Sometime in the middle of the night, Julie and her boyfriend died. Right under the nose of the county sheriff's detective. McGirth wasn't the sharpest pencil in the drawer. Only last year he boasted of using his silencer to murder two coyotes in his yard.
"They could git my kids, " he justified.
The children are preteens and the coyotes are clearly more afraid of them than to come close enough to do harm. Besides, parents need to parent. But this writer forgot, that children today are society's problem, not the responsibility of their parents.
The detective's wife is often seen driving her Lincoln SUV about town. She and the detective are wide in statue so I suspect this vehicle fits them comfortably. Having said this, I wonder about the former's ability to protect the people in the county who pay him in such a wide condition.
Interestingly enough, the wife was on the board of this community homeowner's association with her next door neighbor and friend, the president. One would think a detective's wife would know better than to be a part of homeowner association funds going into the president's personal bank account. When community representatives spoke to the Sheriff's Department regarding this, they were told quietly, "to let this go." One could only wonder how a detective's salary affords a Lincoln SUV. We can use our imagination here. That and family money. Enough to buy into an upscale community.
Detective McGirth lives in front of Julie. To the right of him is the Pesty family. The Pesty's have a surveillance camera posted facing their driveway and the road. Has anyone thought to examine the footage?
The son and his mother have been at odds for some time. His girlfriend and he were arrested for severely injuring Julie last year.
The deaths of Julie and her friend, were both naked at discovery. Could the son have caught his mother and her friend in an intimate moment? Could he have seized the opportunity to destroy both of them? Could he have been on drugs at the time? This incident was kept secretive for five days by the county Sheriff's Department. Until an investigative reporter decider to probe a bit further. Neighbors were suspicious from the get go. Both Julie, her son and her son's girlfriend has been in trouble with the law on numerous occasions.
Beth was shopping in a store in town, when the manager of a thrift shop happened by.
"Hey, Beth, how have you been?"
"Fine, except for the allegedly murder-suicide," she said.
"OMG, I knew that woman," the manager said.
"She told me there was a man that was going to kill her," the manager added.
Beth contacted Detective McGirth who assured her he would call the
But that never quite sat well with Beth. She decided to pay the woman a visit.
"Hey you, the store looks great! Love the smell of apple cinnamon," Beth said.
"Thanks, how do you like the store now?"
"It is really attractive," Beth said.
"Should be, you sure donated enough here," the manager said.
"Hey, do you know Detective McGirth?"
"Do I know him. He is one lazy man. Didn't investigate the burglary in my sister's house. He doesn't do a thing!" the manager said.
Beth remember the black stake she found in her yard the day after the moving van damaged her hill
making indentations from the entrance to the community, around the log road encircling her home.
She thought about the documentary she tried to upload to her Mac yesterday. iMovie uploaded every photo in her computer. The documentary never uploaded.
Beth thought a minute.
Maybe all of this is a sign. Maybe it is time to drop the investigation, drop the Missing Time documentary on her extra terrestrial experience. Evil is brewing right there in Oakwood.
UPDATE: An informant mentioned this writer that the deceased woman was having an affair with a a family member's husband. The wife was never questioned.
Wednesday, October 21, 2015
Thursday, October 15, 2015
Coldness Comes
An arctic cold front sent wind barreling out of the northwest spreading its abundance along the eastern United States. Again. Beth knew the snow would be a cover for so much that was happening. But what?
An early walk to the hill above revealed rabbit and fox had made their way across the land. She hadn't seen the fox in nearly four years. Wondered about them. Wondered if her gun toting cop neighbor with a silencer killed them. She noticed more crows around the homestead the past year. Perhaps they weren't confused by the global warming, but were awaiting carcass dinner.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Without her beloved dogs, she would never know. They had a way of communicating whatever was in the community. Racing from one end of the house to the other and looking up told the story. Now, she would have to develop those senses on her own.
Her senses were developing. Escalating. Between the downloads and exhausting winter chill, her body was resting more. Quieter. She loved being on the mountain. It is safe. Natural. Home.
So much of her landscape was changing. Even nightfall was changing. About an hour after sundown that the light in the sky seems to fade. It is as though someone is dimming a light bulb. A giant light bulb. It happens in an instant. Then gone.
