6:00 in the morning.
The alarm clock on the bedside table showed a fairy tale.
Today, Naomi Smith would finally become Mrs.
Williams.
She stretched out in the narrow bed of her one- room apartment on the second floor of an old house, which barely fit a sofa bed, an old chest of drawers with peeling paint, and a tiny IKEA table with one wobbly leg.
Through the thin walls came the familiar sounds of her neighbors.
Someone turned on the shower.
A child was screaming somewhere.
A dog was barking.
It was a typical morning in the southside where people lived paycheck to paycheck.
But today was special.
I’m getting married.
Naomi thought and a warm feeling spread through her body.
After 3 years of relationship, after all the doubts and worries, it was finally happening.
Terrence, wake up, honey, she whispered, nudging the man next to her on the shoulder.
Today is our day.
Terrence Williams stirred, opened one eye, then the other, and a broad smile spread across his dark face.
At 35, he still looked young, even though gray was already showing in his closely cropped hair.
His strong body, trained by years of construction work, seemed too big for the small bed.
“My bride,” he muttered, hugging Naomi.
“Today you will be my wife, finally.
” Naomi laughed, freeing herself from his embrace.
She had to get ready.
At 11:00 in the morning, they were expected at the small golden fleece banquet hall on the outskirts of town between a dry cleaners and an auto parts store.
A modest wedding for 60 people was all they could afford on the salaries of a primary school teacher and a manager at Brown Construction.
At least it’s not in a church basement, she thought, remembering her sister’s wedding 2 years ago.
Do you remember how we met? she asked, pouring coffee from an old drip coffee maker her grandmother had given her 10 years ago.
Of course, I remember.
You tripped at the bus stop on Main Street and I caught you.
I said it was fate.
Terrence winked.
And I was right.
3 years and 4 months ago, they met by chance at that bus stop.
Naomi had just started working at Martin Luther King Elementary School, and Terrence was looking for a new job after being laid off from his previous one.
They started dating and gradually realized they were meant for each other.
At least that’s how it seemed to Naomi.
“I love you,” she said, kissing him on the cheek, smelling his skin, a mixture of shower gel and cigarettes.
“And I’m so happy we’re getting married today.
I love you, too, baby.
And I’ll make you happy.
I promise.
” Deep down, Terrence knew he meant it.
Naomi was a good girl, reliable, and loyal.
She was exactly the kind of woman he wanted as the mother of his children.
But the last 6 months had been complicated, and he wasn’t sure he could keep that promise.
On the other side of town, at the Charm Beauty Salon on Berkeley Avenue, Candace Brown had been staring at herself in the mirror for an hour.
27 years old, a slim figure she maintained with regular visits to the gym, a pretty face with high cheekbones and full lips.
None of it had been enough to keep Terrence.
“Something wrong, sweetie?” asked Chanel, an older colleague, styling the hair of her next client, Mrs.
Johnson, who had been coming here every Friday for 15 years.
“He’s getting married today,” Candace said quietly, continuing to apply foundation to her flawless dark skin.
“Terance is marrying that teacher.
” “Oh, sweetie.
” Chanel shook her head, her long false eyelashes fluttering like butterfly wings.
“Forget about him.
There are plenty of men out there.
You’ll find someone else.
someone better than him.
But he promised.
Candace’s voice trembled.
She clenched her teeth, trying to hold back the tears.
He said he’d leave her, that she was too boring for him, that he needed a woman with some spark.
Candace remembered how they had met exactly 6 months and 3 days ago.
Terrence had come to the salon with his sister, Talia, who was getting her hair done for her birthday.
They struck up a conversation at the reception desk while Talia was sitting under the dryer.
He asked for her phone number, saying he couldn’t let such a beautiful woman get away.
They started dating secretly.
Terrence rented a room at the Pine Ridge Motel on the highway, saying that things were complicated with Naomi, that his mother would be against a divorce, that he didn’t know how to end a three-year relationship.
He promised that after the wedding, he would wait a month or two so as not to look like a jerk, and then he would file for divorce right away.
