Glassford Girl: Boxed Set (Complete Series) (Time Jumper Series)

by Jay J. Falconer

  ***

  Emily floated in a vivid, intense dream. She was outside her body, soaring high above the city of Phoenix. Below her lay a landscape of flickering city lights, each one representing someone she knew from her past. Everyone she’d ever been connected to, whether they were living or dead, was accounted for in the sea of luminescence.

  She saw every person as a single point of light, each with their own luminosity and color. The deeper and more intense her connection with them, the brighter the light. The more superficial and fleeting the bond, the dimmer the glow.

  Across the blanket of lights was a flickering beam of blue. It was pulsating through the roof of a shopping center in the northwest part of town where she’d grown up. She could sense that the fragmented beam was Stacy’s group of pretentious high school friends from long ago.

  An instant later, she was hovering around the blue beam like a helicopter on a rescue mission.

  Two seconds later, her location changed again, as if someone had just changed the channel. This time, she was circling a building that was glowing in purple. She recognized the structure. It was her mother’s old house.

  Emily searched the area for her mother’s light, figuring it would be the brightest, most beautiful light in the entire city, but she couldn’t find it. She called out for her mother using her dream voice, but there was no answer. She didn’t understand. Everyone else seemed to be accounted for; but why couldn’t she find her mother?

  Then, not far from the purple hue, a wide flood of yellow light shot up to the sky and ignited a growth of billowing clouds in the night. The yellow beam started to flash with the cadence of a strobe light.

  At first Emily thought it was her mother, but then realized it was Stacy, her BFF from the neighborhood. She knew in her heart that Stacy was showing her the way home. The light pulled at her, wanting her to fly to it. Her heart answered: yes!

  Emily angled her arms, trying to change her course to soar into the light, but couldn’t. Something took control of her body, turning her around and taking her in the opposite direction, toward downtown.

  She bent her body to reach back for Stacy’s light, but it grew dim and disappeared behind her.

  She looked ahead, wondering where she was going next. Something zoomed her forward like a shooting star, sending her across town, and then stopping her in an instant.

  Below her was a red-hot, fiery light in an alleyway. She knew who it was. She tried to look away but her eyes refused. It was Flaco, the West Side Loco with whom she’d had two very intense run-ins.

  Then her course changed again, swinging her body around as she descended and flew over Glassford Park, where hundreds of neon-green lights were burning.

  She realized that, aside from the colorful nodes around her mother’s house, the park had the heaviest concentration of light. It was her true emotional epicenter. Maybe that’s why she couldn’t leave town. The park had a hold on her somehow.

  Emily could see Master Liu, Junie, Sheldon, Parker, Duane, Jim Miller, and Derek, plus hundreds of other souls. Thinking of Derek made her blush, even in her dream state.

  She wondered if an intense wave of emotion could send her into a jump while she was asleep. She’d had plenty of nightmares since the night of The Taking, yet never once had she woken up to find that she’d jumped. But what about a lucid dream of ecstasy? She’d never enjoyed one of those, but with Derek in her life, anything was possible now.

  She’d done a lot of reading about time travel, quantum entanglement, and astral planes, and she was beginning to see how it all applied to her.

  A thought was forming.

  It was important.

  It was the answer of all answers. The one she had been searching for since the night of her abduction.

  She was ready to understand. She needed to understand, but then a man’s voice penetrated her subconscious, coming through from the world of reality.

  The interruption slowed the vision just as it was about to reveal the answer. She grabbed at it, trying to hang on to the scene, but it melted away and faded to black.

  She snapped out of her dream.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Emily, wake up. Hey. Come on. Wake up. You can’t sleep here.”

  “No, no, no,” she said, feeling someone tugging at her arm. She smelled a strong scent of pound cake and vanilla icing. Her neck was sore and her cheek hurt where she’d been resting it on the computer desk.

  “Emily. My anal-retentive boss just came and chewed me out about letting people sleep here. He never used to care unless it was a smelly homeless guy, but now he’s on the prowl for normal people. Apparently, they’ve decided to start enforcing some old directive. I’m sorry, but you have to get up and get moving before he comes back.”

  She sat up, stretched, and yawned. “It’s okay, Sheldee, I understand. All I needed was a cat nap.”

  “That was some nap.”

  “What time is it, anyway?”

  “It’s 11:15. Four hours is more than a nap.”

  “I must have needed it.”

  “Almost closing time, anyway.”

  “Did you say 11:15? Shit!” she screeched, suddenly wide awake. She stood up in a flash, sending the chair scooting across the floor behind her. Jim’s restaurant closed at 11:00 p.m., and she’d made a promise.

  “You okay?” her lanky friend asked.

  She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him hard on the cheek. “Thanks for always having my back.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain later. Gotta bolt.”

  “When will I see you again?” he asked, holding two fingers on his cheek where her lips had touched him.

  “Soon, I promise.”

  Emily headed to Evans Churchill and Jim Miller’s restaurant, The Fourth Street Café and Eatery. Jim told her on the phone earlier to retrieve his stack of “Emily Files” from the office safe in the restaurant. Then find a safe place to stash them. He thought the cops might be on to him. If his instincts were correct, they’d eventually obtain a search warrant and search the diner. He couldn’t let those files fall into their hands.

