Theorizing that one could time-travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett led an elite group of scientists into the desert to develop a top-secret project known as Quantum Leap.  Pressured to prove his theories or lose funding, Dr. Beckett prematurely stepped into the Project Accelerator…and vanished.

He awoke to find himself in the past, suffering from partial amnesia and facing a mirror image that was not his own.  Fortunately, contact with his own time was maintained through brainwave transmissions with Al, the Project Observer, who appeared in the form of a hologram that only Dr. Beckett can see and hear.

 As evil ones do their best to stop Dr. Beckett’s journey, his children, Dr. Samantha Josephine Fulton and Stephen Beckett, continuously strive to retrieve their time-lost father and bring him home permanently.  Despite returning home several times over the last decade, Dr. Beckett has remained lost in the time stream…his final fate no longer certain.

Trapped in the past and driven by an unknown force, Dr. Beckett struggles to accept his destiny as he continues to find himself leaping from life to life, putting things right that once went wrong with the hopes that his next leap…will be the final leap home.

PROLOGUE

Even as the energy began to envelop his body, Sam smiled and gave a nod of his head.  He never knew where he would go, but Sam knew he would be sent into the life of someone who needed him.  That's all that mattered now.  He leaned back into the fall and tried to prepare himself for whatever was coming.  He stretched languorously before feeling the familiar rollercoaster of falling into another life.

As the electrical energy faded from his body, he blinked.  He was sitting at a desk.  Sam glanced around the room.  A large window was before him, allowing him to assume that he might be an official at a police station.  Sam noticed a police officer meandering from the small kitchenette with a coffee cup, returning to a desk to answer a phone call.  He also saw a young blonde-haired woman sitting at a desk, doing paperwork.

A slight frown edged his mouth as he looked down at the mahogany classic L-shaped desk and looked at the items neatly laid out.  From left to right, he found a computer monitor at one corner of the desk with a screensaver displaying Coldspring Police Department, an office nameplate, a Ridgely & Co. organizer with pens, stationery, and post-it notes, an in-file tray, an out-file tray, a picture of a dark German Shepherd, a telephone, a clock reading 4:45 PM, then a printer sitting ready for use.  As he continued looking around him, he found books behind him pertaining specifically to law enforcement.  Turning back to the front, he saw a desk calendar showing September and the slashes marked through the fifth.  At least he knew the date.  He was about to reach for the nameplate on the desk when a light double tap on the door caught his attention, and he looked up as the door opened.

"Hey, Chief?" The very tall young man who opened the door had brown hair that framed his face and warm hazel eyes.  The nametag on his chest read: Miller.  He looked in his mid-twenties and leaned in, his hand resting on the doorknob.  "We just heard from Jason Snyder.  He said he hadn't heard from his seventeen-year-old daughter, Sarah, since the night before last when he went to work.  He hoped she'd show up today but hadn't seen her yet.  Do you…"

"It's been over twenty-four hours.  Go ahead and talk with Mr. Snyder about everything that he can remember from the last night he saw her," Sam responded.  He at once knew that Sarah was why he was here.

"You got it, Chief," the young man gave a curt nod, closed the door, and started away.

Sam watched as the young man went to a desk ten feet from his office.  Not sure why he felt led to do so, Sam stood and opened the door.  "Miller?"

"Yeah, Chief?"

"Just check back with me when you get back."

"Sure thing." 

Sam watched as Miller grabbed a drink from his desk, smiled, and left the small police department.  He looked across the small bullpen and saw the receptionist sitting at the desk closest to the door.  She pulled her blonde hair up into a ponytail and turned in her chair to look at him.  Her blue eyes sparkled as she smiled.  "Do you need anything, sir?"

"No, thank you.  I'm good." 

Sam slightly waved her off, then turned and returned to his office, leaving the door open.  He glanced down at the nameplate on his desk that read: Chief Patrick Hendrickson. 

He heard the phone ring out in the office, and the receptionist answered, "Coldspring Police Department.  This is Amber; how may I help you?"

Amber was quiet for a moment as the answer came across the phone.  Sam heard a commotion; his head jerked up, and he quickly turned around to see Amber standing at her desk; the chair she had been sitting on was turned over on the floor, and the phone had fallen from her hand.  Sam quickly went to her.  He grabbed the phone and pressed it to his ear to hear the dial tone.

Putting the phone back in the cradle, Sam placed his hand on Amber's shoulder, and she jumped.  "Amber?" he asked softly.  "Who was that?"

Amber turned slightly to look at him, tears welling in her eyes.  "I… I don't know." Her voice was breathy as a single tear rolled down her cheek. 

"What did they say?"

"It… it was a man…" another tear rolled down her other cheek.  "He s-sounded ex-excited."

"Okay.  What was said?" Sam queried softly.

"He said, 'I just killed Sarah Snyder.'"

Not knowing what else to say, Sam softly said, "Oh boy."

PART ONE

Coldspring, TX

September 6, 1989

Sam leaned down to pick up the upturned chair.

Once it was set back up, he gently maneuvered Amber to the chair and sat her down.  He pulled up a chair and sat beside her.  "Was that everything that he said?"

"Yes.  That's all he said."

"Could you hear anything else on the call?" Sam questioned.

"No.  He sounded like he was out of breath – excited."

"Did you recognize the voice?"

Amber's voice cracked as she said, "No, I didn't."

