Looking For An Honest Man Chapters 5 & 6

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Chapter 5

“Hello, dear. How did your appointment go? Did you make a sale?”

Samantha couldn’t hide her irritation.

“Mother, where have you been? I’ve been calling you for the last half-hour.”

Olivia attempted to pull herself together. Why does this take so much out of me, she wondered.

“Well, I’ve been here. I didn’t go anywhere. I guess I must have dozed off. It’s so beautiful outside. What can I do for you, Samantha?”

Samantha was quiet. Olivia could hear her short breath over the phone.

“You sound different, Mother. What’s going on?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Samantha. Nothing is wrong. I came outside to read the paper—on the iPad you gave me, I might add—and I fell asleep. Is that a punishable offense?”

Samantha’s chair squeaked so Olivia knew she had gone back home to her loft. Her office chair in the spare bedroom squeaked at the slightest movement. Olivia could visualize her sitting at her desk mulling over what to say next.

“You had another one, didn’t you?”

Olivia forced a laugh.

“What are you talking about, Samantha? I just woke up from a short nap. You said yourself that I didn’t get a good night’s sleep last night.”

Samantha’s irritation grew.

“Mother, you are bullshitting me. Your voice is different, just as it was this morning. What’s going on?”

Olivia tugged on a slip of hair by her ear; a nervous habit she’d continued from childhood. Now was not the time to reveal anything to Samantha. Olivia had to think about this dream. This one was so much more vivid and real. In her mind, she had to decide what to do next.

“You are being silly, Samantha. Listen, I’ve a million things to do today, and one is to go to the store for dinner tonight. How does goat cheese stuffed chicken breasts sound?”

“You piss me off, Mother. We are definitely going to talk tonight. Goodbye.”

“What about the chicken?” Olivia asked, but Samantha had already hung up the phone.

Olivia normally would have been concerned that Samantha was upset. Samantha’s older sister, Cybil, would say, ‘She’s playing you, Mom’. Whether Samantha was playing her or not, the dream had been frightening and Olivia didn’t want to talk about it—at least not now. Wrapping her arms around her shoulders, Olivia thought about what she’d seen in the dream. Why hadn’t she been afraid when Vickie pointed at her body? What Olivia really didn’t understand is why she was chosen to be the witness.

Gathering her cup and iPad, Olivia marched into the kitchen to warm her drink in the microwave. She punched a couple of buttons, and the microwave hummed while she returned to her iPad. After carefully typing in her search, Google maps popped up a display of Swope Park in Kansas City. She had to adjust the map so she could visually pinpoint the entrance to the park. As a young child, Olivia had lived a mile from the park entrance and spent many summer days climbing the observation tower on the north side of the pavilion. The great mall sloped down eastward toward the zoo and on hot summer nights, before air conditioning, the mall filled with people bringing blankets and pillows to sleep. Now, it was just an expanse of grass that catered to Frisbee players on the weekends.

Olivia placed a forefinger on the pavilion and moved it due east until she came to rest on Lake of the Woods campground. If Vickie Taylor were buried somewhere on that hill, her body had to have been transported there by car. Closing her eyes, she visualized standing on the hill, seeing the pavilion in the distance from the camp. It had to be the camp. Suddenly, she realized that the bell on the microwave had rung minutes ago. She retrieved her coffee. It was cold. The thought to reheat again was forgotten as she took the coffee cup to the sofa.

Curling her legs under her, Olivia considered what to do next, or should she do anything? After all, what proof did she have that Vickie Taylor was buried below the campsite? Maybe she should talk to Gretchen who had friends in city government. The very thought of telling someone else, even her best friend, terrified her. For now, she wanted to keep this secret from everyone except Samantha.

Olivia took her cup back to the kitchen. Her eyes fell on a picture taped to the refrigerator. A distraught mother had handed her the picture outside Brookside Market. The woman’s ex-husband had run off with her daughter during his court appointed visit. She wondered if they’d ever found the daughter. At the bottom of the flyer, there was a telephone number for the TIPS hotline. Without thinking, Olivia took the flyer and picked up the telephone. The ring had a hollow tone in her ear as she nervously tapped the kitchen counter with her fingers.