  She walked fast, rolling her hips like one of those fast-walkers in the Olympics. It only took her fifteen minutes to get to the bottom of the stairs that led to the garden by the diner. She took a moment on the sidewalk to reflect.

  This was the exact spot where she and Jim had been ambushed by a group of street thugs just a few nights before. A tightness grew across her chest and a twinge of pain took hold of her throat. So much had happened between then and now, she could hardly believe it. She’d watched Jim shoot—God, she couldn’t even count how many people he’d shot—four Locos and, what was it? Four more Gatos? Her skin shivered.

  Uggh. She was definitely not fond of this spot and was ready to leave. She climbed the stairs and stood in front of the restaurant. It was dark and quiet—all closed up for the night, just like Jim said it would be. She took a deep breath, erased the vision of the gangbangers, and walked to the door.

  Jim told her that the key to the restaurant was under a potted ficus tree near the entrance—the problem was, there were seven potted trees by the front door, and honestly, she didn’t know which one was the ficus. They all looked the same to her. She dug around, and found the key under the fourth tree she checked. She stuck it into the keyhole, opened the lock, and went inside.

  Emily expected to hear the beeping of the alarm as soon as she stepped inside and have to use the disarm code Jim had given her, but she didn’t. She figured the night crew had forgotten to arm the system before they left. With Jim laid up for months, the staff was probably taking lots of shortcuts.

  Then she felt something creeping inside of her . . . icky and gross. Then she felt dumb and girly for using the words icky and gross in her own mind. But it was an eerie, unsettling feeling that made her skin crawl. It felt familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

  Emily shrugged it off and assumed the sensation was an echo eff
ect from the anxious moment she’d just had on the sidewalk below the stairs. She couldn’t blame herself for getting spooked by the memory of those four assholes pointing guns at her head.

  She walked through the dining room to the back office, recalling the combination to the safe Jim had given her over the phone: 23-17-58. Left, right, left, he’d told her, then push hard and turn it to the left until it clicks.

  When she arrived at the back office and saw a cigarette smoldering in an ashtray next to the safe, the answer about the creepy feeling came rushing into her. It was the cold-blooded sickness of a sexual predator.

  She heard a noise behind her, and without turning around, knew it was Rob—the manager of the restaurant who had leered at her the night she had eaten there with Jim.

  She turned around and met his maniacal, soulless eyes. Her second sight went into overdrive, latching on and opening a free-flowing conduit for the psychic stench to float across and ooze into her.

  Emily fought back the all-consuming blackness, knowing that she was tapping into the mind of a depraved child killer. He’d done it before, and he was planning to do it again—to her.

  He had a baseball bat in his hand, and he was patting it in his palm with a sadistic smile on his face.

  She looked around for something to use as a weapon, but there was nothing within reach. She felt the countdown start in her spine, but it was just the initial tingle. She needed to stall for time and allow the jump to come.

  “Well, well, well. What do we have here?” he said. His eyes grew wide just as his mind sent a torrent of disturbing images at her. Each one was a ghastly snapshot of a broken and lifeless child. Each killing was more horrendous that the last.

  The bloody images faded, freeing his mind to send her a message. It hit her like a runaway train: he was about to attack.

  She set her feet then charged him, hoping to surprise him with her fists.

  But he was ready, taking a step back and swiping the bat hard, striking her on the side of the neck, just below the ear.

  The blow sent her flying headfirst across the room, crashing into the filing cabinet next to the wall. She dropped to the floor, chest first. Dizziness and pain swelled in her head, growing beyond measure. She wanted to open her eyes, but couldn’t; the mounting pressure and throbbing agony was too much.

  Where was he?

  Was he going to hit her again?

  She tried to get a read on him, but her gifts weren’t working. Her mind was distracted by the pain and couldn’t focus. She was helpless. She curled into a ball to protect herself.

  Emily wanted to call out to him to stop. To tell him that she’d do anything he asked, but her lips wouldn’t move. She couldn’t find the strength.

  The only thing she could do was scream in silence, waiting for the end to come.

  Oh, God! Don’t let me die! Not here! Not like this! Please, somebody help me!

  She heard footsteps and then heavy breathing. He was close.

  “Little Red, did you know that your friend Jim, that arrogant, self-righteous asshole, called here from the hospital today and had the nerve to fire me? From his hospital bed! The fucking prick. After all I’ve done for this place? Making him all that money! And for what? To be treated like a piece of dog shit stuck to his shoe? I think not. So, I decided to come here and rob the place. You know, collect my severance pay in person. But then fate stepped in and delivered you to me. An innocent gift from heaven.”

  He ran his hand across her arm, then down the outside of her leg, circling around to her butt. He stuck his fingers into the wedge between the back of her pants, pressing the material against her vagina.

  “I’ll bet your delicate flower is still pure and untouched. Isn’t it?”

  She threw her elbow back and caught his arm, knocking it away.

