A Rip in Time

1944

The hazy smoke filled club where the sultry sounds of a woman’s voice competed with the laughter and din of soldiers and sailors alike, Pamela Stevens sang. The smooth tone of her voice seemed to sooth the crowd, and eventually the sound died down to a hush as she commanded their attention. Pamela was no stranger to the attention. Standing only five foot three, she was a powerhouse at twenty three. Curvy in all the right places, some would call her a stunner. She had long dark blond hair (a-la Veronica Lake) and a peaches and cream complexion. Her big green eyes competed with her heart shaped mouth with lips that seemed a permanent pout. She was beautiful. The red dress she wore that night clung to her every curve, as close as a hug. As she sang,
“You go to my head, like a sip of sparkling burgundy brew”
She danced around the gentlemen at their tables, coyly touching each one. She tousled the hair on one man, stroked another’s others face, and leaned in close to them so that they felt the heat radiating from her body.
“I find the very mention of you…” she spun around in front of a rather brazen gentleman and as he put his hand on her rear, she gently slapped it away.
“Like the kicker in a julep or two” A ripple of laughter went through the crowd.
Her voice, rich and velvety, caressed the tune as if it were her own.
“The thrill of the thought that you might give a thought to my plea casts a spell over me” She strolled through the audience and picked out a graying gentleman and sat down on his knee and sang
“So I say to myself, get a hold of yourself, can’t you see this never can be.” She dramatically pushed herself away to the delight of the other men in the room and danced away from the gentleman.
“You go to my head with a smile that makes my temperature rise” she sang to a soldier with a broad white smile “like a summer with a thousand July’s” fanning herself. Looking another blue eyed boy straight in the eyes,
“You intoxicate my soul with your eyes” and spun around him.
“So I ‘m certain this very heart of mine hasn’t a ghost of a chance in this crazy romance, you go to my head” she slowly ended the tune with a dramatized seat, faux fainting on the stage steps. The crowd whistled and clapped wildly as Pamela hopped onto her feet and curtsied.
“Thank you, boys. Hope ya’ll enjoyed the show” she blew kisses at the audience as she backed off the stage and waved goodnight. The men cried “Encore” but she was simply exhausted from the evening. She went to her dressing room and kicked off her shoes. She sat back and lit a cigarette, inhaled deeply and slowly blew out smoke rings. She’d noticed her manager had brought back to her dressing room a bottle of champagne and a bouquet with a note from an admiring fan. She pursed the cigarette on ruby lips as she pulled open the envelope. The note read, “Happy anniversary and as always, lovely, nice job tonight. I’ll be by to pick you up after the show. With love, Anthony”
She smiled as she took the cigarette and laid it in the ashtray. Anthony Gattussi was a rich man. He had told her that he’d run a number of business ventures in the area, and Pamela had caught his eye. He’d seen her perform every night since they’d met three years ago tonight. He’d always treated her as if she was a princess, but deep down inside, she didn’t really love the man. He was good to her. He helped her out a couple of times when she was down and out, like that time with the landlord. He helped out when her dad, God rest his soul, fell ill and Pamela had no money to take care of his burial. He had
made a promise to her to take care of her if she’d be his only girl. She agreed. She felt it was more a business arrangement, with fringe benefits. He wasn’t a good looking man, quite a bit older than her, a bit overweight and he smoked cigars like a chimney. She sighed as she thought…he was good to her. It was hard for a gal in 1944 to get anywhere without a man to back her. Just because she was beautiful, didn’t mean that she didn’t have her share of struggles.
Popping the cork on the champagne, Pamela poured it into a glass and sighed deeply. Bringing the glass to her mouth, the bubbles tickled and snapped into her nostrils as she drank the heady nectar. Ah, she loved her champagne. Drawing deeply on her cigarette she reminisced of her performance. Nice job, Pamela she told herself. Those boys loved you. She chuckled out loud. A knock on the door pulled her back to the present. “Come in” she mumbled, never taking the cigarette out of her mouth. She began unfastening the bracelets on her left arm as the door creaked open.
“Excuse me, Miss Pamela” it was the owner of Marco’s Club, Marco Di Gianni.
He was a short, nervous man with slicked hair parted straight in the middle. His penciled moustache seemed to float oddly between his nose and upper lip. It made his thin lips look like a straight line. He was always apologizing for something.
“I’m sorry to bother you” he fumbled through his words as Pamela rolled her eyes.
“Yes, Marco?” She drummed her red nails on the vanity impatiently.
“Mr. Gattussi asked that I come down to you this evening and let you know that he is unable to attend to you tonight. Something has come up with the business. He said that you’d understand.” He smiled slyly. Pamela didn’t like Marco. Even though he gave her a job, and paid her fairly, she didn’t trust him. He seemed smarmy to her.
“He did however; send a car to escort you home.” Pamela nonchalantly replied,
“I think I’ll stay in the club a while. Tell the driver to come back in an hour or two.” Marco seemed surprised.
“Mr. Gattussi asked that I assure your safe passage home” he stuttered. “He’s asked for my word.” A nervous shake came out in his voice in that last sentence.
“Well, Marco, you lied. I’m gonna have me a couple drinks with my boys” she stood up and nudged him out the door. “A girl needs a little privacy here to change.”
“But…but” he stammered as she shut the door on him. “Tell the driver to come back in two hours, Marco” she called to him thorough the door.
“But Miss Pamela…” he pleaded.
She turned her back and walked towards the closet and hummed to herself as she changed into a more comfortable yet still stunning black suit. The jacket came to a peplum at the waist, which nipped her in at her slimmest part. It accentuated her curvy hourglass figure. She smoothed down the pencil skirt and checked the seams in her hose. She slipped on a pair of peep toe pumps and grabbed the fur stole from the clothes tree and slid it over one shoulder. She picked up her clutch and threw in her cigarette case and a hankie. She touched up her ruby lips, smoothed her hair and sipped down the last of the glass of the champagne she poured herself. Taking a deep breath, she opened the door and walked out into the hall.
Making her way down to the bar area, a number of drunken young soldiers sang the same tune that she’d just finished singing. A young G.I. hammered out a drunken, imperfect version of Glen Miller’s “String of Pearls” on the piano. Pamela smiled, and made her way to the bar.
“Here she is!” a young sailor pushed his buddy off the bar stool next to him to clear a seat for the lady. Pamela chuckled, and bent to help the poor lad up.
“Now, now, there must be room for both of us here at the bar!” She propped him up at the bar and climbed onto the stool next to him.
“Who’s buying me a drink? You know, it makes a gal thirsty to sing for ya’ll all night.” A scramble of men waved bills at the bartender. She pulled out a cigarette and about twenty Zippos clicked at the same time. She smiled and picked a dark haired twenty-something man out of the crowd. He was smiling a perfect, sweet smile to her. She motioned with her finger for him to come closer. His broad shoulders knifed through the men until he stood in front of her. He stood quite a bit higher than she sat. A beautiful songbird on her perch, he thought.
“Hey there, darlin’” she cooed. He was handsome, almost wholesome looking; especially in his uniform. She was a sucker for a man in uniform. Pamela smiled big. He flicked the Zippo in his hand and lit the long cigarette she brought to her lips. Taking a deep drag in, she popped open her pocketbook and threw the cigarette case inside. A plume of smoke trailed from her lips as she spoke.
“What’s your name, soldier?”
“Henry, Ma’am” he smiled.
“Ma’am? Damn, I must be getting old” she laughed “well, Henry Ma’am, call me Pamela.” She offered him a handshake. He firmly shook her hand and let it linger. Hers was so small compared to his. He cupped her hand in both of his and said,
“If it’s not too forward to say, Pamela, I think I just found an angel here on earth.”
She laughed at his comment, and he laughed right along with her.
“My, you’re a smooth one, Henry. Where’d you learn that one?” she winked at him.
He winked back and said “A man gets what he wants darlin’ and I want you.”
She sat back into the stool and chuckled.
“What makes you think that you can catch me, Henry?” she said coyly.
“Oh, I will Pamela. Believe me, I will.” He confidently explained. She admired his fortitude. She leaned in close to him. His dark eyes seemed to smile at her. At that moment, a sailor came to her side with a bottle of champagne.
“How’s this, Miss Pamela?” he stumbled, nearly knocking her off of her stool. Annoyed that he disturbed their exchange, Pamela grabbed the bottle of champagne and pushed the sailor away. He retorted with a snort and tripped his way back through the crowd to his buddies. Henry laughed out loud at her actions. He called to the bartender for a couple of glasses, and leaned in to her and asked,
“Would you like to take a seat at a table so that we can talk?” She nodded. He grabbed the glasses and held her hand as she eased herself off the tall bar stool. Never letting go of her hand, he led her though the crowd to an out of the way table. He put the glasses down, sat her in her chair and took the bottle of champagne from her. She smiled as she watched his forearms work the cork and with a significant pop the bottle spilled out onto the carpet. Laughing, she held the glasses up so that he could pour and he plopped down in the chair beside her. She handed him the glass, her fingers tracing his hand as he smiled back at her.
“A toast” he held the glass high. She obliged. “To a beautiful lady, on a beautiful night, with a beautiful ending.” He looked longingly at her.
“Here, here!” she chortled.
They sat there for at least an hour and a half making small talk, drinking champagne. When the original bottle was gone, Pamela pouted until Henry called over the waitress and ordered another. With the second bottle drained, and well into the third, Pamela sat with her hand on Henry’s thigh looking him deep in the eye. He was leaning near to her, speaking to her in hushed whispers. She laughed and teasingly pushed him away as the distance between them had become nearly nonexistent. Their lips had never met, but they came dangerously close. She shot him a sultry eyed sexy look.
“Do you think we should move to somewhere a bit more comfortable? Say, my dressing room?” She stood, wavering a bit from the effects of the champagne.
“Show me the way, darling.” He grabbed the half full bottle of champagne and stood up. She teetered a bit and began to lead him through the crowd by the hand. He followed her like a dog in heat. Just as the made their way into the hallway, she spotted Junior, Anthony’s driver. Junior was six foot three and was a sizeable man at two-hundred sixty pounds. His broad shoulders nearly blocked the hallway. There was always a perpetual look of anger on his face. Junior scowled at Pamela for a moment, and then his eyes darted to Henry’s face. He studied the reaction of his being there, and briefly he thought he saw a flash of fear on Henry’s face. Pleased, he snickered. Henry dropped her hand and nervously said,
“Miss Pamela, it’s been a lovely evening. Your performance was smashing, at best. I bid you good night.” Henry bowed, turned quickly and made his way back toward the bar. Pamela harrumphed. “You ruin everything, you know that Junior?” He smiled a wicked smile and took her by the elbow. This wasn’t the first time he’d dealt with her drinking issues.
“Miss Pamela, just doing what the boss wanted me to. You ought to know better by now.” He hissed. He led her out the back way by her elbow, much to her distress and pulled open the door to the sedan and plunked her into the seat.
“You’ve got to stop drinking so much, there, missy. Mr. Gattussi’s going to be upset. He doesn’t like to see you drunk.”
“I hardly think so”, she murmured. “He’s always so busy with the ‘business’ that I don’t think he even remembers I’m alive.” She made quotation marks in the air with her hands and she pouted an exaggerated drunken pout. Junior laughed out loud at her and slammed the door shut. He made his way to Gattussi’s home on the outskirts of town. He lived quite comfortably in a 10 bedroom former plantation. The beauty of this home not only accommodated his lifestyle, but also served as a fortress of sorts against people from the outside. More like associates that didn’t see eye to eye with Gattussi. There was a great gate and stone wall almost one-eighth mile from the house itself. The grounds were monitored by men with Tommy guns and five German Shepards. Anthony had his kingdom.
Pamela knew that Anthony was shady. No doubt about it. She didn’t know the details of his dealings, and frankly, she liked it that way. She asked very few questions, and got very few answers. He kept her fed, clothed, wined and dined. She had nothing to fuss about. She held her breath every time he touched her; as she didn’t love the man. She couldn’t. The age difference was the biggest obstacle. He could have been her father. But he wanted her to be his girl, and that meant in the bedroom, too. She shuddered at the thought. She was able to avoid his advances most of the time, seeing that his business affairs kept him away a lot. Tonight was an exception. Anthony peered out the window at the car coming up the driveway. He didn’t look happy.
As they pulled up to the massive door, she straightened up and smoothed down her hair. She reached into her pocketbook and pulled out her compact and lipstick and proceeded, best she could, to refresh her lipstick. She looked drunk and she knew it. Anthony would be disappointed for sure. She resolved that she’d have a battle on her hands, no matter how drunk she was. Pamela sighed as Junior reached for the door and opened it.
“Come on, missy. Mr. Gattussi’s waiting for you.” He helped her out of the car.
She slapped at his arm around her waist, and yanked her hand from his. He let her go, and she almost collapsed in a heap without his support. She was even more intoxicated than when he picked her up at the club.
Junior let out a short whistle and said “You’re on your own, missy.”
“Don’t touch me!” she howled after the fact. She stumbled toward the stoop and made her way in, slamming the door loudly behind her. He could only watch her as she made her way in to the house. She’d have a lot of explaining to do, he thought to himself. Junior stood shaking his head, then turned to move the car to the garage. Mr. Gattussi was not going to like the state that she was in, and Junior would need a solid alibi as to why she was in such disarray. He slid his hand inside his jacket pocket, brought out a silver flask and drank a snort of whiskey to calm his nerves. He’d tell Mr. Gattussi exactly what happened at the club. She would have to defend herself, not him. Marco would vouch for him. He was told by Marco that she’d refused the ride home and he was to return in two hours. He did as she’d requested. He’d done exactly what Miss Pamela had requested.
Junior lit a cigarette. Blowing smoke from his nostrils, he began the slow trek to the house. He was in trouble, and he knew it. He didn’t know what to expect from Anthony Gattussi. He only knew that disobedience was not tolerated by his employer. Junior was a trusted employee. He had indirectly disobeyed Mr. Gattussi’s command by not bringing Pamela home in a timely manner, and now he had to suffer the consequences. For the first time in his life, Junior was scared.









