My time of dying

Amormoi

Rating T shouldn't be too bad.

Disclaimer: I never have claimed these characters are mine and I don't make any money from them.

Hey I know that is ooc but the idea came to me when we had a fire at work, (scary stuff a fire at a petrol station). It doesn't really fit into a time line, Zach has graduated, Angela and Jack are together, but that's the extent of it. This is my first story and I know it needs work so please read and review to help me help you help me.

Tears blurred her vision and colors dances across her mind. The droplets mixing salt and ash. The life she had put together was gone. Her home burning, her memories were lies, her friends now her enemies. The sky looked like a sunset at two in the morning. Flames still licked at the walls were pushing the boundaries of night higher and higher.

Relief mingled with the sadness of the sight. Her cover was set and the open road beckoned.

Picking up the backpack that rested at her feet and rounded the corner to the car she hired; under an alias, listening the sirens growing closer. The map lying open on the passenger seat, she started the car and started her new life.

"Ding Dong the person you are calling either has their phone switched off or is out of range. Please try again later"

"Damn," he cursed under his breath. He hadn't been able to get hold of this stubborn woman since lunch Sunday. He desperately wanted to repair the damage he caused with his hasty words.

Picking up the phone again he tried her office, home and cell again, getting the same irritating voice each time. Feeling like he was going to snap, he was interrupted by a knock at the door.

The officer shuffled nervously. There was talk of this mans protective nature when it came the victim. Rumors of fights, threats and accidental deaths swarmed around their partnership. It wasn't always his fault. She could be quite vicious if the mood took her. When, he corrected himself. She was dead now and it was his job to break the news to this man and that scared him more than facing a firing squad.
The body arrived early Monday morning, complete. No bits missing making it easier for the newly graduated forensic anthropologist to go straight to work.

"Female, between 28-35, about 5'9, dark hair. Taking skin tissue to run DNA. Clutching silver necklace with Dolphin pendant. No breaks to bone."

Putting down the Dictaphone and picking up the case report, he read every detail of it before calling over his colleague, knowing very shortly all hell would break lose.

The brunette paced her office tears weren't going to help. She got a phone call late Sunday night.

"Hey, just letting you know, I will be going away early tomorrow, just visiting an old friend in LA. Be back later in the week. Absolutely nothing to worry about."

If she wasn't already dead she would kill her for worrying her like this.

Dead. The thought hit her like a tonne of bricks. Her best friend would never again poke her head round the door with 'an interesting scenario' for her to work on. Or knock back a night out on the town. She never did understand her aversion to clubs and dancing. She was a great dancer, little stiff but she could shake it with the best of them.

Nothing had prepared her for the officer this morning, coming in flashing his badge, announcing her death like it was something to celebrate, not caring for the feelings of her friends and coworkers.

Walking past her office door, she fought back tears. She really didn't want to believe her best friend was dead.

She had been driving for 6 days. Looking at the road made her think about the path blood takes through the body to travel to the heart. Her own heart had been shattered, and she was hoping and praying that starting a new life for herself would help her rebuild the parts of her heart he destroyed with words.

She pulled into a truck stop; thinking that coffee and maybe some food might settle her down a bit.

"Hey love. What can I get for ya this evening?"

She glanced down at her wallet categorizing her money into days, meals and limits. "Coffee and toast please."

"Sure love, won't be a moment!"

As the waitress pottered off, she glanced out the window and at the 'Help Wanted' sign. Deciding that settling here, a good 100 hours from home at some dodgy truck stop: no one would think to look for her here, especially as a waitress.

"Here love," the kind hearted woman placed her meal in front of her adding some spaghetti to her order deciding the young women in front of her was too thin and looked tired. "If you need some sleep you can use the spare room out back," she added.

She looked up and smiled. "Actually, I saw your sign and was wondering how I could get that job and possibly a place to stay until I find something."

"Sweetie," the waitress smiled, "that is no problem the room and job are yours. I'm Janice. I own this place but first you finish up your breakfast and get some sleep."

"Thanks Janice. My name is Lynda, Lynda Morris." Alias established she tucked into her meal with gusto.

Thanks for reading more to come. Please read and review.