“Hello. TIPS hotline,” the voice answered.

“Yes, I’d like to give some information about the missing girl, Vickie Taylor,” she said. What she was about to say would seem preposterous to the person on the other end of the phone.

“Your name, please.”

“I’d like for this to be anonymous,” she said.

Her heart thumped so hard that Olivia didn’t know whether she could breathe.

“Concerning?” the voice asked.

I just told you, Olivia said to herself.

“The missing girl, Vickie Taylor.”

“Okay, give me your information.”

“There is a camp in Swope Park…Lake of the Woods. I believe if you go to the west side of the camp, you will find Vickie Taylor below on the hillside. You have to find a place on the west edge of the camp between the trees where you see the park pavilion in the distance. The pavilion will line up exactly in the center of the break in the trees. Vickie will be straight down the hillside.”

“Wait one second, ma’am. I need to get all this down. You have to line up in the center…what did you say?”

Olivia was annoyed she had to stay on the phone. She explained again how to find the body.

“Here is your code, ma’am. If your tip is reliable, you may be eligible for the reward.”

“The reward?” she asked.

 “Yes, a reward. You can get online and see whether your code is published, and a reward offered.”

“I don’t understand. I don’t want a reward.”

“If your information leads to finding Vickie Taylor, you are eligible for a twenty-five thousand dollar reward offered by the parents. If you get the reward, you will take this code to the drive-in window of a bank, hand the teller the code, and if valid, the reward money will be given to you. No questions asked.”

Olivia couldn’t talk anymore. She wrote the code on the back of an electric bill, quietly hung up the phone, and leaned against the counter with her face in her hands and began to cry softly.

Chapter 6

After being in real estate for a couple of years, Samantha could tell that her two morning appointments had fizzled. She knew who wanted to buy and who didn’t. The clients didn’t exactly tell her that, but Samantha hadn’t been on top of her game today—or lately. She had other things on her mind and now this thing, whatever it was, with her mother. Sometimes she wished she could be like Cybil, her sensible and smart sister. Cybil’s life was every woman’s dream: married to a successful lawyer, two perfect children to hear Cybil tell it, and an answer for every problem in life. Samantha’s gut told her she needed to stop worrying, go back to the Harold’s Top Hat club and talk with the bartender. Maybe he could give her some information on what happened two weeks ago. She didn’t know the bartender, so she’d decided to enlist her closest friend in the world to help her.  Wally Sikes distributed wines for local wineries to bars and restaurants, so Wally knew many bartenders in town. Wally had been her neighbor growing up, and he had a thing for her. She loved Wally, but she didn’t want things to go too far. Sometimes she thought she loved Wally more than a friend, but immediately threw that thought to the curb.

“Yeah, yeah. The lunch hour is from eleven until two. I’ll be by in five minutes.”

Samantha hung up the phone and looked critically at her reflection in the mirror by the front door as she fought back the tears. A fingertip gently followed the outline of her eye to ensure her makeup didn’t smear. A quick sniffle, a simple adjustment of a misplaced lock of hair, and she walked to the door. Hesitating, she turned back to the mirror.

“You really did it this time, Samantha. You are one dumb fucking bitch!”

Having delivered that ruling she went outside to wait for Wally.

Samantha smiled inwardly as Wally’s bright red Jeep Wrangler pulled around the corner and sped down the street toward her. Wally hadn’t changed since they were kids. Sweet, unpretentious Wally would do almost anything for her. Her mother said he was a like puppy dog that Samantha took advantage of, but Samantha didn’t see it that way. In many respects, Wally had always been the rock that was there when she needed him. The Jeep came to a screeching stop, the tires hugging the curb.

“Hop in,” he said, leaning across the seat to open the door.

Samantha climbed in, reached over and gave Wally a peck on the cheek.

“Hey, handsome. Do you want to buy a good looking girl lunch?” she asked closing the door.