Anthony stood there looking at her, shaking his head as she stumbled through the door and braced herself against the wall for a moment to steady herself. She tried walking to him, pretending that she wasn’t that drunk. She wavered a bit, and then bounced off of the hall table, nearly knocking down a vase of yellow tulips. They were her favorite flower. She mumbled “He remembered.” She tossed her pocketbook on the table and turned to hug him
“You’re filthy drunk, you whore!” The look of disgust obscured his face making him much uglier than he already was. He grabbed her by the shoulders to get her attention. She reeked of champagne and cigarettes.
“I can explain” she cried out in a drunken voice. “I just stopped for a drink after the show…” her voice trailed off as she realized the anger in his eyes.
“I sent a car for you. I had a dinner planned for you and you didn’t even bother to show up! It’s our anniversary for Pete’s sake, woman! That low-life Marco was supposed to make sure you came home on time! He had explicit instructions.” he growled at her as he shook her by the shoulders.
“I was trying to surprise you but it’s now all wasted and you are too, Pamela. You make me sick.” He shook her hard every time he ended a sentence, his fingertips digging into her shoulders bruising her skin beneath.
“Anthony, you’re hurting me!” she cried. She tried to wiggle from his grip, but he tightened up every time she tried to get away.
“You’re not going anywhere, Pamela. I want the truth!” he brought her face close to his. “Who were you with tonight?” She could smell the cigars on his breath as he waited for her response. Her nose crinkled at the pungent heat that hit her in the face as he huffed and puffed like a mad bull.
“Just some guy. He bought me champagne. Told me I sang real nice.” She said smugly. “He was a real gentleman.” The emphasis on the “real” was drunkenly exaggerated. She tried playing off the attraction between Henry and herself, but wasn’t sure that he’d bought the story. She was drunk, and the room had started to spin. He released his grip on her, and stepped back.
“Pfft!” he snorted. “You’re a liar and a whore!” and with that, a backhand sailed across her cheek with a smack. Pamela shrieked and dropped to the floor.
“Did you sleep with him? Did you? You whore…” he bent as he hissed at her, crumpled there on the floor. She wailed to him
“NO, I didn’t do anything with him. Only drank champagne. I didn’t even kiss him!” she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. As she lay there on the floor, Junior came in the door. Anthony’s rage turned to this giant in the doorway. Junior seemed shocked at the scene, but skulked in to the room knowing full well that he was next in line for the abuse. Junior didn’t think that she deserved to be treated as such, and was willing to step in and defer Anthony’s rage.
“And you” he growled at Junior, “What the hell do you think that you’re doing? You were instructed to pick Miss Pamela up at the club after she sang. What the hell happened to you?” Anthony rolled up his shirtsleeves as he was talking to him. Junior gulped.
“Boss, Marco came and told me that Miss Pamela refused the ride, and that she wanted me to come back in a couple hours.” He had a look of fear on his face and Anthony smirked as he recognized it. He stood over Pamela and grabbed her by the hair and pulled her face up towards him. Junior’s eyes fell to the floor, as he couldn’t watch this beautiful woman treated so poorly.
“Is that what you did tonight Pamela?” She sobbed as he made eye contact with her. His eyes seemed to boil with anger.
“Yes, yes!” she cried. “That is what I told Marco to tell him. I only wanted a drink with the boys afterwards, that’s all. No monkey business. I never even kissed him.” She pleaded with him, “Please, Anthony, I’m telling you the truth.”
The tears streamed down her cheeks, leaving a makeup trail where they fell. Her ruby lips were swollen from crying and there was a welt forming on her left cheek near her eye. Anthony took pity on her a moment and let go of her hair. She collapsed into a sobbing heap on the floor as he turned to Junior.
“What the hell did you see when you got to the club? Was she with that guy?” he grilled Junior. Junior’s reply was honest.
“Well, Boss, she was leading this guy down the hall to her dressing room by his hand, but she wasn’t all over him. She didn’t look like no hanky panky was happening.”
Anthony ran a hand through his heavily graying hair. He walked to the mantle, opened the wooden cigar box and proceeded to light a cigar. Taking a number of drags off of the cigar, he walked back over to Junior and stood in front of him.
Anthony was only five foot ten. Junior stood a head above him. He scowled at Junior and turned to Pamela. Juniors fear was palatable in that moment as Anthony stopped in front of her. She continued to sob with her hands on top of her head. He squatted down to her and brought the cherry of his cigar to the top of her hand. She screamed as the stench of burning flesh filled the room. She grabbed her wounded hand and scrambled to her feet as Anthony scowled and bellowed,
“There will be no disrespecting me, Pamela. You are my girl and you will behave as such.”
She scurried into the kitchen where she ran her hand under the tap to cool the sickly looking wound. She grabbed the dish towel and wrapped her hand in it to protect it. She could hear Anthony scolding Junior in the other room. She couldn’t make out the words exactly, but she could hear them shouting. She went around the outside of the living room to the hallway. The pain in her hand ran up her whole arm as she made her way to the bedroom. She pulled out some clean hankies and put them in place of the dish towel on her hand. She grabbed some salve from the medicine chest and jumped as it stung the wound. What the hell was that about she sobbed to herself. She looked around for her pocketbook to have a cigarette, but realized it was out on the hall table. Slinking down the hallway to the foyer, she grabbed the pocketbook and peered into the living room. Anthony and Junior were in a heated exchange, and Anthony was waving his hands wildly. His eyes were wide with anger to the point of rage. She could see in his hands an object, but was unsure of what he was holding. Junior had a look of pure terror on his face, and although he was terrified, he was defending his actions.
“I told you I wanted her home after the show!” he screamed at Junior. “You are my employee, and you obey my orders! What don’t you understand? That bitch does not give you orders, nor do you take orders from her. She’s nothing….nothing! She’s a whore. I’m the boss here. You work for me!” That was like a slap in the face for Pamela. Here she thought Anthony cared for her. He was just using her. She bit her lip as she shrank against the wall as the arguing between the two men got louder.
“Boss, the bitch told Marco that I should leave. What in Sam hell am I supposed to do for a couple hours? Twiddle my thumbs? I am not her keeper. I’m a driver. I’m not here to watch over her drunken ass making sure she doesn’t sleep with anyone while you’re out doing what you do. That’s your job. You’re her boyfriend, not me. This is bullshit!” Junior flung his hands in the air and turned to leave yelling “You can deal with this…I quit!”
Anthony followed him, grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around. He punched Junior square in the nose, and Junior cried out
“What the hell!”
In one lightening quick reaction, he slugged Anthony across the face and sent him spinning. Pamela choked back a gasp and moved out of their line of sight. It was like a train wreck. She knew it was awful to see, but she had to watch. Even though she and Junior never really got along, she wanted to see him beat the tar out of Anthony. That bastard deserved a beat down. He and Junior had a slug fest going, each welted and bleeding from the others fists. Anthony had an advantage. He held something in his hand that reigned devastating blows on Junior. He had a black eye and was bleeding from his nose and what appeared to be broken teeth. He fought back as hard as he could. The last punch that Junior connected with Anthony knocked him backwards.
“I have had enough. I quit, you rotten bastard!” Junior turned around and threw his hands in the air.
“No one turns their back on me, you son-of-a-bitch.” Anthony hissed.
Anthony raised his hand and pointed a gun at Junior’s back. Pamela gasped audibly and Anthony pulled the trigger. A massive explosion rocked the giant forward. He stumbled towards the door as another shot tore into his flesh. He gasped as yet another shot dropped him to his knees. Pamela stifled a scream by biting into her pocketbook and backed down the hall, watching yet another shot reign down upon Junior’s now lifeless form. She found her way out the back door and ran to the garage. Surely he’d left the keys in the car. He always did. She would be able to get away before Anthony knew she was gone. She crawled in to the driver’s seat and sobbed as she reached for the keys. Yes, Junior had left them there, just as she’d hoped. If there was one thing Junior was, it was consistent. She’d said a little prayer for him and fired up the car. She hadn’t driven in a while, so she was a little klutzy on the clutch, and the car lurched forward out of the garage. She was still crying and trying to get as far away from the house as possible. Pamela started towards the driveway. She’d have to drive by the house, and that made her more nervous. She would drive by fast, that way Anthony would be too preoccupied to notice the sound of the car speeding by the house.
Inside, Anthony sat on the arm of the couch. The rage inside of him was all consuming.
“Jackass,” he thought out loud as he looked down at Junior’s body. “I’m the boss.”
He kicked the dead man’s foot in anger. He’d gone to the mantle to get another cigar when he thought he heard a car. Turning towards the hallway, he noticed that Pamela’s pocketbook wasn’t there. Had she seen all of this? He panicked for a moment and realized that it was more than likely Pamela driving that car. She’d seen him murder Junior. He jumped over Junior and opened the door and ran down the stairs. Pamela had roared around the corner of the house. She spotted Anthony and screamed. He took a stance and raised the gun at the windshield and fired two bullets. Pamela, although narrowly avoiding being shot, swerved to avoid one of the trees. As she passed him by, Anthony sprayed the back of the car with bullets, each piercing into the bowels of the car. Pamela screamed louder, and stepped on the gas. She could feel the engine rattle and the car cough a little. The car had been wounded from the gunfire. Unbeknownst to her, a stray bullet had pierced the brake line on the car as she skidded onto the main road from the house. She was still very drunk and the car weaved from right to left as she sobbed. She just needed to get back home, back to her momma’s house where everything would be alright. As she drove, she cried thinking of poor Junior and she could not get the image of Anthony’s crazy eyes out of her head.
Just as she sped around the curve near her mother’s home, she narrowly avoided another car and entirely lost the brakes. She screamed as she saw the tree fast approaching. The car lost control spun out on the gravel and skidded down the embankment. There she landed; knocked out cold, head against the steering wheel.








