The White Board Murders

She still couldn't shake the previous night's dream. Unable to return to sleep, Sybil sat curled up in a ball in the leather chair in the library wide awake and wondering why she couldn't seem to shake herself free of the dream. Usually when she dreamed about these things, she could shake the horror within a few minutes. What made this dream so different from the others?

They say that psychic abilities run in families. Some may even call it a gift. One thing that Sybil did know was that some gifts don't come neatly packaged with gift receipts for easy returns. Her gift came with a no return policy attached.

Sybil rose from the chair and walked to the dry erase board where she wrote down notes about the images she saw in her dream. Some people kept a diary. Sybil kept a dry erase white board. She had learned from past experience that contact with people, even vague contact such as a brush by on a crowded street, could trigger her psychic dreams. Since her dreams began the same night as contact was made, she never knew when one was coming until it happened. This was the first dream she'd had in nearly a year, since Jake....

Perhaps it was a bit OCD to write down every single instance where physical contact was made, but her white board method had helped her solve a few cases in the past. Unfortunately, she'd had direct contact with at least 30 people yesterday. Sybil grimaced. Narrowing it down could take time she, or rather the future victims, didn't have. Thirty suspects needing second contact involving direct touch could take days.

She erased the two prior days and focused on yesterday's entries. Drawing a line down the middle of her white board, Sybil drew the images seen in her psychic dream. A lion, a bridge, and two elderly people without clear faces. Next, she jotted down a narrative of the murders she saw in her dream last night. Sybil always hated this part. Reliving the dream murders was like watching her own personal snuff film.

Her door bell rang. Sybil jerked back to the present and rushed toward the sound of Westminster chimes. She peeked out the window and her heart skipped a beat. Danny! She tightened her robe, smoothed back her hair and took a deep breath before opening the door. This crush on the package delivery man was taking a toll on her wallet. She felt the chemistry and thought he felt it too, but after two solid months of him delivering packages several times a week, he still couldn't take a hint.

"Good Morning, Ma'am," he said ever polite. "I hear it's going to be a scorcher today. That's why I started my route a little early. I hope you don't mind me coming by so early in the morning." He took notice of her silk robe, and smiled appreciatively. He seemed just a little too pleased to have caught her in a state of déshabillé. Her heart began to race.

"It's fine." Sybil scribbled her name on computer screen with the stylus offered. "It's supposed to hit triple digits today." She looked up at him and smiled. "I don't blame you for wanting to get a head start on the heat."

His fingers brushed hers lightly as he took possession of the proffered stylus, only to tuck it behind his ear before handing her the package from Victoria's Secret. Sybil blushed, remembering the fantasy that had led her to that particular purchase.

Sybil leaned her head against the door jamb for just a moment as she watched him drive away.

"It figures," she muttered to herself. "The best date prospect I've had in a year and he's a murderer."

Sybil sighed. At least her credit card would get a much needed break.