There was only one word that could describe Wally Sikes accurately: big. A large body on a large frame, Wally had played football at the University of Missouri until he tore his Achilles tendon. After that, his mom said no more and made him quit. Thinning premature gray hair made Wally seem older than his thirty-four years. Even his beard was gray and, like Olivia, he refused to color it.  Olivia called him the gentle giant because he had an even disposition, no matter what happened around him.

Wally slid the gearshift into first and popped the clutch, throwing Samantha back against the seat before she had her seatbelt on.

“Where to?” he asked

“Harold’s Top Hat,” she said.

“Sure, why not?” he asked looking to his left before he switched lanes. “Why the interest in lunch at the Top Hat? Most people skip lunch and go there after work. Food’s lousy and they water down their drinks except the wine.”

“I don’t know. Just looking for a change I guess.”

“Top Hat is a meat market, and you know it. People go there to meet up, not to eat fine cuisine or drink a fine wine.”

“I am looking for someone special, so I thought you would know the bartender…”

“And I could help you get the information?”

She squirmed uneasily in her seat.

“Yes—something like that.”

Wally watched the road ahead with his large frame hunkered over the steering wheel.

“Okay. Who are we looking for?”

Samantha hesitated.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.

Wally’s head whipped around to look at her.

“How am I going to be able to help you if you don’t even know the guy we’re looking for?”

“Good question, Wally. You need to trust me on this one. I’ll let you know in time.”

Wally bit at his lower lip.

“Did this guy hurt you Sam?”

Again, the quiet before she answered.

“In a way, yes. He hurt me badly, but not in the way you think.”

“Is this someone you dated and didn’t tell me about?” he asked.

Samantha thought for a second. She’d never kept anything from Wally. He knew everything about her since they were kids. When it came to Wally, she had no secrets.

“Ain’t happened, won’t happen. My life has been an open book with you. You should’ve been a priest.”

Samantha playfully pulled on his ear. Wally got a big grin on his face and Samantha knew the distraction worked.

“We haven’t talked for over a week. Have you found a girl yet?”

“No, but I’ve had a lot of fun dancing. Found a new place out south.”

Wally made a sharp right turn and pulled into a city parking lot next to the city market.

“Why are you parking here?” she asked uneasily.

“Top Hat is behind us, but I like to park here during the week,” he explained hopping out of the Jeep.

Wally ran around the car as Samantha opened the door and stepped down. He held the door as she brushed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“Thank you, Wallikins,” she said kissing him on the cheek again.

“Yeah, yeah, hot lips. Let’s eat. I’m hungry.”

LOOKING FOR AN HONEST MAN CHAPTERS 3 & 4

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Chapter 3

Samantha glanced at her mother as she drove to Eggtc.

“You know I can’t give you a ride home? Gretchen promised that she would take you.”

“I remember,” Olivia said as they pulled up in front of the restaurant.

Located on the northern boundary of Brookside in Kansas City, Eggtc is a popular meeting place for the neighborhood. As usual, the front was crowded with people waiting to be seated. The waitress pushed through the crowd standing around the front door. She appeared harried, but managed a smile and artfully pulled a pen from her hair.

“Name? There’s a twenty-five-minute wait, but I have two places at the counter.”

“We already have a friend here at a table.”

“Gretchen?” the girl asked.

“That’s her,” Olivia said.

“She told me to expect you. Last booth on the left in the other room.”

The waitress walked away. Samantha grabbed Olivia's arm.

“Let’s go,” she said.

Gretchen Silk sat perusing the menu and drinking coffee. Gretchen had been Olivia’s close friend since grade school. They attended Visitation Catholic School together. Her mother had commented to her father that trouble had walked in the front door when Olivia brought Gretchen home for the first time. There was some truth in what her mother thought about Gretchen. Gretchen and Olivia were opposite ends of the spectrum. Olivia was more reserved and studious, while Gretchen was ready to party at a moments notice. Somehow, the relationship had lasted all these years. Gretchen still was the party animal and she chided Olivia for living in her narrow comfort zone. A thin woman with short black hair that emphasized her pallid features, Gretchen was known for all the husbands who had left her widowed and extremely rich. Three facelifts had left translucent skin with a bluish tone she covered with makeup.

