Crime Time (Chapter One, page 1 of 12)


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I've pondered the events of those few months so often and so deeply I know if I don't at least commit the experience to paper I'll never move forward. The pure uniqueness of what we did virtually demands that there exist somewhere a record of what transpired and the terrible toll the results exerted on those of us involved. So here I am, with proverbial pen to paper, musing about the final disposition of these scratching if I should crawl my way through to completion of the task.

I'll record the facts from my personal point of view, and my observation of the reactions of the others involved, some of whom are unable to tell their own story. I'll leave judgment to the reader. What I pen about him will be pure speculation. How can any rational person hope to know what thoughts transpire in so evil a mind?

Coincidently, the starting date of our involvement is etched in my memory for an entirely different reason. It's almost ludicrous what ultimately evolved to how it began. It was the joyous weekend my future wife and I made public our marriage plans, with no one listening. We were rolling in euphoria when an old friend from my Amherst, Massachusetts childhood telephoned with an invitation to visit her family cabin in New Hampshire. There began the intimate gathering of five distinctly different individuals, and the unique results of our brief weekend cohabitation.

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