1994

Dan Steele slid behind the wheel of his tired green sedan. A gray mist was just beginning to rise off the river as he drove slowly along the winding road toward home. Easing through the twists and turns with the familiarity of a road well traveled, Dan let his thoughts wander. Flicking the lights on as the fog deepened, he frowned as the radio crackled. The sound faded in and out, and then finally died away. Blinking, his vision seemed to blur a moment, the dashboard seemed to shimmer. The radio slowly came back on, but the strains of an old Glenn Miller tune were coming from ancient speakers. Dan shook his head, trying to get his bearings. He could have sworn the steering wheel in his hands was wood and the windshield he was looking through was divided. Suddenly, a deer bounded out from the woods, and he spun the wheel in a hard swerve. Breathing hard for a minute, he slid to a stop along the roadside. Rubbing his eyes, he muttered out loud, “Too damned close” and eased back onto the road and continued down the winding lane. “I must be more tired than I thought.”
The radio came back on playing the latest rock tune. It wasn’t until he pulled into his gravel driveway twenty minutes later; that he realized what ever happened out there, happened right at the curve of the road in front of the old Stevens place. It had been abandoned the last three years now that Mrs. Stevens passed away. Poor old woman had never been right in the head ever since her daughter, Pam had been murdered way back in ’44. That was the one blemish on the Allendale sheriff’s department; the murderer had never been caught. He thought to himself that was one they couldn’t lay at his door.
He had only been born in 1945. Stepping from the car and making his way up the steps into his house, he thought about the cold case.
The case had been long cold, even when he had joined the department as an eager twenty-five year old rookie in 1970. Of course every rookie thinks they can solve everything, so naturally he took a stab at solving it. But in 1944, crime scene investigation was pretty much nonexistent, especially in a small town like Allendale. The clues and evidence, what little there was, pointed to the local mobster. There was just never enough proof to charge anyone. After the mobster died a nasty death up in Pittsburgh a few years after the murder, no one much cared any more. Except Mrs. Stevens, of course. It must be hard to lose your only daughter, especially after losing your husband too. Lucky she had his pension to live on.
Dan’s mind wandered and he smirked at the thought. Yeah, pension, just like her.
That was all he had, right now, that and a bit of cash he had stashed over the years; but it was peanuts. Who would have thought of retiring at the early age of fifty back when he started? Ok, so he wasn’t quite fifty. He had figured he’d move on after a couple of years but he had been raised in a small town. Once he fell for Margy, he pretty much just stayed put. But now, twenty five years of police work coupled with that damn bullet in his lower back, and he was finally convinced it was time to move on.
Dan walked through the empty house to the kitchen. Peeking in the fridge, he selected a rather tired piece of cold pizza, laid it on a plate and shoved it into the microwave. Turning, he tossed a couple of scoops in the coffee pot and switched it on. Leaning back against the counter, he looked around the small neat kitchen. It wasn’t a bad house, just really empty. Dan had bought the little Cape Cod the year after Margy had died. There just didn’t seem to be any point in keeping the house in town after she was gone. Work had kept him pretty busy, so the house had been little more than a place to store his junk and stretch out to sleep. He shook his head slightly as the oven buzzed. He could already see retirement here wasn’t going to sit well with him. Too empty.
After downing the pizza in a couple of bites, Dan poured himself the coffee and strolled out to the backyard. The only thing he had added to the house was a hot tub. It seemed to ease the lower back pain where that old bullet had lodged. Switching in to a bathing suit, he slid into the steaming tub and settled back with the coffee.
As he relaxed in the heat, his mind wandered. What exactly had happened out on the road? Had he been daydreaming? Frowning to himself, he tried to recall everything about it, but found the images fuzzy. “Humph, twenty-five years a cop and I can’t even remember something for an hour.”
Closing his eyes and sinking deeper in the soothing water, he could almost hear the Glen Miller music playing again. It was right there, at the edge of his conscious, but just out of reach. Glen Miller? Where would he have heard that? He couldn’t fully relax since he started thinking about it and he felt more frustrated. He stood up and let the water drain off, stepped from the tub and toweled off and slipped on his worn robe. Still frowning, he made his way to the bedroom. Lighting a cigarette, he plunked down in the easy chair. Dan flipped on the TV and began watching the nightly news. His eyes grew heavy. He crushed out the cigarette and slowly drifted off to sleep. His eyelids flickered as he slipped into dreamland. Fuzzy pictures entered his mind, almost like an old movie. He could hear sounds; shouting and angry voices. His face twisted as his mind tried to grasp what was happening. Gunshots, blood and then bushes, Rows of bushes. A single stone pillar. Finally, his mind relaxed into deeper sleep; the lines on his face eased and he began to snore.
He awoke with a start as the moonlight shone through the bedroom window and onto his face. Damn, must have been really boring news. The clock radio glowed 2:30am on the nightstand. Wincing slightly as he stood from the chair, he turned off the TV.
He made his way back to the kitchen, with a rumble in his stomach. Leaning to put the coffee cup in the sink, he froze. An image popped into his head. A pillar. He knew that pillar. He had seen it before. But where? Blinking his eyes, he shook his head. Why was he thinking about a pillar? Snapping out of the brain freeze, he set the cup down, and slid onto one of the kitchen chairs.
“If this is retirement, it sucks.” He said, talking to the empty house. The image came to him again, but at least he wasn’t in some brain lock this time. Where had he seen that pillar?
“Ah-ha!” he said out loud with half a smile, “the old Rodham place, that’s where it is! But why does it matter?” He stood there going through the motions of making another pot of coffee. Dan found himself talking the walls again.
“I better get myself a dog or something, or people are gonna think I am really nuts, talking to this empty house.” Pouring the coffee, he drank deeply, letting the caffeine clear away the cobwebs.
“Well, since I doubt like hell I can get back to sleep now, I suppose I could go out to the Rodham place and poke around.” He flicked a light to the cigarette at his lips, as he smirked. “At least no one will bother me this time of night.”
Dan moved to the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth to run over his face. He hadn’t been up there in many years and wondered what it looked like now.

The Rodham estate was not far from his house. It was back along the road and down a private drive near that curve where Dan had almost hit the deer last night. John Rodham had been the CEO for the mill and had bought the place in the late fifties. He had spent quite a fortune restoring and cleaning up the place after he had bought it for a song at the county auction. He had lived there for years with his family until the mill closed down in ’85. By then, all the children were grown up and were scattered all across the country. John’s wife died in 1986 and John had pretty much gone down hill from there. He ended up in Rolling Hills Nursing home the next year. The county took the property for back taxes after that. Dan shook his head ruefully; some places just seemed destined to be abandoned. With the mill gone and most of the businesses struggling, there had been no one interested in buying that large of a piece of property. As far as Dan knew it was still owned by the county.