Gretchen didn't look up as Olivia scooted across the bench seat to the wall. Samantha sat beside her.  The waitress immediately set two cups down and poured coffee. She placed menus in front of them and left to let them ponder the wide selection of food from toast to quiche. Eggtc isn't fancy, but Olivia dined here often because the food is far better than the standard fare you get at the chain restaurants.

Gretchen eyes never left the menu.

“Good morning, dear Olivia. Did you have another boring weekend at home?”

“Good morning, Gretchen. I see you had a grumpy weekend. No sex?”

Gretchen peered over the top of the menu and surveyed her friend.

“Some of us have needs, my dear. I didn't let my vagina freeze over.”

Samantha slapped her menu on the table.

“Stop it you two!”

Gretchen peeked from behind her menu to eye Samantha, her thin eyebrows arched.

“I know someone else who didn't get any this weekend. What a shitty way to start a Monday.”

“What are you having?” Samantha asked placing her hands flat on the table.

“Eggs Benedict Florentine,” Olivia answered.

“You're in a rut,” she said with a shake of the head.

“I know. So you've told me many times, but I'm working on it. Did I tell you I'm going to work Visitation Church's night at the St. James pantry? I told them I’d start next month.”

“Oh whoopee. That's one way to get out and have fun.”

“I'm starting dance lessons,” Olivia protested. “Twice a week I might add, starting this Friday.”

“Yes, you are.” Samantha pinched Olivia's cheek. “Now, tell me about your dream. I've never seen you look so shitty in the morning.”

“Wet or dry?” Gretchen asked dryly while motioning for the waitress that they were ready to order.

Olivia pushed Samantha’s hand away.

“You are crude, Gretchen.”

“Tell me about the dream,” Samantha said.

“I don't know what to say. It didn't last long, but the effects stayed with me all night.”

“Maybe you really need a man,” Samantha teased.

“I'm beginning to think that would help,” Olivia joked.

“The first sensible thing you've said all morning,” Gretchen said.

Samantha became serious.

“Would you marry again, mother?”

Olivia gave her daughter a surprised look.

“Why are you asking that question this early in the morning?”

“No reason. It just popped into my head.”

Olivia couldn't answer right away because she didn't know. Friends who had remarried were miserable. You still want the thrill, but she had come to cherish her personal freedom.

“I don't think so,” Olivia said. “I'd live in sin. I miss the closeness. Everyone one wants love, and those who deny themselves are missing a part of life.”

“Oh, you have so much experience,” Samantha said mockingly.

“Go for it, Olivia. The headlines: Frigid woman living in sin.” Gretchen waved her arms in the air.

“I'm learning and not closing any doors,” Olivia replied taking a sip of coffee and ignoring her friend.

“Okay, finish about the dream,” Samantha said.

Samantha stared at her with an intensity that reminded Olivia of Will. So focused, so driven and wanting to enjoy everything that life had to offer. The deep, blue eyes came alive when she looked at you. It made you feel as if she were peeling back the layers of your personality and staring deep inside to see how you're really made. The dark red hair hung to her shoulders with a streak of white hair at the temples that she refused to color. Samantha said she looked like Bonnie Raitt with the gray hair. Her pure white skin was free of blemishes, and thankfully no freckles.  A rambunctious child who was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder at an early age, Samantha had been a handful all her life.

Olivia bit her lower lip as she recalled the troubling dream. She described the young woman, and Samantha listened intently--almost too intently. Her brows arched in surprise as Olivia described the young woman's eyes.

“I've seen eyes like that before,” Olivia said. “They are beautiful. Some people call them a light brown, but they appear to have flecks of black, green and gold.  She had the saddest look on her face, and she asked me if I would help her.”

“That's it?” Samantha asked.

“Stupid dream.”  Gretchen sounded irritated.

 “That's it,” Olivia said with a shrug.

Samantha looked into her mother’s eyes as if trying to uncover some deep, secret hidden beneath the surface.

“Did she say anything else?”

“No, just would I help her.”

“She should be helping you,” Gretchen said. “That’s one of those dreams that you just forget.”

Samantha laid her hand on Olivia's.

