summary
John is killed ,and who remains a mistery.is it his wife?bestfreind ?what do having a divorce and going through a relationship with a co-worker have to do with this situation?and just who's side is the police officer on?

Chapter 1 So this story will be 4 chapters, each one in a
different point of view. Hopefully it's not too
confusing. Yall let me know what you think
please Enjoy! JOHN I woke up this morning to my wife bitching at
me again. I guess I should be used to it by now,
after 10 years of marriage. Over the years our
fights have changed from money and kids to
divorce and they've become more and more
violent; never on my end though. I come from a traditional Catholic family and divorce is not an
option. But it's more than just my religion
keeping me from signing on the dotted line; I just
can't pull myself to do it. Michelle drives me crazy
but I can't let go of all our history. We are high
school sweethearts and I've never been with anyone else, I wouldn't know how to be
without her. I made my money in the NFL. I never played but I
climbed the corporate ladder and have made
some amazing friends along the way. When I got
to work this morning, my secretary could see on
my face that it was going to be another rough
day, but as always she tries her best to cheer me up "Good morning, Mr. McCoy!" "Hello, Charlotte. What have I got to do today?" I
said with zero enthusiasm and a long sigh. "Oh, Jeremy is here to see you. Didn't you know?
He said it was important." "Right. Thanks." I walked into my office to find
Jeremy sitting in my chair with a stupid grin on
his face. He could tell I was confused so he got to
the point. "Listen man, you need a fun weekend; A fucking
break from that woman." "Do you need to say it like that?" I frowned at
him. "Fine. How about you and me and some of the
guys go out to the river? Catch some fish and
forget about that bitch." "Sounds good to me man. Just tell me when and
where and I'll be there. But you have got to stop
bitching about my wife." I agreed to go on this
"man-trip" but I honestly didn't think anything
could take my mind off of my problems at home. This was the longest week of my life. I think
Michelle shoved something up her ass because
she was on my case more than usual. She was
standing in the entry way when I got home
from work with a sweet smile on her face. I miss
that smile. She used to smile like that when she saw me, when we were still young and madly in
love. "Hey, I just wanted to apologize for how I've
been acting this week. I made dinner…" "Uh, thanks babe. It smells great." She led me into the dining room and she must
have felt bad or something because she really
out did herself. It looked like she had been
cooking all day long. The entire table was
covered in food and there were a couple bottles
of wine. We sat down and had the first pleasant dinner we've had in years. It was such a relief
and she kept giving me these sensual looks from
across the table. Surely, we weren't going to
have sex tonight. I had so many thoughts going
through my head that everything she did made
me think she was trying to seduce me. When we finished eating, I helped her clean up
and she kept brushing up against me and
giggling in this really sexual way. I couldn't wrap
my head around how she was acting. This
wasn't her…well it was her, but it's how she
used to be. She was bitter and hateful now; this woman who cooked me dinner was
unbelievable, definitely not my wife. I put the last
dish in the dishwasher and with that she kissed
me on my cheek, grabbed her coat and ran for
the door. "I'm going to my mother's house for the
weekend! I just need to get away from this
house and you for awhile." And with that she
slammed the door behind her. I just stood there
with my mouth hanging open. She was bipolar.
Surely she was bipolar, how was it that we just had this amazing dinner and then she just up and
leaves? "Fucking bitch…" I say to myself. I grab the bottle
of wine from the table and begin to drink it with
no glass. I starting getting undressed and I was
already pretty drunk when I heard the front
door open and close. A huge grin spread across
my face and I lay back on the bed butt naked and turned off the lights. They walked in and said something but I
couldn't hear what it was. When the light flicked
on, I couldn't tell who it was; they were wearing
a big cloak and hood to cover their face. What I
could tell was that this person was holding a
shot gun. I knew what was coming next; they raised the gun slowly and pulled off their hood
to reveal their face. All the blood drained from
my face as I realized who it was; I felt so
betrayed. All I heard was the shot fire and all I
felt was excruciating pain and heartbreak.

Chapter 2 Part two is up! Different POV. JEREMY It seemed like just yesterday that I met John
McCoy. I had just had my first week as the head
coach of the Texans, and I got invited with all the
big wigs to lunch. It was a perfect day to sit
outside of a cafe in Houston. It doesn't seem like
meeting John was two years ago. We instantly got along; he was not only the greatest man I've
ever met, but he became my best friend. I shouldn't have waited so long to go over to
John's house that day. I had to go home to
shower so I wouldn't smell. I know how much
he hates it when I'm nasty. He was looking
forward to tonight, it's what he had been texting
me about all week. When I got to the house it looked all lit up and cozy. That's why I thought it
was weird Johnny didn't leave the door open. He
had texted me an hour before saying "Jeremy,
the wife's gone and I'm ready to see you!" As I
was walking up the stairs, I knew something
was wrong. The house was way too quiet and I could see the bedroom door was open. As I got
closer, I started to wonder if this was a new
game Johnny was playing. My heart started to
leap I walked in the bedroom door. Only to find
my life turned upside down. My Johnny! "Help,
help someone! Please!" I reached down, scooping him into my arms. His blood started to
soak into my nice white button up. It was my
favorite shirt because it was the first thing
Johnny had given me. I knew he needed help. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed my phone to
dial 911. I don't even remember what I told the
woman operator. It was all jibber with
screaming; I was in pure panic mode. I threw the
phone. John was bleeding all over from what
looked like a shot gun. He was in his underwear tied up with his favorite cheetah handcuffs. I
broke the plastic links. I sat there crying in my
own pity. My best friend was dead. The police showed up, loudly tramping up the
stairs. They found me holding John McCoy's
lifeless body, crying, and covered in his blood.
One of the police officers pulled his body from
my grip, stood me up, and started questioning
me. "Why are you at the McCoy's so late?" he pushed. "He's my best friend. We hang out all the time." I
said in between sobs. "Yeah okay, so how'd you get inside then?" he
pressed. "Um…I have a spare key." I started to realize how
this looked and that they could pin the blame on
me, so I decided to choose my answers carefully. "Did you come over and interrupt a nice evening
with the misses?" He looked at me with skeptical
eyes. "I can't tell you what I was doing over here…" I
dropped my head and let out a loud sigh. I would
be ruined no matter what I told them. My brain
scattered for answers. I did not want the truth to
be revealed.