Beth's bed is near a sliding glass door which leads to a sunroom. There is lots of light coming into the room. The bed is a clear tower from which to observe.
Soothsayers and prophets tell us that we may have a few days of total darkness. The academic mind can not fathom that because there has been no analysis leading to it. No formulas, no history, no models. But we know things happen that science can not explain. And I know enough to balance the academic with the realities of life.
It was Tuesday morning and Beth was driving down the eight degree grade. She couldn't hit the brakes fast enough. It was an arrow pointed down on the left side of my road.
"It has to be a surveyor marking," she thought.
Later that night, at the annual homeowner's association meeting, Beth asked her next door neighbor about it.
"Did you have your land surveyed?" she asked.
"No, we plan to do that next month," the neighbor said.
"Well, there is some kind of marker on my land. Will you ask your husband to take a look at it?"
A half hour later a text arrived.
"He says it is an a marker of some sort. "
"That is what we thought," she said.
"You know, Fred filed the legal papers against Mike?"
"I didn't know," Beth said.
"Yes, he would have gotten them a week ago," the neighbor said.
We both thought the same thing. Mike.
"But Mike was out of town, visiting Edisto Beach. He took the whole family" I said.
Something doesn't fit.
It was just about a month ago when family members discovered a murder-suicide down the street. Neighbors wondered if someone else did it. Maybe a burglary or something. The house went up for sale almost immediately.
But what about the marker. It was placed on the same line as her neighbor's house. While Beth felt safe enough, she worried about her neighbor.
Then Beth wrote her own letter about the barking dogs to the homeowner's association board. She had had enough.
Stand tall or get out of the way.
Monday, August 31, 2015
Blue Man
Where do I begin to tell a story of my visit to the other side?
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
This past weekend I had the privilege of attending the Experiencer's Speak 2015 Conference. This was held in Portland, Maine, just fifteen minutes from the beautiful Casco Bay. At once, I was greeted by the cool, salt air and raised vibrational energy of the Portland, Maine area.
Almost immediately, when I entered the hotel the day before the conference was due to begin, one warm and friendly smile and wide, 'hello' after anoather welcomed me. One by one, one person after another as the attendees filtered in from California and from the United Kingdom. Their smiles were radiant; the vibrational frequency palpable.
One by one, the speakers told of feeling a presence, seeing a ship or alien once, twice or throughout their lives. Their credentials of each speaker were impeccable. Scientists, biologists, wilderness guides, writers, contractors, accountants, professors, young people, older folks. Some saw orbs, some had photos of space ships, some looked worn and distressed because of their abductions. Some like me, had animal totems come to them over the course of years. Some were screen savers, or what we affectionately refer to when alien and/orspace ship turn into knowable, less traumatic beings. Owls were one form of messenger.
One academic spoke about the importance of understanding neuroscience. That the right and left brain have separated functions. We know the left brain has long held a more esteemed presence since it is the analytical/storyteller portion. It tries to make sense of what the right brain, the oneness, non-judgmental and synchronious, connected portion of our brains tell us. We remote view in the right hemisphere where the NOW lives. We understand the great importance of the right brain and work hard to explain its value.
We also know we live in a patterned universe. Nothing is random. We've seen worms, segmented worms become complete bodies, trees and vegetation grow itself again, sometimes in the same space, sometimes in another. It is anything but meaningless. My right sided hemisphere remembers.
I was chosen. Chosen to see a spaceship. Chosen to tell a story. A mere messenger charged with the task of helping humans understand that their destruction active or passive of our environment is destroying the universe. Earth, the densest planet in our solar system is rich in metals. Unidentified foreign objects or UFOs are here to observe. They don't want anything more. They have what they need. The worry about our child-like emotions, our ability to soil the land we occupy, our incessant need and choice to acquire more.
At the end of the conference, when I had gone to bed, I was told about a man who entered just before the Travis Walton film and discussion ended. He had a hat pulled down close to his eyes. Long sleeved shirt. His head was down. An attendee noticed his skin was blue. Blue face, blue neck, blue hands. The rest of him was covered up. He stayed only a
few minutes, as if to check up on the final evening and left.
