A Vision of Murder (4 page)

“Can we still save her?”
Dunn’s words almost overlapped Simms in his urgency.

I
paused.
“I’ve
never seen the future before-”

“But that would mean… the
cabin victim was killed last week during a storm like this. If the killer
didn’t kill again that same night, it would mean this victim would have had to
have been killed at least a month ago, if not more.”

Simms thought a moment.
“
It’s been a long dry spell. I’d say we’ve only had
a handful of storms this summer.”

“What if it is tonight?”
Dunn asked again. “Just because you’ve never seen the future before doesn’t
mean that you couldn’t,
does
it?” Simms
eyed him warily. “I mean, if
she can see the
past, maybe
now she can see the future. We have to
try.”

“The storms are supposed to
last all evening,” Simms said doubtfully. I sat as if mute,
surveying them. “Are you sure
she’s around here?”

“I’m sensing… she’s not
alive,” I trailed off, glancing at Dunn.

“We’ve still got to try,”
Dunn
repeated,
a stubborn expression on his face.
Simms nodded and stood. “It would have been helpful if you had a few more
letters, but I’ll check some of our maps.”

The storm boomed and rumbled
overhead. Dunn agreed to take me back home.
As I ran
through the rain up to my house, I carefully dodged the puddles, not looking
up.
On reaching the safe haven of the porch, I paused and removed the
newspaper from above my head, where I had sheltered my
hair
from the rain. It
dripped
water, the words merging into a confusing blur.
The storm seemed to have
settled in for at least the night if not longer.

I hoped fervently that they
would find the
girl, even
if it meant going
out in this storm. The house was chilly, damp with the
rain
in the air. It seemed as if something was lingering nearby.
I couldn’t relax no matter what I did. Settling down
on the worn sofa, I pulled a soft, old blanket over me and drifted off to
sleep. The rain sliding down the window panes and tapping on the roof were like
a soothing lullaby.

The rain drummed down on the
bones of the
girl, washing
them clean. A few
fragments of clothing clung to the skeleton as if to shelter it from the storm.
A bracelet twinkled coldly on her
wrist, glittering
in
response to each lightning strike. I was the skeleton, I realized with horror.
Locked in stillness on the ground, I waited.
And waited.

The young man started when
he saw me. His dark hair slick in the rain, he paused and surveyed
the scene critically. Glancing back to make sure that
he hadn’t been
seen,
he bent over me, carefully
unhooking the bracelet. Sliding it from my wrist, he stood. “Nice bracelet,” he
murmured
softly.
“Shame
to leave it here.”
 
Pocketing it, he backed away, fading into the woods, leaving me to rot.
Alone.

I woke with a start. My
heart pounded loudly in my chest. “It’s only a nightmare,” I repeated over and
over to myself, scratching at my skin. I needed reassurance that I had not
become the skeleton, that it wasn’t me lying in the forest, my bare bones exposed
to the wind and the sun. I swallowed hard. This had never happened to me
before.

“It’s only a nightmare,” I
muttered again, wrapping the blanket tightly around myself. I cowered in the
corner of the sofa. I recognized the boy from my dream of course. He was a
loner around town. Everyone thought he was a little strange, though no one
could point out why. He was definitely the perfect suspect….

“And
Treachery well done”

 Later that afternoon,
Dunn and Simms came by the house to pick me up. I climbed into the back of the
patrol car, disliking the feeling of being trapped. Dunn grinned at me through
the grate. “Don’t worry, we’ll let you back out.”

I returned his smile. I
couldn’t help but like Dunn. He was good natured and kind, all the while
working in a field where most people become bitter and angry. Like Simms.
Dunn’s easygoing nature didn’t seem to fit with his job. I could see him
working at a used car dealership, winning the customers over with his smile and
charm. It would be easier than the job he held now.

“We have a couple of roads
we want to check out, see if you can get a feel for where she is or might be,”
Simms said. The low squad car rocked suddenly to the side as a gust of wind hit
it.

I grimaced. “What is the
weather supposed to be like?”

“Can’t you tell?” Dunn
teased. I was surprised as he had never teased me about my abilities before. I
blushed and glanced out of the window. The wind whipped the signs overhead and
bent the trees almost double. Branches lashed at each other like fingers
tangling together, angry and snarled… vicious hands.

“I’m sorry,” Dunn said
softly, drawing my attention back to him. “I wasn’t making fun of you.”

“Yes, you were,” I said.
“But I don’t mind. And no, I can’t read weather.”

“Well,” Simms said from his
spot in the driver’s seat, casually leaning one hand against the window now
that we were past the trees, “it’s supposed to get worse, but we’ll hear if it
does.” He tapped at the receiver on the dashboard. “I just hope no one ventures
out in this storm. I hate working wrecks.”

“Which roads are we going
to?”

“
Ummm
…
Beatty Road, off of Millersville,
Beardsley Lane, and Beautiful Crescent Road, near the new subdivision.”
 