I was such a fool, Candace thought, looking at herself in the mirror.
Her reflections stared back at her accusingly.
He used me, she said aloud, and several clients turned around.
He just used me.
Chanel looked at her sympathetically.
Stories like this were common in their neighborhood.
Women fell in love with married men who promised them the world and disappeared when things got serious.
Chanel herself had two such stories in her past.
You know what I say? Chanel leaned closer to her and lowered her voice.
If a man cheats on his woman with you, he’ll cheat on you when he finds the next one.
He said I was special.
Candace repeated stubbornly.
They all say that little sister.
After lunch around 2:00, Candace asked to leave early.
The salon owner, the fat Mrs.
Roberts, looked at her disapprovingly, but let her go.
Candace had never had any problems at work before and was one of the best stylists in the salon.
Candace walked down familiar streets, not knowing where she was going.
Garbage littered the sidewalks, graffiti covered the walls, and children played on a playground with broken swings.
It was a typical day in a typical neighborhood.
But today, everything seemed gray and hopeless.
Her thoughts were confused.
Her heart achd.
Why did he choose her? This simple teacher with no taste, no style.
Candace was prettier, brighter, more interesting.
She wasn’t afraid to experiment in bed, knew how to satisfy a man, read sex magazines, and followed fashion.
And this Naomi, Candace had only seen her in a photo on Terren’s phone.
Plain, dressed simply, without makeup.
Natural beauty, Terrence had said.
But Candace saw only mediocrity.
Suddenly, a thought flashed through her mind.
Clear, cold, cruel.
If she couldn’t be with Terrence, then no other woman should be either.
If Naomi lost her natural beauty, Terrence would surely change his mind.
Candace knew how men reacted to damaged looks.
She had seen it many times.
When a woman became unattractive, a man found a thousand reasons to leave.
The decision came naturally, as if someone else were thinking for her.
Candace walked into the hardware store on the corner of Washington Street and Fifth Avenue.
The store was small, crammed with goods from floor to ceiling, and smelled of chemicals and old wood.
Can I help you, miss? asked the salesman, an elderly Latino named Pedro, who had been working there for 20 years.
I need sulfuric acid, Candace said in a surprisingly calm voice.
Concentrated.
What’s that for? Pedro asked, but without much curiosity.
People bought all kinds of chemicals for various purposes.
To unclog the pipes in the bathroom.
They’re completely blocked.
I see.
We have 70% 30 o $12.
90.
That’ll do.
Pedro took a plastic bottle with a bright yellow label and warning signs from the shelf.
Candace handed him $15 and waited for her change.
“Be careful, miss,” was all he said as he handed her the receipt.
“It’s a very corrosive solution.
Wear gloves and work in a well ventilated area.
” “Of course.
” Candace nodded, tucking the bottle into a large bag.
At home in the small second floor apartment on Jefferson Street that she rented with her friend Tiffany, Candace sat down on the bed and took out the bottle.
The liquid was clear, almost like water, but the smell was sharp chemical burning her throat even through the closed cap.
She imagined the acid hitting Naomi’s face, the skin hissing and melting, her natural beauty turning into a mess of burnt flesh.
The thought made her feel sick, but she couldn’t stop.
What are you doing?” asked her roommate, Tiffany, peeking into the room.
She had come home from work earlier than usual.
Nothing.
Candace quickly hid the bottle, shoving it under her pillow.
Just thinking about what? About how to change my life.
Tiffany, a thin girl with big eyes who worked as a cashier at a supermarket, looked at her friend with concern.
Candace had been acting strange for the past few days.
Are you okay? Maybe we should have some wine and talk.
No thanks.
I need to think.
After Tiffany went to her room, Candace continued planning.
She knew where the wedding would be.
Terrence had mentioned the place several times.
The Golden Fleece, a hall on the first floor of an old building where his family often celebrated holidays.
Cheap and cheerful, he said, laughing.
Candace imagined the scene.
She would walk into the hall.
All the guests would be seated at tables.
The happy couple would be standing at the altar or dancing their first dance.