Chapter 3 Here's the 3rd POV. Thank you so much for
reading! OFFICER DAVIS When I walk into the police station Monday
morning, nothing seems out of place. I'm not
sure what I was expecting, but after the chaos of
the weekend, this wasn't it. Breathing easier, I
walk down the hallway and push open the door
to the office. I see Johnson already working away in our cubicle. Setting my coffee cup down
on the desk, I mumble "Good morning" and turn
to face the pile of reports stacked by the
computer waiting to be filled. There on top is the
report I was hoping to see, for an incident that
occurred on Friday, involving the murder of John McCoy, the NFL President. This should be
interesting. Cracking my knuckles, I turn on the
computer and get to work. HOUSTON POLICE DEPARTMENT REPORT OF INCIDENT DATE: 08/03/2010 OFFICERS ON SCENE: WELSH. THOMAS. BROOKS.
CALHOUN. PERSONS INVOLVED:
JOHN MCCOY. Arrogant jerk. He deserved it. JEREMY GREEN. I type his name first. Figure he'd
like to be listed next to his lover. Plus, that
insinuates that he's the prime suspect. Worth a
shot. MICHELLE MCCOY. I cringe as I type her name. If
only the officers on scene hadn't been so
thorough. I told her to make a solid alibi. Say she
was going to her mother's for a weekend,
escape the fighting. But since there wasn't a
definite murderer she had to be included in the report. Damn. STEVE WATSON. I throw the neighbor in there for
the hell of it. Who knows, maybe he'll be
interrogated and it'll scare him into paying those
overdue tickets. OVERVIEW OF INCIDENT: John McCoy was found
dead in his home late Friday night. Mr. McCoy
was pronounced dead on scene. Cause of death
was determined to be a gunshot wound to the
head. I check the notes taken that night to make
sure they got it right. I know she wouldn't miss. Jeremy Green contacted police officials at
11:00pm that night. He was on the scene when
dispatchers arrived. Mr. Green was covered in
blood; DNA results have verified it belonged to
Mr. McCoy. Bet little loverboy couldn't help himself
once he saw John in bed, all tied up and waiting for him. Had to check for signs of life, signs of
hope. Course, I imagine I'd do the same for
Michelle. Seeing her tied up and bleeding… Of
course I'd check. Try to save her. She's
everything to me. Smiling, I replay the moment
we first met… I had been driving around aimlessly all day,
"patrolling" the area. I cruised through a parking
lot near a strip mall, hoping to write at least one
parking ticket. And bingo, there was my chance.
A sleek black Jaguar, tinted windows, suicide
doors. And parked in a handicapped spot. Handicapped my ass, I remember thinking as I
put the squad car in park and stepped out. In the
process of writing the ticket and admiring the
car, a woman comes sprinting across the parking
lot yelling at me. Shopping bags of every size and
color dangle from her arms, blonde hair blows around her face, and she doesn't falter once in
those five inch heels. She's hot, no denying it.
And she's running towards me with a glare on
her face and a string of cuss words coming out
of that pretty little mouth. Finally, realization
dawns on me that it's her car I'm admiring. I mean, writing the ticket for. "Hello ma'am, I'm Officer B-" "Don't you dare write that ticket!" she huffs,
cutting me off mid sentence. "Ma'am, just calm down. Do you have a
handicapped tag?" "What? No, of course not. Do you think I'd wear
these damn heels if I was handicapped?" She
unlocks the car and begins loading the shopping
bags into the back seat. I take the last handful
from her and set them gently in the car. A bag
from Victoria's Secret catches my eye, and I find my mind wondering to places it shouldn't be… "Are you going to give me the ticket or not?" she
asks, and I get the feeling it's not the first time
she's asked me. One look into those piercing blue eyes and I
know the answer. I tear the ticket up and stick it
in my pocket. I can tell I've taken her by surprise
when she stutters a quiet "thank you." "How
about I take you out to dinner instead?" I ask,
ignoring the diamond on her left hand. She grabs a piece of the ticket out of my pocket
and quickly scribbles something on it. "Call me,"
she says as she gets in the car and closes the
door. I look down at the numbers written on the
piece of paper in my hand, and smile as she
drives away. From then on, we were like fire and gasoline,
sparking at the slightest touch. I felt bad at first,
having an affair with a married woman. But she
told me all about her lackluster life with John; she
talked about the fighting and the late nights he
worked and the constant presence of Jeremy, one of the NFL coaches. She also told me about
the shitload of money they had, and we devised
a plan that would get us that money and let us
be together. I grin devilishly and get back to
work… MR. MCCOY'S wife, Michelle McCoy was not home
at the time of the incident. She was questioned
afterwards, and stated that she was leaving
town for the weekend to visit her mother. Mr.
Green and Mrs. McCoy appeared hostile towards
each other, but neither commented on that fact when questioned. No suspects were taken into
custody. I finish up the report and read over it once more,
making sure I included everything in the notes
without giving away too much. I scan the
officers' notes into the system and add them to
the report. Satisfied, I print it out and sign it. REPORT FILLED: 08/11/2010 REPORTING OFFICER: Brad D