Officer Dusty Salad had been given strict orders to bring Detective Sarah Wilson directly home after the Burnside Country Club investigation wrapped up. No stops, no detours, just straight to 126 Maple Road. The address of Detective Ethan Frost and his wife Susan. Only, Officer Salad was not following the orders he was given. He was not on his way to 126 Maple Road. No instead, instead, he was driving his police cruiser in the opposite direction. And, in two short minutes, with the key party to those orders in the backseat, would be pulling up to Lochlan’s Pub. A bar located a few short blocks from the precinct that catered mostly to cops. It was the perfect place to blow off a little law enforcement steam and a place Sarah was a regular.
It excites me to write that I have something coming down the pipeline with regards to my series “The Red Journal”. I hit a wall with this project an embarrassing long time ago on account of losing my confidence in the story. But, short and sweet, and no bullsh*t excuses. The Red Journal is back in my “works in progress”.
Also, I’m planning a relaunch of the designated page to get everyone up to speed and on the same well…page. So, hang tight, and soon enough we will all be getting another chance to delve back into the lives of Det. Sarah Wilson, Det. Ethan Frost, supporting cast, and the still unknown killer. Someone who has taken quite the shine to Det. Wilson and there is not one single clue to determine why.
Stay tuned for the next chapter in my killer story that’s literally “in the making”. As in, I am making it up as I go…
Ethan’s driver-side door crunched and creaked as it slammed shut. He was home. Another long day of chasing a killer without so much as a single clue of who it might be. Zero answers, just more questions. Questions, that for now had to wait. The only thing on his mind was finally getting to see his beautiful wife, Susan. Take one look at her and no matter how bad of a day he was having, she’d quickly make all go away. A hot shower and some food wouldn’t go astray either.
I thought it was necessary to give my awesome followers a fair warning that something’s coming. Something very overdue. So, my friends, later tonight or 100% tomorrow we will all get another glimpse into the world of The Red Journal. I have been hemming and hawing internally for too long creatively. It’s time for all of us to see who’s been doing all the killing in Jamestown and what Jamestown’s finest will do about it.
Friday, 5:40 p.m. (Ethan and Sarah come up short with their first visit to The Keep. They decide to spend most of the afternoon going over the witness statements from the bar and various other items of interest scattered in a brown file on a lunchroom table)
Awfully quiet, how’s your Chinese food?
What? Oh, ah…it’s good, it’s good.
Is that right? Well, you wouldn’t say that by what’s left there on your plate. Sarah, you’ve haven’t eaten a thing. You’re not still mad at me, are you?
(Shortly after the briefing, Ethan and Sarah find themselves downtown at the bar, The Keep, the victims last known whereabouts and the potential for video evidence. As they slowly exit their vehicle, a homeless man suddenly appears from the alley motioning toward the door.)
Friday, 9:46 A.M.
The bar, it’s closed. Not open yet, doesn’t til six. It’s written right there on that sign.
Right, thanks for pointing that out. Listen, I’m Det. Frost and this is Det. Wilson. Jamestown Police Department. Tell me…ah, is that yours? Around the corner over there? Do you live in those boxes by the dumpster?
Frost, I didn’t sleep very well last night. Do you know why that is?
Why is that chief? Go ahead and enlighten me.
It’s because of our latest homicide case. It’s gone and made my damn ulcer act up again. It bloody well kept me up most of the night. Frost, this guy’s sending a clear message here, but who the hell is it for?
Jessie, Jess! How? I thought you were still in Texas?
I am. Well, I’m still there that is. I’m only back for a few days, one of Charlie’s college friends is getting married. Our plane touched down maybe an hour ago, and knowing you’re still a creature of habit, I knew right where to find you.
Seriously! Four days? It really took them…never mind. They’re idiots. Remember, they’re all incompetent fools. One brutal headache after the other, I waited. All that time waiting around to see my glorious work, displayed for the fine people of Jamestown and the story gets barely ninety seconds of airtime. They didn’t even show the good parts, well…his parts.