He finished up in the bathroom and changed into fresh clothes. He filled a thermos with the remaining coffeeand headed out the door to his car. The faithful old sedan started right up and he pulled down the gravel driveway, turning down the road in the direction of town. He grimaced as the police radio squealed from where it hung under the dashboard. He thought to himself, better get that removed and back to the sheriff’s office before someone bitches about it. Not like I need it anymore.
The drive this early in the morning was uneventful. No strange radio music, no foggy images of steering wheels and best of all, no deer jumping out of the woods. Just a quiet moonlit night as Dan took the turn up the private driveway to the estate. The county had at least kept the road from overgrowing too much and the green sedan had no trouble getting to the gate at the top of the drive.
Dan stepped out and made his way over to the large wrought iron gate. He smirked as he saw the lock had been cut off. Damn teenagers, he thought, as he opened the creaking gate. Even before John Rodham had bought the place, there had been quite a few rumors that the grounds were haunted. Of course no one ever saw anything that he could remember, but that kind of stuff made the legend that drew the kids to check it out.
He wandered down the brick walkway from the entrance, following it as it wound around toward the back of the main building. He stopped suddenly as a flash from last night popped into his head. Bushes, rows of bushes. Stretched ahead along the fence were exactly the rows of bushes he had seen, and at the end, the solitary pillar. Slowly, he walked over to the pillar, and ran his hand over the cold stone surface. He could almost feel it vibrate under his touch. His eyes were drawn to the ground at the base of the pillar. Using a toe, he scuffed the dirt. What was that? Flicking on his flashlight, he looked closer. A small white object poked out from the scuff mark. Dan bent lower. Surely it couldn’t be what it appeared to be. Brushing more dirt away, his eyes opened wider. Sinking to his knees, he brushed even more dirt away. It was clearly a finger bone. Moving just enough dirt away to be sure that the finger bone was actually lying akin to more bones, Dan got up and back to the car. He reached down and flicked on the police radio.
“Base, come in, this is Dan” The radio crackled with static, then silenced.
“Base here. Dan, didn’t you turned in the radio, ya’ll know the county clerk will throw a f…….”
“Relax, Bobby,” Dan cut him off. “We have a situation here”
“What the hell does that mean, ‘A situation?’ Dan, if you went and got in some kind of mess I am gonna skin you alive!” Bobby Lane’s voice cracked over the radio. Dan smirked. Two days as Sheriff and already Bobby was getting uppity.
“Bobby, I am up at the old Rodham place. Seems we have a skeleton.”
“Come back again, Dan. Did you say there is a body up there at the Rodham place?”
“No, a skeleton. Been here a long time. Maybe, forty-fifty years. Get the Troopers down here with their evidence team.”
“I swear Dan, if you have messed up a crime scene….” Dan rolled his eyes and cut him off again. Sure, the county picked Bobby for the new sheriff, but sometimes just being on the force for a long time wasn’t much qualification for the job. Bobby was a hot head; always trying to get the upper hand in a situation even if he should had stepped back and let someone else take the lead. Dan shook his head at the whole thing and settled down to drink some of the lukewarm coffee from the thermos. It took a good thirty minutes for the Sheriff’s cruiser to come wailing up the driveway. Screwing the lid back on the thermos, Dan stepped from the car. The cruiser screeched to a halt next to him and Bobby Lane nearly exploded from the driver seat.
“Ok Dan, we have the scene under control. Ya’ll can move along now.”
Bobby tucked his hands in his belt and strutted territorially like a peacock.
Dan sighed and slid back into the car.
“Fine! You handle it then. The remains are over by the tall pillar” gesturing to the fence line.
“Snot nosed kid” he muttered under his breath as he put the sedan in reverse and backed up, cutting the wheel hard and spraying Bobby with dust. Dan smirked as he headed down the driveway, watching Bobby in the rear view mirror wave his arms around, choking on the dust. Something was still tickling the back of his mind as he headed down the hill. Just as he approached the main road it clicked in his head. The Rodham place had been Tony Gattussi’s place back in the ‘40s.

Suddenly, the air got thick and hazy. Dan felt the car lurch and twist almost as if it were alive. He gripped the wheel tight to keep his balance. His vision blurred as he tried to peer through the dusty windshield. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a shadow. Was it a car? That’s what it looked like as it cut across his path and swerved to avoid him. He wrenched the wheel of his car hard to the right to avoid crashing in to it. The car spun out in a cloud of dust, finally coming to rest a little off the road. Breathing hard he laid his head down on the wooden wheel to rest a moment. Wait… wooden wheel? What the hell?
As the dust settled, there was no doubt Dan was sitting in a car with a wooden steering wheel and a split windshield. He could see down the embankment, there was clearly a 1939 Chevy coupe with a fender crumpled against a tree. Shaking his head, he tried to clear the fog in his brain. Was he dreaming? Maybe he was dead and this was heaven. Blinking at a tingle in his eye, he reached up to graze his forehead. His fingers came away with a splotch of blood. Well, that explained the headache.
Dan glanced down, looking himself over, checking for more damage. His eyes narrowed a bit as he noticed the suspenders and the wingtips. What the hell? What was going on here? One minute he was driving down the driveway from……hmmm. He furrowed his brow trying to remember. Ok, he was driving somewhere and next he …..Oh, hell. Nothing was clear.
Leaning to look in the door mirror to check the cut on his forehead, he blinked hard. The face staring back wasn’t his. Well, at least not his for nearly 20 years. Dan breathed deep. Slow down. You aren’t nuts. Just get a grip. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. Then he slowly opened them again, peering into the mirror. Nope, it was still the same. Sighing, he reached for his wallet. That was one sure way to figure this out. The worn leather opened to a military ID instead of his Ohio license.
Before he could digest this last piece of insanity, Dan heard a groan from the Chevy. He had forgotten all about the other car or maybe figured it was all just more of the dream. Yanking on the lever of the door, he jumped out and stumbled over to the coupe. Inside was a young woman, moaning and groggy. There was blood on the wheel, so she must have banged into it head first. As he opened the door, he caught her as she slumped out of the driver seat. At the sudden jolt, her eyes flew open in a panic. The woman started kicking and screaming some nonsense about having to get away.
“Get your hands off me you gorilla!!” Dan ducked a wild punch at his head. “Gotta get away, Gotta get away, Let me GO!!” She screeched.
He quickly encircled her wrists and shook her gently.
“Lady….Lady!! Calm down lady! Everything is gonna be fine”
The crazed look in the woman’s eyes gave him doubts about that. He pointed at the front end of the coupe, smoke rising from the front end resting against the tree.
“Look I don’t know what you’re running from, but this car is going nowhere”
At that the woman stopped and looked and burst into tears. Dan looked frazzled at that. Damned tears. He never was any good with women crying.
He rolled his eyes and sympathetically said, “Alright, come on. We can take my car.”
He tossed one arm over his shoulder, and his arm around her waist to steady her as they limped to his sedan. Leaning her against the car, he opened the passenger door, reached in and tossed the Fedora off the seat and into the back. Settling her in, Dan jumped in the driver side and fired the sedan up.
“Where to, lady?”
The woman stared blankly at him. “Um, Junior is dead, gotta get away” she muttered. The pungent smell of booze hit him. Booze and the crack on the head. No wonder she made no sense. Putting the car in gear, he slid onto the road with a fantail of dust and headed toward town. The woman moaned again and passed out. Frowning, he brushed a hand over her face to make sure she was still breathing. As the sedan sped down the road, Dan kept his eyes peeled, looking for a motel or rest stop. Whatever was going on, it was certain he needed to get off the road and the needed to get the woman someplace safe until he could sort this out. Up ahead a neon light of a roadside sign for Shady Acres Motor Lodge flickered. Sighing with relief, he pulled in. He stopped in front of the door to the office. Making sure the woman was unseen below the window; he stepped out and strode into the office, ringing the bell on the counter. A portly old man waddled out from somewhere in back. “Yes sir, room for one?”
Dan nodded. “Just one night.”
The man peered over the top of the glasses on his nose. “Passing through?” as he slid the register book under Dan’s hand and offered a pen.
“Yep, sales trip” responded Dan, keeping it short.
The clerk handed him the key “That will be $3.50. Room 112, around back, ok?”
“Yep, thanks.” He handed the clerk the money and turned for the door. He turned back to the counter. “Got a newspaper for sale?” The man reached below the counter then handed Dan a slim newspaper.
“On the house.” The old man added with a smile. Dan nodded a thank you and headed back to the car. He pulled around the low brick building and parked in front of 112.
Slinging the woman carefully over his shoulder, he made his way to the motel door and inched it open. He gently laid her down on the lumpy double bed. He went back to the car to close the door of the sedan and noticed a small purse on the floor of the passenger side. She must have had it clutched in her hand when he helped her to the car. This was good. Gathering the purse, his paper and reaching back to grab the hat from the back seat; Dan closed the sedan door quietly and stepped back into the room.
Closing and locking the door, he settled to the flimsy desk chair for a moment to catch his breath. Damn hot this summer, he thought, mopping his brow with the handkerchief from his rear pocket.
Looking over at the woman who was moaning a little in her sleep, he reached for the purse. “Ok, lady,” he said out loud “let’s see who you are.” Opening the clasp, he noticed a cigarette case, a Zippo lighter, a compact and some lipstick. There was also a ladies wallet. Dan opened the slim wallet and found the woman’s drivers license.
Pamela Stevens, 23, 175 Rosewood Drive, Allendale, Ohio. Hmm, that seemed to ring a bell, but he couldn’t quite remember why. He smiled, slipping the license back in to its place, remembering somewhere else in his head all the bad things that happen when a man goes through a woman’s purse.
“Ok Miss Pamela Stevens, let’s see how you clean up”, he said, talking out loud. In the tiny bathroom, he found a washcloth and wet it and returned to the bedroom. He settled beside her on the bed and proceeded to gently clean the blood from her forehead and cheek. Nothing too bad, just a bruise. Likely she’ll be fine once that booze wears off. Sliding off her shoes off her shapely feet, Dan wrapped the blanket over Pamela, making sure the pillow was under her head as well.
Alright, he mused, we now know who the woman is, and I’m pretty sure I know who I am. Just to be sure he pulled out his wallet again. The same picture was there, his face, maybe 29-30 years old, in an officer’s uniform. This is too real to be a dream. Apparently I am a Captain in the Army, Dan smirked to himself.
It clearly said, “Daniel Steele U.S. Army Air Corp. Eighth Air Force”.
A soft sigh came from him. It all pretty much added up, but he opened the newspaper just to be sure. The headline read “Chase Foe from Normandy”, followed by the subtitle “American Armor Races on From Town to Town”. A glance to the date removed any vestige of doubt. It was August 1, 1944. He’d realized somehow he had managed to slip through some rip in time and end up back in Allendale in 1944. Even though he wasn’t in the present anymore, he didn’t feel out of place. It felt as it he was supposed to be there. Well, he thought, it was more than he could reason at the moment. He’d better make the best of it. Searching through the rest of his pockets, Dan came up with a couple more papers. Reading slowly, he understood now why he was here instead of in Europe. Seems he had managed to take a few slugs in the back on the beaches on D-Day and at least one didn’t look like it was coming out. He had been transferred stateside for desk duty effective August 15, 1944. Stuffing the papers back into his pockets, he stretched out on the bed alongside Pamela. Might as well get some sleep, too, he reasoned. That is, until she wakes up and explains just what the hell was going on.