She would walk up to Naomi and at 4:00 in the afternoon, guests began to gather in the golden fleece hall.
The small room with low ceilings was decorated with white balloons and artificial flowers.
Plastic chairs were arranged in rows, and in front stood a small podium decorated with white fabric.
Naomi wore a simple white dress she had bought at Target on sale.
She did her own makeup using cosmetics her sister had given her for her birthday.
Her hair was done by her friend Alicia who had once taken hairdressing classes.
But Naomi was glowing with happiness and that made her truly beautiful.
She stood in the small room that was used as a dressing room.
The mirror reflected her excited face.
“I’m getting married,” she thought again, and her heart fluttered.
“You look beautiful,” said her mother, adjusting her daughter’s veil.
a tall woman with gray hair.
She had been working as a cleaner in an office building for 25 years.
“Thank you, Mom.
I’m proud of you, dear.
Terrence is a good man.
He’ll make you happy.
” “Yes, he will,” Naomi thought.
Despite all the difficulties, despite the fact that money was always tight, they loved each other.
“That was enough.
” In the hall, Terrence, wearing the wrinkled suit he wore to job interviews and funerals, nervously adjusted his tie.
The suit had been bought 5 years ago on sale and was now a little tight, but today it didn’t matter.
His best friend, Jason, a tall guy with dreadlocks, patted him on the shoulder.
“Nervous?” “A little,” Terrence admitted, looking around the room.
“Relatives, friends, colleagues, all the people who were important to him and Naomi.
” His mother sat in the front row, wiping away tears of happiness.
Naomi’s father was adjusting an old camera he had borrowed from work.
But I’m happy,” Terrence added.
Naomi deserves to be happy.
“She’s the best.
” Deep down, Terrence felt a little guilty.
The affair with Candace had been a mistake.
A big mistake.
He had never planned to leave Naomi.
It was just Candace was different.
Bright, passionate, unpredictable.
With her, it was easy to forget about problems, debts, and the daily grind.
But it wasn’t love.
Love was right here with Naomi.
With her kindness and loyalty, the hall gradually filled up.
Children ran between the tables.
The older generation discussed the latest neighborhood news, and young people took selfies.
Music played softly.
Old hits from the ‘9s coming from the speakers brought by the DJ, the groom’s cousin.
Naomi stood by the window in the dressing room, looking out at the street.
The sun was setting, painting the sky orange and pink.
She thought about the future, about the children she and Terrence wanted, about the little house they would someday buy, about family trips to the beach, about holidays with her family.
“Are you ready, dear?” her father asked as he entered the room.
A tall man with graying hair.
He had worked at an automobile factory for 32 years.
His hands were calloused, but today he was wearing his best shirt.
“I’m ready, Dad.
” The ceremony was scheduled to begin at 5:00.
The priest, a young man from the local New Hope Church, was already standing at the makeshift altar decorated with simple flowers from the nearest grocery store.
The guests took their places on plastic chairs facing the entrance.
Terrence took his place next to the priest.
His heart was beating fast.
His palms were sweaty.
He looked at the front door where his bride was supposed to appear in the hallway.
The music changed to a wedding march and all the guests stood up.
Behind the door in the dark hallway stood a woman with a plastic bottle in her hand.
Candace was breathing fast and unevenly trying to gather her courage.
In her other hand, she held a small letter opener, which she planned to use to quickly open the bottle cap.
The music grew louder.
Naomi appeared in the doorway arm in-armm with her father.
Naomi walked down the center aisle with her father, and every step seemed like a fairy tale.
The guests smiled, some cried quietly with emotion, and the children waved their hands.
Terrence stood at the altar, his smile lighting up his entire face.
Wedding music played softly, creating a solemn atmosphere in the small hall, which smelled of cheap air freshener and flowers.
When Naomi reached the third row, the door to the hall swung open.
A woman appeared in the doorway, slender, beautiful, wearing a tight-fitting black dress and high heels.
She was holding a plastic bottle in her hand.
Terrence, the woman screamed, her voice cutting through the air like a knife.
