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Scene #60
Luke knew for a long time that a clairvoyant gift was a joke. In
his 15 years as a detective he'd yet to meet anyone who could truly
see into the future. Sitting at his desk, he looked again at the
young, auburn haired woman who stood before him. Her arms were
crossed as she continued to glare at him with fiery green eyes.
“Sergeant, why won't you believe me? I'm telling you that
someone is going to die tonight if you don't do something to stop
it!” Luke tapped a pencil against his spiral notebook with one hand
as he pushed a pre-printed form across his desk in her direction
with the other. “Please give us your statement, along with
your name, address and phone number and we'll check into it.” The
woman smacked her palms against the edge of his desk and leaned
forward, invading his personal space. Her voice rose above the
normal noise level of the squad room. “What do I have to do
to be taken seriously?” Luke dropped his pencil and folded his
hands on the desktop, stretching his large frame back into the
chair. “Ms…” “Waldron. Jackie Waldron.”
“Ms. Waldron, you have to see this from my point of view. You
don't know who this person is that you claim is going to be shot or
the person who will do the shooting. You don't know where this is
going to happen; only that it's going to take place tonight at
about 7:45. I'm not trying to give you a hard time, but I'm not
sure where to start an investigation. Is there anything else you
can give me to go on?” The woman stood up straight, returning to
her normal height as her features softened. “I saw the back
door to a restaurant, or bar. Somewhere that has an industrial
kitchen leading directly outside into an alley. The woman knew her
killer, when she came out of the door there was a look of
recognition on her face, but she wasn't happy to see him. The
feeling I got was that his appearance annoyed her, almost as if he
was bothering her by showing up. She wasn't afraid of him until he
grabbed her and forced her into his car.” “Could you tell
what kind of car he was driving?” She shook her head.
“Did she have to step up to get into the vehicle, like a pick up
or SUV?” “No.” Luke inhaled deeply, trying hard not to loose
his patience. “Ok. Do you think you could work with a sketch
artist to give us an idea of what either of these people look
like?” “Sure. But I never saw the killer, just the
girl.” “So you don't even know if the killer was a man.” She
stammered. “Well… no. I just got the feeling that he was.”
He looked across the room as another detective approached him.
“Collins, do you have a minute to work up a sketch?”
“Yeah.” The other man grabbed a sketch pad and a pencil, and
came to sit alongside the young woman as the squad Captain's door
opened. “Luke, I need to see you a minute?”
“Yes sir.” Addressing his co-worker and the young woman he said,
“I'll be right back.” They were already heavily engrossed in
features beginning to take shape on the sketch pad. About 5
minutes later, Luke returned and took a seat behind his desk. The
woman he had been interviewing was staring off into space as
Collins cleared his throat. “Ah, Sarge?” Luke looked over at
the other officer who held up the sketch pad in front of him. The
picture that stared back at him had sparkling emerald eyes and soft
reddish-brown hair and looked remarkably like… He glanced over at
Jackie Waldron, who now looked at him with those same eyes that
Collins had captured so vividly on paper. “Ms.
Collins, is this some sort of prank?” Her voice sounded far away as
she spoke, “I told you someone was going to die
tonight. Unless you stopped it.” A loud crack resounded from behind
him as a round red hole burst onto her forehead. Her eyes instantly
glazed as she fell back into Collins lap which was now turning
crimson. As he looked at the woman in horror, she vaporized like
steam into thin air. Luke sat straight up in bed, his skin
slicked with sweat as he tried to remember each intricate detail of
his latest vision. He hated when they came to him in the form of a
dream, almost as much as he hated trying to figure out what they
meant when he woke up. He grabbed the pad and pencil that sat on
his nightstand and jotted down quick notes before his mind's
warning completely eluded him. He'd known for a long time that
a clairvoyant gift was a joke. Unfortunately, he thought, the joke
was on him.
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