It’s time to meet your two principle characters and over the next few pages I’ll give you an opportunity to get to know them just a bit. You’ll see them during their last moments of innocence. It’s Monday morning and in less then an hour, their lives will never be the same and could come to a horrific end………..
Chapter One
Sheridan Corners, or simply the Corners as the locals were fond of referring to it, was what many dreamed of when they fantasized about escaping from the urban sprawl and associated stresses of city living. On this strikingly beautiful morning in May, thoughts of traffic jams, cell phones single-mindedly demanding one’s attention and irritated drivers fuming over their lack of progress were the furthest things from the mind of Kate Thomas. In fact, as she drove through town towards her office, Kate was again congratulating herself on finding such a perfect place to live. Was it a matter of luck, good fortune or simply destiny? The question and perhaps more importantly the answer no longer seemed to matter, for in her mind and heart, Sheridan Corners was her town as well as her life.
With a population of just under 4500, the Corners was situated on a long narrow plateau on the western slope of the Rocky Mountains. The 3600-foot elevation the town enjoyed insured this Monday morning remained crisp and it would require another hour or two of sunshine to warm things up.
Accustomed as Kate had become to the difference in climate between here and her old neighborhood in Seattle, many aspects of life in the Corners remained refreshingly wonderful. One startling example and so evident this morning, was the sky. Until a few months ago, Kate had no concept of a sky that was anything more than a pasty, water-downed version of blue. A total lack of…she searched for the right word and settled on vibrancy. Whereas her sky over her newly adopted town was like everything else out here, full of life and sparkling with color. Raised in the city, Kate felt certain she would never get use to the unimaginable blue that spread from horizon to horizon. A deep rich New Mexican style turquoise filled with depth and character that could only come from the hand of nature.
Continuing her drive along Birch Avenue and without conscious thought, Kate reached for the pack of cigarettes that customarily sat in the tray between the bucket seats. “Damnit” she muttered, realizing how hard some habits were to break. “Will the craving never end?” she demanded of her image in the rear view mirror. There was no reply but in its’ place Kate did witness the start of a small mischievous grin. There were any number of vices to be given up but the beginnings of that playful smile reminded her that not all supposed vices were indeed wicked or harmful in an addictive kind of way. Mind you the Surgeon General had declared the need for safety but fortunately our doctor in charge of the nation’s health had not determined that the libido would, among other things, stunt your growth. Of course ever since moving to Sheridan Corners the need to even consider giving up sex was a moot point. There had been none to give up. And with that less than cheerful thought but at least distracted from the craving for a cigarette, Kate Thomas pulled into her parking space, ready to begin another week as owner and publisher of the Sheridan Corners Journal.
Ever since buying the Journal two months ago, Kate had truly enjoyed life in Sheridan Corners, albeit no sex for the past two months but everything else was OK. Maybe better then OK, reconsidered Kate. Her dream of living in a small town and running her own weekly paper had worked out better than she had dared hoped for. With the clarity of hindsight, giving up smoking at the same time had been an incredibly optimistic gamble, but it was suppose to be a new life and that included getting rid of an old lifestyle as well as ridding oneself of old habits.
The first old habit to go was the job, city Editor for the Seattle Times. Kate had started her career in journalism as a reporter in LA and moved to Seattle 10 years later to take on the City Desk job. It had been fun but very intense and the idea of owning her own paper had always been in the back of her mind. Doing so in a small town had been a goal she secretly harbored as well. Here the weekly crime report included not much more then the occasional stolen car or maybe a fight in the parking lot in front of the bar. However, murders, rapes, armed robberies and other such “city” crimes were unheard of in Sheridan Corners.
Next on the list of things to go was Brad Wilcox, one of the best fashion photographers on the coast. It was a sixteen-month relationship that upon reflection was perhaps 15 months and 29 days too long.
Brad was handsome in every respect and knew it. He was without question one of the best looking men she had ever laid eyes on and you could only describe his abilities in bed as spectacular. Everything about Brad was perfect and therein laid the problem. He was boring. Life had been too kind to Mr. Bradley Wilcox and as a result his character had no need to acquire and develop depth or compassion. This character flaw accounted for his success in fashion photography. He dealt only with perfection as decreed by the country’s leading fashion magazines. Real life, which included wrinkles, imperfect noses and weight in the wrong places was not part of that world. There was no need to look beyond the lens when you were dealing with a flawless model in designer clothes. It was formula photography and Brad excelled at his trade. He was always on time, on budget and manufactured exactly what the editor had ordered. However, ask him to capture on film the spirit and soul of an individual and you quickly became aware of just how empty those big blue eyes of his really were.
Kate’s best friend, Allie Morgan had provided the most accurate summation of Brad when she described him as “Kate’s finest and best vibrator… incapable of carrying on a conversation but boy, could he make you feel good.” In fact, it had been Allie’s idea, no make that order, that Kate invite Brad out for one last date before letting him know she was moving. And what a night it had been.
Following Allie’s instructions, it was to be dinner at Kate’s place. Candles, wine, fresh pasta from the deli down the street and a mood-setting selection of acoustic guitar instrumentals on the stereo. Allie had also decided Kate’s wardrobe would be casual chic on the outside and Victoria’s Secrets on the inside. Allie’s instructions were, “Give him good food. Give him good fantasy. And give him a good…” and then she’d broken down in laughter, unable to finish the final of the three F’s rule, as she called it. But never truly at a loss for words, Allie had looked thoughtfully at Kate, smiled her best hedonistic grin and concluded, “Oh what the hell, Kate, use him, screw him and loose him.”
Walking through the front door of the Journal’s office, smiling to herself, her thoughts were interrupted when a voice behind her said, “Hey, Kate, with a mischievous grin like that, I don’t think I have to ask how your weekend went!