All the guests turned to her, the music suddenly stopped.
Terrence turned pale when he recognized Candace.
His heart stopped for a moment.
“No, no, no,” he thought, but his legs felt like they were glued to the floor.
Candace quickly walked toward the altar.
Her heels clicked on the lenolium echoing off the walls.
The guests stepped aside, not understanding what was happening, but sensing that something was wrong.
“You thought I would just walk away?” Candace shouted, approaching the couple.
“You thought I would swallow your lies?” Naomi turned to her, not understanding who this woman was or why she was yelling at her fianceé.
The bride’s eyes widened with fear and confusion.
Candace, please.
Not here, Terrence whispered, taking a step forward, trying to stand between the women.
Not here, Candace laughed hysterically.
Where then, Terrence? In our motel room? Where you promised me this would be our wedding? The hall fell silent.
The guests looked at each other, beginning to understand what was happening.
Naomi’s mother clutched her heart.
Her father clenched his fists.
Did you cheat on him? Naomi asked quietly, turning to Terrence.
Her voice trembled.
with me right here.
You cheated on me?” Candace seized the moment.
She quickly opened the cap of the bottle she was holding in her hand.
A sharp chemical smell instantly filled the room.
“If I can’t be with him, then you won’t either!” she shouted and swung the bottle.
“Time seemed to slow down.
” Terrence realized what was about to happen and lunged forward, but it was too late.
The acid shot out of the bottle in a wide stream, aimed directly at Naomi’s face.
Some of the liquid splashed onto the bride’s white dress, and the fabric began to smoke, but most of it reached its target.
The acid hit Naomi’s left cheek, chin, and neck.
Naomi let out a sound that was not human.
It was a scream of pain so piercing that several guests covered their ears with their hands.
She fell to her knees, clutching her face.
The chemical reaction began instantly.
Her skin hissed and bubbled, changing color from brown to red, then black.
The smell of burning flesh mixed with the chemical smell of acid, and several guests began to vomit.
“My god!” Naomi’s mother screamed, rushing to her daughter.
“Someone help!” Candace stood frozen, staring at the result of her actions.
The bottle fell from her hand and rolled across the floor, leaving a smoking trail.
The acid continued to eat away at Naomi’s face, and her screams grew weaker, turning into moans.
Terrence knelt down next to his bride, but didn’t know what to do.
He couldn’t touch her.
The acid could get on his hands.
“Call an ambulance!” Someone shouted.
“Quick!” Panic swept through the hall.
People jumped out of their chairs.
Some ran to the exit.
Children cried.
Women screamed.
Several men tried to approach Naomi, but the smell and sight of her burned skin repelled them.
Candace suddenly realized what she had done.
She was overcome with horror.
She turned and ran toward the exit, pushing her way through the crowd of panicked guests.
Her black dress fluttered between people, her heels clicking on the floor.
“Stop her!” someone shouted, but no one tried to stop Candace.
All attention was focused on the victim.
Candace ran out of the hall and down the corridor.
Her heart was racing.
Her breath was uneven.
“What have I done? What have I done?” she thought.
She ran out into the street and ran without looking where she was going.
Her high heels were slowing her down, so she kicked them off and continued running barefoot along the sidewalk.
In the hall, the priest, a young man who had never encountered such a situation before, stood in shock.
His hands trembled as he tried to reach for the phone and call an ambulance.
“Give me the phone!” shouted Terren’s uncle, Delroy, who worked as an orderly at the city hospital.
He quickly dialed the emergency number.
“Yes, hello.
We need an ambulance.
The Golden Fleece on Main Street.
We have a chemical burn.
Acid got on the face.
Yes, the victim is unconscious.
Naomi had indeed lost consciousness from the pain.
Her body slumped to the floor, her face hidden from view by her mother’s hands as she tried to help her daughter in any way she could.
Terrence sat nearby, tears streaming down his face.
It’s my fault, he thought.
I’m to blame for all this.
But now was not the time for self flagagillation.
We need to wash her with water, Delroy shouted.
Where’s the water? In the bathroom, someone pointed.
