***For those interested in only reading the Short Story: Backfired in its entirety please do so at Encore at the end of this book.

This book is dedicated to all honest hearts. . .

Prologue

"Sure, I knew he was capable of murder... I'd groomed him to be," admitted Micah's mom as she struggled with the rope binding her hands behind her back; puzzled: "Doesn't every mom wish their son could commit murder for them?... I just didn't think in a trillion years it would be mine... How could he?... Surely he can't or he would've done it by now, right?" she mouthed under her breath.

"But he can't! No! Surely not. Not after all I've done for him!"

And he could have gotten me a more comfortable chair, she thought as she winced and whined; struggled until both her wrists and ankles were chafed; burning because of her constant irritated shifting. Micah had looped one end of the thick new rope imprisoning her palms between the four legs of the wooden straight chair. Positioned her far enough back from the small circular attic window so that if she tried to escape or attract attention she would tip over and he would hear her.

Toting her comatose body had been quite an ordeal. Although he was strong and he had flipped her over his shoulder like a sack of old potatoes the staircase was narrow and warped. He'd not been sure about both their weights on the creaking stairs. And after he had plopped her onto the wooden seat and roped her up just before he'd thought she'd come to Micah found himself sweating profusely and quite famished.

He figured that he still had a few hours before enacting an idea he'd been toying with for weeks. Though truthfully that desire had been simmering in his subconscious for years. For his mom had taught Micah to think only of his desires; after hers, of course. That 'sentiment' was useless; it was for fools. And that only extreme intelligence could propel one into an exciting and successful future. And didn't she have a way of letting him know that he was inept; more than a tad deficient? That the intellectual reigns of this family were held solely in her capable hands.

Plus: "Look at who you married!" was always her final toss of ice-cold water as a 'wake-up' into his face. "Don't you dare believe that a wife of yours can stand on the same stage as me. Let alone share my limelight!"... As far as Micah's mom was concerned, his wife, Rachel, had no 'concrete' value if she couldn't continue to pull her weight...."And having your first baby in your fifties! What a disgrace!... My lawd! Even if conceived during a pandemic. She gets no crying privileges!"

So when Micah's mother started feigning chronic illness she had no idea that it would backfire.