,” he admitted. “That he had two faces or something like that. Trauma does odd things to the mind.”

Naomi gritted her teeth. Now wasn’t that a line she had heard more times than she would have liked.

“Is that all?” she asked brusquely, turning toward her car.

“For now,” he nodded, before heading back to the house.

Letting out a long breath, Naomi leaned against her car, attempting to get her bearings. When she had gotten up that morning, she had not anticipated ending up in the middle of this kind of chaos.

Poor Melanie, she thought, blinking away tears. She truly loved him…

The uniformed officers were done with the crime scene tape, and walking to their squad car just as Naomi opened the door to her Toyota. With the detective and the paramedics gone, it was eerily quiet, and she couldn’t help but try and eavesdrop.

“Crazy, man,” one of the men said, shaking his head. “I almost lost my lunch.”

“It’s like a melon exploded or something,” the other guy replied, incredulity in his voice. “Except the melon was the poor dude’s head.”

Naomi got in her car, mostly because she didn’t want to fall flat on her face when her legs gave out. Melanie’s words rang in her head – a terrible, terrible monster. Gripping the steering wheel, Naomi tried to keep herself from shaking as the face of the creature that killed her parents popped up in her head and wouldn’t leave. Then, the image of him squeezing her father’s head…

Naomi knew that she would likely be the only one to ever believe Melanie. But she would be damned if she was going to stand aside and watch the cops fumble this investigation like they did with her parents.

What Melanie had seen was real, as real as it had been when Naomi herself had witnessed it. It wasn’t a figment of her imagination. Something had killed her parents and if she was right, that same something had now killed Melanie’s husband.

Shoving her keys in the ignition, Naomi pushed aside her fear, and focused on building determination for the truth, instead.

I’m going to get to the bottom of this, one way or the other.