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Part One

Ruth Heigl was pouring herself a cup of tea. Morning had just broken, but she had been up all night. She was worried. There was something in the air. A foreboding. Ruth lived alone as she had most of her life. Her husband, Peter, had passed on well over twenty years ago. She couldn’t remember exactly when, and she didn’t care. Good riddance to him, a terrible excuse for a man. Now, 73 years old, Ruth was still in good health, although the people of Marina Lake would probably say differently. She was just a little eccentric and didn’t like people much. She had visions. Frequently. Visions of terrible things. Like she had the night just passed. Like lightening they came and like fire they burned inside her mind. Painful they were, but not a pain human words could accurately describe. And these past five years the visions had intensified along with the winds. Yes, there was definitely something going on. Ruth carefully seated herself by the kitchen table. The years had weighed her down and her back was crooked. Perhaps if she hadn’t struggled with the anguish of her minds eye, she’d have felt the bodily pains to their full extent. But they didn’t bother her a bit. As she sat stirring her cup of tea she peered out the window. The morning frost lay quietly upon the leaf clad ground. Winter was just around the corner. Down by the side of the road she could faintly see something. She grabbed her glasses from the table and nervously put them on. She remembered something. Something she had seen in her mind the night before. A sound of disbelief snuck unnoticed out of her mouth as a tear rolled down her cheek- it was true.

The Marina Lake sheriffs station was in its usual quiet state. Nothing ever happened in Marina Lake. Most of the staff had transferred to various districts of Marina City. But a hard core of around ten people had stood their ground. Most of them perfectly content with nothing ever transpiring in Gods good old garden of Eden. Others living under the delusion that they were the actual reason for the low crime rate. Well, something did happen eight months ago. Some kids set fire to Mr.Terrence’s barn for fun. That’s what they said, for fun. It wasn’t supposed to spiral out of control like that, they said. No cows were supposed to run down the hill heading for town with their tails on fire. And none of the girls were supposed to scream their lungs out in terror waking the farmer and his wife. And Steven wasn’t supposed to drop his pliers in the dark when he was startled by the girls screaming so he couldn’t cut the phone wire. The whole damn thing just got out of hand. But it wasn’t supposed to. And they almost got away with it too, if it just hadn’t been for those pair of pliers with their incriminating fingerprints and Steven Normann’s shop lifting incident on file. The same shop lifting incident the shop keeper Trent Boulder had insistent be taken care of in a very thorough manner. It was like he could see the future.
Deputy Dan Thatcher was sitting at his desk. His hand barely supporting the weight of his sleepy head. The phone rang, and then it rang again. -Damn it, Susan. Pick up the goddamn phone. He shouted out from the fading dreamland in which he had just made love to one of Marina Lake’s most beautiful women- Penelope Fisher. Susan Harris, the stations guiding light in troubled times and secretary shot high powered laser beams from her eyes at Dan as she ran from a broken vending machine with a screwdriver between her teeth to reach the screaming phone. She uttered an undecipherable profanity as she passed him. Dan replied with a grunt. – Yes, Marina Lake Sheriff’s Station. Sorry to have kept you waiting. What can I help you with?
A trembling voice at the other end replied: – It’s Ruth. Ruth Heigl. I need help.

—

Almost precisely 12 minutes later two police cars with their sirens howling whizzed by the house of Howard Hansen. The house was situated on top of a small hill overlooking the road below. Howard was looking out the window as the cars passed. He was in his pyjamas and drinking coffee and wondering what was going on. The mist was lingering this morning rendering the mystery even greater in his own mind. There are things out there that one simply can’t see, just sense somehow. And like the mist covered the reality of the outside this day, an equally obscuring veil of deceit was covering his own home and what transpired behind those white walls on top of the hill overlooking the road. Howard was a tall, thin man. More that a little rough around the edges. Quiet, shy… and if he spoke at all, he just said – Hi. But he was, if not worshipped and loved, accepted and respected. Helpful towards the community and people around him. He would never hurt anyone. Would he? Well, as Howard sipped coffee from his mug and stared out the window he heard the faint sobbing of a young woman. Which is a thing that happens sometimes. Sometimes people are sad and hurting and they cry. Perfectly normal. But the thing is, this particular crying voice came from behind a bolted door leading down into Howards dark dungeon. Constructed for a very specific purpose and hidden carefully by a veil of deceit- like a mist that lingers. The crying intensified and there were careful knocks on the door. Soon there was violent banging and pleads to let the captive out. Howard stood quietly by the window. He repeated a well rehearsed mantra inside his head: -Ignore the whore below, - Ignore the whore below, – Ignore the whore below…

Meanwhile at the Sheriff’s station Susan Harris was back in front of the broken vending machine attempting to fix a very persistent problem with getting the goods out of it. In a building full of confident macho men she was wondering why she had to sit on the floor with an open toolbox and arcane schematics trying to mend a piece of broken machinery. But she was also pondering something far more serious. What was going on up at Ruth Heigl? Susan was alone here now. The few macho men that were on duty today were out in the field trying to make sense of it. She remembered something that had happened to her before going to work that morning. A strange trembling, a low humming sound, almost inaudible. It had created ripples in the half full glass of water on the kitchen table. Yes, the glass was half full, but at the time it happened she couldn’t help regarding the glass as half empty. Not like her at all. It was like a  wave of negativity had washed over her. She lived very close to Ruth Heigl, just a couple of miles down the road from her. Could that quaking have something to do with it? Her train of thought was broken suddenly by a man and a woman entering the front door. They looked desperate. Susan was quickly up on her feet. It was Ronald and Erika Foster. Susan immediately sensed that something was horribly wrong. – My God, what’s going on? she asked the couple. Ronald looked at her with despair in his eyes. He had his arms around his sobbing wife. – Our daughter’s missing. Susan stood paralyzed. – What the hell is happening around here? She quietly asked herself.

To Be Continued…

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