Several men carefully lifted Naomi and carried her to the bathroom.
The acid was still working, and it was important to wash it off as quickly as possible.
Terrence walked alongside, holding his unconscious fiance’s hand.
In the bathroom, they turned on the cold water at full force.
They carefully held Naomi’s face under the stream, trying to wash away the remaining acid.
The water mixed with blood and burned skin flowing into the sink in pink streams.
After 8 minutes that seemed like an eternity, the ambulance arrived.
The medical team quickly assessed the situation.
The senior paramedic, an experienced woman in her 50s, immediately took control of the situation.
Thirdderee chemical burns, she said, examining the victim.
She needs to go to the hospital immediately.
This is serious.
Naomi was placed on a stretcher.
Her face was covered with sterile towels through which blood was seeping.
The medics quickly administered painkillers and began preparing her for transport.
“I’m going with her,” Terrence said, grabbing the stretcher.
“Are you her husband?” the paramedic asked.
“Fiance was supposed to be her husband.
” “Okay, get in the car.
” The ambulance took Naomi to St.
Michael’s Hospital, the closest to the scene.
Terrence sat next to her, holding her hand and repeating, “I’m sorry.
I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
The hall was left with confused guests and overturned chairs.
Some people had already begun to disperse while others gathered in groups discussing what had happened.
Children cried, not understanding what had happened to their happy celebration.
15 minutes after the ambulance left, police cars arrived at the Golden Fleece.
The first to arrive was a patrol car with two officers in uniform.
They began questioning witnesses, trying to understand what had happened.
A woman burst in during the ceremony, Naomi’s aunt said, sobbing.
She was shouting something about a wife and a mistress.
Then she poured acid on my niece’s face.
Can you describe the attacker? asked the officer, taking down the statements.
Young, around 25 to 30 years old, black, tall, beautiful.
She was wearing a black dress and high heels.
Other guests confirmed the description.
The picture gradually emerged.
The fiance’s mistress had staged a scene of jealousy that led to tragedy.
40 minutes later, Detective Roland Jackson arrived at the scene.
42 years old, of average height, with a graying beard.
He had been with the police for 15 years and had seen a lot.
But cases like this still shocked him.
Jackson examined the scene.
There were traces of acid on the floor, smoking stains on the lenolium.
A plastic bottle lay near the altar next to the bride’s white shoes.
The acrid smell still hung in the air.
“What do we have?” he asked the patrol officers.
“An acid attack.
The victim is the bride, Naomi Smith, 30 years old.
The attacker is the groom’s mistress, approximately 25 to 30 years old.
Black fled the scene.
” Jackson nodded and approached the group of witnesses.
He needed to get as detailed a description of what happened as possible while the memories were still fresh.
“Did you all see the attack?” he asked.
“Yes, she burst in right in the middle of the ceremony,” replied Naomi’s mother.
“She was yelling at my son-in-law something about promises and betrayal.
Then she threw that filthy stuff at my girl.
” “Did she call him by name?” “Terrence, yes,” she called him Terrence.
Jackson jotted down the information in his notebook.
A love triangle, jealousy, a planned attack.
Everything pointed to this not being a spontaneous outburst of emotion.
“Does anyone know this woman’s name?” The guests looked at each other, shaking their heads.
None of them had seen the attacker before.
“We need to question the groom,” Jackson told the patrolman.
“He must know her name.
” He left with the victim for the hospital.
“Then let’s go there.
” Jackson looked around the hall once more.
a ruined wedding, commotion, blood on the floor.
He had to find this woman quickly before she disappeared for good or hurt herself or others.
He left the hall and headed for his car.
The sun had already set and the street lights were coming on.
At the hospital, the groom was waiting for him, who could provide key information about the attacker’s identity.
Detective Jackson got into his car and drove to St.
Michael’s Hospital.
On the way, he thought about the motives for the crime.
Jealousy was a powerful motive for crime, especially in love triangles, but the use of acid indicated a desire not just to cause pain, but to disfigure, to destroy beauty forever.
The emergency room was in chaos.