"Okay." Sam ran his hand over his face and then touched her shoulder gently.  Sam chewed softly on his cheek for a split second as the Imaging Chamber door opened to his left.  "Do you know Sarah Snyder?"

"Sarah was a junior when I graduated last year.  She was nice to everyone – she was quiet, a straight-A student if I remember correctly.  Everyone knows everyone here.  But you know how it is in this town, Chief Hendrickson.  You sneeze at one end, and by the time you get to the other, someone says bless you.  Everyone knows your business, too.  It's annoying."

Sam grinned slightly, knowing exactly what she was saying as he glanced at Al.

"Isn't that the truth," Al said as he bobbed up on his toes with a smirk and pulled out the handlink from his pocket.

"I can't believe what I just heard," Amber said as she wiped the tears from her face.

"Why is she crying?  What did she hear?" Al queried.     

 "I understand." Sam quickly glanced at his hologram and met Amber's gaze. "Look, it's about time for you to go.  Why don't you go ahead and go home?  Once you're there, please do me a favor and call me.  Okay?"

 "Okay." Amber opened the desk drawer and grabbed her purse.  After shouldering the small bag, she quickly turned and wrapped her arms around Sam for a brief hug.  "Thank you for understanding." 

"You're welcome." 

Amber pushed her chair toward her desk and then gave a small wave as she left the police department.

Sam watched as she got in her car and then pulled away before he turned to his holographic friend, who was dressed in a royal purple silk long-sleeved shirt and black slacks. 

"What's going on, Sam?"

"Well, I know a little about what is happening here.  It's September 6, 1989.  I leaped into the Chief of Police of Coldspring, Texas, who's named Patrick Hendrickson.  I have Officer Miller looking into the disappearance of Sarah Snyder, and just minutes ago, Amber heard someone on the phone say that they killed her."

Al’s eyebrows popped up at the news that Sam had already gotten from the leap.  He pulled the handlink out of his pocket.  “Ziggy, give me anything you know about Sarah Snyder from Coldspring, Texas.”  The handlink took a moment to respond to Al.  “Come on, Ziggy.  Let me know what you have on Sarah Snyder.”  He gave the handlink a whack on the side.

It squealed loudly, and then Al continued.  "Sarah Snyder, 17 years old.  M. I. A.  So, either she ran away or …" Al paused as he looked up at Sam.

"Let's just hope right now that she's a run-away," Sam said as he returned to the office where he had first found himself. "I have Officer Miller getting information from Sarah's father.  I also told him to check in with me when he gets back.  So, for right now… I guess I wait."

Al grimaced at the thought of what that could mean for Sarah.  He shook his head, pulled up the door to head back into the future, and said, "I'm going to go back to talk with Chief Hendrickson to see if he remembers anything about Sarah.  Maybe not the disappearance, but her in general.  I'll be back."

Sam nodded as he paced for a moment before he spied the half-filled coffee pot sitting on the countertop in the other room.  It would at least be something to sip on while he waited for Amber to call and for Officer Miller to return.

Approximately fifteen minutes had passed before the telephone rang, and Amber reported that she was home safely.  Sam thanked her, told her he would see her the next day, and then hung up the telephone.  He sat back in the chair, sipping the coffee, thinking about what had happened since he had leaped in.  Why would someone call in and say that they had murdered the young woman?  What would make them do such a thing?  What had she done to make someone hurt her?  There were too many questions and not enough answers.  He took another drink of his coffee as the door to the station opened, and Officer Miller appeared.

Officer Miller didn't stop at his desk.  He went directly to Sam to report in.  "Chief, Mr. Snyder is mighty upset about his daughter, and rightly so.  According to him, Sarah was at the house the night before last.  He had kissed her goodnight right before he went to work.  Mr. Snyder works the late shift over at Marlow's.  He was expecting her home after school today but has not heard from her.  I asked him if he thought she had run away from home.  He said no - that she was happy at home.  He even said Sarah would get a job next week to help with the finances.  I told him that we would start looking for her."

 Sam nodded at the man's words, then said, "We had a phone call earlier about Sarah."

"Has someone seen her?"

Sam shook his head slightly.  "Whoever was on the other end told Amber that they had killed Sarah Snyder."

"What?  What are we going to do?"

"We're going to do our best to locate Sarah – hopefully alive." He stood up from his chair.  "At this point, I think that we should begin searching for her as a missing person until we know more otherwise."

 "Yes, sir." Officer Miller replied softly.  "Patrick, this one worries me."

Sam nodded.  "Me, too…"

"Peter," a gravelly voice said beside him, causing him to flinch.

"Peter.  Me, too."

"Sam, we need to talk," Al said softly.

"Thanks for reporting in.  Go ahead and head on out.  I've got things to do here before I leave.  Close the door for me, please?"

"Sure thing.  Before I go home for the night, I’ll drive around and look around the town.  If I see teenagers out, I can ask them if they've seen Sarah."

"I was going to do the same thing.  Great minds think alike."

"Night, Chief."

"Night."

Peter Miller smiled softly and closed the office door before returning to his desk.  Sam watched as he sorted through paperwork on his desk, grabbed his hat, then left the station.  "What is it, Al?  Is she…"

"Dead?  We don't know.  She's still a missing person.  According to Ziggy, Jason and Margaret Snyder were married in early 1969 and divorced in 1978 when Sarah was six.  Margaret didn't want anything to do with either of them, so she gave custody of Sarah over to Jason.  He never remarried.  According to everything that Ziggy could find, Jason had put out missing person flyers everywhere to try to find his daughter.  He even searched in the woods for her.  Nothing ever came from it.  People said that there were rumors that Sarah was hiding out at a drug house – that she was hiding from her father.  But that's all that it was - rumors.  No one has found her yet."