He ticked off each on his notebook.

I knew all of those roads.
Beatty Road was remote, near an old quarry. Beardsley Lane was in an older
section of town, with patches of trees close set to the road in locations,
while large, old houses stood in the distance. It was old enough and far enough
from town that it was quietly becoming countryside.
The
old general stores that had once serviced the area were falling slowly into
disrepair.

Beautiful Crescent was out
in the country as well, fairly close to Beardsley Lane. It curved in a
moon-shaped
crescent,
though it was such a long road
that one easily forgot that it curved at all. At the end nearest town, a small
subdivision had been built. It now connected Beautiful Crescent to both
Beardsley Lane on the west side and the town on the east side.

“Where are we starting?”

“The quarry, if the roads
aren’t too bad.” 

Water rushed over the roads
already, sweeping away debris. I seriously doubted that the old dirt road to
the quarry would be passable.

Lightning flashed again
overhead as the rain slowed to a drizzle. “It’s over already?” I sighed with
relief.

“Nope.”
Simms shook his head. “This
is just the first round. There’s another line of storms behind this one.
They’ll be in later tonight.”

Fifteen minutes later, we
were bouncing over the potholes on the quarry road. I gripped the cage that
separated me from the men, my fingers turning white with the effort. Dunn had a
tight grip on the door frame, but still almost slammed his head against the
roof. “Mind slowing down?” he growled out, his eyes sparking angrily.

“We
want
to beat the storm, don’t we?”  Simms almost
sounded cheerful.

Finally, we slowed to a
stop. I slowly released my numb fingers from their death-like
grip on the cage, flexing them back to feeling.
Although a wooded area could be seen in the distance, we were nowhere close to
it. I glanced around apprehensively.

“Any
feelings?”
Dunn asked, twisting in his seat to stare back at me. I looked back and forth
between the two waiting men. Sighing, I collapsed against the seat and rubbed
my temples in a circular motion.

“Let me try.” I
concentrated, blocking out the tapping of the spattering rain on the roof.
A
car was driving down the street. The wind thrashed the trees angrily and the
girl smiled.
I ignored her and focused on the surroundings.
The sign
whipped back and forth in the wind.
I paused.

“Are there any roads close
to these woods?”

“Just the
one that we’re on.”

“This isn’t it.”

“How can you be so sure?”
Dunn asked. His eyes surveyed the area critically. “This would be the perfect
place for a murderer to hide a body.”

“Because I
saw the street sign.
This road doesn’t have a street sign on it. If there’s not
another road around here, then this couldn’t possibly be it.”

Simms nodded and started the
car, but Dunn objected. “We’ve come all this way. What if you’re wrong? We
could miss him!”

“I’m not wrong!” I insisted.
I knew this wasn’t the place and I didn’t have time to argue with him. The wind
was already picking up. I was afraid if we waited much longer we would be stuck
out in the storm.

“She’s the psychic,” Simms
said wryly. Carefully, he began driving forward, looking for a good spot to
turn around. The road was narrow and the sides were rivers of mud. Dunn stewed
in his seat.

“You don’t believe me, but I
know
it’s not here. Let’s just move on,” I pleaded. He didn’t respond.

Finally, after what seemed
an eternity, we were bumping our way back out onto the main road. The sun was
setting, giving the already dark, stormy day an eerie gray quality. I thought
of going out into the storm to look for a body. To say the least, I didn’t
relish the idea.

Mrs. Dodd had been quite
busy all day. She knew her daughter looked on her as a little old lady who
puttered around the house while she was at work, but that was far from the
truth. Mrs. Dodd had her business and her daily adventures. The trick was to
not let her daughter know about them.

Mrs. Lorene Robinson had
long treated her mother as a dotty old lady, but it didn’t offend Mrs. Dodd.
Her
problem is that she doesn’t have any imagination,
she thought as she
waited, glancing up at the picture of Lorene as a little girl. A somber, stern
little face stared back at her, dress perfectly arranged.

No, Lorene had never had any
imagination. It used to drive Mrs. Dodd crazy that her child was so serious.
She had been prepared for a much different daughter. One who enjoyed playing
house and
tea.
One who had dollies and enjoyed hearing
her mother’s stories.

“But mother.” The child
insisted on calling her mother, too, which was not the most endearing term in
Mrs. Dodd’s opinion. “That could never really happen. Not in real life.” Her
serious little eyes had appraised Mrs. Dodd sensibly, as if looking for the
flaw that caused her to believe such tales.

“It’s a story, Lorene,” she
had said, exasperated.

“I don’t understand,” her daughter
had replied, just as exasperated. And she didn’t. No matter how much Mrs. Dodd
pushed and prodded, she couldn’t get Lorene to be a little girl. She hated
dollies, stating that they didn’t serve any useful purpose. Playing house and
tea were wastes of time when there was real housework she could be helping
with.