Terrence sat in the hallway on a plastic chair, his head in his hands.
His wedding suit was splattered with blood, his tie torn off.
Naomi’s mother sat nearby, crying quietly.
Mr.
Williams.
Jackson approached him, showing his ID.
Detective Roland Jackson, Major Crimes Division.
Terrence raised his head.
His eyes were red from crying, his face gaunt.
How is she? Was his first question.
I don’t know.
I need to talk to the doctors.
But first, I need to ask you a few questions about the attacker.
Terrence nodded, understanding the inevitability of this conversation.
What’s her name? Candace Brown.
She’s 27.
Do you know where she lives? Jefferson Street, apartment number eight.
She rents it with a friend.
How long have you been together? Terrence lowered his head even further.
About 6 months.
I know it was wrong.
I should have ended it sooner.
Did she know about your wedding? Yes.
I told her it was over between us 2 weeks ago.
She cried.
Begged me to give her another chance.
I thought she had accepted it.
Jackson wrote down the answers in his notebook.
The picture was becoming clearer.
Where does she work? at the Charm Beauty Salon on Berkeley Avenue.
Did she ever threaten you or Naomi? Terrence thought for a moment.
No, she just didn’t want to accept the breakup.
She said I was making a mistake that we were meant for each other, but there were no threats.
The doctor left the ward and Jackson stepped aside to let the family hear the news about the victim’s condition.
Thirdderee burns on her face and neck.
The doctor said, “We did everything we could to treat the wounds.
She’s in surgery now and the plastic surgeons are trying to minimize the damage.
Will she survive? Naomi’s mother whispered.
Yes, her life is not in danger, but she will have scars for the rest of her life.
She will need many operations.
Terrence buried his face in his hands.
Jackson approached him again.
I need to send a unit to pick up Candace Brown.
Do you mind? No, of course not.
Arrest her.
She She destroyed Naomi.
She destroyed her face.
Jackson returned to his car and contacted the dispatcher on the radio.
He gave him Candace’s address and a description of the suspect.
The patrol officers were to go to her home and the beauty salon.
The detective left his card with Terrence, asking him to call if he remembered anything else important.
Then he drove back to the scene to examine the evidence again and talk to any witnesses who might still be there.
It promised to be a long night.
Jackson knew that acid attacks were particularly vicious.
It wasn’t just about causing pain, but about disfiguring someone forever, robbing them of their face, their identity.
It required a special kind of malice or desperation.
He thought about Candace Brown, who was now hiding somewhere, perhaps already realizing the magnitude of what she had done.
Such crimes were rarely committed without consequences for the perpetrator.
Usually, the culprits either turned themselves in or tried to kill themselves.
Jackson turned on the radio and asked for an update on the search for the suspect.
There was no response, which meant that Candace had not yet been found.
Detective Roland Jackson stood in front of the mirrored doors of the Charm Beauty Salon at 7:00 the next morning.
The police had been searching for Candace Brown all night, but to no avail.
Her apartment was empty, her phone was not answering, and her roommate Tiffany claimed she did not know where she was.
The salon opened at 9:00, but Jackson knew that the staff arrived early to prepare.
Half an hour later, he saw an elderly black woman with keys approaching the doors.
“Mrs.
Roberts,” he called out, showing his badge.
“Detective Jackson, Major Crimes Division.
” The woman stopped, looking at him suspiciously.
“What’s going on? Is this about Candace? Yes, I need to talk to your employees about her.
Mrs.
Roberts, the salon owner, nodded and opened the door.
Come in.
I knew there was something wrong with that girl.
She left early yesterday.
She was all nervous.
The salon smelled of perm chemicals and cheap perfume.
Jackson sat down in a leather customer chair and took out his notebook.
What can you tell me about Candace? She’s been working for me for 2 years.
She’s a good stylist.
The clients love her, but lately she’s been nervous, crying in the bathroom a lot.
Did she mention any personal problems about a man married? Chanel knows more.
They were friends.
At that moment, Chanel herself entered the salon.
A tall woman in a bright dress and large earrings.