"Girls just don't go missing, Al."

"I know, Sam."

“Did Chief Hendrickson know anything about Sarah?”

“He remembered her.  He said that she was a wonderful person and would often bake cookies and brownies and then give them to Detective Miller to bring in.  According to Chief Hendrickson, Sarah lived right down the road from Peter Miller.  However, he doesn’t know anything about her going missing.”

Sam sighed and shook his head.  "I'm going to find that girl, Al.  I can't let that poor man suffer about his daughter."

Before he left that night, he grabbed a small duffle bag his host had stored on his filing cabinet.  He then grabbed gloves, evidence bags, and a camera from another cabinet drawer.  He knew he had to be prepared for whatever he would find when he would begin looking for Sarah in the morning.

By the time he had left the small police department, it was dark, which made searching for her even more difficult.  With Al's help, he got to his host's house.  As he closed the door, he turned to see a small bowl on a table next to the door.  He placed his keys in the bowl and looked up to catch his reflection in the mirror.  His host was handsome, semi-bald with salt and pepper black hair, had dark brown eyes, a graying goatee, a muscular build, and looked to be around fifty years old.  "We are going to find her." 

He then meandered into the rest of the house, thankful that his host was a bachelor.  He went to the kitchen to see if something was available to eat.

Opening the refrigerator, he found a box of pepperoni pizza sitting inside.  He opened the box, grabbed a piece of the pizza, and began to eat without heating it.

He then found the primary bedroom.  He stripped, placed the clothes in the hamper, went over to the bed, and promptly fell asleep.

PART TWO

September 7, 1989

After an exceptionally long, restless night, Sam woke up, showered, and dressed in blue jeans and a purple pullover shirt.  He quickly put on tennis shoes and headed downstairs to the small kitchen that his host had.  He made a quick breakfast of eggs and toast with a tall tumbler of coffee.  He sat at the table to eat when the holographic door opened across the room from him.  He finished the bite in his mouth as he watched Al meander toward him.  Before Al said anything to him, Sam yawned tiredly.

"Didn't sleep well, huh?" Al questioned as he tilted his head to look at his best friend.

"Not at all.  When I did sleep, I had nightmares." Sam stifled another yawn and then took a sip of his coffee. 

"You know, it's going to make things even more difficult for you to work when you're that tired."

"I'll be fine." He finished the rest of his breakfast and then put the dirty dishes in the sink.  He grabbed his keys and wallet, then went to the door.  "Let's go find her."

Walking out to the car, he got in and sat there for a brief moment thinking.  When Al popped onto the seat beside him, Sam jumped slightly and shook his head. 

"I've told you – until you can fix it to where I can fade in – you'll just have to deal with it," Al said with a grin.  "So, what are you waiting for?"

"Have Ziggy search for favorite spots that teenagers like to visit in a sixty-mile radius around the town."

Al programmed in the query, and he said after a brief moment, "Ziggy says there is one spot that teenagers like to go to, and that's in the forest.  They call it 'The Hole in the Woods.' It's up in Sam Houston National Forest – not far away."

"Tell me how to get there."

Twenty minutes later, Sam stopped the car.  He took a long, deep breath.  He hoped that he would find something that would help him.

He grabbed the small duffle bag he had packed last night from the backseat.  He looked at Al and then opened the door.

After closing the door, Sam quickly took a brief look around.  The area he was standing in was breathtaking.  Sam would have loved to relax in these woods if he had not been looking for a lost teenager.  The "Hole in the Woods" was precisely what he thought it would be:  an area in the woods where the trees opened up into a circular alcove.  He could see the appeal to teenagers to come to this spot to drink, dance, and hang out. 

Even as Sam looked around the area, he could see Al meandering ten feet away.  He noticed a small trail heading away from the area and slowly followed it.  Sam's eyes searched everywhere as he walked.  He had gotten forty feet down the trail when he heard his name called out.

"Sam!"

Sam quickly turned on his heel and ran back to where Al stood.  Al was at least forty feet in the other direction, pointing to something on the ground.  Sam came to a stop and looked down to where Al was pointing.  He knelt and glanced at the small rectangular object lying on the ground.  Opening up the duffle bag, he grabbed the camera and a V plastic marker with the number 1 written on it.  Placing the marker beside the item, he snapped a picture.  It was a credit card – lying with the front side down.  Pulling out the gloves he had shoved in his pockets, he put them on and flipped the credit card over.  He was hoping beyond hope that it wouldn't be Sarah's.  His face fell when he read the name Sarah L. Snyder. 

"It's Sarah's."

He raised the camera and took a picture of the other side – this time with marker number 2.  He pulled out an evidence bag, opened it, and placed the credit card inside.  Then, he put the evidence bag into the duffle bag. 

"Here's another one, Sam.  It's over here near this bush," Al said somberly.

Sam went to where Al was pointing and repeated the same procedure with the other credit card with markers 3 & 4.  He had barely put it in the evidence bag when he saw something blue within the bush. 

