The Key (2 page)

It was quite late when Carly slipped the CD into the player and settled down into her bed.
She closed her eyes and began to
picture the place where Tracey was last seen.

Soon Carly found herself on a quiet tree lined street that she recognized from a photograph.
It was a sunny afternoon, the
birds were singing, and it was hard to believe that for one girl in this town, this was possibly the last day of her life.

Right, O.K., I need to find the perfect spot to see the library entrance. Then when Tracey comes out, in around 20
minute’s
time, I can see if anyone’s watching her
.
I must try and get close enough to get a clear view, but not so close that anyone will notice me.

Carly wasn’t quite sure what exactly she would do if she spotted the killer, but she would just have to take it one step at a time.

Right then she saw the perfect spot. Set in the shade under two leafy trees was a small wooden bench.
It provided an almost perfect vantage point to view the library entrance, and best of all, who would notice someone taking a rest on a sunny afternoon.

If this were the present day, Carly could fill her time messing around on her cell phone; but this was 1979 and long before the dawn of the little miracle she had at home.
It dawned on her how different life must be for the people of this era.

The moments ticked by until Tracey Dawn Jackson walked casually out of the double doors of the library. She looked just like she had in the photograph, a pretty, happy, smiling young woman.
She was with another young woman and they stopped on the pavement, chatting and laughing together.

Carly inched forward on the wooden bench to get a better look at the girl. Then her eyes darted around, trying to catch a glimpse of the ‘would be killer’. Suddenly she spotted a young man further along the street, and he was also shaded by the trees. Rising slowly Carly wandered in his direction, hoping that he would turn around so that she could get a good look at him. As she got a little closer she missed her footing and let out a yelp as she twisted her ankle. The mystery man looked in her direction, turned and walked quickly away
into the distance
.

Now I’ve done it, he’s seen me. I wish I’d got a better look at him. Oh well, maybe now he’s seen me he’ll
panic and won’t come back. Maybe,
Ian
Bradley
was wrong; maybe I can prevent Tracey dying. Maybe I should try and follow him, get a better look at him, see where he goes
.

Thoughts were buzzing in Carly’s head about what she should do next. Strike up a conversation with Tracey; maybe warn her that someone seemed to be watching her.

Well, here it goes. I’m just going to walk right up to her and take it from there
.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady her nerves, Carly stepped quickly into the road. Before she knew it there was a screech of car
tires
combined with the
high pitched
sound of a car horn
beeping constantly. A
s she whirled round she saw a large
pickup
come to an abrupt halt inches in front of her.

It wasn’t the sound of a car horn that Carly heard next; it was the sound of that dreaded alarm clock. She was awake, and she wished that she wasn’t. Questions rattled through her head one after another. Had she saved Tracey or w
as
Ian
Bradley
right after all
? Would the murderer strike again, and would it be all her fault for interfering?

She needed to pull herself tog
ether and get onto the computer; s
ee if the story had
changed;
see if Tracey Dawn Jackson still disappeared that day.

It didn’t take Carly any time at all to find the story of Tracey Dawn Jackson’s disappearance
on her laptop
. She had still disappeared.

Well, she still disappeared. But maybe I spooked the killer and made him more edgy. Maybe that would have made him more careless, and he’d leave another clue to his identity at the crime scene
.

Still shaking from the dream, she headed for the living
room, turned
on the TV
, and began flicking through
the news channels to determine whether the story about the discovery of Tracey’s body remained the same as yesterday and if there would be any further
clues
in the hunt for Tracey’s killer.

“Damn it, I haven’t changed a thing. In fact, I scared the damn murderer away; so maybe it’s partly my fault that
no
one but me
saw him. I have to put this right. I have to go back there and find out who that guy was.
Maybe, if I can find out who that key belonged to I stand a chance.”

Carly turned up the volume as she finally got the break she was looking for. A picture of Tracey Dawn Jackson flashed up on the screen, then a picture of the mystery key.
The news item was already part way through, but she listened closely as the broadcaster continued.

“
In a further development, police have been inundated with calls about the key found close to the body, including some calls from Tracey’s former college friends. It has emerged that the same type of keys were used on the lockers at the
Harvest Spring Junction
College
, where Tracey was studying.
”

Turning off the TV Carly decided it was time
for a rethink.

Looks like I’ll have to get into that college to f
ind out who the key belongs to; do
n’t think I
’ll pass for a teenager though
, Carly thought after catching a glimpse of herself in the hall mirror
, en route to the kitchen
.

This is going to take longer than I thought. Just as well I decided to take a week’s
vacation
from work. I need to find some cover story for when I’m snooping around in the college. I need to find the connection between Tracey and the owner of that locker key. First of all though, I need to find something to eat, I’m starving.

