True Calling: Chapter 1
"911, what's your emergency?"
"Help me; please help me," the frightened girl's plea echoed through the lines
"What's your emergency," the operator probed?
"They are trying to kill us," she screamed just above a whisper.
"Who, who is trying to kill you?"
"They," she paused, listening to loud moaning in the background. "He is," she said again.
"Is it a he or they," the operator managed to say before being cut off.
"Oh god, he's still alive, he's coming after me," came the screamed reply before the phone went dead.
Moving quickly, the operator hit the redial, but the number was not in service. Noting the time and general area of the call, she dispatched the closest roving patrol hoping beyond hope that the frightened girl on the other end would be found safe.
“Tonight on NBC Nightly News, we look at a developing story on Long Island," said the rock steady announcer opening the broadcast. Shifting in his seat, he turned to the second camera.
"First reported as a missing person case, local officials have handed the case off to the FBI. Multiple bodies have been found in a home and on the grounds in what they have labeled a killing field."
Behind him, the screen graphics showed several men and women in different uniforms and Haz-Mat suits with shovels and plastic bags removing objects from an area of mixed beach and wooded acreage.
"Officials are not offering details, but an unnamed source states that there at least 20 bodies of what appears to be young women.
The speculation is that some may have been in the area for decades. At this time, the police and FBI have no leads and are asking for the public's help in identifying the remains. Now on to other news, Chinese Panda Lin Tou gave birth to twin cubs."
The clock on the wall moved to exactly midnight, and the local radio broadcast switched to the taped nationally syndicated news feed. Four minutes and three commercials later, the local show retook the feed. The producer Mark Gladston, in the glass booth, looked at his star, Jordyn Jamison. With his hand raised, he counted down four, three, two, one, pointing the last finger at the talent, cueing the well-recognized theme music.
In the background, the sultry tones of Kerry Leva's "Stay With Me" played while the talent moved closer to her mic. The music played, reaching its crescendo, then ebbing to a low as the talent welcomed her listening audience.
"Hi and good evening. This is Silk Ropes with your host, Jordyn J. Tonight's program will have Sissy Lane from NSA life in our first hour. The second hour will be fantasy realization from Destination Dungeons, and our third hour will be an open line where we discuss whatever has popped up."
On cue, the music rose again, and Jordyn pushed back from the mic enough to sip from a steaming cup of tea. "Mmmmmmmm, this is really good," she said to the production crew, raising her cup in a salute.
Commercials followed the music's end; afterward, she began her intro for her guest.
He sat alone in the dark, radio on, drink in hand. Sipping it, he listened to her program introduction. Straining to hear the voice behind all of the radio masking, he pulled in close to see if he recognized any portion of it. Oh, it had been so long ago, but seeing her at the recent "cause celeb" party, he was sure it was her. Suddenly, for the first time in years, he felt fear. Did she recognize him? Would she remember? Slamming the rest of the drink, he listened intently to the program, more sure with every word and cadence. It was her.