Sandy's Story (Ditch Lane Diaries Book 3): Ditch Lane Diaries

By D.F. Jones

 "I have a confession to make. Last night, as you gave me your heart, I didn't offer mine in return. You're right. It's against the rules for us. It's against the rules for humans, too."

Angels and Demons Collide in Sandy's Story (Ditch Lane Diaries 3)
Investigative reporter, Sandy Cothran follows a murder lead on Music Row which uncovers Luc's Testament along with a string of related crimes.

Baldric is willing to break the rules of heaven for Sandy which places her in danger as Luc waits in the wings to pounce at his given moment.

The Wards of Campbell Ridge fight alongside Heaven's Warrior Angels in an epic supernatural battle against Luc and his demons to save one of The Chosen.

Sacrifices are made with the ultimate price. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.F.Jones
• Release date: Sep 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781386112501

Book preview

Prologue

What Becomes of the Brokenhearted?

Ohio 1966

Nine-year-old Sandy woke from slumber to the handsome face of her dad’s boss, Mr. Ben, as he gently shook her leg. Wake up, honey. I came to tell you the story I promised.

Sandy wiped the sleepies out of her eyes. I thought Daddy said you couldn’t.

Ben smiled while rubbing his hands up and down his thighs. Your dad thinks I’m outside for a smoke. Come here, sweet child. Would you still like to hear a story?

Sandy jumped up and down on the bed. Oh, yes, please tell me a story.

Ben bent down as Sandy reached up to wrap her arms around his neck. He sat Sandy on his lap and stroked her long chestnut hair. You’re more beautiful than Sleeping Beauty. You’re fairer than all of the princesses in all of the stories ever told, my darling.

Sandy snuggled into his arms as Ben told her the story of Sleeping Beauty. She relished every detail, and her innocent eyes bright with excitement. Near the end of the story, Mr. Ben ran his hand under Sandy’s nightgown.

Sandy frowned and tried to push him away. She struggled with all her might to wiggle her way out of his grasp, but Mr. Ben held her tightly.

He whispered, It’s all right, darling. Prince Charming did the same thing to Sleeping Beauty. Mr. Ben pushed her down on the bed, placed one hand over her mouth. Sandy tried to fight him, but she wasn’t strong enough.

Baldric, her guardian angel, appeared, and Sandy rapidly blinked tears. He whispered, Do not be afraid, little one. Your father is here.

Dad burst into the bedroom, jerking Mr. Ben off the bed. He landed punch after punch to Mr. Ben’s stomach and face.

Sandy pushed with her feet against the wall, chomping down on the blanket while shaking uncontrollably.

Her father yelled a steady stream of curses as he smashed Mr. Ben’s face with his fists, splattering blood on her bed and toys. You perverted son of a bitch. I’ll kill you, motherfucker, for touching my daughter. I’ll kill you. Hugh wrapped his hands around Mr. Ben’s neck choking him.

Mom ran into the room, screaming, Stop it, Hugh! You’re killing him. Stop it. Sally smacked Hugh several times across the face before he released his grip and Mr. Ben slid to the floor, unmoving.

Hugh rubbed his face with his hands, then turned to Sally. Call Dad. Tell him to get over here now. He walked over toward Sandy, and she burst into tears.

Frightened and confused about what had happened, Sandy recoiled from her father.

Is he dead? Mom scooped Sandy into her arms. You call your father. She’s in shock, and I’m going to put her in the tub.

Sandy fainted.

Sandy didn’t know how much time passed between the chaos in her room, and the time her mom placed her in the bathtub. I’m sorry, Mommy. I’m sorry. I wanted the story.

Sally hugged her daughter. Honey, there’s nothing for you to be sorry about. Let’s get you dried off. You can sleep with us tonight.

Wide awake, Sandy lay in her parents’ bed. She heard the front door open and shut. Then she heard Papa. He shouted at Daddy.

Heavy footfalls pounded up the staircase into her bedroom. Sandy slid out of her parents’ bed, went to the door, and cracked it open.

Papa said, Thank God, he’s alive. Jesus, son. The Salingers own this town. Sam will see you behind bars for beating his son like this.

Are you kidding? Me, arrested? The son of a bitch ruined my baby girl. Dad, I caught him with my baby. I want to kill the bastard.

Sandy squeezed the doorknob. She didn’t understand what her dad meant. Was she ruined?

My aunt lives in Tennessee, Mom said. She’s alone in that big house since Uncle Dale died. We’ll move to Tennessee. Hugh, I can’t lose you. I’ll call her.