Tuesday, August 4, 2015
Plastic Surprise
The animals are everywhere now. As I was sitting in the yard on the peach Adirondack chairs, I felt a presence nearby. At first I thought it was the asters I was looking for on the right side of the hill. You can imagine what joy it was to finally see them. Fall is nearly upon us. Even with heat in the low 90s. It is the foreshadowing for which those of us in the natural world search.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
With paint spotted blue crocs on, I climbed the steep hill and dug my feet in. I wasn't going to miss capturing these pretties. As soon as I snapped this photo, I could hear rustling of the bushes. Something was there.
So I slid, yes, slid, down the hill, this hill ten years ago was easy to climb and descend. Now I was just happy to get a close encounter with these wildflowers. Turning under the dogwood trees, the sense of the presence was stronger. Then it happened.
Something told me to look down.
This plastic was part of a dish I used to bait the raccoon in early May. It was part of a dish which held a rotisserie chicken. What is odd is that it was ten feet away from where it was dropped. I thought I had found all the pieces. Curiously enough, one piece after another shows up when a friend of mine contacts me. It is an odd metaphor. He brought the dish and chicken here in early spring we could protect this bandit from itself. It was digging one foot holes in my garden making mowing quite dangerous. But for a month or so, I hadn't seen any of the chewed plastic. Until today. I also have not seen him.
I still do not know what was in those woods beyond the white pines, mountain laurel and Canadian hemlocks. Whatever it was, I suspect it will come out soon.
Saturday, February 14, 2015
Where Is The Justice?
The first time I met Matt, his glassy eyes and constant sniffle got my attention. He was a man on a mission but I didn't realize how far he was willing to go. Not then.
Jackie asked me to feed the horse while they were out of town and I was more than happy to split it with a joint friend who was covering the feeding on Friday. The friend asked if I could feed and water the horse on Saturday. I agreed.
A year later, I had been visiting his wife and child when Matt arrived home. He invited me to stay for dinner. I hadn't planned on it, it was just a quick stop to say hello on my way home from work.
Matt couldn't do enough for me. But he didn't eat a thing.
"C'mon, stay," he said as he prepared dinner.
"I'll be back late today and it is good that she is here," he said.
I couldn't put my lips together. I mean drive over to Gatlinburg with the boys when your second baby is due in three days? Give me a break! There was always something about his friends. Sleazy. By 6 p.m. he was gone.
Jackie assured me she would be alright and I stayed a few hours and left about nine o'clock in the evening after helping with the clean up from dinner. Matt still wasn't home.
Over the next year I would visit often. I was always invited to dinner. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I had things to take care of at my own home and there just wasn't time. Besides, Matt made me uncomfortable. He always had sketchy men around the house.
Jackie called me early one morning.
"We were robbed. The pharmacy was. Can you come over to see the video?"
I was a bit hesitant. She insisted I meet her at the house and then drive over to the pharmacy which I did.
"There were two robbers. One taller and one definitely female. They descended into the pharmacy from the ceiling through the bathroom.
"It's an inside job," I told Jackie.
"No, couldn't be," she said.
Matt dropped his head and was silent. Clearly, not concerned. He was on the phone with the insurance company and had already informed the state agencies about the disappearance of major street drugs. The police were involved immediately.
Then there was the time Matt told Jackie there were in dire financial straits - ruin. She couldn't understand it since he was buying pharmacies at record speed. I recently learned one of the pharmacies with whom he had a partner, the pharmacy I used for a time, was also robbed.
Over the years, there were nine robberies. During this time, I learned that Matt had Jackie institutionalized. Drugged up. I learned about this from her mother. and then her.
Then he tried to convince everyone Jackie was schizophrenic. He had the boys taken away from her and an order in place where she could not visit them. It has been fourteen months since she has seen her children today. She has not been allowed in the family home.
To date, despite the divorce, she has received no alimony for the thirteen years of marriage, no marital assets from this millionaire man. He remarried the day after the divorce was final. His wife is twenty-one and pregnant with their daughter. She is due any day.
Thorough investigation by a private investigator has revealed he has several families, several homes, several social security numbers with names other than Jackie's on loans. All of this was done during the marriage.
On several occasions, Jackie has broken the restraining order to see her children. She has been in jail, is out now and is still appealing the felonies in North Carolina. What mother wouldn't do this to see her children, to ensure they are safe? It is said he has drug parties in the home, that the children are present and that he has had women in Jackie's bed.