Raising the camera once more, he took a picture of the bush.  He didn't have enough hands to put the 5th marker down and move the bush, so he improvised and took pictures.  He then moved the limbs further and took another.  Reaching into the bush, he pulled on the blue item, taking photos as he did so.  Once unraveled from the bush, he realized he had pulled out a pair of cutoff jeans.  He then put the marker down beside the jeans and took another picture.  He felt like he was being picture-happy, but he'd rather be safe than sorry later with evidence like this.  Pulling out another evidence bag, he carefully put the jeans in the evidence bag and then placed it in the duffle bag. 

"Do you see anything else, Al?"

"I don't see anything else – at least not right here."

Sam shook his head.  "Nothing.  Nothing else is here."

Al sighed softly.  "If I could, I'd set you on the right path, Sam."

Sam backed up to a tree trunk and looked up at the limbs above.  His eyes traced the tree limbs above him, and he closed his eyes.

"This doesn't bode well, Sam."

"I know, Al." Sam shook his head.  "Give me a minute, okay?"

"Sure, buddy."

Sam slowly moved away from the tree and moved further into the woods.  He slowly walked up the path from where they found the credit cards and followed the path into the trees toward a ridge.  He had traveled up the path a hundred feet into the tree line, away from the path he had been following.  That's when he saw something that took his breath away.

His eyes immediately brimmed with tears.  Sam shook his head and breathed through his mouth to stop himself from getting sick at what he saw.  He knelt beside the body and visibly investigated Sarah Snyder’s remains.  Sarah had been brutally beaten – her face was black and blue, her eyes closed as if she was asleep.  There was blunt force trauma to her head – from either a hammer or a bat. Her brown hair was matted with blood, dirt, and leaves from the injury.  There was evidence of sexual trauma.  Her shirt was pulled above her chest, she didn’t have pants on, and her legs were spread.  There was a possibility of rape as her underwear was halfway down one leg.  She was mutilated as if whoever had done this was trying to cover up evidence of what they had done.  Insects had already found her, and larvae were already present and crawling over the apparent injuries.  Once he finished his visual investigation of her body, he stood up and headed back down to where Al was standing.

Seeing the tears falling down his cheeks, Al frowned. "Sam?"

"I found her, Al.  Whoever killed her was a sick son-of-a-bitch."

"Where?"

“She’s up near the ridge over there in the tree line.”  Sam wiped the tears away and returned to his police car.  Al followed.  Once in the car, he picked up his CB Radio and said, "This is Chief Hendrickson.

I have a…"

"187, Sam."

"… a 187 at Sam Houston National Forest at the 'Hole in the Woods.' Please send the coroner."

"Damn." It was Peter Miller's voice on the radio.  "We'll be there ASAP, Chief."

"10-4." Sam placed the radio receiver back in its cradle, sipped the coffee that was beginning to get cold, then closed his eyes and let the tears flow.  As far as he was concerned, he was too late.

PART THREE

As promised, the coroner and other officers appeared on scene five minutes later.  Sam stayed in the car and watched his crew as they went to work.  He discovered that his officers needed a solid constitution.  They had quickly removed themselves from the scene to regurgitate elsewhere.

He watched solemnly as the coroner put Sarah's body in the ambulance to take her to the morgue.  He knew how the autopsy report would read after his visual inspection, and he was more than surprised at how angry he was getting. 

"Why?  Why didn't I get here in time?"

"Sam, it's not your fault.  You can't save everyone," Al said somberly.

"Why not?" he asked with frustration.

"Maybe you're here for something else.  Maybe you're here to find Sarah and get her murderer.  Ziggy says that if you hadn't been here – they may not have ever found her body."

"That can't be true, Al.  She was a hundred feet up over that ridge.  Someone else could have found her.  All they needed to do was to look."

"Yes, but at this point, DNA hasn't gotten as far as it has in our time.  Maybe there's DNA on her body that could pinpoint her murderer because you found her body now and not later."

"Maybe…."

"There you go.  See – you've done good there, Sam."

With a bleak look at his friend, Sam replied, "It doesn't feel that way."

"I know, Sam.  I know."

Once Sam and Peter Miller returned to the police station, they were quiet for a long time as each processed the information from the scene.  Sam moved into the bullpen to get another cup of coffee when he saw Peter reach for the telephone.

He dialed the number, cleared his throat, and waited patiently for the person on the other end to pick up.  "Hello, Mr. Snyder?  This is Detective Peter Miller." 

Sam sighed as he leaned against the counter and listened to the one-sided conversation.

"Yes, sir.  We found Sarah." There was a long moment as Mr. Snyder responded to that statement.  "We found her remains at the 'Hole in the Woods' area.  She was up in the wood line, sir.  You would have found her if you had gone further up the trail, behind a brushy area over the ridge.  I'm sorry, sir.  Do you want to come down to verify that it's her?" Another pause.  "Yes, sir.  I knew Sarah.  I can verify that it is her." Another slight pause.  "I understand, sir.  I am so sorry for your loss, Mr. Snyder.  If there is anything that I can help you with…" Mr. Snyder seemed to talk for a moment.  "I'll do my best, sir.  Again, if you need anything or can remember anything from the night she disappeared, please don't hesitate to call.  Goodbye."

Peter gently placed the phone back in the cradle and softly shook his head. 

The silence in the room was almost deafening.

Sam finally broke it after he sipped his coffee.  "You handled that well, Peter."

Peter smiled sadly as he ran his hand through his hair.  "I guess I learned from the best," he gave a lop-sided grin as he looked at Sam, but it slowly faded as he said, "I would have gone to his house, but I told him that as soon as we knew anything, I'd call him."