Papa let out a deep sigh. Rumors have circulated about Ben’s preferences, but I never believed it. I’ve been friends with Sam since we were boys. I’ll take Ben to his dad and tell him what his boy did to Sandy. Just in caseyou start packing. What you can’t take with you, I’ll bring it to Tennessee later. Be on the road by daylight. I want you as far away from this mess as possible.

Sally cried, Sandy needs a doctor. She needs to go to the emergency room.

Look, Sally, Hugh could get arrested if Sandy goes to the hospital. Sam’s on the damn board. He’d have them bury the records. I know how Sam operates. I’ll take Ben to Sam, and he can decide what to do with him. Ben will live with the scars from tonight for the rest of his life. Papa began to pace about the floor. I’d kill him myself if I thought I could get away with it. No, no. I think it’s best to take Sandy and go to your aunt’s house. In the long run, it’ll be best for everyone.

Sandy raced back into her parents’ room and slid under the covers.

Honey, how are you feeling? Mom asked.

Are we moving to Tennessee, Mama? I’m afraid. I’m scared of Daddy. Mom kissed her forehead.

Never be afraid of Daddy. He loves you and will do anything to keep you safe. I want you to try to sleep. Tomorrow we’re going on a new adventure. You’re going to love the country. Tennessee is beautiful, and my Aunt Ellen’s farm has cows and kittens.

Sandy’s brain wouldn’t sleep. It was her fault they were moving away from the only home she’d ever known.

Why had she agreed to the bedtime story?

Why did Mr. Ben hurt her?

The next morning, slivers of sunlight peeked through the curtains. Sandy hadn’t been able to sleep much last night from listening to her parents’ whispers. She went down the stairs and peeked through the spindles as her parents loaded the car.

Sally came through the front door. I laid some clothes out for you in the bathroom. You don’t have to go into your room. I have Teddy down here on the couch waiting for you. Are you hungry?

Shaking her head in silence, Sandy trudged back upstairs into the bathroom. She changed out of her nightgown and into her play clothes, brushed her hair and teeth. Before she went downstairs, she walked back into her room and hugged herself. The room looked the same, but it was different. She had loved her room. Now it made her want to puke.

Baldric appeared and knelt on one knee.

She stared into his eyes, the color of spring grass.

He held her hand. Daireann, you’re strong. You’re going to be okay; I promise.

Sandy touched his face. I’ll never be okay again. I’m ruined. Daddy said so. Baldric’s eyes watered, and she tilted her head to the side. What’s wrong, Baldric? Please don’t cry.

Baldric held her in his big, strong arms, and for a moment, she felt safe. I will always be here for you. Let’s go get Teddy.

Baldric led Sandy out of her room for the last time.

Downstairs, she glanced at Teddy propped on the couch. Averting her eyes, she walked out the door and down the sidewalk.

She’d never play with stuffed animals again. Sandy opened the car door, slid into the backseat, and waited for her parents. She stared at her clasped hands instead of looking at her old home.

On the road to Tennessee, Baldric tried playing the game where they talked to each other using their minds.

She turned to him. I don’t want to play, Baldric. I’ve ruined my family. Leave me alone.

What happened to you last night wasn’t your fault. Do you hear me? Baldric tilted her chin up with his forefinger. Moving to Tennessee was your parents’ decision, not yours. They’re doing what they think is best for you.

Sandy pressed her forehead to the glass and stared out the car window. She watched as the miles pushed her further away from Mr. Ben. She couldn’t erase the image of his face, the stench of whiskey, and his aftershave.

His severely beaten and bloody face forced its way into her memory and she shut her eyes tight to block the image.

Everglade, Tennessee

Sandy watched as Hugh pulled into Aunt Ellen’s driveway and turned off the ignition.

Aunt Ellen’s smiling face lit up as she waved to greet them from the front door. The big two-story yellow farmhouse had a broad front porch, the sidewalk lined with brightly colored flowerbeds. Several kittens scurried under the porch lattice.

Ignoring her aunt and parents, Sandy bolted out of the car and ran down the driveway to the babbling brook running alongside the farm’s property. She sat on the ground and propped her elbows on her knees.

In her peripheral vision, a girl rode a bicycle down the road.

