Beyond This Time: A Time-Travel Suspense Novel Read Free Page A

process of converting hundreds of outdated files into a data base. The cases went as far back as the late fifties, which allowed Kat the luxury of pulling up information with a few keystrokes rather than crawling around the spider-infested basement in search of a dusty box of files.
    She doubted Miss Simms’ memory would be wrong about the dates. A series of house burnings in your own neighborhood wouldn’t be easily forgotten. So she requested: March-April, 1963 ARSON/FATALITY.
    In a few minutes she’d unravel this impossible thread linking the year 2000 to 1963.
    The computer went to work. The hard drive whirred and clicked as it scanned nearly forty- years of stored data.
    Within seconds the screen came alive:
     
    MARCH-APRIL, 1963 ARSON/FATALITY
    03-02-63    Pauley, GladysN    23476     1:25AM
    03-05-63    Richards, DilmerN  23477     12:11AM
    03-07-63    Carpenter, AliceN  23478     01:03AM
    03-10-63    DeCarlo, MattieN   23479     1:30AM
    03-17-63    Beason, Harold     234800    6:50PM
    03-29-63    Peterson, Abel     23481     02:15AM
    04-01-63    Jefferson, TyroneN 23482     5:05AM
    04-02-63    Spencer, LeroyN    23483     5:20AM
    04-05-63    Doe, JaneN         23484     12:45AM
    04-10-63    Block, GriffinN    23485     02:00AM
    04-12-63    Norton, Richard    23486     07:00PM
     
    Kat pulled her little spiral patrol notebook out of her pocket and compared the information. Three names: Gladys Pauley, Dilmer Richards, and Alice Carpenter .
    Three dates: March 02, 05 and 07 .
    All duplicates of the calls she and Mitch answered.
    Kat’s finger lightly traced Alice Carpenter’s name on the screen. Thirty-seven years ago, on March 7 at 1:03 A.M., this woman had reported a group of men threatening to burn her out.
    On March 7, 2000, another Alice Carpenter had reported the same incident, on the same date and at the exact hour. How could this be? There must be a logical explanation. An error in the record.
    Kat hit the EXIT key to return to the previous menu, where she selected: LOCATION.
     
    MARCH-APRIL 1963 ARSON/FATALITY
    2789 10th St.   3-02-63   Pauley, GladysN    1:25AM
    4721 Riverside  3-05-63   Richards, DilmerN  2:11AM
    801 Mt. View    03-07-63  Carpenter, AliceN  01:03AM
    5429 Park       03-10-63  DeCarlo, MattieN   01:30AM
    109 Blodgett    03-17-63  Beason, Harold     06:50PM
    900 Grant       03-29-63  Peterson, Abel     02:15AM
    7643 Elm        04-01-63  Jefferson, TyroneN 5:05AM
    654 Azalea      04-02-63  Spencer, LeroyN    05:20AM
    3449 Brook      04-05-63  Doe, JaneN         12:45AM
    2987 Oak        04-10-63  Block, GriffinN    02:00AM
    387 Riverside   04-12-63  Norton, Richard    07:00PM
     
    Tenth Street. Riverside. Mountain View.
    Once again she’d hit three-for-three on the addresses. Kat reached across the desk and dialed Mitch’s home number. What would her Yankee partner have to say about all this?
    Six years ago when she’d first signed on with the police department, Kat had endured several difficult months. She was breaking new ground, not only as the first female officer, but also as the first Black female officer in the department.
    She’d anticipated the rookie jokes and the gauntlet she must run before being accepted. However, she was unprepared for so much resentment and distrust because of her gender.
    And her color.
    Kat had come close to quitting the department all together. Then James Mitchell, a well-respected thirty-five-year-old, eight-year veteran, changed everything. Although born in Alabama, Mitch had left the South early on, spending his formative years in Pennsylvania. Growing up in the North had weakened the prejudicial attitudes that so effectively bound many others.
    The six-foot three-inch, 250 pound mountain, with ginger-red hair and a multitude of freckles, asked Kathleen