All of Mrs. Dodd’s friends
had told her again and again how lucky she was to be the mother of such a
helpful, sensible creature. But Mrs. Dodd had disagreed. She had looked on
enviously at their children, acting as children should in her estimation. Maybe
that was why when she lost the next child….

“No, it doesn’t do to linger
in the past,” Mrs. Dodd said, staring resolutely at the house next door.
Thinking of Mary   wouldn’t bring her back. But she had had a certain
spark. Mrs. Dodd had seen the imagination in her young daughter’s eyes. Lorene
had also sensed the kinship between her younger sister and her mother. She had
been so jealous….

Mrs. Dodd shook her head again.
There was work for her to do!
As usual, never a moment’s
break.
Not for her. “No rest for the weary,” she muttered as she lifted
her binoculars to her eyes again.
Nothing.
Not a sign
of life.
What
was
that psychic doing?

The screen door slammed suddenly.
Mrs. Dodd hurried to thrust her binoculars out of sight, sliding them quickly
in a desk drawer. She crept cautiously to the door expecting to hear her
daughter’s high pitched voice any second.

But no.
No one was there. The front
door stood wide open with the screen door banging loudly against it. “I was
sure I closed that door,” Mrs. Dodd muttered aloud. The dog, Ginger, looked up
appreciatively. Mrs. Dodd smiled at her as she closed the front door securely,
twisting the dead bolt into place.
“The wind must
have blown it open, hey Ginger?”

Ginger seemed to smile back
at her. “Why don’t we get a snack?”

The old dog was already
overweight, its stomach just
missing
dragging the floor, but at the word “snack” it leapt
to its feet, scurrying along behind Mrs. Dodd.

As she sliced a hunk out of
the apple pie she had made that morning, liberally covering it with ice cream,
she kept her eye on the neighboring house. “I hope she didn’t sneak past while
I was busy with that door,” she muttered. Ginger whined, so she trimmed the
crust from her slice of pie and dropped it in the dog bowl.

The two ate in silence,
enjoying their snack as the lightning flashed and the rain drummed down on the
window. The light dimmed outside as the next storm moved in, casting the kitchen
into near blackness. Mrs. Dodd didn’t notice as her mind wandered.
Where was
that psychic tonight?

The outside kitchen door
knob twisted violently as someone shoved against it. Creaking open, the outline
of a tall figure
stood forebodingly in the doorway.
Lightning flashed behind the figure as a shrill scream tore through the air.

“Mother,” Lorene gasped
angrily, “you frightened me. What are you
doing
sitting in this dark
kitchen!?!?!? And why was the front door locked?  I had to walk all the
way around this house in the rain and lightning.”  She leaned against the
counter, water dripping on the floor around her.

“I’m
sorry,
the wind blew it open earlier so I locked it.”

Lorene sniffed. “What are
you eating?”

“I made a pie this morning.”

“Mother, you know you have
to watch your sweets. What am I going to do with you? It’s worse than watching
a child.” Mrs. Dodd didn’t say anything. The truth was that Lorene had treated
her mother like she was a child since before she, herself, was a teenager. The
older she got the more she acted as if Mrs. Dodd was addled. But Mrs. Dodd
didn’t mind. She thought that Lorene was addled right back.

She’s just in a bad mood
because she had to walk in the storm,
Mrs. Dodd thought. “Wouldn’t you like some pie?” she
said, opening the refrigerator door. “I could warm it up and put ice cream on
top.”

“That does sound nice,”
Lorene said, relaxing, “but of course, we must have supper first.”

“Of
course.”
Mrs. Dodd agreed. She had given up on Lorene long ago. Her daughter walked
stiffly down the hall to her bedroom, still calling out over the storm.

“What did you do today,
mother?”

“Not much. I read a little.
Watched a little TV.
Made this pie.”

“I hope you didn’t bother
Miss Walker.”

“I haven’t seen her since
this afternoon,” Mrs. Dodd said. Her daughter appeared again in the doorway,
dressed in dry clothes. “Don’t you think it’s odd, though, that she left with
that policeman this morning?”

“No, I don’t,” Lorene said,
going to the cupboard. She selected the crackers and then opened the freezer.
“How does some of this frozen stew sound for supper?”

“Fine.
But a policeman came here
for her-”

“I think she mentioned that
she was working on a case again. She hasn’t had one in a long time. I hope she
solves it quickly.”

“What case?” Mrs. Dodd’s
eyes were suddenly as bright as a bird’s when it spies a shiny object on the
ground.

“I expect it’s that girl
they found in the cabin the other day.”

Mrs. Dodd ruminated over
this while the stew heated up. Lorene sliced the cheese carefully, bringing it
and the crackers over to the table.

“You really shouldn’t have
had your pie already. I hope you eat some healthy food… and don’t think you’re
getting another slice for dessert.”