JADA

I needed to know what happened to her. She was just a stripper who lived a dangerous life. No family to mourn her, just a detective and a paranormal investigator seeking justice. No one cared, but us.

Retracing her last moments I’m in the woods near a brook. I see them. The scene plays back as if it was a recording. The woman struggles with Danielle’s body, dragging her is a chore. Out of breath she collapses a few feet from the water. Her face is turned away from my view.

I can see that she’s dark of hair, small in size and frame. Her back to Danielle, she’s not dead. The multiple stab wounds didn’t finish her as expected. Stirring, her eyes open and the moan that exits her lips is drowned out by the rushing water. Panicked, her eyes search her surroundings.

“Who are you?”  I Whisper. It’s been ten weeks and I still haven’t been able to put a face to the killer. Probing and pushing, I focus on getting a name. It’s the least that I can do for Danielle. Putting everything that I have into my psychic abilities, something happens. Her face is turned slightly to mine, and I get the dark eyes and Asian features.

Relief flooding my body, I turn away from what I know is going to happen next. A small struggle ensues, and Danielle suffers even more damage to her already mutilated body. The knife’s plunged into her body an additional twelve times. Her wounds total twenty-nine punctures. 

I can feel her fear, smell the blood… To die in such a way, my heart aches for her. The tears flowing freely, I let my anger run rampant at my failure. Tossing the knife in the water, the murderer hovers over Danielle’s corpse. Head thrown back, the victory yell from the killer at her success brings my anger to the boiling point!

My steps purposeful, I march straight for her. Latching onto her hair that’s come undone from its bun, I yank her head back even further to get a good look at her face. The recording pauses, and I hold that scene with even fiber of my being. Circling the killer, I lower her head and I’m face to face with her.

“Give me your damn name!” I demand. I expected an answer and I got one! Danielle’s body is pulled up by a force, to a sitting position. Her heads turned with a loud crack to the side. “Hana-Jin.” And just as quickly the body’s forced back to the ground, to its original position.

Releasing the murderer, the scene concludes with Danielle’s body being dumped. “Thank you.” I state quietly. Watching her body as it’s slowly being submerged in the water, her lips curve into a small smile and the eyes close. Pulling out my cell, I send a text to Augustine with the new information.

“What’s wrong, you’ve been distant.” Over lunch, Quinn’s hand comes to rest on mine. Our usual routine at the local diner two cities over, his lips gently connect with my hand. The uneasiness increases and I can’t ignore the feeling of danger that overcomes me. It’s been like this for the past seven days. Reclaiming my hand, his brown eyes search mine.

“I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“It’s nothing, just work.” I make myself busy by pushing the food around on my plate.

“I know that I’ve been neglecting you, because of this case that I’m working on. But, I promise you that it’s almost done. Then we can maybe take a three-day weekend, just us?” My eyes light up at his offer. The queasiness is forgotten and the danger’s ignored.

Six-feet, athletic build and sexy as hell. He’s my white knight in shining armor, literally. I haven’t let him in on my secret life as a paranormal investigator, or the fact that we both work for the same business. He’s a detective and I provide a contractual service to the department.

“Yeah, when?” It’s been more than a while since we’ve spent any quality time and I’m in need of a good pounding. “Soon.” Follows another kiss on the hand, and his tongue completing a figure eight. Memories of what that tongue can do has me squeezing my thighs tightly. The heat of his stare sends a lightning bolt of heat to all the right places. I can’t wait!

I’m in an abandoned warehouse bound and gagged. Barefoot in a white cami short set, it’s humid and dank. I don’t know how I got here. A critter scurries over my foot and letting loose a muffled scream, it releases a small squeak in response. The sweat beading off of my body soaks my nightclothes.

Trying to remain calm in a not so calm situation is a task. Taking in deep breaths, I try to recollect what happened. After some time nothing comes to me and I give up. At that moment a loud noise from a door being opened breaks the silence and voices can be heard. 

Footsteps bring my captives closer to me, and the gag’s removed. Taking in a few deep breaths, I receive a slap that forces my head to the side. The pain’s quick and leaves a throbbing ache in its wake. “Are you ready to tell us where it is?” Asks the deep voice.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I don’t understand what’s going on.

“Our informant says different.”

For some odd reason, I’m no longer the victim. I’m the spectator. I’m watching as she receives a harsh blow square to the face. The chair topples from the force, and the figure delivering the punch catches her by the shirt. Using her weight he has the chair and her back upright. Blood gushes, staining her white top.

“You’re going to believe some junkie.” She says, out of breath from the blow.

“How did you know that it was a junkie?”

“Maybe she is what they say she is. We could use her.” Pipes in the other assailant.

“Nah, the boss wants her out of the way, after we get what we want.”

“Kill me, and I’m not telling you shit!” She interjects vehemently. Her last stand against what comes next. I know, because I’ve had the same dream almost nightly for the past week. Her blindfold’s removed, and I see that the woman’s me.

“Tell us what we need to know, and we’ll make this quick.” A gun’s produced and shown to her. “One shot to the head, and it will all be over. No muss, no fuss.” He adds. Her response is a wad of spit to his face. “I’ve seen my death, and it doesn’t end like this.” She says with certainty.

Mopping the spit from his face, she’s served another hit so severe that it toppled the chair, sending her sliding across the floor. She comes to rest flat on her stomach. A weak groan comes from her before she’s battered with a parade of vicious kicks and stomps from them both. I can’t watch this! Forcing myself to wake up, the abrupt awakening from dreamland to reality is disturbing.

A hand going to my head, I take a few breaths to still my rapidly beating heart. It felt so real. Mama always said that dreams are a way for the dead or our ancestors to speak to us. But not all dreams are warnings or messages from the dead. Sometimes they’re just our body’s way of retelling our thoughts, feelings, or repressed wishes that we’ve had during our waking moments. I hope that I’m right because that dream’s really fucked up.

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