“Where was she?”

“I don't know. God, Samantha, it was a dream. A stupid little dream.”

Samantha lifted her bag onto her lap and pulled out her iPad. She took a minute before she found what she is looking for and reversed the screen so it faced Olivia.

“Is this the young woman?” she asked.

The brown eyes were unmistakable. Although her features were beautiful, Olivia couldn't stop focusing on her eyes.

“That's her!”

Samantha turned the iPad for Gretchen to see. Gretchen froze for a second. Her mouth dropped open, and she stared at Olivia. For once, Gretchen was quiet and listened.

“You have no idea who this young woman is?” Samantha asked.

“What are you saying? Why would I know who this woman is?” Olivia cocked her head and searched Samantha's face. “What is it, Samantha?”

“Mother, this young woman, Vickie Taylor, has been all over the news for the past three days.”

“I guess I missed it. Who is she?”

Samantha returned the iPad to her bag and gave her mother a puzzled look.

 “Vickie Taylor is a retired policeman’s wife. She's been missing since Friday. Her parents reported her missing and suspect foul play. They can't find any trace of her.”

Olivia crossed her arms.

“Why didn't the husband report her missing?”

“I don’t know. I’m sure the police are looking into that.”

“She seems kind of young for the wife of a retired policeman, unless he joined the force right out of high school.”

“I think the evening news said that she was thirty-two.”

“I wonder why I dreamed about her. I guess I saw her on the news and just forgot about it.”

Samantha glanced at the clock on the back wall.

“I've got an appointment. We can talk about it tonight. Right now I need to eat.” She picked up her fork, pausing for a moment, “What's strange is that his first wife disappeared and they never found her. He says she ran away with a lover.”

“What's the husband saying this time?”

 “He doesn't know, and he is as confused as anyone.”

They dropped the subject and ate quietly. Olivia was surprised that Gretchen had no comment on her dream. When they were finished, Samantha patted Olivia's shoulder and walked to the door, stopped and blew Olivia a kiss. Olivia waved and realized that Samantha had left her with the bill.

Chapter 4

“So what do you make of this damn dream of yours?” Gretchen asked once they were in the car.

“I don’t know what to make of it. Did you recognize the girl?” Olivia asked.

“Just from the news. Hell, I have to admit that it took the wind out of my sails when Samantha said it was the girl who’s missing.”

“Why is that?” Olivia asked.

“It’s on all the news.” Gretchen turned to her. “Are you sure you’ve never seen her before?”

“I haven’t had the news on for days. It depresses me, so I don’t watch it.”

Gretchen didn’t say anything as she drove the rest of the way to Olivia’s, which was unusual for Gretchen. Olivia wondered if something was bothering her friend.

The young woman’s name was Vickie Taylor. She was still front-page news, although her story had been relegated to a panel near the bottom of the page. In the right hand corner of the rectangular column was the same haunting picture. Olivia felt a chill as she stared at the young woman. She felt as if Vickie were talking to her, but saying nothing. Once she started to read, Olivia focused on the story and forgot the picture. Finished with today’s edition of the paper, she returned to the menu and sorted through the news of the last three days. The Friday morning she disappeared, neighbors saw her leave for work around seven-thirty in the morning. That was the last anyone had seen Vickie. Her husband, Rick Taylor, appeared to have an ironclad alibi, but Vickie’s parents were suspicious of him. Vickie and Rick were in the midst of seeing a marriage counselor. He was known to have a temper, but had taken anger management classes. They lived in the Santa Fe neighborhood and were well liked by their neighbors. It was also reported that he and his first wife had gone to marriage counseling because of his violent outbursts.

Olivia took some notes on her iPad and wondered why she did it. What was she going to do with notes about a missing woman in south Kansas City who came to her in a dream? She placed the iPad on the small table beside her, leaned back in the lounge chair and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath, and suddenly she saw the white light flash before her eyes. It shocked her at first, but she immediately realized that it was different than before. This wasn't self-hypnosis. Frightened, but at the same time curious, she made no effort to stop what was happening. This was something she’d never experienced before. She could have awoken at any time, but her instincts told her that she’d be okay. The white light began to fade to darkness. In the quiet, Olivia patiently waited for the voice.