"He didn't want to come down to verify that it's her?" Sam questioned.

Peter leaned back in his chair as he shook his head negatively.  "No. He didn't want his last image of his daughter to be tarnished.  He wants to remember her as she was before.  Like you heard – I knew Sarah.  It's, unfortunately, her.  I hate that this happened to her.  She was a beautiful person – inside and out.”

The Imaging Chamber door opened beside Sam, and he stood up to cover up that the door had startled him.    

"She would make cookies or brownies – you remember when I brought some cookies last week?"  

Sam nodded even though he didn't remember the incident but recalled what Al had told him earlier from Chief Hendrickson.      

"Sarah baked those.  She brought them to the house, handed them to me, and told me, ‘You guys do so much for our community.  I want to show my appreciation by making you some more cookies.’  She even ensured that my favorite cookie was there:  peanut butter chocolate chip.”

"Ooo… that sounds yummy, Sam.  What a kind soul,” Al said as he pocketed the handlink.

"A kind soul," Sam repeated, then moved toward Peter.  He softly put his hand on his shoulder in an empathetic way.  "Pete, are you okay?"       

"Oh, yes, sir.  It was just something that Mr. Snyder said before he got off the phone with me – when I asked if there was anything that I could do to help, he said, 'Find the bastard that killed my daughter.' I told him that I'd do my best."      

"Is there a but in there somewhere?" Sam queried.      

"Sort of.  What if I can't find the person who did this to Sarah?  What then?"       

Sam gave his shoulder a slight squeeze.  "We'll find them and put them away, Peter.  Don't give up before we've even started." Sam gave him a small smile.  "Look, I have some paperwork that needs to get done in my office.  If you need anything, just come on in.  Okay?"       

"Yes, sir."       

After entering his office, Sam closed the door and looked at Al as he walked through the office wall.  "What does Ziggy say now?"       

Al pulled the multi-colored handlink out of his pocket.  "According to Ziggy, Peter never finds out who killed Sarah."       

"You're kidding me."      

"No.  Ziggy says that every lead he gets just fizzled out."       

"Then why am I still here?  I mean, we found her body."       

"Ziggy says you're possibly here to help Peter Miller with the interviews.  You may notice something that he didn't.  Once you do that, he may get a chance to find the monster who killed that poor girl."       

"Okay, so we start with family, friends, then acquaintances.  That's an awful lot of interviews, Al.  I could be here a while."

“True.  So, start with family and slowly work your way through it.  You’ll want to make sure to document everything.  Nothing is too small to write down.” Al waved his arms elaborately in a circular way to make a point.  “Nothing.”

The rest of the afternoon, Peter Miller and Sam began to set up interviews with all of the family and any friends of Sarah’s that the family knew.  They both understood that the family wouldn’t have much more to say than they already knew, but they could give more insight into Sarah herself.  He didn’t care how much it took. He was going to do his level best to find out who murdered that poor girl.

PART FOUR

September 10, 1989

Saturday

Sam and Peter Miller interviewed Sarah Snyder's family and friends for two days straight.  No one had any harsh words to say about Sarah.  They all described her as someone you could say anything to without judgment: a sweet, caring, beautiful young woman who loved her family and friends fiercely.  No one could think of anyone who disliked Sarah or would try to hurt her.

They tried to chase down the phone call that Amber had gotten, but nothing came of that.  Things were quickly coming down to a slow crawl.  They were still trying to find the last person who had seen Sarah alive. 

Sam was beginning to work on setting up interviews with acquaintances of Sarah when he learned that Sarah’s funeral was at 2:00 PM.  He called the rest of the police department and asked if they would attend the funeral.  Everyone said that they would.

Jacob Snyder had decided to have a small graveside funeral for his daughter after the police questioned his family.  He made sure that it was a close casket event.  He felt that someone who knew her had killed her, and he didn’t want any male pallbearers. So, he asked her female cousins to be the pallbearers at the funeral.  

The entire high school population – teachers and students alike – were there for Sarah’s funeral.  After the pastor finished his sermon, he approached Mr. Snyder as Sam and the rest of the police department watched from the sidelines. “Mr. Snyder, there are students who have letters for Sarah.  Would it be okay with you if they came up to place the letters on her casket in a moment?”

With tears falling down his face, Mr. Snyder replied softly, “That… sounds okay… to me, Reverend.” 

The reverend cleared his throat, then announced, “Everyone who wrote a letter for Sarah may bring the letters to her casket.”

As teenagers approached the casket, the reverend said, “Many people are here today. The last few days have been stressful for Mr. Snyder and his family. So, please bring down the letters, and then if you feel led to talk with Mr. Snyder or the rest of the family, you may do so and then disperse so that the family can have their space or time alone with Sarah.  I appreciate your patience, and may the Lord be with you as you go home today.”

Sam was still standing to the side when the Imaging Chamber door opened to reveal Al dressed in a dark suit and holding one of his cigars.  He looked at the crowd that came to her funeral.  “It seems that Sarah was a well-liked person.”

Sam nodded at the comment.  He didn’t want to appear to be talking to himself, so he brought his hand up as he faked a yawn.  “Anything new on who did this?”

“No, Sam.  We put in all the information you received from the family over the last two days.  Nothing.  I wish that I could give you better news.” 

