S H E  W A S N' T  R I G H T

        Claire stopped.  The world was clearing up . . . inside her mind.  She knew something wasn't right.  She knew she wasn't right. 

        Something had happened.  Something had happened to her.

        She started taking small careful steps.  Gravel road was starting to cut the bottom of her feet.  A rope was around her neck and it had rubbed her raw.  Her dress was wet and dirty. 

        More small steps.

        Where were her shoes?

        She touched her face and ran her fingers through her knotted wet hair.  She should get help.  She should find someone.  She should . . .

        Where were her shoes?

        More small steps.  The sun was setting.

        J e s s i e                                                                                  C L A I R E'S  G H O S T

        Grandma fell asleep, or she was just sitting very still with her eyes closed.  I pressed my head to the windshield.  I never do that, it's disgusting.  But I am . . . scattered, a piece here a chunk there . . .  I am existing somewhere in between.

        Close eyes.  Enough drama.

        The first sign.  I felt my first drop when we were driving to the home place.  The drive was an all day trip.  The telephone wire ran along side the car.  Out in the Ozark hills the roll of autumn turning trees vastly spread around, hiding houses, animals and side streets.  We passed a hidden gravel road I could not recall from our previous visits and I heard her.

        Shakes head.  Not a ghost or imaginary.  Just a sigh.  It was Claire.  I looked over to grandma and she had her head on Jonny's shoulder.  He looked over to me and waited.  Still waiting.  I moved up to dad and leaned into his shoulder.

        "What is it ponchita?"

        "I have to go there,"

        "Where?"

        "To the place, the place the found Claire.  I have to go there."

        Dad stiffened and didn't respond.  I knew he heard me.  We had to look for clues.  We had to go to the site and search for answers.  We had to get started as soon a possible.  24hrs had gone by.  The more minutes that passed the more time the killer has to put distance between us.

        "Dad?"

        "Yes Jess, later,"

        I sat back.  We would find Claire.  I would find her and find who did this.  I was boiling, a slow hot simmer itching to get started.  But I'm not crazy and I knew the value of patience.  I would wait for later.

        Outside the car the sun was setting and the hills were a beautiful blaze.  The telephone wire still ran along side the car.