“Help me.”

Olivia’s chest rose and fell as her own breathing echoed in her ears. It had been a whisper followed by a speck of light, much like a small dot in the middle of the darkness.

“Vickie?”

Hearing her own voice shocked Olivia. What in the hell was she doing—talking to herself?

“Help me.”

The voice grew louder, but the speck grew no larger. It hovered in the middle of Olivia’s mind like a rotating ball of light. Olivia had no fear, just anxious anticipation of what she’d see next. The speck became agitated and to Olivia’s surprise, a hand reached out, causing Olivia to turn her head to avoid being struck. It was a woman’s hand, and it beckoned to Olivia. Mentally Olivia pushed the hand away and became aggravated because she couldn't see whether it was Vickie or someone else this time. Her field of vision became larger as she recognized Vickie walking through a park or woods. It was partially dark outside: early morning or dusk. The rough terrain didn't bother Vickie. Her footsteps were light and measured. Vickie stopped, turned her head and Olivia could feel those eyes beckoning her to follow. They were now walking through a grove of trees with brush and saplings covering the ground that were easily pushed aside.

There was a loud grunt.

A dark image was on its hands and knees, pushing an object down the hill. Olivia strained to see what the figure was pushing through the small saplings that would bend and then snap back up, providing a woody curtain that Olivia’s eyes couldn't penetrate. Finally, the figure gave one last push and the object stopped. The figure stood, looked around but Olivia couldn't see the face covered by the hoodie. Quickly the figure sought out the piles of dead leaves from the past fall, and by the armloads, began to cover the object.

Vickie stepped in front of Olivia’s line of vision and pointed at the ground. Olivia followed where she pointed. She couldn't see anything but leaves and brush. Vickie bent down on her knees and slowly pushed the brush aside.  Puzzled, Olivia dropped beside her to get a better view. Olivia gasped as Vickie’s hand brushed aside more leaves to reveal Vickie’s face looking up at her from the ground. Her eyes were closed, her skin pale as bugs walked across the once olive skin. Vickie stood up and pointed behind Olivia. They were standing atop a large hill, and Olivia could make out the park Pavilion in Swope Park through the treetops. They were in the middle of the city.

Olivia gritted her teeth as a ringing penetrated the stillness: her cell phone ringing.  Groggy again, but not like last night, she fumbled in her pocket and pulled out the cell phone. It was Samantha.

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LOOKING FOR AN HONEST MAN

BY

DAVID M HOOPER

Chapter 0

Copyright Ó 2013 David M. Hooper

Cover Illustration by Caitlin Proctor

designcatstudio.com

First published by David M. Hooper in 2013.

This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of the book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Author, excepting brief quotes to be used in reviews.

Dedicated to my daughter, Caitlin. She has made so many things possible.

Chapter 00

Chapter 1

Vickie Taylor walked out of Doctor Arthur Benson’s office not knowing that she had only a few minutes to live. Her thoughts were on how Margaret Fowler’s referral to Doctor Benson had saved her life and marriage.

‘Sometimes it helps to bare your soul to some disinterested party. Life can be difficult. Sometimes you need a guiding hand to help you make the right decisions.’ Margaret had been right. After only two sessions, Vickie felt that she had made real progress. Today she’d told Doctor Benson everything and it left her feeling so much better.

The elevator door opened. She stepped in and pushed the button for the ground floor. The elevator made a soft hum as it carried her from the fifth to the first floor. A gentle bump when it stopped, the door slid opened and she walked out into a glass lobby that revealed a dark gray day. Her high heels clicked against the granite floor, alerting the security guard sitting at the desk by the front door. He nodded and smiled as she approached.

“I guess the weatherman was right for once. He said it was going to rain, just not this early.”

He gave a hearty laugh, and Vickie found herself chuckling although she’d forgotten her umbrella in the backseat of her Toyota Corolla. The rain came down with such a driving force that it sent water overflowing the gutter. She paused at the front door and looked up at the menacing clouds filling the blackened sky.