By the time everyone left, Mr. Snyder was still sitting in the chair, looking at his daughter’s casket.  He sighed as he glanced at the letters on and about the flowers on her casket.  He slowly stood up and approached her casket.  He kissed his fingertips and then placed them on the mahogany casket.  “Until I see you again, sweetheart,” he said softly, took a few steps away, took his girlfriend’s hand, and slowly walked back to his car to leave. 

As Jason Snyder and Melanie Johnson, his girlfriend, started to pass Sam and Peter, he paused and looked at them.  “I’m depending on you,” he said simply as he met Peter’s gaze, then continued to his car.

Sam and Peter watched as they slowly made it to the car; he opened the door for his girlfriend, closed it after she got in, then went around to the driver’s side and got in.  Only after the car had driven away did Peter turn to look at Sam.  “I can’t let him down.  I have to find out who did this.”

“We’ll find out who did this, Peter,” Sam said plainly.  “We have interviews tomorrow.  Someone’s gotta know something.”

September 11, 1989

Sam entered the room, where Peter and a young woman sat across from each other.  Her short brunette hair moved freely as she shook her head to something Peter had asked.

Peter licked his lips before he picked up a coffee cup and took a long drink.  “Okay, Julie.  You can’t shake your head.  This interview is being recorded.  You have to speak when you answer the question.”

Julie grinned sheepishly.  “I’m sorry, Detective Miller.  I’m just nervous.  I’ve never been interviewed by the police before.”

Sam smiled at the young woman as he went to a chair beside Peter and sat down. “Thank you for coming down to the station today, Ms. Latimer.  I’m sorry that I’m late.  My alarm did not go off this morning.  So, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to go back over a few things with me while I’m here.”

“Where Sarah is concerned, I’m willing to answer any questions.  She is - was my best friend.”

“I’m sorry for your loss, Julie,” Sam said softly.

“Thanks,” she replied softly as a tear appeared in her eye.

Sam could hear the Imaging Chamber door open, and Al appeared in the corner of the room.  He stepped through the wall and frowned slightly before he walked further into the room and waved at Sam. 

Sam glanced down at the questions that he had before him.  “Let’s see here.  When was the last time you saw Sarah?”  Sam questioned as he glanced at Peter.

“I saw her every afternoon during our sixth-period class – English.  That was the last time I saw her.  I had to go to work after school.”

“So, you wouldn’t know if she went out with anyone that evening,” Sam stated plainly.

“I’m sorry, no, I wouldn’t.”

“Did Sarah have a boyfriend?” Peter queried.

“No, she didn’t.”

“Did she like to go to the ‘Hole in the Woods’?” 

“Who doesn’t?” Julie said plainly.  “I mean, it’s a great spot – so beautiful, and we would get on bikes and ride the trails there.  I… I don’t think that I’ll be riding the trails there anymore.  I mean, we live in a small town.  Anyone could be the one who hurt Sarah.  It could be the next-door neighbor.  I don’t feel safe.  So, my butt is staying at home.”

Sam and Peter nodded, but Sam said, “Understandably, we are going to do our level best to find out who did this, Julie.”

Julie stood up from the table, flustered.  “I… I have to return to school, but please let me know if you need me.”

Sam smiled at her.  “Thank you for coming in, Julie.  We appreciate you.”

Julie nodded.  “Please just find the asshole who did this,” she said, grabbed her purse, then walked out of the small room.

Peter clicked the button on the recorder to stop it, then sighed frustratedly.  “We have a couple of kids coming in today.  Maybe they know something. I’m going to get something to eat.  Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you,” Sam said as Peter stood and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Sam turned back to his hologram.  “Any update on what’s going on here?”

Al shook his head.  “I’m sorry, Sam.  Ziggy can’t seem to find anything about Sarah’s death.”

Sam picked up the only thing he could throw – a pen – and flung it across the small room, only to land in the corner.  “Damn it.  This is beyond frustrating.”

“I know, Sam.  Police work isn’t for everyone.  It’s a lot of hard work – where sometimes it doesn’t matter how long and how bad you want it – some things don’t pan out.”

Sam pointed toward the ceiling.  “If He wants me to figure it out, then He will have to help me!” He rubbed his face hard, then leaned his head back, trying to think. 

“Maybe Peter has the right idea.  Maybe you need a break.  Go ahead and get something to eat.  You never know when something might be said, and bam,” Al said with a clap of his hands, “it’s the one thing that helps with the case.”

Sam slowly stood up from his chair and shook his head.  “Let’s hope that’s exactly what happens.”  He took a few steps and opened the door to see a young man looking like a deer in headlights with Miller standing behind him. 

“Chief Hendrickson, this is Braden Danvers.  Braden just came in to talk with us about Sarah Snyder.  Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, sir,” the young man replied as he tried to put on a brave face.  He straightened his blue jacket, walked into the room, sat down, and crossed his arms over his chest.

Sam and Al looked at each other before Sam sat across from Braden.  Al stood behind Sam, looking expectantly at the young man.  Peter also sat and then began after hitting the recorder's record button.  “Okay, Braden.  We are recording these interviews, and if needed, we may also do polygraphs to help verify what happened.  Go ahead.  You said that you had some information on Sarah Snyder?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.  I don’t care.  I would have been here sooner, but I had to go out of town to get my cousin,” he said as he ran his hand through his jet-black hair.  “Sarah was out with us last Tuesday night,” he stated plainly. 

Sam and Peter shot a look at each other, but it was Sam who said, “Us?  Who’s us?”