A good four hours went by and Pamela finally started waking up. Feeling her stir, Dan opened his eyes, and then slid off the bed. Slipping out the door, he strolled down to the motel office and filled two cups with steaming coffee. When he opened the door to the room, Pamela sat up startled and rubbed her eyes.
“Feeling a bit better, Miss Stevens?”
She looked up with a start, eyes narrowing. “Who are you and how do you know who I am?” She pulled the covers up defensively around her.
“Name’s Dan Steele, ma’am. I pulled you out of a car wreck a while ago.”
Pamela watched him suspiciously. She let the covers down a bit she ran a hand through her tangled hair. She winced as her hand skimmed her bruised and aching forehead. Way too much to drink, she thought to herself.
“Here, drink some of this” He offered her a cup of coffee knowingly.
She took the cup and sipped, but her eyes never left Dan. Her ruby stained lips formed a perfect “o” as she blew on the hot coffee to cool it. “Where are we?”
“Oh, a motel down the road from where you tried to bounce off a tree. You seemed pretty certain you wanted to get away from there in a hurry, wherever there was.” Dan replied. He settled back into that flimsy desk chair, lit a cigarette.
“Care to fill me in on what’s going on?” he sat back and blew smoke rings.
She sighed. Looking at this strange man with big green eyes full of fear, she took a deep breath and started to spill.
“You’re not one of Anthony’s boys, are you?” Her voice was gravelly and soft. Dan leaned towards her and handed her the lit cigarette.
“No, I’m just passing through.” He chuckled. At least he hoped he was just passing through. She dragged deep and let out a plume. Another sip of the coffee, and she started to relax a little.
“It’s so complicated.” She sighed and took another drag on the cigarette.
“I got time.” Dan reassured her. He lit a smoke for himself and leaned forward onto his knees. She took a deep breath and sighed.
“Okay. I was trying to get away from Anthony. He’s my, no…he was my boyfriend of sorts.” She emphasized ‘was’. “I sing down at Marco’s. Maybe you’ve seen my show?”
“Um…no…can’t say I have. Sorry.” Dan wondered how she must sound. Her voice was low and sultry. She likely sang a good song.
She shook her head. “I was staying after the show and having a drink with one of the boys. I guess I made Anthony real mad, because I got drunk and then he got real mad. He’s not a nice guy. I made him real mad.” She shuddered as she repeated herself. “I took the car to get away from him. I was drunk, and I nearly killed me…and you.”
Dan watched her intently, knowing somewhere inside with the intuition of a cop she was not telling him the whole truth. He asked, “What about Junior? Who’s Junior? You said that Junior’s dead.”
Tears sprang to her eyes as she sobbed out loud.
“He killed Junior! I watched him. He shot him in the back. Filled him with lead. Oh, poor Junior. It wasn’t his fault. I was drunk…..I sent him away……Anthony made him come back for me. He blamed Junior for not looking out for me. He was the boss….I was just his whore….”
Her voice faded off into sobs as she dropped her head into her hands. There were those damned tears again. Dan didn’t know how to handle a woman sobbing. He looked more helpless than her at the moment.
“Listen, I’m fairly certain that it wasn’t your fault that Junior got shot.
You need to calm down and tell me everything. I’m hoping we can find a way to get you outta here, but you need to tell me the truth.” He reassured her in the calm voice he trained to use as a cop with victims and their families.
“I don’t think there is a way out. I’m a dead woman….” Her voice trailed off and her eyes dropped to the floor.
“Miss Stevens…please. There is no way I can help if you don’t talk to me.”
Her eyes met his steady gaze and she sensed his calm. She visibly relaxed at his words.
“First, call me Pamela. Secondly, I’m trouble…with a capital T. It seems to follow me everywhere. Why would a stranger want to help?”
“Trust me, Pamela. Give me a chance to try and help.”
Dan told her to sit tight. He went to the office and asked for a kettle of coffee, and the manager’s wife obliged. She hadn’t much to offer as far as food went, but had the fixings for BLT’s. He laughed and nodded, the woman thought he was a little touched having BLTs for breakfast, but obliged nonetheless. Dan gladly accepted, and thanked her for her kindness. He strode back to the room, and knocked on the door. Pamela answered, and he scolded her.
“Never, never answer the door!” he chided. “It could be someone you don’t want to see!”
“But you’re the only one that knows I’m here!” she pouted.
He gave her a sideways smile and offered the sandwich and a refill of her coffee cup. She was famished, not to mention hung-over, and made no hesitation devouring the sandwich. Dan’s own stomach growled and he timidly bit into the fresh white bread. Wow, he thought to himself. Food tastes so much better in 1944! As he finished his sandwich, Pamela began to tell him what was going on. She was in a whole lot of trouble, and there was no doubt in Dan’s mind that she was in grave danger.
“I was on my way to my mother’s house when I nearly hit your car. You just came out of no where!” Dan chuckled to himself; if she only knew how true that last statement was.
“Well, I certainly didn’t expect you being there, either. Perhaps it’s a good thing that I was in the right place at the right time; otherwise, you might still be hunched across your steering wheel.” Dan reminded her. She shuddered.
“So now what, Dan? What am I going to do?”
She looked so helpless, this beautiful woman with the lump on her forehead and a welt on her cheek. He was a sucker for the damsel in distress. She was dressed in a form fitting black suit. And those hose with the seams up the back. So sexy for 1944.
She hadn’t put her shoes back on and padded around the motel room in her stocking feet. She paced and smoked as she told him what was going on.
He shook his head and said, “We need to get to a safer place. These boys are going to be looking for you.” Dan ran his eyes up and down her svelte form.
“Better get some more clothes, nobody could miss you, looking so….ummm. conspicuous.”
Pam’s cheeks reddened. “We could pick up some clothes at my mom’s, but then what?”
“I have an idea where we can hide out for awhile and figure out the best plan to keep you breathing” Dan replied. A worried look crossed her face. She sighed heavily.
“Alright, I guess I am in your hands.”
A warm rush slid over Dan as she said that. What? Was he falling for her? He had to push it aside. He’d better focus on keeping her safe right now. No time for monkey business.