“Good morning, Mrs.
Roberts,” she greeted her, then noticed the detective.
“Oh, is this about Candace?” “Yes, I need to talk to you,” Jackson said.
Chanel sat down in a nearby chair, crossing her long legs.
I knew it would end badly.
Married men never bring anything good.
Tell me about her relationship.
She met him 6 months ago when he came with his sister.
His name was Terrence.
Tall, handsome.
She fell for him right away.
Chanel told me how Candace talked about Terrence all the time, showed me his messages, bragged about his gifts.
He told her he didn’t love his girlfriend and was going to leave her after the wedding.
Candace believed every word.
Did she mention anything about plans to harm his fianceé? Chanel thought for a moment.
No, she was angry, of course.
She said that Naomi was boring and ugly, but to kill or maim her, I didn’t think she was capable of that.
Jackson wrote down her statement.
When did you last see Candace? Yesterday around 2:00.
She suddenly asked to go home.
She looked strange, kind of pale.
I asked her what was wrong and she said he’s getting married today.
Did she say anything about her plans? No, she just left.
But Chanel was thinking she asked me about acid.
She said she wanted to clean the bathtub at home.
I advised her to buy some at the hardware store.
Jackson felt his heartbeat quicken, so the attack had been planned in advance.
Other employees began to arrive at the salon.
Jackson questioned each one, but no one could provide any additional information about Candace’s whereabouts.
Leaving the salon, the detective drove to the station.
He needed to check Candace’s relatives, friends, any places where she might be hiding.
In the database, he found information about the Brown family.
The mother had died 2 years ago of cancer, and the father was not listed, but there was a cousin, Delroy Brown, who lived 20 minutes away from downtown.
Jackson dialed Delroyy’s number, but he didn’t answer.
Then the detective decided to go there himself.
Delroy Brown lived in a small house with peeling yellow paint.
An old Toyota with one flat tire stood in the yard.
Jackson parked and walked up to the door.
After the third ring, the door opened.
A man in his 30s dressed in casual clothes looked at him wearily.
Delroy Brown.
Detective Jackson.
Police.
I need to talk to you about your cousin Candace.
Delroyy’s face tensed.
“What’s wrong with her? Do you know where she is?” “No, we’re not very close.
” Jackson noticed his lips tremble.
“Can I come in?” Delroy reluctantly let him in.
The house smelled of stale smoke and fried food.
Jackson looked around and noticed a woman’s purse on the kitchen table.
“Candice is here,” he said affirmatively.
Delroy sighed.
She came here last night crying, saying she’d done something terrible.
She begged me to hide her.
Where is she now? In the bedroom, asleep.
Jackson walked in the direction indicated.
In the dark room, a woman lay on the bed wrapped in a blanket.
Her black dress lay on the floor.
“Candice Brown, you’re under arrest,” he said loudly.
The woman flinched and turned around.
Candace’s face was swollen from crying, her eyes red.
She looked at the detective and began to cry.
I didn’t mean to.
I didn’t think it would be like this.
Jackson called over the patrolman who was waiting in the car and they handcuffed Candace.
She didn’t resist, just kept crying.
At the police station, Candace was taken to an interrogation room.
The bright light from the lamp illuminated her face, making it even paler.
She wrapped herself in a blanket that the sergeants had given her.
“I’m going to read you your rights,” Jackson began.
After the formalities were over, he turned on the tape recorder.
Candace, tell me in your own words what happened yesterday.
She was silent for a few minutes, then began in a quiet voice.
I loved him.
I really loved him.
Terrence was the first man who made me believe I was special.
Candace talked about how they met, how Terrence courted her, promised to leave Naomi after the wedding.
He said he was only marrying her because he had promised her a long time ago that he really loved me.
He lied to you.
Jackson stated, “I only realized it yesterday when I realized that the wedding was really going to happen, that he wasn’t going to leave her.
” She told him about buying the acid, about how she hadn’t slept all night planning what to do.
I just wanted to scare her, to make him not want to marry her.
But you threw acid in her face.
I I was so angry when I saw her in her white dress looking so happy.
