Fatal Vision Read online

nervous,” the priest surmised. “Like you said, you’re a witness to murder.”

  Cole had already thought of that possibility. There were only two people to whom he had revealed his supernatural ability and one of them was dead. The other was his wife’s lover.

  Actually, his wife and best friend had both thought he was insane when he first entrusted them with that sensitive information. Neither his wife nor best friend really believed him when he explained about being able to see through the eyes of others. They patronized him, believing his alleged gift of second sight was a psychosis brought on by the lightning strike, despite his descriptions in great detail of things he had seen.

  He had seen a lot of things. For one, he had seen a near-fatal accident involving the nurse who cared for him just days after he got out of the hospital. He saw, in slow motion, her being hurled from the car and onto the pavement when she struck another car after leaving the hospital following her shift. He also saw the country club groundskeeper who had saved his life raise his hand to his girlfriend. He had even seen his neighbor mangle his finger while hammering on the fence that separated their yards. He had seen all of those things through their eyes. Those were just a few examples of the many visions that forced their way into his daily consciousness.

  Cole would make his wife and friend believers but not in any way he could have imagined. He was working late one night when the flash hit him. He tried to suppress it like he did the other visions but his efforts were in vain. This vision was of two people making love. It was from a woman’s view. Cole couldn’t help but crack a smile when he saw the face of his best friend, Grant Howard.

  “You go, Grant,” Cole muttered under his breath, laughing at the thought of teasing his friend about what he had seen during his unintentional voyeurism. “He’ll have to believe me.”

  His whimsy turned into anger when the view changed. He was now seeing things through his friend’s eyes. The woman with whom he was having sex was Cole’s wife! They were doing it in his bed.

  Blind with rage, Cole raced home and caught the pair in the act. He ripped into his old friend, beating him nearly to a pulp and then turned to his wife. He refrained from striking her.

  “How could you?” he asked as she gathered her clothes.

  She left that night, never to return. It was a week later, before they could reconcile, that her body was found. Cole, thanks to his gift, already knew she was dead before they found her mutilated corpse. He was in no position to tell anyone about what he had witnessed.

  “There isn’t anyone who knows,” Cole told the priest, although he realized Grant knew. He just didn’t want to believe his long-time friend, despite the affair with his wife, was a killer. Grant just wasn’t that type of person. Of course, up until a week ago, he didn’t think he was the kind to sleep with his wife, either. Cole had taken precautions, just in case his old friend was the killer.

  “No one?” the priest asked suspiciously. “You’re saying I’m the first person you’ve told?”

  “Yes,” Cole replied. They both knew he was lying.

  “What did you see that night?” the priest asked. “You said you saw the murder from the killer’s eyes. Is there anything you can remember about him?”

  “Just a ring,” Cole revealed. “There was a ring, a large ring, on his left hand. It was the hand he used to stab my wife.”

  Cole continued to fight his suspicions as he sat in the confessional. Grant was left handed.

  “What kind of ring?” the priest asked.

  “I can’t recall,” Cole admitted. “It’s now like a dream, you know, something that gets less clear as time goes on.”

  Cole couldn’t help but chuckle. “You know, I’ve thought about hypnosis. They say sometimes you can see detail when you’re under hypnosis. Maybe that would help me see the detail in my mind. Of course to do that I’d have to trust someone else with my crazy secret. It was hard enough to come up with the courage to come here.”

  “What about your friend?” the priest asked, his question catching Cole out of left field.

  “What?” Cole responded. “What do you mean my friend?”

  “He was the one you caught with your wife,” the priest explained. “He would have to know too, wouldn’t he, about your gift?”

  Cole stared at the priest’s outline through the veil for a moment. How did he know about the adulterous affair between his wife and friend?

  “How would you know about that?” Cole shot back. “I never told you that.”

  “She did,” the priest replied. “She came here and confessed shortly before, well, you know.”

  “She told you – everything?” Cole stammered.

  “Well, I am a priest,” LaBeau replied. “Why did you lie to me? You said no one knew.”

  “I, well, I don’t know,” Cole replied, still surprised by the priest’s sudden turn in questioning.

  “You should never lie to a priest, Cole,” LaBeau chastised.

  It was in that instant that Cole saw the ring, just like he had seen the night of his wife’s murder. He was again seeing through the eyes of the killer. But where was he?

  Cole sat upright in the confessional chair. What was going on? Why was he suddenly seeing through the killer’s eyes again? Even as those questions bounced around in his head, another vision burned into his mind’s eye. It was the knife, the dagger rather, that he had seen in the killer’s hand that night. It was now clutched in the killer’s left hand, his fist bearing the same ring, wrapped around it.

  “It really is a miracle, Cole,” the priest said through the veil.

  “I told you; it’s a curse,” Cole shot back as he sat nervously, trying to discern his vision.

  “No, I mean you coming here, now,” the priest said. “What are the chances you would be delivered to me?”

  “Delivered?” Cole gulped as the vision came into focus. He was looking at his own outline through the veil.

  “She was an adulteress, Cole,” the priest said. “Back in Old Testament times they would have stoned women like her. She would have been judged and punished for her deeds.”

  “What are you saying?” Cole gasped as the realization set in.

  “I’m saying you ought to thank me for my good work,” the priest replied. “All of them were bad women. I was simply seeing that they got what they deserved.”

  “You?” Cole weakly stammered.

  “I’m simply a tool of judgment, Cole,” LaBeau responded as he stood. Cole saw through the priest’s eyes as he stepped slowly from his side of the confessional. “Unfortunately, my son, your gift threatens all the good work I’m doing. We can’t have that, can we?”

  Cole saw through the priest’s eyes as he stood outside the door of the confessional with the dagger poised. He knew LaBeau was going to open the door and slash him to pieces.

  “I’m truly sorry it has to be like this,” the priest said as he reached for the door of the confessional.

  “So am I,” Cole replied, now seeing fully through the priest’s eyes. “Like I said Father, all of this has made me a little paranoid.”

  Cole sat like a voyeur, watching through LaBeau’s eyes as he threw open the door, only to find himself looking down the barrel of his own gun.

  “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” were the last words Father LaBeau heard before the flash of the muzzle.

  About the Author

  R.D. Sherrill is an award winning journalist who has served as crime and courts reporter with the Southern Standard newspaper in McMinnville for the past 24 years. While by-lining several thousand real-life crime stories over his career, Red Dog Saloon, inspired by a honkytonk of ill-repute in his hometown, was his first foray into fiction. Since its release late last year, Red Dog has sold on five continents and has been met with overwhelming five-star reviews. His second book, Average Joe, has also been critically acclaimed. A tale of five regular guys who conspire to rob their hometown, Average Joe captures the essence of small town life and
examines the often blurred gray line between good and evil.

  Sherrill's experience in writing real-life crime dramas helps him bring his characters to life in his fictional works while his motto of "all thriller, no filler," ensures readers will stay up deep into the night to find out what happens next.

  Friday Night Frights, the first of the Jack and Ashley thriller series debuted late in 2014.