This is the short version of this convoluted man's escapades. Where is the justice?
Jackie asked me to feed the horse while they were out of town and I was more than happy to split it with a joint friend who was covering the feeding on Friday. The friend asked if I could feed and water the horse on Saturday. I agreed.
A year later, I had been visiting his wife and child when Matt arrived home. He invited me to stay for dinner. I hadn't planned on it, it was just a quick stop to say hello on my way home from work.
Matt couldn't do enough for me. But he didn't eat a thing.
"C'mon, stay," he said as he prepared dinner.
"I'll be back late today and it is good that she is here," he said.
I couldn't put my lips together. I mean drive over to Gatlinburg with the boys when your second baby is due in three days? Give me a break! There was always something about his friends. Sleazy. By 6 p.m. he was gone.
Jackie assured me she would be alright and I stayed a few hours and left about nine o'clock in the evening after helping with the clean up from dinner. Matt still wasn't home.
Over the next year I would visit often. I was always invited to dinner. Sometimes I stayed, sometimes I had things to take care of at my own home and there just wasn't time. Besides, Matt made me uncomfortable. He always had sketchy men around the house.
Jackie called me early one morning.
"We were robbed. The pharmacy was. Can you come over to see the video?"
I was a bit hesitant. She insisted I meet her at the house and then drive over to the pharmacy which I did.
"There were two robbers. One taller and one definitely female. They descended into the pharmacy from the ceiling through the bathroom.
"It's an inside job," I told Jackie.
"No, couldn't be," she said.
Matt dropped his head and was silent. Clearly, not concerned. He was on the phone with the insurance company and had already informed the state agencies about the disappearance of major street drugs. The police were involved immediately.
Then there was the time Matt told Jackie there were in dire financial straits - ruin. She couldn't understand it since he was buying pharmacies at record speed. I recently learned one of the pharmacies with whom he had a partner, the pharmacy I used for a time, was also robbed.
Over the years, there were nine robberies. During this time, I learned that Matt had Jackie institutionalized. Drugged up. I learned about this from her mother. and then her.
Then he tried to convince everyone Jackie was schizophrenic. He had the boys taken away from her and an order in place where she could not visit them. It has been fourteen months since she has seen her children today. She has not been allowed in the family home.
To date, despite the divorce, she has received no alimony for the thirteen years of marriage, no marital assets from this millionaire man. He remarried the day after the divorce was final. His wife is twenty-one and pregnant with their daughter. She is due any day.
Thorough investigation by a private investigator has revealed he has several families, several homes, several social security numbers with names other than Jackie's on loans. All of this was done during the marriage.
On several occasions, Jackie has broken the restraining order to see her children. She has been in jail, is out now and is still appealing the felonies in North Carolina. What mother wouldn't do this to see her children, to ensure they are safe? It is said he has drug parties in the home, that the children are present and that he has had women in Jackie's bed.
This is the short version of this convoluted man's escapades. Where is the justice?
Sunday, February 1, 2015
Into The Woods
The county police arrived within ten minutes. I was glad I captured a photo of the untouched van before the woman from the woods got to it. To my surprise, she was also in the picture as she walked out from the wooded area in the foggy mist early that morning.
Before I sent the photos to the police, I was sure to send it my young friend and reporter, Hollywood. He would keep it safe in case it miraculously disappeared. Hollywood was born and raised in the southern Appalachians with a high profile position. He was admired and trusted by everyone.
As several police cars rushed to the area, I found a comfortable log upon which to sit. I knew I would be there quite a while answering questions.
The Detective Sargent in charge stepped out of his police cruiser and walked determinedly toward the van. Another officer had left the side door open. Slowly he pealed the plastic away from the woman laying in the van. She was face down with only socks on. I turned away as I wouldn't do well seeing a lifeless person. Especially in this uncanny situation.
I couldn't sleep that night. It was nearly midnight and one scenario after another kept playing in my head. I decided to get out of bed and reached for my cell phone. Somehow I recorded the woman walking into the woods and the camera continued recording her coming out of it a few seconds later. She opened the van door. I could see legs move under the heavy plastic. A live woman's legs. I do not believe either of them knew of the recording.