Brought back to reality, Kate quickly turned to see Sue McMillan, her secretary and sometimes community events reporter, standing by the front desk with an eager, let’s hear the gossip smile on her face and an extra cup of coffee. Handing the steaming mug to Kate, she continued with her traditional morning greeting, “So, what’s up boss?” then paused and with a decidedly wicked smile, added, “Or should I say, what was up this weekend?”
Since buying the paper, Kate had found Sue to be indispensable. Knowledgeable in all aspects of the paper and a hard working member of the team, it was Kate’s hope that Sue would soon be ready to take on even more. Now, looking at that impish smile, accentuated by the high cheekbones and perfectly framed by her straight jet-black hair, Kate couldn’t help but laugh. Then, returning the conspiratorial smile, Kate replied, “Sue, don’t I wish!”
Shrugging her shoulders, as if to dismiss the lack of good weekend gossip as only a minor disappointment, Sue held up her hand, to show a fistful of pink message slips, “Your editorial on the State’s plan to reduce funding to rural schools got some heavy duty response.” Fanning the messages out like a deck of cards, Sue continued, “Let me see now,” as she started to point and tick off certain messages. “Loyal reader, loyal reader,” she kept repeating before pausing and then bluntly demanding, “Who’s this guy? Oh, that would be the Chief Administrator of the school board.” she answered with feigned surprise and innocence. “Bet you he’s not a happy camper today. But the little weasel deserved every shot you gave him Kate. Congratulations, all but one of these calls,” letting the offending message fall from her hand and drift to the floor, “are one hundred percent behind your editorial.”
Kate was pleased, this had been her first serious editorial since taking over the paper and she had been concerned and uncertain about how the readers might take to her style of writing. She was rocking the boat and in a town of just over four thousand and the resulting waves could have been very serious. Feeling a sense of relief, Kate was also surprised by the growing sense of community involvement this had brought to her. Small town life was more intimate and direct than life in the city where you could hide behind multiple layers of staff, bureaucracy and even lawyers if and when required. Walk out of the office door in Seattle and you were instantly anonymous. No one knew, or for that matter cared, who you were. Here in Sheridan Corners, Kate reflected, you had immediate recognition and the responsibility that came with it.
Bending over to retrieve the message slip on the floor, Kate said, “That’s great news, Sue, but this,” holding up the phone message, “is the first call I’ll return. And you know what? I’ll offer our friend here, an equal amount of space for a rebuttal in next week’s paper.”
Kate fully understood the meaning of the word community, in describing her paper. It involved communications and she was not about to exercise a monopoly on the right of expressing an opinion. It was what made this new venture so exciting and so different from her previous experiences. God, she thought, this is what I’ve always wanted to do. Looking to Sue, Kate asked, “What do you think? Should we give that weasel, as you call him, a chance to have a go at me?”
This was exactly what Sue liked about her new boss. Since Kate took over the paper, she involved the staff in the decision-making process and actually listened to what they had to say. This recognition and active pursuit of their participation in the publishing of the paper had transformed the office into a dedicated and loyal team. Sue also understood that Kate led by example, unafraid to get her hands dirty, she would get in there and do what was necessary to get the paper out. She was a willing teacher and would push you beyond the limits of your knowledge. However, she had little tolerance for those unwilling to learn and mediocrity was a four letter word in Kate’s dictionary.
Sue considered Kate’s question before replying and then, with a straight face suggested, “When you talk with him this morning, ask him to spell potato. If he gets it right, give him space for 400 words. If he puts an ‘e’ on the end, he’s just demonstrated why proper funding for schools is a necessity.”
“I’ll pass that suggestion onto our Chief Administrator.” laughed Kate adding with a wink, “You’re in charge of the office pool and I’ve got five bucks that says he’ll go with the ‘e’”
Two blocks down the street, the start of a new week was also well underway for Evan Stone, sheriff of Sheridan Corners. A tall thick ceramic mug, with less then an inch remaining of strong but now cold coffee, sat forgotten on the right hand corner of his desk. Down to the final report of his review of weekend patrol summaries, Stone reached for the coffee mug. He ignored the handle and simply wrapped his hand around the mug, and whether it was the lack of weight or the absence of warmth, he finally recalled that he had meant to get a refill over ten minutes ago. Chuckling quietly to himself and wondering if it was true that absent mindedness was confirmation that his 40th birthday was behind him now, he placed his empty coffee mug back on the desk and decided to finish the last file of the weekend, a missing persons report.
According to the report, a young man by the name of Jim Esseltine had not kept a date with his girlfriend last night and despite repeated calls to his apartment, Mr. Esseltine’s whereabouts remained a mystery. Stone tried not to smile but recalling his own youth he had a pretty good idea that the young lady was the only one not to know where Mr. Esseltine was. However, Stone felt that the people of Sheridan Corners did not employ him and his department for the purpose of arbitrarily selecting who was and wasn’t deserving of their attention. And so, despite any possible preconceptions, Stone continued to read through the file. A moment later the smile was gone as he discovered that Mr. Esseltine was actually overdue from a hike on Fire Mountain. Quickly flipping to the last page for the action summary, he was pleased to note that Deputy McPhail had already signed on for the case and was, at this moment, on his way to Fire Mountain to investigate. He was also pleased to see that McPhail had taken their newest recruit, Bill Summers, along for the ride. Good way to teach Bill the importance of department policy on following up all calls, thought Stone.
Satisfied that everything, including the missing persons report, was well in hand, Stone stood and stepping from behind his desk, picked up his mug and headed off towards the always full coffee pot located in the patrol room.
Bill McQuarrie 