Younger-Rebecca had her keys and wallet at school, but Mom had spares to the RAV4 and to the house; also a duplicate of her debit card. She needed only to round them up and be on her way.Still angry, she stepped through into The Hall of the Gate and staggered to the control panel, clutching her stomach. She had to be smarter about this; she had to start using her head. Avoiding contact with the white globe, she repositioned the gate inside the house, locating it in the kitchen. Forcing herself to calm, she stood before the gate for 30 seconds, took a deep breath, and stepped though.The time was 10:41 am. She slid behind the wheel of her RAV4 and started the engine. Her nausea was intense, so bad that she had suffered dry-heaves in the kitchen, and then again in the back yard. Diet Coke helped, but only marginally.She’d encountered surprisingly little difficulty facing the gate against the rear wall. She couldn’t see the line, but locating the ¼” wide edge proved easy enough. Before. A few seconds earlier, and he would have been a witness to the crime. The murderer would have been caught, or he himself would have been dead. The sound that had caught his attention had been the footsteps of the murderer, hurrying away from the scene of his crime.If only he'd reacted faster! He had stood frozen for long seconds before giving the alarm, and by that time the killer had gotten away unseen, riding the open platforms of the man hoist to one of the higher levels, there to mingle with other crew members.Captain Jeryth had called a hearing for early the next day, giving Berniss only enough time to do a hasty autopsy on the murdered man. She'd found nothing, other than the bruises on Neb Fishior's neck, and a snapped vertebra that had severed his spinal column. No other bruises. No drugs that would have allowed him to be led quietly to his doom. Fishior had died quietly, not even given time to react to his danger. There were no traces in his blood stream of the surge of.
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