“There were nine of us out at the ‘Hole in the Woods’ last Tuesday night.  Let me think.”  As he talked, Peter quickly wrote down what Braden said even though it was being recorded.  “It was me, Jessica Paterson, Levi Parker, Leslie Robinson, Chase Sanders, Monica Bradley, Steve Sanders, uh, and oh yeah, Shannon – uh, what is her last name – yeah… Shannon Johnson. That’s 8 of us – and Sarah.”

“What were you doing out there?” Peter asked. 

“Like we always do.  We ride the trails in our cars… and the like…”

Al snorted, “And the like – like drinking.”

Sam repeated, “And the like – like drinking?  Smoking?  Exactly what is the like that you mentioned there, Braden?”

“Yeah. We drink and smoke and listen to the radio.  Sometimes, make out with the chicks.  You know… kids blowing off some steam.” He threw his arm over the back of the chair and tried to lean back as he cocked his head.

“Blowing off some steam.  Okay.  So, when did Sarah show up?” Peter questioned.

“If I remember right, she got there around ten, maybe.  Everyone paired up to ride on the trails – we only had three cars.  She had gotten in the car with me and Levi Parker, and we rode on the trails for a while.  Around eleven o’clock, she got all pissy and whiney about how she needed to get home, so we went back to the ‘Hole.’  Everyone was there.  Sarah got out of my car quickly and asked if someone could give her a ride home.  I guess she didn’t want to ride with me anymore.  She kept yelling about how I drive.  I can’t help it if I like to drift a little around the corners.” He paused, looking at them with a slight grin.  “Anyway, Chase and Steve Sanders said they live near her, so they’d take her.  I saw her get in the car with them, and that’s all I know.”

Al entered a query on the handlink.  “All of the kids he named are all kids at the school.  At least you have a start on getting some good data there, Sam.”

Sam nodded at Al’s words as well as what Braden had said.  “Alright, Braden.  Is there anything else that you can remember from that night?”

“Nope.  That’s it, man.”

“Thank you, Braden.  You’ve helped us out a lot.  We’ll be calling in the others to talk with them about Sarah to verify what you told us,” Peter replied.

“I’m not lying.  I’ll take a polygraph on that.  Sarah rode in my car, but that’s all, and she left with them.  After that…” he shrugged half-heartedly.  “I mean, I hate that she died.  She was… okay for a chick.”

Al scoffed at his remark.  “Jerk.”

“Well, we appreciate you coming in.  Thank you,” Sam said.

Braden stood up, bobbed his head, took three steps, opened the door, and left.

“You got all of those names written down?” Sam queried.

“Got 'em.”

“Set up interviews with them ASAP.”

“Yes, sir,” Peter said, then went to his desk.

By the time they interviewed everyone except for Chase and Steve Sanders, it had already been a week since Sarah’s death.  Everyone had the same story as Braden.  Sarah had shown up at ‘The Hole in the Woods’ around ten o’clock, riding on the trails with Levi Parker and Braden Danvers, then leaving with Chase and Steve Sanders.

Once the Sanders brothers had come to the police station with permission from their parents, Peter and Sam interviewed them separately about what happened.  First, they interviewed Chase, and because he and his brother had been the last to see Sarah, they wanted to perform a polygraph immediately.  Al was enamored with the polygraph test, so he stood in the corner and watched the scene play out.

Sam sat across from the teen and asked, “So, tell me, Chase, what exactly do you remember from last Tuesday night?” 

Chase semi-squirmed in the chair as he sat straighter to look both officers in the eye.  “All I remember is that Sarah showed up around ten o’clock.  We were all drinking and riding around.  Sometime around eleven thirty, she asked if someone could take her home.  She got in the car with us, and we talked about watching a movie and drinking while her dad was at work.  When we got to her house, she said she was tired and that maybe we could watch movies next time.  So, we left.  A porch light was on, and we saw her dog jumping inside.”

“Is that all?” Sam asked as Peter secured leads around Chase’s chest and stomach. 

“Yeah, man,” he said as Peter placed a lead on his finger.

“Okay, Chase, now that we have all the leads in place, all you have to do is answer these questions with yes and no answers.  Ready?”  Peter queried.

The sandy-haired teen shrugged his head and said, “Not really.”

“Just tell the truth.  Answer yes or no,” Sam said plainly.

Chase nodded, and then Peter began, “Is your name Chase Sanders?”

“Yes.”

“Are you seventeen years old?”

“Yes.”

“Did Sarah show up to the Hole in the Woods around 10 PM?”

“Yes.”

“Were you born in 1970?”

“No.  I was born in 1972, dude.”

“Chase, don’t discuss anything.  Just answer yes or no,” Sam said again.

“Again, were you born in 1970?”

“No,” Chase said and semi-yawned to show how bored he was.

“Did you go by Sarah’s house on Tuesday, September 4^th?

“Yes.”

“Do you own a motorcycle?”

“No,” the young man sighed, then yawned again.

“Do you know who hurt Sarah?”

“No.”

“Do you live on South Street in Coldspring, TX?”

“Yes.”

“Did you hurt Sarah?” Peter asked plainly.

Another yawn.  “No.”

“Is today Tuesday, September 12th?”

“Yes.”

Peter then stopped the machine, went to the young man, and took all the leads and monitors off him.  Sam asked, “Do you have anything to say about what happened to Sarah?”