As Dan waited while she freshened up a moment in the bathroom, he peeked outside just to make sure there were no surprises awaiting their escape. He took her hand and led her to the coupe, opening the door. Letting his hand linger over hers just a bit longer than perhaps he should, Dan could feel tingles run up his arm. Things were still pretty fuzzy in his head about exactly how and why he was here, but he couldn’t shake the feeling he knew Pamela. After settling her in on the passenger side, Dan slid in the behind the wheel and started the Chevy up. Easing back onto the highway, he kept his eyes roving for any suspicious cars. There didn’t appear to be anyone looking for them. He was headed back in the direction they had come the night before. Pamela looked sideways at him, and after a few minutes said,
“Dan…how did you know which way to go?”
Arching a brow, he studied her a minute.
“Got to admit, I don’t know. It just seemed to be right.” Dan reached to light a cigarette and sat back. How did he know?
Clearly not satisfied with that answer, Pamela settled deeper into the seat with a sigh.
He smirked at her faraway pout and said, “Look sweetness, you just have to trust me, for now.”
He could feel the heat rise in his face as his eyes stayed on her, taking in those liquid lips. Pamela looked up and caught his gaze, and held it with her own. Suddenly, the car started bumping along the shoulder. Quickly Dan snapped back to driving and pulled the coupe back onto the road.
“Sorry”, as he turned beet red.
She giggled and gave him a playful shove. “I got guys out here looking to kill me…don’t you be the one to do it!” He smiled and thought it best to keep his eyes on the road as he drove. As he slowed for a stop sign, she leaned over and kissed his cheek.
“Seriously…thanks for rescuing me, Dan. I’d probably be dead by now if you hadn’t been there.”
“Don’t even talk like that, Pamela. Everything will be alright.”
As he started off from the stop sign, his fingers reached and grazed her hand gently. She responded to his touch, fingers intertwined with his, and moved closer to him.
“I do trust you.” she whispered. The coo of her voice made his heart start to pound. Rounding an all too familiar curve, the Stevens house came into view on the left. All of a sudden, he pulled on her shoulder, forcing her down on his lap.
“Dammit!” he said through his teeth.
Her muffled voice came back with “What the hell….?”
Dan accelerated and rounded the next curve before gently helping her upright again.
“Sorry, sweetness. Unless your mother drives a black limo, it looks like your friend Tony was paying a visit. I just figured it would be better if no one saw you.”
Tears welled up in her eyes again.“Now what do we do? We’ll never be safe” her lip trembled as she spoke.
“Calm down,” he gently replied, taking her hand again. As he did, he couldn’t help but notice the nasty burn on her hand. Gently lifting her hand to his lips, he kissed the tortured flesh. Who could have hurt this beautiful woman like that? She sobbed softly at his tender gesture. She relaxed, leaning in to him for support.
“I told you, everything will be fine.”
Slowly releasing her wrist, Dan turned again to focus on driving, speed picking up as he wound along the curves. Lighting a cigarette, he drew the smoke in deep as he pondered some things. How did he know which way her mother’s house was? And this road? It seemed so familiar, like he had driven it a thousand times before. A slight shiver rode up his body as he felt her hand on his thigh. Turning to meet her beautiful eyes with his, she asked, “A penny for your thoughts.”
“Oh just thinking about getting somewhere safe” he lied. Careful Dan or you could really fall for this woman, he said to himself. Pamela breathed a small sigh and dug in her purse for a cigarette, leaning back in the seat and stared out the window at the passing greenery.
The car eased through the gently rolling hills for a good twenty minutes until they came upon a turnoff to the left. Alongside the entrance was a huge billboard proclaiming “Come see the Future of America, Brand New Affordable Housing, Right Here, Right Now!” Dan steered the car past the sign with a half smirk. Now there’s a hopeful guy. The war wasn’t even over yet and already someone was jumping on the housing bandwagon. Following the road up to a gravel driveway, Dan stopped in front of a Cape Cod with a sign out front. Pamela caught him out of the corner of her eye, just as an icy shiver ran down his spine.
“Are you ok, Dan?” He smiled. “Right as rain, sweetness.”
The sign read “Come See Our Fully Furnished Model Home, Modern Living at it’s Best.” Dan turned into the driveway and pulled up to the garage. He hopped out, swung open the door, then got back into the car and pulled it into the garage. Smiling to her he said,
“Hi honey, we’re home” That brought a smile to Pamela’s lips. He couldn’t help thinking how much those lips were made for kissing.
“Alright, sweetness, let’s see what Modern Living looks like.” They both got out of the car and Dan closed the garage door, concealing the car from view.
As they walked up the sidewalk, Dan reached for his keys. Without even thinking of it, he slid a key into the doorknob and it opened with a click. His hand froze on the knob for an instant. The key had worked in the lock, and somehow he had known it would. Turning to meet her questioning eyes, he commented “Just luck, I guess.”
He shrugged and knew that coincidence had nothing to do with it, but why?
Opening the door, Dan grinned and picked her up, carrying her across the threshold. Pamela gasped in surprise and laughed out loud. She lightly brushed her lips over his. She felt so safe in his arms. As he gently set her down, he felt her arms slide around him in a hug. A deep sigh, slipped from her lips.
“It may sound corny, but I feel so safe with you, Dan”
Returning the hug, Dan resisted the urge to let his hand trail down to her perfect little bottom. Slowly they broke the embrace and looked around the room. The side door had let them into the kitchen. As part of the display, the kitchen was furnished with a table & chairs. There were canisters along the counter and even a coffee pot on the stove. It certainly did look ready to live in. Dan got a sense of déjà vu. He had been here before. That would explain the key working in the lock. Heck, how did he even know the development had been here? He shook his head to escape the whys and stuck to investigating the house further.
Dan walked over and opened a couple of the canisters. He smile as one was full of coffee. Filling percolator, he added the coffee and lit the stove.
“Seems the realtor came prepared.” Turning he reached to investigate yet another cupboard, his eyes blinked wide open. “Holy cow, it’s a refrigerator!”
Pamela couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the look on his face. Smirking back at her, he said, “I suppose you knew it was a fridge” She shook her head no.
“I would never have guessed that, either.”
Still smiling, Dan stretched out his hand to her and said,
“As long as we are here, let’s look around.”
She rose from the kitchen chair stretching like a sleek cat stirring from a nap and followed along. He took her through the pale blue living room, which was furnished with an area rug, a couple of chairs and a loveseat. Even the tables had lamps on them. At the end of the room was a Zenith Console radio, with its gleaming wood and shiny black knobs. Dan stepped over to the console and turned it on, adjusting the dial until soft music began to filter through the room. His eyes meet Pamela’s and he held his hand out to her.
“I have to admit” he confessed, “I’m not much of a dancer, but may I have this dance?” He pulled her close as his feet moved to the smoky sound of Sunrise Serenade. Giggling, she hesitantly slipped into his embrace. Her body began to sway in rhythm with his. Dan’s hand slid up along her back to press her closer as they danced across the floor. Pamela’s eyes closed, and she leaned into him and sighed softly.
“This is so nice,” she whispered in his ear, with a husky voice. Their hips brushed together as they turned as one, lost in the music. As the song faded, Dan stopped and held her close, first, finding her eyes, then those luscious lips. “Lips made for kissing,” he whispered as he bent and grazed his lips across hers. The radio station had switched to the hourly broadcast, but they weren’t paying a lot of attention, gently searching each other’s mouths in a delicate kiss.
Suddenly Pamela pulled back with a gasp as she caught the words on the radio, “….and suspected mob figure Anthony Gattussi, is being investigated in the latest racketeering…” Dan quickly snapped the radio off and turned to Pamela.
Her whole body shook as she sobbed. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”
“Sit down,” he commanded and guided her head down between her knees His hand gently pushed her head down, feeling the silkiness of her hair between his fingers. Quite the contrast from his rough hands. He stroked her neck gently and asked,
“Better now?” She nodded slightly, but still hung her head.
Dan said, “Stay right here.” He went to find the bathroom, but he knew subconsciously where it was. He pulled a washcloth from the linen closet and rinsed it with cool water.
When he returned to her, she grabbed the towel from his hand and pressed it to her face.
“Deep breaths, Pamela. It’ll pass.”
As she breathed deep, he gently rubbed her back and shoulders. She began feeling better, concentrating on the gentle rhythmic circles he was making on her back. It felt good.
“Dan?” she said through the towel.
He put a hand on her shoulder “Yes?”
She turned to face him.
“I’m so scared, Dan…..they’re going to kill me.” She looked at him with tear filled eyes wide with fear.
It melted his heart. He lifted her from the chair by her elbows and took her close into his arms. She laid her head on his chest. He stroked her hair with one hand and her back with the other. He cooed to her in a soft yet strong voice,
“As long as I’m living, darlin’, you are going nowhere. I will take care of you.”
She looked up at him softly. “Do you really mean that?” her voice, a mere wisp.
He tilted her head up towards him and he met her gaze.
“I am a man of my word.” He leaned in to gently kiss those crimson lips. She returned the kiss; gentle at first, but evolving to a passionate deep kiss. Her arms went up around his neck and his arms circled her waist. He pulled her body close to his and she gasped.
“Oh, Dan.” She cried out his name as his hands caressed her back and slid to her hips.
The kisses intensified as her hands traveled his chest, sliding the suspenders down his shoulders. She struggled with the buttons on his shirt, wanting to touch his skin. He unbuttoned the jacket of her suit and slid his hands beneath the elegant fabric. Her skin was soft and warm. She moaned softly as he lifted her from her feet and carried her to the bedroom; never stopping the hungry kisses they both seemed to crave.
He sat her on the bed and reached to remove his shirt. His silhouette against the dying light from the hallway window accentuated his broad shoulders. She lay back onto the soft bed and relished the visual of him. He stepped out of his slacks and stood before her in his boxers. She had quite an effect on him physically, and it showed.
He reached down to her and took a foot in his hand. He traced along her shapely leg, then to her delight, reached in and unclipped her garter with one motion. She smiled big as he slowly removed one stocking at a time. He caressed her legs and slid his hands up to her hips, gently pulling her upright. He pulled the jacket back over her voluptuous figure, and slipped it down her arms. She helped him undo the zipper on her skirt, and he urged her to stand as he nudged it gently over her hips and it fell to the floor. She stood before him as he perched on the edge of the bed. She was covered only in a flimsy black slip. His face was painted with desire as he pulled her to him. She gave him no resistance, as she felt the same for him.
The silky slip caressed his chest, as their lips joined again, heated and moist. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer to her, as she climbed onto his lap. Soft moans came from her lips as Dan pushed the slip from her shoulders and bent to drag his mouth across her bared breasts. Standing up with Pamela clinging around his waist, he laid her gently on the bed. His kisses never stopping, he gently trailed his fingers down her stomach, sending ripples of sensations pulsing throughout her body. As his fingers grazed her thigh and beyond, the ripples became waves. Moaning into his mouth, she rode each wave higher and higher, until she crashed over the edge. Pamela smiled up at him, her hands guiding Dan to hover over her. Softly she whispered “Please………..” as her body arched upwards to his. With a soft growl Dan embraced her, their bodies moving as one. Her hands were on his hips, as they climbing even higher together. He buried his face in her hair, with moans of her name “Pamela, yes...oh yes….” Finally, arching deeply, their passion exploded in deep groans, then rhythm gently slowing. Dan rolled to her side and gathered her into his arms, a contented sigh escaping. “I love you, Pamela…..forever” He whispered sleepily into her ear.
Pamela smiled, “I love you too, Dan.” She closed her eyes and snuggled down deep into his embrace. His eyes closed as he held her close, enjoying the warmth radiating from her naked form.
Suddenly, Dan’s eyes opened. Sniff! Damnation! The coffee pot!
He jumped from the bed and rushed down the hallway to the kitchen, where the forgotten coffeepot was smoldering and belching black smoke from its encrusted spout.
Quickly grabbing a pot holder, he tossed the pot into the sink and opened the faucet, filling the kitchen with billows of steam. Peals of laughter came from the kitchen archway as Pamela watched the performance. Dan turned beet red as he realized he was still butt-naked. At least Pamela had grabbed the sheet to wrap around herself.
“Well, clearly you aren’t Suzy Homemaker, mister” she smirked. Dan gave her a grin and a swat on the rear as he pushed past her, heading back to the bedroom for his clothes. She squealed and giggled at his playfulness.
“Just a little distracted sweetness. I wouldn’t have traded that for the world!” he called to her over his shoulder. She smiled.
Returning with his pants on, Dan settled down at the kitchen table and pulled a cigarette from the pack and lit it with the distinctive click of his Zippo. Pamela sat down to join him, her gaze locked on his for a moment.
“Dan…what are we going to do?”
“Buy a new coffee pot?” he winked.
She roared out loud at his joke. She laughed so hard, she started crying, which in turn made Dan laugh. She stood up in front of him and flashed him a smile.
“Since we didn’t burn the house down, can I interest you in a nap?” she said coyly. “I kind of brought the bed with me.” She modeled the bed sheet as if it were an expensive ball gown. Her hair was all a muss from their last tousle, her lips slightly swollen from being kissed and her eyes bright and full of energy. It made his heart jump. She was one sexy woman, and he wanted more of her.
“Well, perhaps one more time, then a real nap.” He grinned.
“Deal!” she turned, running down the hallway, laughing.
He bounded down the hall to catch up with her. He tackled her on the bed, and they laughed and made love well into the evening. He fell asleep first, holding her in his arms. She sighed at the thought that it took so long to find the love of her life. He was perfect. So handsome, so thoughtful and so brave. He was there at the right place at the right time. There was still the whole thing with Anthony that she had to deal with, but as long as Dan was by her side, she didn’t fear anything. They would conquer this together.

Dan woke and slowly slipped from the bed and quietly moved down the hallway. The sun was just fading behind the horizon as he looked out the kitchen window. Putting water on to boil, he fumbled around in the drawers until he found a strainer. Putting a few scoops of coffee into it, he poured the boiling water over the strainer and into a pan. Crude, but at least it was coffee, sort of. Finding his cigarettes on the kitchen table, Dan lit one and leaned back against the counter, sipping the black sludge. The ache in his head had faded awhile ago, but he still seemed to be in a bit of a fog. He remembered driving down the road, almost hitting Pamela, but before that was just a gray mist. Yet he felt comfortable here, in this house. He dragged deeply, then exhaled and let the smoke rise in a swirl. She was quite a woman, and he sure had fallen hard for her. A slight rumble in his stomach reminded him it had been hours since they had eaten. Time to wake her up and get moving. They couldn’t hide out here forever.
He finished the coffee and set the cup in the sink. Dan walked back to the bedroom and gently nudged Pamela.
“Time to wake up, sweetness”.
She rolled over and looked up at him with a sleepy smile. “Just five more minutes, ok?” Dan shook his head. “We need to get moving.”
She let out a long sigh and swung her feet over the edge of the bed. “Alright, spoilsport.” He smiled at her, all sexy and sleepy. He picked up the rest of his clothes and moved back to the kitchen, before he tempted fate again. After a few moments, Pam came down the hall too.
She seemed surprised it was dark. “Wow, heck of a nap.”
He looked up and smiled, “Wish it could have been longer, but we need to keep moving. Anyways, you must be starved” She nodded, as she slipped on her shoes.
“There’s a diner back toward town.” Dan looked up and studied the worried look in her eyes. “I know. I figure we can get something there and then head into town to report Junior’s murder.”
Pamela paled, and shuddered. “I suppose it is the right thing to do, but I am so scared”.
“I will be right there with you, Pamela, I promise” Dan reassured her.

