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Dead Rain

She was crying, it was raining, and he hadn't changed those tires like he'd planned. That's all he could think about when he saw the news. It swirled in his head and drowned out everything else including movement. He watched the reporter interviewing witnesses to the wreck, listened to the description of the car, watched the body being loaded into the ambulance, and knew that it was his wife.

His training kicked in and he snapped back to reality. He would have to claim the body. It meant a visit to the police and then the coroner's office. He'd have to make funeral arrangements. Luckily, neither of them had family to speak of. Oh maybe some distant cousin or great niece, but no one who'd care to come.

Before he knew it he was in the car half way to the station. Then soon after that standing at the station desk. Then soon after that talking with a station commander about how unusual it was to have a man who's wife just died asking to claim the body so soon after the accident. He was asking more questions about breaks and skid marks and tampering when two men in suits showed up and the commander was called out to talk to them.

That's when John decided to take his leave and head for the local hospital. He didn't make it far before one of the suits tried to stop him on the sidewalk. "Mister Wilcox, can you stop and talk for a minute." The man jogged up beside John and kept pace with him. "Mister Wilcox, I'm James Masters with the FBI. Sir, could I speak with you inside for a moment."

"I'm not interested in talking right now."

"Sir. If you could just come back inside, just for a minute we can clear this all up."

"There's nothing to clear up and I don't have time for this."

"Mr. Wilcox, there's no easy way to say this but your wife is the sole witness in a federal investigation if you could..."

The agent didn't get the last part out. John stopped him short with a quick shot to the throat. "I said I didn't want to talk. Listen next time." And with that strode back to his car and off to the hospital.

The hospital was just as inhospitable. It took several inquiries to find the morgue and then once there no one would talk to him about his wife's body until it had been properly evaluated. That caused a series of arguments with several of the staff which ended with John being asked to leave the hospital and wait to be contacted by the coroner.

Reluctantly he went back home only to find a news crew and several other government vehicles in his drive. Not ready to go down the "did you kill your wife" grilling he decided the best course of action would be to lay low at the little hotel just out of town. Under an assumed name just to stay off the radar.

"Well you really fucked that up Masters! What do you suppose we're going to do now?"

"He'll surface. He wants to get his wife's body after all."

"Yeah, well what if he doesn't. What if he decides that no wife, no kids, shitty job and it's just time to end it all. Then what?"

"Well he certainly didn't seem the type when he knocked me on my ass. I didn't even see it coming, not exactly what you'd expect from an accountant. I think he'll be just fine. He'll check his messages at some point and he'll be back raising hell with the hospital tomorrow." Jim rubbed his through still feeling the sting where he'd been hit.

"You better hope to God that he does or we're fucked, both of us!"

Two days later John Wilcox was seen entering his residence after fighting his way through camera crews and breaking the arm of a federal officer. Moments later his house exploded on live TV to the delight and horror of local watchers.