  Emily flipped over and curled her arms around her knees, forming an even tighter ball. The jump was still mounting inside of her, but the process was moving slower than expected. She figured it was being delayed because of the intense pain and dizziness bombarding her senses.

  She asserted her will, pushing her way through the pain until she found her logic. It was still there, buried by the hurt and humiliation. She uncovered it, which led her to her voice. Her vocal cords were weak and shaky.

  “Get away from me you sick, twisted bastard. I know what you did to those children.”

  She heard a belt buckle clink, then the wisp of leather being removed from its belt loops. A few seconds later, the distinctive sound of a zipper being pulled down.

  He touched her again, this time working his hand under her arm. She couldn’t stop his advance. He was too strong. He grabbed her breast with the force of a hydraulic press.

  She screamed in pain, uncoiled her body, then used her fists to fight him off. She swung her arms blindly, hitting him three times in the process.

  He grabbed her wrists and jumped on top of her, pinning her arms to her chest. His BO was rank and sickening, as drops of his vile sweat touched her forehead.

  His foul breath washed over her face. “Fight all you want, my precious little flower. No one is going to be here ‘til morning—so we have all night to play. And play we shall. I plan to savor every inch of you before the night gives way to the dawn.”

  She relaxed, pretending to surrender. “Please, mister, I’ll do whatever you want. Just, please, don’t kill me. I beg you. I’ll do anything.”

  “Ah, my flower has finally blossomed. Ready to receive the gift that I bring for her tonight.”

  He wrapped his belt around her wrists and cinched it tight. Then he let go of her and climbed off.

  She felt a rush of adrenaline kick in. She managed to open her eyes and then tried to climb to her knees, but he punched her in the cheek.

  She flopped onto her side and hit the floor, sending another penetrating jolt of pain and pressure into her head. A suffocating darkness closed in around her from all sides.

  Her mother’s voice called out to her. “Don’t sleep, Em. You must fight. Don’t give up. Don’t give in.”

  Emily wanted to make her mother proud, but there was nothing left to fight with. Her eyes shut, and she passed out, wondering if she’d just taken her last breath.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  September 28, 2014

  12:28 a.m.

  Derek leaned against the wooden gate on the side of Jim Miller’s house, taking in the scent of cedar. The downtown neighborhood was quiet, other than the dog that was rapid-fire barking down the street.

  Derek was tucked away and out of sight, standing in the shadows next to an aluminum, single-engine fishing boat sitting on a trailer that was parked in the dirt to the left of Jim’s driveway. He stuck his head around the side of the boat to survey the street and neighboring yards for signs of movement, but he didn’t see any.

  “She should have been here by now,” he mumbled, trying to decide what to do. If Emily was running late and he took off now to go look for her, they might miss each other.

  But what if she wasn’t coming? What if she forgot, or decided to stand him up? Chicks had blown him off before. Why should Emily be any different? She’s a street girl, and that kind of life makes it tough to have plans and see them through. He really didn’t know her that well, so anything was possible. Especially with her mysterious vanishing act.

  Granted, she wasn’t like any girl he had met before, but what did he really know about her? He didn’t know which shelters she preferred, how old she was, where she was from, what happened to her family, how she ended up on the street, if she went to school, or anything, really. He just knew Emily was incredibly sexy, had a big heart, and made him tingle whenever he was around her.

  There was something about the way she looked at him that made his insides run gooey. That was the only descriptor he could come up with: gooey.

  She seemed to have the ability to look past his hardened exterior, past the layers of shit, past all the broken pieces floating around inside, and focu
s on the miniscule amount of good that remained. He didn’t like himself much, but she seemed to, and that gave him hope—hope for himself and for his future.

  He wondered if she thought of him as much as he thought of her. He’d never admit it to anyone, but she was consuming him—all of his thoughts, his dreams, and his fantasies. She had carved a lasting imprint on his heart, making him want to be a better person.

  Her closeness was important to him, and it felt amazing and right. He hadn’t felt that way . . . ever. There was something between them. Something profound and unbreakable. He knew it, she knew it, and he knew she knew it, and she knew he knew it.

  Then his alter ego took over. “Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Quit being such a pussy,” his lips said to the night air. “Getting gooey over some girl you met, what, three times? Get a grip, dickhead.”

  But the truth was that he’d never experienced anything like this before. She was different all right, and making him a little insane. Even if he tried, he knew he couldn’t stop what he was feeling inside.

  “Where are you, Emily Heart?”

  He decided to give her another ten minutes, then call it a night. He really didn’t think she’d stand him up, but maybe he needed to face the facts. She might just be another run-of-the-mill whack job living on the streets.

  “You can’t fix crazy.”

  ***

  September 28, 2014

  12:41 a.m.

  Emily’s body screamed in pain. Not the kind of pain that happened after a jump, but injury-type pain. The left side of her head was throbbing, and she felt an intense pinching—no, it was a cutting sensation on both of her wrists and both of her ankles. Her butt hurt, and her back was aching. Her throat was dry and she couldn’t swallow. She took a deep breath, but found she could only take air in through her nose.