“It’s certainly coming down hard,” she said over her shoulder.

“Do you want me to walk you out, Miss? I have a large umbrella here at the desk.”

The guard started to get out of his chair.

Vickie held up a hand and said, “No, thanks. It isn’t that far to the garage. I think I’ll take a leap of faith.”

The security guard shook his head.

“If you don’t watch out, you’re going to be baptized.”           

She waved at the security guard before placing her purse over her head. She plunged out the door with a fury, leaped a fast rushing stream of water between the sidewalk and the parking lot and headed for her car. A silent curse slipped through her tight lips as she felt water splash on her shoes and up her leg. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the lonesome moan of an emergency vehicle. It was only four-thirty, and the parking lot was empty, which Vickie thought strange. Then she remembered it was Friday. She made it to the covered garage and took a moment to shake the water from her hair and brush off her purse. Watching the rain cascade off of the building portico, she made a mental note to carry her umbrella if the weatherman even mentioned rain. 

She had parked in the far corner of the bottom level of the two-story garage. A line of lights gave a dim yellow glow to the bare walls. The hollow echo of her footsteps made Vickie realize she was alone: it unnerved her. The heavy purse banged against her leg making it impossible to find her car keys as she walked. The further she entered the garage, the darker it became. Her car sat in the shadows. She hesitated, shook off the nervous feeling that something wasn’t right and continued to her car.

She set the purse against the edge of the window and foraged for her keys. Rick had cautioned her over and over to have her car keys in her right hand when she entered a parking garage. He had not been so cautious until he’d had to serve two rotations in a war zone, but Vickie had a mind of her own. She’d agreed with him just to shut him up, but now she felt that he was right. A nervous glance over her shoulder reinforced her belief that no one else was in the garage. Her hand shook as she threaded the key into the lock and turned it. She was comforted by the familiar snap, the clicking sound as she yanked on the door handle, and the familiar squeak as the door opened. A quick flick of the wrist and she flung the purse onto the passenger’s seat.  Her last thought was about fixing a special dinner for Rick, and then everything went dark.

Chapter 2

Sunday was coming to a close. Olivia stood on her balcony watching the sun fade on the tops of newly leafed trees. A cool breeze nipped at her bare arms, but she ignored the goose bumps and gazed at the horizon. Life was at a crossroad for Olivia Kennedy Kimsey. In the last year a marriage of thirty-four years had slipped away so fast her head still reeled. Will had sold the house in record time, took the majority of their savings and left for who knows where with his associate at the firm. Her friend Gretchen heard that he was living in Costa Rica in a beach house while Olivia faced the same future as many other women her age: find a job and survive. Her mother had once told her to never marry a lawyer or a doctor. A lawyer knew all the tricks, and a doctor was never at home. Olivia should have listened - Will was a lawyer. Olivia had exactly enough money to last her six months. Will had bought the condo for her, but she would be responsible for the monthly maintenance fees, which were too high for her budget. She’d voiced her concerns to Will. He laughed and told her to get a job, which was hard for a fifty-nine-year old housewife who hadn’t worked in thirty-four years. Maybe Will had provided the condo because he knew that she would fail.

The breeze kicked up, and Olivia’s long red ponytail wound around her face to tickle her nose. She casually brushed it aside as the streetlights on Brookside Boulevard came to life. Home alone on a Sunday night and nowhere to go, no one to see and really nothing to do. It was like that every night in her bleak existence. She could unpack the boxes left in the closet of the spare bedroom since the day she’d moved in, read the unopened book on her night table or go out and eat. Nothing appealed to her. Finally, the darkness sent her scampering inside to settle in an easy chair in front of the television. The screen flickered and flashed throughout the evening, but Olivia’s mind wandered until she realized that she’d dozed off. The evening had passed. She clicked the remote off at the beginning of the ten o’clock news.

Time to go to bed.