Carly needed to replenish her supplies, especially seeing as the coming week was going to be extra busy
. No need for a shopping list, she’d just pick up whatever took her fancy.

A
n extended shopping
trip got her enough essentials to keep her going for a while. Of course she’d taken care of getting a healthy breakfast while she was shopping too; pretzels and a strawberry smoothie, to be precise!

Having spent most of the day shopping, eating, and researching
what Harvest Spring Junction was like in the 70’s, Carly decided that the time had come to get down to the business of the locker key.

She’d done as much she could to familiarize herself with the college and surrounding area
, with the help of old photographs found on various social networking and reunion sites.
She checked the Crime
S
toppers
w
ebsite again, and mad
e
out the number on the locker key,
198
.

After a long hot bath, the only thing left to do was to climb into bed and play the CD.

It was a strange feeling going to sleep in 2012 then suddenly being transported back in time to 1979. Seeing what things were like for her mother’s generation gave her a new appreciation of what she had left behind at home.

It was
coming to
the end of the college day,
when
Carly made her way into the building. She was surprised how few security
measures
were taken back then. No metal detectors or security staff on the doors, no intercom entry systems, no security cameras, nothing.
There was j
ust a solitary janitor
,
wandering around
not doing very much at all. The lack of security was an advantage, as there was less chance of having to answer any awkward questions about her reasons for being there.

Surprisingly, the building smelled of a mixture of pine disinfectant and floor wax; so perhaps the janitor wasn’t work-shy after all, but was just having a break.

The wide school corridor with its
wooden
lockers either side, made it easy for Carly to slowly walk by, checking out
the numbers as she went
.
The clatter of her heels echoed along to empty corridor, thwarting her attempt to remain totally unnoticed
by the janitor
.

Right come on; where are you locker
198
. I just hope I f
ind it before
classes finish
.

Having finally located the locker, Carly positioned herself where she would get the clearest view of the owner when they opened up the locker. It was a close call, as just then what seemed like hoards of
young
people
began to emerge from the many classroom doorways up and down the corridor. The silence was broken by the loud and excited voices of the young crowd, happy that they were free from the confinements of their classrooms.

Young men and women came and went, but no one arrived to open
198
. The bulk of the crowd gathered their belongings and left the building, laughing and chattering as they went.

The corridor was silent again, and Carly was just about to give up when she heard the sound of several voices
approaching. From a door at the very end of the corridor, two young men and two young women headed in her direction.
As they got closer she recognized one of them; Tracey Dawn Jackson.

“Are you coming over to
our
place tonight,” a
slim
dark haired
young man said to the two girls that were walking directly in front of him. He nudged the shy looking man next to him and smirked as he continued, “Our parents are going away for a few days so we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

“I’m not sure if that’s such a good thing Vince. I mean we trust
Scott;
he’s a sweetie, but you
. W
ell, you’re a bit crazy sometimes. Can we really trust you?
”
replied the pretty
auburn haired girl
.

“Oh
Pamela
, I’m deeply offended
,” Vince mocked as he held his hand to his mouth, feigning
shock;
“You and Tracey have my word I’ll behave myself, cross my heart.”

“
Hey
. D
on’t call me
Pamela
. Y
ou know I hate it
. I
t’s
Pam
.
O.K
?
” replied the girl in an
irritated way,
her face reddening as she continued, “
and
you’ve never been offended in your life, Vincent Halliday
!
”

“Touché.
I’m sorry I won’t call you
Pamela
again,
Pamela
. O
ops.
Only joking
.
I promise not to call you
Pamela
so long as you don’t call me Vincent; it makes me sound like a proper
nerd
.”

As the group reached the lockers, Carly
tried to pay close attention
without
looking conspicuous.

Pamela
looked vaguely familiar, but right now Carly didn’t have time to work out why. She
appeared to be much more outgoing than her friend Tracey. Her
shiny long
hair and
fashionable
clothes showed
that
she knew how to look good, and
she was certainly an independent young woman; s
he had put Vincent firmly in his place.

Tracey looked just as expected
;
a smartly dressed
,
quiet but
cheerful
young woman. There was a
tenderness
that showed in her face when she smiled, and it was sad to know that her
life
was almost at an end.

Vincent Halliday was a tall, slim, quite handsome young man, and boy did he know it.
Smartly
dressed and
perfectly
groomed, he looked like one of those guys who didn’t have to try hard to get female attention.

Scott
was clearly closely related to Vince
nt
, and he could almost be
Vince
nt
’s smaller twin brother
. But the similarity ended with their looks.
Scott
appeared to be
a more
reserved young man, and although he was smiling and laughing with the others
,
he had clearly blushed when
Pamela
had said he was a
sweetie
.