They made sure all the lights were out and left the house for the garage. Moments later they were heading back to town, along the winding road. It was a quiet night, with barely any traffic passing them, as they drove along in silence. Pamela lit her cigarette and stared out the side window into the darkness. The look of fear was clear in her eyes. Finally, she started, “Dan……..”
He smiled back. “We’ll be fine sweetness. Just a little grub and then on to the sheriff’s office. Tony will be in jail in no time. Then you will be safe.”
Seeing a sign up ahead, Dan slowed and watched for the gravel entrance to the little diner. A neon sign glowed above the doorway of the dining car shaped building. He parked at the end of the building and they made their way inside. The long counter ran almost from end to end with short red stools, like miniature soldiers, lined up along the front. Matching red vinyl booth flanked each end. Taking one of the booths, they slid across the slick vinyl and nestled in. A waitress in her starched white uniform strolled over.
“Coffee?” she asked as she handed them each a menu.
“Two coffees, cream and sugar” Dan replied. Glancing to Pam, he continued “just a couple of burgers and fries, tonight”. She nodded in agreement. The waitress smiled and turned back to the counter to fetch their coffee. Dan looked around the small diner. The only other patrons were a couple of truckers down at the far end, finishing up some pie. Seemed to him to be a clean, quiet place.
The waitress returned with the steaming coffee and plates of fat burgers surrounded by thick brown fries.
“Anything else, you jest holler” she said as she set the plates down.
Taking a bite from the burger, Pamela visibly relaxed. She hadn’t realized just how hungry she had been. Dan slathered the fries with ketchup and smiled to her.
“Not much of a place for a first date, sweetness.” She sort of giggled, her mouth still occupied with burger. Dan dug in, too. Famished, he consumed the burger with gusto.
They were just finishing up when the door opened and two burly men, with slicked hair and cheap suits, walked in. Dan squinted and studied the pair as they hunched down onto their stools. Pamela’s back was to them, barely visible in the booth, but she saw Dan’s expression, and paled.
“I think those two were at your house, when we drove past.” he whispered.
Pam inched down and peeked around the edge of the booth.
“Oh, crap! It’s Alberto and Joey. Anthony’s goons.” She whispered.
The heavier man swiveled his head in her direction, just as she pulled back into the booth. He rose slowly and started in their direction, unsure of what he had seen. Dan hoped Alberto had not gotten a good look at his face when he and Pam had passed her mother’s house earlier. He looked up in Alberto’s direction and smiled. Dan saw the look of recognition slowly spread across Alberto’s face, as the goon’s hand slid under the jacket, grasping his piece.
Dan’s hand reached instinctively for his hip where own gun should have been and came up empty.
“Damn it!” He quickly scooped up a plate and threw it, Frisbee style, catching the goon in the throat, just as his gun cleared his holster. His arm jerked up and the gun discharged into the ceiling with a crash. Everyone in the diner hit the floor, except Joey, who had come up behind Alberto just in time to catch his sagging partner. Dan grabbed Pamela’s wrist and wrenched her from the booth and down the little alcove where the restrooms were. Fortunately, there was a back door and they trampled over the clean up boy and his mop bucket, gray water spraying everywhere like a fountain. They ran around the corner of the building and jumped into Dan’s car, just as the two goons were coming out the front door.
Dan ground the gears, shoving the shifter into reverse, and popped the clutch. The car flew backwards into the goon’s, knocking Alberto back into the passenger seat and crumpling the door. Ramming the shifter again, Dan jammed his foot to the throttle and the wheels spun, shooting loose gravel all over the gangsters. Finally getting a bite on the roadway, the Chevy sped off down the road with Pamela hanging onto the dashboard with a death grip.
Dan turned and frowned. “Alright, maybe the sheriff was a bad idea.”
Pamela scrunched her face up. “Ya think??”
Dan let out a deep sigh. “Better just get out of town for awhile.”
Lost in thought, they drove the Chevy, weaving along the curves.
Suddenly, the back window was shattered by gunfire, as the gangsters big Buick swung into view. Alberto was hanging out the side window with an ugly looking pistol. He was emptying rounds at the tail end of Dan’s car. A bullet whined off the trunk lid and lodged in the headliner over Pamela’s head. Dan quickly shoved her to the floor as he fought to keep the car under control with one hand. He pushed harder on the already flattened accelerator, but the Chevy was no match for the Buick. Carefully he eased off the pedal. Pamela’s eyes widened “What the hell are you doing?”
He smirked at her, “Bringing them in closer”
“Are you NUTS?” she gasped.
“Relax, I saw this in a movie”. Dan eased up just a little more, and the Buick began to pull along side.
“We are gonna, die” she moaned.
Just as the front tire of the Buick got to the back tire of the Chevy, Alberto was raising the pistol again. Dan slammed on the brakes and the Buick shot ahead of the Chevy. Grinning, Dan slapped the pedal down again and rammed the Buick from behind.
The Buick slid wildly across the road with Joey fighting for control. As the rear end crossed in front of Dan, he rammed the bumper once again, this time keeping contact for a moment and actually pushing the Buick into a spin. One final tap and the Buick slid off the road and pitched down the embankment, rolling over and bouncing down until finally landing on its roof. Dan breathed a sigh of relief, the sweat dripping off his face, as he helped Pamela back up onto the seat.
“See? No big deal.” He said nonchalantly. She looked at him like he had lost his mind. He shrugged. “Well ok, a few problems then. Like we need to ditch this vehicle, quick.” Regaining a bit of her color, Pamela lit them each a cigarette, handing one to Dan. “Alright, if we’re clearing out, I need to pack. We can sneak over to mom’s house and get some stuff. We can hide the car in the barn out back and take my dad’s car. No one is using it anyways.”
Dan mulled this over as he dragged on the cigarette, constantly checking the rearview for any another surprises. He nodded and agreed, “Sounds like a plan, sweetness.”

As they approached the driveway to the house, Dan killed the lights. He turned into the gravel drive and eased past the house to the barn. Dan turned to Pamela,
“Go get what you need but don’t wake your mom.”
Pamela met his eyes “But….”
He placed a finger on her lips.
“Pamela, if they come here looking again, she won’t have to lie about seeing you.”
She sighed and nodded. While Pamela walked quietly up to the house, Dan carefully slid open the barn door, drove the Chevy in next to the other car. Sliding behind the wheel of her father’s Dodge, he found the keys in the ignition. No one had driven the car since Pamela’s father had died, but she had regularly started the car, just to keep it up. Even though her husband had been dead for over two years, Mrs. Stevens just couldn’t part with the car. He turned the key and the car started immediately, barely making a sound. Dan backed the car out and closed the barn door concealing the telltale Chevy. Pamela was just coming down the walk loaded with two suitcases and a travel case, so he hopped out and helped her load them in the backseat. Quietly backing down the driveway, they slipped past the house again and onto the road. He hit the lights and Dan breathed a sigh of relief.
Pamela looked at him, as they drove down the road.“Any idea where we are going?”
Dan smiled and reached in his pocket. “A little town in Minnesota.” as he handed her a paper. “Flynn Airfield in Lake Elmo. I’m supposed to report there by the 15th. Last place anyone will be looking for you is on an airbase”.
She nodded slowly. Turning to meet his eyes, she smiled.
“Long as I am with you, where doesn’t matter.”
Everything had been happening so fast, he hadn’t thought about those eyes. He felt his heart banging in his chest again, as he got lost in those pools. She leaned over and kissed his cheek, whispering “I do love you so much”.
Pulling his gaze back to the road, he reddened and said, “Love you too, sweetness”.
The glow that started in the pit of his stomach spread over his whole body.
As they approached the turn off for the main highway, Pamela spoke up again.
“Dan, we need to go to the club first”.
He looked quickly at her. “Is that a wise idea? Why could you possibly want to go there?”
She smiled, “My jewelry is there, we need to stop there”.
“Sweetness, you look fine without jewelry. It’s not a smart idea”
“Dan……it’s not for looking, the stuff is worth a lot of money. Money we are going to need if we are going away.”
He grinned back at her as he took the left turn toward town instead of the right towards the highway.
“Not only are you the prettiest woman I have ever met, you’re practical too. How did I get this lucky?” She giggled and snuggled up to his shoulder.

Following Pamela’s directions, they came into the town from the north side and zigzagged through side streets and back alleys. Before they knew it, they were parked in the alley behind the club where the stage door opened. Pamela hopped out from the car with her key in hand.
“Be right back”.
Dan was at her elbow in an instant, “No way are you going in there alone.”
She could see from his expression there was no argument, so she unlocked the door and stepped inside. The dimly lit corridor was punctuated with a few open doors from various dressing rooms, throwing little rectangles of light onto the carpet. They moved quietly along until they were standing outside Pamela’s dressing room. She eased the key in, and the door swung on silent hinges. She flicked on the light, and looked surprised as the sound of voices approached. The girls from the show were between sets, so Pamela and Dan quickly stepped inside and closed the door.

The light under the door caught Marco’s eye. He had been following after the girls. Anthony would kill him if he ever touched them, but drooling over a couple cute bottoms never caused any problems. He leaned to the door and listened for Pamela and Dan inside. After clearly hearing Pamela’s voice, he scurried down the hallway and dialed up the phone. He was visibly sweating as he listened to Anthony on the other end of the line ranting.
“Yes, sir….Yes, Mr. Gattussi….Yes, sir, it will be taken care off…..Thank you, sir.”
The phone connection broke with a click. Marco paged the maintenance man in a few minutes he arrived with his tool box. After a bit of hand waving and gestures, Marco was sure the man understood what he wanted and he sent the grubby little man on his way.

Pamela and Dan, inside the room, were going through her various drawers and loading the jewelry into her travel case.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding! This is some hot ice, sweetness”. Dan tried not to think about what she might have done to earn all this affection, pushing it to the back of his mind.
Pamela smiled as she picked up an emerald necklace. “This is my favorite,” as the light sparkled off the diamonds surrounding the center emerald.
“Dan ….. put it on for me, love”.
He stepped behind her and fixed the clasp at her neck. He bent and kissed along her throat, hands falling to encircle her waist.
“Mmmmmmm”, she sighed. Gently, she slid from his grasp. “Soon, love, but not here” She tucked the pendant carefully down into her cleavage so only the gold chain was visible and scooped some other pieces into her travel case.
“That’s pretty much everything.” She smiled at him and clicked the lock on the case.
Dan leaned to the door, listening for anyone coming down the hall. He opened the door a crack to check again.
“All clear.”
They made their way down the hallway again, feet barely whispering on the carpeted floor.