Immediately I texted Hollywood and sent him the video. He had the high tech equipment to zero in closely.
"Oh, no! he exclaimed.
"Hold on, I am coming over and I will bring my equipment," he said.
My heart was beating outside my chest at that point. On went every light inside and outside of the house. I wanted to know if anyone was around.
His white sports car pulled into the driveway and into the garage. I closed it after the car was safely inside.
"Know what I saw?" he said.
I was in shock from the events of the day and didn't respond. I think my face was as white as his car.
"She had a Glock in her right hand as she walked into the woods," he said.
"Which she?" I asked.
Before I sent the photos to the police, I was sure to send it my young friend and reporter, Hollywood. He would keep it safe in case it miraculously disappeared. Hollywood was born and raised in the southern Appalachians with a high profile position. He was admired and trusted by everyone.
As several police cars rushed to the area, I found a comfortable log upon which to sit. I knew I would be there quite a while answering questions.
The Detective Sargent in charge stepped out of his police cruiser and walked determinedly toward the van. Another officer had left the side door open. Slowly he pealed the plastic away from the woman laying in the van. She was face down with only socks on. I turned away as I wouldn't do well seeing a lifeless person. Especially in this uncanny situation.
I couldn't sleep that night. It was nearly midnight and one scenario after another kept playing in my head. I decided to get out of bed and reached for my cell phone. Somehow I recorded the woman walking into the woods and the camera continued recording her coming out of it a few seconds later. She opened the van door. I could see legs move under the heavy plastic. A live woman's legs. I do not believe either of them knew of the recording.
Immediately I texted Hollywood and sent him the video. He had the high tech equipment to zero in closely.
"Oh, no! he exclaimed.
"Hold on, I am coming over and I will bring my equipment," he said.
My heart was beating outside my chest at that point. On went every light inside and outside of the house. I wanted to know if anyone was around.
His white sports car pulled into the driveway and into the garage. I closed it after the car was safely inside.
"Know what I saw?" he said.
I was in shock from the events of the day and didn't respond. I think my face was as white as his car.
"She had a Glock in her right hand as she walked into the woods," he said.
"Which she?" I asked.
Before I knew it, I had rolled over to the other side of bed. Even bolted straight up. I had never had a dream like that before.
Friday, January 30, 2015
White Van
I I haven't walked to the summit since the dogs passed. But the winter had been a mild one and I wanted to honor them this way. In the early afternoon, the January temperatures reached into the high 50s. I knew it was time.The entire way up the steep eight plus grade hills, the dogs were in my mind. I even saw a yellow tennis ball looking very much like the one my older dog dropped many months before. A sign maybe. Yes, I was meant to see it.
A little out of breath, more from the lack of uphill walking than the temperature, I was happy to reach the summit. It was a good half mile or so down the dirt ridge road before I saw it. There is a log home at the end but it was curious to see this white van with opened doors and no one around. The owners of the house had been in Florida for the winter.
My eyes were drawn to the open doors inside the truck. I Immediately noticed the six mil plastic laid smooth on the left side of the floor, with the right side more than crumbled. Like it had been opened several times. Just then a woman appeared from the wooded area. I know the area fairly well having walked it. There is a path down the woods which neighbors traverse from time to time. Only the hardy ones for it is a steep climb.
The woman seemed on a mission as she walked toward the back of the van where the opened doors were.
"I don't think you want to see this," I called.
She didn't stop walking or even hesitate. She continued on reaching the back of the van. At that point, I had found a stick and was gently lifted the plastic moving the stick inside as I touched the two protrusions on the left side of the van.
I proceeded to move the stick to the right and the woman moved in. She tore back the heavy plastic and touched what appeared to be two legs. Slowly, a woman turned around mumbling as though in pain. As the plastic moved aside, I could see another set of legs on the left side of the floor of the truck. Man's legs.
Suddenly the woman stood up erect and climbed outside of the van. Then it occurred to me. She had been hiding in the van as though playing dead. Or injured. Or.
At this point, 911 had been called. Careful not to let the women hear I spoke in almost a whisper.
"There is something odd going on. I just found a white van with opened back doors. A woman was walking from the woods and proceeded to the car. It was like her friend had just climbed in but was pretending to be unconscious or something. I think you better come now."
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