Sarah wasn't sure how she managed to arrive at work. She could not seem to concentrate on much this morning, after her awakening from the nightmare. Her mind was still trying to put together the pieces of what she could remember about the dream, and the hand print on the veranda door. Sarah knew however she needed to put it out of her head for now. She could not be late for work again.

Mr. Johnson was the manager of the Wilson Lake Chronicle. He was a short stout bald headed man in his late 50's, he was a single man. No surprise Sarah thought to herself, Mr. Johnson was not exactly the poster man for happiness or the dating lines, a fact only proven by his constant screaming that could be heard from behind the closed doors of Sarah's office. He was not the most pleasant person she had ever met, but she was thankful that he had given her a chance and took her on at the chronicle after moving from New York to Wilson Lake.

"Where is Sarah?” she could hear as she came around the corner and nearly smacked right into him."Oh well look who decided to grace us with her presence, and wow look at that, two more minutes and I would have had you replaced!" he griped. Sarah wanted to say something else to him after the night she just had, but she held her tongue from what she really wanted to say. "Sorry Mr. Johnson, a rough night is all, what is it that you need sir." she asked tiredly.

His tone softened and his eye brown lifted, as if he was actually concerned or rather shocked that she did not bark back at him.” Well, I hope your problem is solved this morning and you are ready to work. I have a story for you to follow". He blurted excitedly.

It's the only time we ever saw Mr. Johnson happy was when there was a huge lead on a story; it seemed to get his adrenaline running. He continued,” Sarah the police are investigating a murder last night over a Wilson's Lake, I need you to get down there and find out everything you can, and if the police have any leads or suspects at this time." As he started to walk away Sarah could feel herself starting to tremble. The memories of last evening came rushing back, she had just dreamt about walking down the path by the lake and what she had thought was a man behind her on the path, and then waking up to the open doors of her veranda with the silhouette of a hand print . Sarah started to feel nauseous, but she pulled herself together, went into her office, grabbed her note pad from her desk and headed to her car.

When Sarah arrived at the scene, it was covered with yellow tape, police cruisers, paramedics and plenty of media coverage already setting up base at the cafe across from the crime scene. The same cafe that was in her dream the night before, the same cafe she had frequented many times since arriving in town. 

She pulled her Civic in to the only spot she could find that was not already horded by the local press from neighboring cities, a couple of blocks down, next to the only funeral parlor in town. Sarah could not help but smirk to herself as she caught glimpses of  Mr. Monroe, the owner of Monroe & sons funeral home and his family excitedly peeking out at what could only be the site of the gruesome murder scene across the street, hoping they will get some much needed business . After cursing herself for such an awful thought, she continued across the street to the army of press with their camera's. You could tell from the photo journalism equipment or lack there of, who was from small town papers and who was from big corporate giants, like Sarah worked for before coming to work for the Chronicle.

She walked around from press groups to local Sheriffs men trying to pick up as much details as she could to get herself up to speed on what had happened. As she walked closer towards the detectives on the case, she shuddered. That same feeling remembered from the night before, that someone had been watching her. Sarah knew all to well that persons who inflict such a heinous act of violence often like to stick around to watch quietly to take pride in their work.  She continued to walk closer, and as she did, she could see the officer bent down around the lifeless body with chalk in hand outlining the hand.

Something caught her eye as the officer started to trace the fingers. The gold ring on the finger, it was an unusual gem stone in the middle, she knew that stone. Shauna, her best friend from New York had been given a ring just the same at the funeral of her mother's passing only a few months ago. She ran past the detective on scene, horrified at what she saw, it was Shauna, lying on the ground bludgeoned with stab wounds to her chest. "Oh my god, Shauna!” Sarah screamed out". She felt her legs give out from under her. Jack Stewart, the detective she hurled past to see the body, reached out and caught her just before hitting the ground. The last words she heard was his soft voice calling "Ma'am", Ma'am are you okay ?", trying to keep her from going into shock, but she felt her eyes and body getting  heavier, until everything around her went dark.

To be cont'd.......

By Christine Jones ©