Outside, Benito the maintenance man was under the front end of the Dodge, working on something. Marco had described the car perfectly to Benito so he had no trouble finding it. After all, Marco had seen the car enough times when Pamela’s father had picked her up after the club closed. That all stopped when Pamela started being Mr. Gattussi’s steady girl. A couple of grunts came from under the bumper, then a sound of metal on metal. Finally, Benito rolled out from under the car and wiped his hands on a greasy rag from his back pocket. Picking up the tools, he placed them back in his toolbox and closed the lid. The door to the maintenance shed was just closing behind Benito as Pamela and Dan reached the inside of the stage door. Carefully Dan opened the door just enough to hear the commotion at the corner of the building.
A man and a woman were in the middle of some fight.
“Give me back my wallet, you drunken, thieving whore” The man swung at the woman, but seeing he was nearly as drunk as she was, he merely staggered.
“I didn’t touch your god-damn wallet, you bastard!”
Grabbing her by the throat, the man started choking her. A swift knee to the groin put an end to that. The woman took a wild swing with her purse and connected square to the man’s head and he went down hard. She started running towards them in the alley and Dan quickly closed the door. He didn’t want anyone to see them there. Not even a drunk. Silence for a moment then the sound of a car engine. His hand went to his pocket as he flung open the door. Dammit! He had left the keys in the Dodge when he followed Pamela into the club. The woman was already pulling away down the alley as Dan and Pamela burst from the stage entrance. The car was weaving side to side as it sped way too fast down the narrow alley. They could see the woman struggling with the wheel as she approached the end of the alley. She tried to turn onto the main street but the car continued straight ahead. There was the sound of screeching brakes as she shot across the main street, cutting off several cars and slammed head on into the building across the intersection. A huge ball of flame erupted from the car as it burst into flames. The woman’s screams pierced the air as the car was consumed in fire.
Pamela buried her head in Dan’s shoulder and sobbed. Wrapping his arm around her, Dan held her close for a moment.
“Oh god, Dan! That would have been us!” she moaned.
People were starting to pour out of the club to see the fiery crash, so Dan led her quickly down the alley in the opposite direction, tucking into a doorway.
“Alright, everything is alright. Just hang on, Pamela.” Dan took a moment to think. Lifting her chin, he met her tearstained eyes.
“Everything will be fine.”
She nodded and breathed deeply.
“ Look, isn’t the train station only about three blocks over?” he asked. How he knew that was lost in the moment.
She nodded again, “Yes, I think is.”
He wiped her eyes with his handkerchief, and gave her a smile.
“We’re gonna have to it hoof then. You up to it?”
She managed a weak smile in return. He took her hand and they moved down the alley and around the corner, then out onto the sidewalk. No one paid any attention to them as they walked against the crowd. Everyone was at the opposite end of the block, watching the fire engine arrive with a wail of its siren. They slowed their pace as they got further away from the club and blended in with the foot traffic on the sidewalk. Walking casually up to the train station, Dan asked a woman where the ticket counter might be. Following the direction of her pointing finger, he and Pamela strolled down the walkway and made a right into the ticket office.
The graying ticket clerk looked up as they came in. “When might the next train be leaving?” Dan asked.
“Welllll, lets see” The man ran his finger done the schedule then glanced at the clock.
“The 10:05 to Chicago should be here in few minutes. Where you headed?”
“St. Paul, Minnesota” Dan answered. The man nodded,
“Yep, you can pick up a transfer in Chicago, take ya right up there”.
Dan smiled. “Then two tickets to Chicago, it is.” He opened his wallet and the clerk looked down.
“You a soldier, boy?” he asked, seeing the ID card.
Dan nodded, “Heading to the airbase in Minnesota.”
The clerk smiled and wagged his bushy gray brows.
“You and your missus travel free, boy. Least we can do for ya for serving our great country.” He smiled and handed them the free boarding passes. “Wait right over there, train will be pulling in any minute.” He pointed to the rows of benches along the wall. Dan and Pamela strolled over and sat down, exhausted.
Pamela was on the verge of tears again.
“That poor woman, Dan. That was supposed to be us! Are we ever going to be safe?” Dan leaned back and lit them each a cigarette. Handing Pamela hers, he thought for a moment. Then he smiled wide.
“Oh my god, Pamela! You are safe. Think about it for a second. Anthony is going to think it was you in the car. He’s going to think you are dead. As long as you get out of town and don’t come back, he will stop looking for you!”
Wrapping his arms around Pamela, Dan drew her into a deep kiss. She returned the kiss, tears of joy dampening her cheeks.

Lost in the kiss, they barely heard the train pull in the station, until it sounded the whistle. The short blast had made them jump. They both giggled as Dan took Pamela’s hand and the travel case and ran down the platform until they came to an open car. Helping her up the step, Dan swung in behind her. Handing their passes to the conductor, they settled in adjoining seats.
“See? I told you everything would be fine, sweetness!” She smiled back to him. Her eyes were heavy with exhaustion as she nodded to him. He located a blanket from the overhead compartment and tucked it over her. The rocking of the train would be comforting as they sped along the tracks towards their new life together.
“Rest a bit, love. I am going to have a look around.”
She was nearly asleep before he stepped from the seats. He smiled and kissed her forehead. She sighed and snuggled into the seat.

Dan strolled to the back of the train and out onto the little deck. He pulled out a cigarette and as he reached for his lighter, he felt a deep stabbing pain in his back. Sagging against the train car, he groaned. A second, deeper pain struck, numbing his arm. The air shimmered and shuddered and the station lights seemed to flicker for an instant. The train sounded two short toots and began to pull from the station. Staggering forward, he tried catching himself on the rail, but pitched over and fell off the train. As the train chugged away from the station, there was nothing lying along the tracks.

Hours later when Pamela awoke, she was in a complete panic when Dan hadn’t returned. She searched from one end of the train to the other. Finally, she collapsed into one of the booths and opened her purse to get a cigarette. Her fingers found the paper that Dan had handed her and she smiled.
She had no idea why Dan left the train, but she had a darn good idea where to find him. Lake Elmo, by the fifteenth of August. She lit the cigarette and settled back for the trip.


Pamela never really understood what happened that summer in ’44. Naturally, Dan didn’t show up by the fifteenth. All she knew was that he had saved her life and she loved him dearly. By the end of August, Pamela also found out he had given her the most precious gift of life. She was pregnant. Being practical, she got a job at the local diner. When her son was born, she named him after his father. She kept up the story that she was a war widow, and vowed she would forget Ohio forever. Between the jewelry and the job, they did alright as a family. Pamela had never stopped loving Dan, but as time went on, she accepted the fact he would never be there. Finally, she married a local farmer. He was a good man and he loved her. He treated baby Dan as his own child. Pamela was content; not wildly in love. As long as she had her son, her link to Dan, life was good enough in that small rural town.


















1994

Ever so slowly Dan’s eyes opened. He blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light.
The faint smell of antiseptic tickled his nose. Looking down he could see he was in a white bed, with crisp white linens. Clearly he was in a hospital, of some kind. The thought did cross his mind that it just might be a mental hospital, but the thought faded, just about the same time as the vague memories of another place and time slipped his mind. He tried to rise up, but found he had little strength for the effort. A nurse rushed in just as he settled back.
“Mr. Steele, awake at last.” She smiled to him, “Don’t try to get up just yet. Let me call the doctor, first.” After tucking the sheets back around him, she strode back out the door and down the corridor. Dan was a bit surprised when old Doc Spencer strolled into the room.
“Morning, son, how you feeling?” Doc asked.
Dan managed half a smirk. “Suppose you tell me. After all, you’re the doctor.”
Doc Spencer lifted the sheets at his feet and bent over to prick each foot.
“Feel that?” he asked, glancing up.
“Darn right I do.” Dan winced. “So what exactly am I doing here?”
“Well, its like this, son. That bullet in your back shifted and pushed on your spine. Pretty much put you in a coma. So we had to take it out”
Dan looked surprised. “Thought you told me you couldn’t operate on it. That it was too dangerous.”
“True enough at the time. You were up and about then. But I figured that being in coma was like being dead anyways, especially for some one like you. So either we operate and try to fix it or leave you like that. I guessed you wouldn’t have wanted to just lie there for the next twenty years.”
“You figured right, Doc. So everything is right now?” Dan had to ask.
Doc nodded. “Seems so. Your legs might be a little numb for a while, but you should recover completely. Just get a couple more days rest here and we can send you home to finish up healing.” Doc patted him on the leg and smiled.
“Thanks Doc, nice work.” Dan settled back again and closed his eyes, as Doc Spencer left. He was just starting to doze back to sleep when Bobby Lane burst into the room, startling him awake again.
“Alright, Dan what’s the story? Where the hell have you been? Were you kidnapped? Held for ransom? Bet you tried to escape…” Bobby’s rapid fire questions left Dan feeling like he had been run over by a freight train.
“Slow down, Bobby. I have no frickin’ clue what you are talking about.”
“We found your car abandoned off the Rodham road. You were missing for three days. Then you turn up in some coma, out by the old rail station. What the hell is going on?” Bobby glared down at him. Dan narrowed his eyes, trying to remember anything at all.
“Sorry, Bobby, I don’t remember a thing, other than leaving the Rodham place. That would be the last time you were yelling at me, as I recall.” Bobby scowled at him.
“Pffft, doesn’t look like any crime here. Just some forgetful old guy”. Bobby skulked out of the room in a huff. Dan smirked at his back, closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep. Some things never change.

Dan paid the cabbie and made his way slowly up the walk to the house. As he leaned on the cane and eased the key into the lock, a chill slid down his back. He shook off the feeling and stepped inside. Sitting down in the kitchen, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was happy to be home. His back was healing but he still got tired quickly.
Dan had been mightily surprised when Doc Spencer had told him he had still been in a coma for a week, between the surgery and when he finally opened his eyes. It seemed like just yesterday that he was sitting in the kitchen sipping coffee. It was good to be back at home again. He had always felt comfortable here, in this house. Even from the first time the realtor had shown it to him, it seemed familiar and cozy.
Dan had a few days in the hospital to do nothing but think and heal. Doc assured him he would be up and dancing in the streets before long. That had brought a smile to his face. Dancing wasn’t something he had done in years. But in any case, maybe he wasn’t as jaded as he originally thought. Well, maybe he was still jaded about the sheriff’s department, but he always loved police work. He decided to make a few phone calls. Now, sitting on the kitchen table, was an envelope from the State Licensing Division, which should be his application form for a private detective license. He carefully slit the end of the envelope and pulled out the stack of papers. Quite a bit more paperwork than he had expected. Well, he thought to himself, better get started on it if he ever wanted to get through it all.
Rising slowly, Dan made his way into the spare bedroom where he had set up his desk. Easing into the chair, he spread the papers out and began to read over the material. He picked up the application and read, “Everything Must Be In Blue Ink.”
Damn, he thought, as he began to dig through the desk drawers for a blue ink pen. Opening the bottom drawer, he paused as his eyes fell upon the box at the bottom. It was his mother’s jewelry box, one of the few things he had brought back after her funeral. Almost without thinking, he drew the box out and set it on the desk.
There weren’t a lot of pieces in the box, but in the middle lay her favorite one, the emerald pendant. The diamonds surrounding the emerald sparkled as he lifted it from the box. Dan remembered she wore this pendant every August, all the years he was growing up. Holding it in his hand, the pendant seemed to grow warm and the emerald appeared to pulse just below the surface. He closed his hand over the jewel, and he could almost feel his hands sliding the pendant around a woman’s neck and clasping it behind. His eyes fluttered trying to catch the vague image in his mind’s eye of himself bending to kiss the woman’s throat. The image faded as the pendant slipped from his hand, back into the box. With a soft sigh, he closed the box, knowing in his heart, that for a brief moment in time everything had been perfect.