I just couldn’t stop myself.
Candace cried as she recounted that moment.
I knew immediately what I had done.
When I saw the acid eating away at her skin, I was terrified.
I ran without thinking.
Jackson took notes, observing her reactions.
Candace seemed genuinely remorseful, but that didn’t change the seriousness of her crime.
Naomi will be disfigured for life, he said, because of your jealousy.
I know.
I know, she sobbed.
I’d give anything to take it back.
After the interrogation, Jackson needed to talk to Terrence again.
He drove to the hospital where Terrence had not left Naomi’s room.
Terrence looked even worse than the day before.
He hadn’t changed his clothes or shaved, and his eyes were red from lack of sleep.
“We arrested Candace Brown,” Jackson reported.
Terrence nodded, his eyes fixed on Naomi’s bed.
Her face was covered with bandages.
only her eyes were open.
“I need you to tell me in detail about your relationship with her,” the detective said.
Terrence took a deep breath.
“I met Candace at the salon.
She was vibrant, lively, the complete opposite of Naomi.
” He told them how their relationship began, how Candace gave him what he lacked in his everyday life.
Excitement, passion, novelty.
With Naomi, everything was predictable and calm.
Did you promise to leave Naomi? Yes, Terrence admitted.
I said I was only getting married because of family pressure that I would divorce her right away, but that was a lie.
I never planned to leave Naomi.
Why did you continue your relationship with Candace? I’m weak, he said bitterly.
I liked that such a beautiful woman wanted to be with me.
I thought I could end the relationship neatly after the wedding.
Jackson listened, realizing how typical this story was.
A man who wants both stability and passion.
A woman who believes in promises and an innocent victim who pays for someone else’s sins.
Did Candace threaten you? No, she just didn’t want to break up.
She said we were meant for each other.
I thought she would calm down after the wedding.
Naomi stirred in bed.
Terrence jumped to her side.
How are you feeling? Naomi’s voice was weak and horsearse from the medication.
“It hurts.
” “I’m so sorry,” Terrence whispered.
“I’m so sorry for everything.
” Naomi turned her head toward the detective.
“Did you catch her?” “Yes, ma’am.
Candace Brown has been arrested.
” “Why did she do it?” Jackson hesitated, but decided to tell the truth.
“She was your fiance’s mistress.
She didn’t want the wedding to happen.
” Naomi’s eyes filled with tears.
She looked at Terrence.
“How long?” “6 months,” he replied quietly.
“But it didn’t mean anything.
I only love you.
” “She disfigured my face,” Naomi said.
“Because of you and your mistress.
” Terrence fell to his knees beside the bed.
“I’m sorry.
Please forgive me.
” Jackson quietly left the room, giving them a chance to talk.
His work was done.
The criminal had been arrested.
The motive established, all the facts gathered.
2 months later, the trial of Candace Brown lasted a week.
She pleaded guilty to assault, causing grievous bodily harm.
The sentence was harsh, 8 years in prison.
Naomi had already undergone three operations.
The doctors did everything they could, but the scars on the left side of her face would remain forever.
Her skin had been pulled tight, the shape of her eye had changed, and her lip was deformed.
Terrence never left her side.
Despite everything, despite his betrayal, Naomi decided to give him another chance.
“I don’t love his face, I love his soul,” she told the doctors when they asked her about her decision.
On the day Candace was sent to prison, Jackson received a letter from Naomi.
“Thank you for finding her,” she wrote.
“I’m not angry at Candace.
She was a desperate woman who believed a lie.
I’m angry at the system that makes us enemies because of men who can’t keep their promises.
Jackson kept that letter.
In his practice, he had rarely seen such wisdom from victims of crime.
Terrence and Naomi were married in a small ceremony a year after the tragedy.
This time, the wedding went off without a hitch, although Naomi wore a veil to hide her scars.
In prison, Candace volunteered in a program to help victims of domestic violence.
She wrote letters to women warning them about the dangers of trusting the promises of married men.
Each letter began with the words, “I know what I’m talking about.
”