Again, Chase squirmed in his chair, “I think it’s horrible this happened, man.  Just horrible.”

Sam nodded.  “We agree.  If we need you for anything else, we’ll be in contact.  Okay?”

“Sure,” Chase said as he yawned once more.  “Should I send Steve in now?”

“Please.”

Even as Chase opened the door, he saw Steve and bobbed his head back to motion him toward the room.  “They’re ready for you now.”

“Thanks, bro,” Steve said as he strolled into the room.  He folded his arms over his chest for a brief moment.  “So, how’s this gonna work?”

Sam briefly looked the young man up and down, then said, “We’ll talk about what happened and ask you some questions while we perform a polygraph.  Then we’re done – unless we have something come up.  Sound good?”

Al walked around the young man and blew smoke from his cigar in his face.  “I don’t like him, Sam.”

“Come on in, Steve,” Detective Miller replied.  He motioned to the chair opposite them.  “Have a seat, and we’ll get started.”

Steve said the same thing that Chase had said.  Steve answered the polygraph questions the same way – almost word for word, except Sam had to explain several times to answer the questions with a yes or no. He also seemed to be bored with the whole scenario.  Al watched through squinted eyes as if trying to read the young man’s soul.

As Peter was taking the equipment off of Steve and putting it away, Sam asked the young man, “If we should find out who did this, do you have a preference for what should happen to this person?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod as he stood up and pushed the chair to the table.  He met Sam’s eyes.  “Lock ‘em up for good.”

“Lock ‘em up for good, huh?” Peter queried back.

“Yeah,” he paused for emphasis.  “Solitary.” 

Sam looked at the young man.  “I believe that would be a good place as well.”

The young man slightly grinned, pointed at Sam, then turned and started toward the door.  Peter met him there and said pointedly, “If we need you to come back to answer a few more questions, we’ll let you know.”

With the same grin, he looked back at Sam and said, “Yeah, you do that.” 

“I really don’t like that kid, Sam,” Al said.  “He’s…”

Peter watched as the two young men exited the police department.  “They seem so… smarmy.” 

“Yes!  That’s it!” Al exclaimed excitedly.  “I really like him, Sam!”

Sam grinned.  “I agree,” Sam said, answering both of them simultaneously.   He stood up and started toward the door.

Peter looked back at the readouts on the table and sighed.  “According to the readouts – They’re telling the truth.  We still don’t know anything – even after all of this.”

Sam laid his hand on Peter’s shoulder.  “We have a start.  That’s better than nothing at all.”

Peter nodded, rolled up the paperwork, then exited the interrogation room.  Sam started after him, then started toward his office when he felt the sensation of an impending leap.  He frowned.  He wasn’t done with this – he hadn’t figured anything out.  Why was he leaping now?   He wanted to yell out – he wanted to say something, but the sensation swept over him in mid-step, and he leaped.

EPILOGUE

As Sam felt himself taken out of the timeline, he wondered exactly why he had leaped into Chief Patrick Hendrickson.  What had been the purpose?  Why?  What was I there to do? He questioned the void.  There wasn’t an answer to his question, but he felt the swift push into another person’s life. 

He blinked and found himself sitting at one of the desks at the same police department he had just been in.  He wasn’t sure who he was, but he glanced down at his chest to see his nametag.  It read: Det. Stephenson.  He looked at the computer monitor displaying a Coldspring Police Department screensaver, slightly moved the mouse to make the screensaver leave, and looked at the bottom of the screen to see the date:  08/25/2011. 

Twenty-two years had passed since his last leap.  He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet to look at his ID:  Mark Stephenson, born March 2, 1971, 6’2”, living at 2545 Magnolia Street in Coldspring.  He pocketed his wallet again and looked at his desk to see what his host was working on. 

“Stephenson, Miller, and Donaldson, please come to my office.”

Hearing his host’s name, Sam stood up and returned to the office that had been his not too long ago.  He quickly stepped into the office.  He was pleased to see an older Peter Miller grinning at him.  “Chief Greene.  We are all here,” Peter said as Donaldson came up behind Sam.

“I know it’s only been a few months since I got this job.  I have reviewed the files and want new eyes on an old case,” Chief Daniel Greene stated.  “There is one case here that hasn’t been solved.”

“You’re talking about the Sarah Snyder case, aren’t you?” Peter asked.

“Yes.  You were one of the people who did the investigation with Patrick Hendrickson, correct?” 

“Yes, sir,” Peter said softly.

“I’d like to have a behavioral analysis team get together and build a profile for the killer.  From the information you gathered twenty-two years ago, someone in her age group likely killed her, probably drug and/or alcohol related, maybe more than one perpetrator, likely sexually motivated, and probably killed by someone she knew.”

“I agree, sir,” Peter said plainly. 

“Miller and Stephenson, I want you to pore back over this material.  If you need to, re-investigate everyone.  I want this one cleared off the books. Stephenson?”

“Yes?” Sam answered.

“You used to be on a cold case task force.  Please dig deep into this.  You and Miller will be on this until it’s done.”

“Yes, sir," Sam stated.

“Donaldson, you will continue with normal duties.  Dismissed.”

The men slowly split from the chief’s office, and Peter clapped Sam on the shoulder.  “I’ve been waiting for this day, Mark.  I promised her father I’d find out who did it,” he said.  “I’ll go get the files and meet you in the interrogation room to spread stuff out.”

Sam nodded.  As Peter walked away, Sam said, “Oh boy.”