I have to admit, when I got a letter in the post regarding the passing of my father, I was surprised. I hadn't seen him in over, jeez, fourteen maybe even fifteen years? I used to travel to Wrickenbridge every summer as a kid, the large and almost foreboding mountains that towered over this little ski town always frightened me at first but as with most things - I found the beauty in it when I opened my eyes.

"Damn key..."

I huff, my hand wriggling the key into the lock before I finally managed to get the door unlocked. Does anyone know how long a flight is from Edinburgh to Denver? It's long. Very, very long. Fourteen hours long, not including the layover time I had to spend in Newark. Thankfully the attorney handling my fathers estate met me at the airport and gave me the run down on the way over here, that was swiftly until he dropped me off and left me alone to fend off the uh, my pale silver eyes narrowed as I heard rustling in the bins beside the house. A rather hefty looking raccoon falling out of it while I flinched back and quickly gave the door a solid kick before moving inside.

"I forgot about the damn raccoons."

I mutter to myself as I look around the open plan living and kitchen space. Numerous boxes filling the ground floor as I walk over to the pictures still propped on the fireplace. My gloved hand reaching up to dust it off as I look at the picture of myself sat on my father's shoulders. I was six years old then, my eyes filled with joy - not a care in the world. That swiftly changed a number of years later but hey, I was a kid. I didn't know my dad was an asshole at that age.

Knock, knock.

I raised an eyebrow, my head turning back toward the door as I contemplated the idea that the raccoon had learnt how to knock and the overstuffed trash gremlin wanted inside. I quickly snapped that line of thought as I walked toward the door, opening it to see an elderly woman holding a dish in her hand.

"You must be the young lady taking over Malcolm's estate! Such a pleasure to meet you. You should really lock up your trash cans better, those pesky raccoons will run riot otherwise."

This lady just strides inside, pushing a box over on the countertop to lay down her dish of food before looking back at me. Make yourself at home why don't you.

"I'm Mrs Hoffman, I live next door. Opposite you are the Bright family, they're from England and have a young daughter named Sky."

I nodded slowly, my hand lifting to tuck a wild strand of my curly ginger hair behind my ear. This lady had some balls on her and I'm swiftly getting the impression that she's probably one of those neighbors who keeps her nose pressed against the window at all times to see what everyone else on the street was up to. I bet the old bat has a little notepad she scribbles in whenever someone does something untoward, like forgetting to recycle or leaving up their Christmas tree decorations too long.

"I made you some chicken casserole so you have a nice home cooked meal for your first night here. I'm sure you'll get settled in, in no time at all."

"I appreciate the gesture Mrs Hoffman. But I'm only staying until my father's estate is taken care of."

The old lady looked at me in surprise as she heard my accent. An eyebrow raising in curiosity as she smelt gossip and wanted more. Like a vampire.

"You're Irish?"

I restrained my distaste for her lack of understanding of accents and gave her a small smile.

"Scottish actually."

"Oh how wonderful! You and the Brights will get on like a house on fire. I'm sorry I didn't actually catch your name?"

The old lady didn't know it already? That surprised me, I'm shocked that she doesn't have a case file set up with my picture pinned on the front - filled with information such as my favorite colour and my blood type.

"It's Amy Clarke."

Once again I give her a false smile before she nods and gives me a few taps on my shoulder.

"Well I'm very sorry for your loss Amy. If you need anything, I'm right next door."

She walks out and closes the door behind her, my hand rubbing the back of my neck as I try to understand that entire interaction. I decide it's better suited to another day and I turn to look at the casserole, my hand peeling the lid off to be greeted by a delicious smell.

"Won't fault the old lady for this one, she can definitely cook."

I passed out on the couch, using a musty blanket and pillow I found in one of the boxes to keep myself warm. After being awake for almost fifty plus hours and eating a good amount of Mrs Hoffman's food, I couldn't stay awake any longer. I was like a very full baby in desperate need to a nap and boy did I.

I woke up to the sun streaming in, beams of light casting the areas it reached in a golden haze. My hands rubbing my eyes as I sat up, my back yelling at me as I move to the edge of the couch.

"Probably would've been more comfortable lying on the damn floor."

I groan, my silver eyes looking around the room before I tilt my head. A faint buzz of energy catching my attention. One I didn't recognize.

"Interesting..."

I mutter as I stand, my arms stretching over my head as I twist side to side to release my muscles. I should probably mention that I am what people call a Savant. I have a gift of seeing, manipulating and depending on if I'm having a good day - which isn't often - I can create my own energy and use it for offense and defense purposes. I can do more with it but it's hard to do. Not that I ever have the need. My life in Edinburgh was far from exciting.

I move over to the corner of the room, a large bookshelf filled with dusty books and knickknacks standing tall in front of me while I lowered the walls in my mind. The energy signature becoming more pronounced.

"That's not dads..."

I crouch down, my hand moving into the red glowing swarm before I immediately pull away. My feet catching the corner of the rug as I fall back onto my butt as the persons energy I just touched flashes images in my brain of the past.

I was currently looking at this from first person view, I was male. Strong. Tall. I was sat in this corner on an armchair as I waited for Malcolm to come home. He had something I wanted, information. I couldn't tell what, it wasn't on this man's mind at the time.

My eyes snap to the door as my father walks in, I could feel the dark intentions seeping out this man like tar and I felt so cold inside. When my father got further inside I attacked, but I didn't touch him, I just pointed a finger and Malcolm crumbled to the ground in absolute agony. The pain so strong that he couldn't even call for help or take a breath. The look in his eyes as he realized he was going to die made my heart sink and I tried to pull out of the memory but I had to let it play through. I wish I didn't have to but it's not how this worked.

"Where is the hard drive?"

My father said nothing, he tried to send the coffee table at the intruder using telekinesis but the man quickly dodged and it smashed into the arm chair. Leaving both pieces of furniture in bits, I guess that's why it's not in the present day anymore.

More torture was inflicted, my father holding on and not giving in until finally the pain was too much and his heart stopped, much to the intruder's dismay. I felt his rage, he needed that hard drive and he would come back for it sooner rather than later. I remember stepping over Malcolm's body on the way out the home, his eyes widening with fear and pain as if frozen, paralyzed in this state of shock for eternity.

I gasped for air, tears streaming down my eyes as I quickly scrambled to my feet and ran to the bathroom to throw up. My body hunched over the toilet as my skin shone with a thin layer of sweat. I couldn't believe it, my dad was murdered and the guy got away with it!

"That... Bastard!!"

I scream as I push myself away from the porcelain toilet bowl, my hands gripping my knees as I felt the glass in the window next to me start to vibrate. I took a deep breath, doing my calming exercises to stay in control which made the vibration stop. I had to go to the police but would they believe me? The coroners report ruled out foul play but they aren't aware of the existence of Savants so to a mundane mind, what he died of was natural. The other thing I just thought of was that the killer was going to come back here to search for this hard drive and I for certain didn't want to face him. Maybe if I found the hard drive first and got it into safe hands?

"Jesus Amy, who are you trying to kid?!"

I punch the floor, my eyes looking down at the tile that I'd just obliterated into pieces before I groan. Just another thing to fix. Thanks dad. Just what I wanted, to be stuck in the middle of a murder case as if I'm Sherlock Bloody Holmes. I guess this trip wasn't going to be as straight forward after all.