Olivia didn’t bother to wash her face or brush her teeth before she slowly laid her head on the pillow and took a deep, cleansing breath. Her right arm reached out automatically for Will, but she found the bed beside her empty, as it had been for the past year and a half when he told her of the affair. The deep void in her gut reminded her of her loneliness. Her hand returned to her chest to rest on top of the other. She closed her eyes and took another cleansing breath. The ritual was the same every night. After Will left, Olivia couldn’t eat or sleep, and she was nearing the point of exhaustion. Her daughter, Samantha, read an article about self-hypnosis helping you fall asleep. It worked! Olivia fell into such a deep sleep the first time that it frightened her. Now, when she reached a certain point, she saw is a momentary flash of light and fell into a deep sleep.

Tonight was no different. Olivia pictured herself in a canoe floating down a familiar stretch of the Eleven Point River in southern Missouri. She and Will had floated that river once or twice a year. Beginning at the edge of a long pool of calm, clear water, she saw the shadowy brown trout dart about as she dipped her imaginary paddle in the water. Tall white oaks filled the enormous bluff to her left. The canoe glided across the water while down river a Blue Heron flapped its large wings and lifted effortlessly into the air with a fish wiggling in its long beak. Olivia pulled the paddle from the water, placed it on her lap and closed her eyes to listen to the sounds around her. She heard the lumbering river in the distance as it wound around a bend and down a stretch of rapids when the white light flashed just before her canoe reached the small rapids. Inwardly, she felt calm, secure and relaxed with the knowledge she would wake refreshed. The rapids grew louder, and suddenly, the idyllic scene in her mind disappeared.

She was under.

This time Olivia realized she was still partially conscious, although it was dark. A faint noise in the distance troubled her, as if someone was mumbling. She became agitated. Her breath was labored, as if she was walking up a hill. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. Something had happened. Olivia no longer had any influence over her body. The voice grew louder: a woman's voice? Is she crying? Olivia wondered what the woman was doing here. Was this a dream?

Olivia’s head tossed back and forth on the pillow in an attempt to erase the voice from her mind. The harder she tried the more persistent the voice became. Finally, Olivia relaxed, and squinted to focus on a small speck of light that appeared in the distance in her mind. Suddenly, a young woman's face flew at warp speed and stopped in front of her. In her late twenties, early thirties, she was pretty with large eyes that defied description. Some might say they were a light brown with scattered dark specs. Rich black hair hung to her shoulders and framed her light brown, oval face. She tilted her head to one side, and the small mouth began to move.  The luscious, well-formed lips puckered for a second and then she spoke in a soft, pleading voice:

“Will you help me?”

The woman’s tongue gently glided over the soft lips until they glistened. The lips moved, forming a slight pucker as the words slipped from her mouth.

“Will you help me?”

***

“Mother, wake up!”

The voice that penetrated the darkness shot a bolt of fear through Olivia. She bolted upright in bed to find her daughter, Samantha, had opened the curtains to fill the room with bright morning light. Partially blinded, Olivia shaded her eyes and turned her head away.

“What's going on?” she asked groggily.

Samantha stood over her mother and blocked the sun with her body.

“Olivia Kennedy Kimsey, I could ask you the same thing. We’re going to meet Gretchen for breakfast this morning before my ten o'clock appointment. I'm ready, so what happened to you?”

Olivia pushed the hair out of her face and glanced at the clock: seven forty-five. Her mouth felt dry, her breath stale. She made a face as her tongue played across her dry lips.

“I don't know...strange dream,” she replied holding her head in her hands.

Samantha walked over to the closet.

“Well, your bed looks as if you fought with the devil last night, and I'm not sure who won. Rough night?”

“Jeans and a blouse. I'll shower when I get home.”

Samantha pulled some clothes out of the closet and placed them on the foot of the bed.

“Swipe some deodorant on those pits,” Samantha said, holding her nose.

Olivia crawled out of bed and moaned softly with the realization that she hadn’t had a good night’s sleep.

“Did you have a man in here last night?” Samantha asked playfully.

Olivia stopped in the bathroom doorway.

“That would've been nice,” she answered dreamily. “Especially the part where he doesn't have to see me in the morning.”

“Mother, I do believe you’re a horny old woman!” Samantha exclaimed.

Olivia slowly closed the bathroom door.

“I do believe you're right, Samantha. I do believe you are right.”