The red-haired girl wore pigtails, a sleeveless orange and green plaid shirt, and white shorts which hit at the knee. She pedaled over to Sandy and hopped off, propping the bike with the kickstand. Hey, I’m Ruby. My mama said Ms. Ellen had family moving in today. Wanna come over and play at my house? My friend, Anna, will be over soon. It’ll be fun. Ruby placed her hands on her hips, waiting for an answer.

Sandy plucked blades of grass through her fingers. Yeah, but I have to ask my mom first.

Ruby extended her hand to help Sandy up. When Sandy reached for it, Ruby quickly withdrew it and wiggled her fingers. You snooze, you lose. Ruby laughed and said, Come on, Slick—I’ll race you.

Sandy and Ruby ran to Aunt Ellen’s house.

Later that night, as Sandy lay in her new bedroom, Baldric appeared on the edge of her bed. Do you like Tennessee?

I love it, especially Ruby. She’s funny and makes me laugh. Her family is loud, and they laugh a lot, too. She pulled the blanket up to her chin and yawned.

Baldric squeezed her hand. I’m happy for you. Ruby and Anna will be your lifelong friends.

Emotion boiled up inside of her soul. Mr. Ben changed me on the inside, Baldric. Sandy placed her right hand over her heart. I never want to be a princess, and I never want a prince. Fairy tales aren’t real. Friends are real. That’s what I want. Don’t look so sad. You said I was strong, and you’re right. I am strong.

Sandy pushed the horrific memories of Mr. Ben to the furthermost corners of her mind, buried them, and locked the door. It would be nineteen years before she reconciled what happened to the little nine-year-old girl.

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going

Nashville 1986

Sandy monitored the Nashville Police Department (NPD) frequencies on the scanner to pick up leads for news stories while getting ready for work. Listening to the hunt for a shooter, she pulled a black cashmere turtleneck over her head. All points bulletin for a white male, wearing a black or dark blue hoodie driving a 1985 black Ford Explorer, license plate TN3490. Ambulance and squad car being dispatched to 17th and Edgehill.

The rest of the APB description fell on deaf ears. Sandy recognized the location from other recent crimes in the area. She grabbed her new camera, car keys, and sprinted to the door. She didn’t have time to call her boss, Art, to tell him she’d be late. He’d forgive her if she came in with a story.

As an investigative reporter for Channel 3 News in Nashville, many of the stories Sandy covered were unsolvable crimes. But on occasion, she could find the truth through her visions. Clairvoyance was a gift from The Creator that she’d received at the age of fifteen, unlocked by a mystical hiddenite stone during a spelunking adventure with her best friends, Ruby and Anna.

Over the years, her visions blessed her with multiple Associated Press (AP) awards, but awards didn’t help her sleep at night. Sometimes, trying to understand her extrasensory abilities frightened the hell out of her.

Old Man Winter was back with a vengeance as Sandy navigated the icy roads. She skidded a time or two, but she managed to stay on the road without sliding into a ditch. She should be driving at a snail’s pace but needed to beat the police to the scene to have a shot at seeing the victim’s past and unlocking the secrets of the early morning shooting with a touch of her hand.

Sandy turned onto Edgehill, parked in front of the sidewalk, and exited her car. A handful of bystanders huddled together outside in the cold as she approached the crime scene.

One woman in the group pointed and yelled, Hey, there’s Sandy Cothran from Channel 3 News. The power of television, along with Sandy’s face plastered across town on billboards, gave her little privacy.

She strapped her camera bag over her shoulder and nodded to the group. Good morning, everyone.

A gold Lincoln Continental’s engine was running with the driver door open. The upper body of a man lay off-kilter on the asphalt while the rest of him remained inside the car.

Placing her camera bag on the ground, Sandy gently touched the man’s forearm. His life force was draining fast. Sandy yelled back at the group of bystanders, Where’s the freaking ambulance?

The victim was unresponsive. He had a gaping bullet wound in his chest. Sandy took off her winter coat and applied pressure to the injury, but he was beyond her help.

Sandy traveled through her visions on cords of light, millions of strands of light that sometimes ran for miles and spanned decades. Mental images flashed through her mind so fast that it made her extremely nauseous.

She took a deep breath and placed her hand over his faint pulse, and then his evening unfolded in her mind at blinding speed.

A map of downtown Nashville lay across an old walnut desk in a shabby little office with fluorescent lighting. His father opened Henry’s Tailor Shop nearly thirty years ago. Nick London started working in the shop as a teenager and eventually inherited the store after his dad’s death.

Nick’s finger trailed along the map, down the route along Broadway, and stopped at the corner of First Avenue. Two red X’s marked the corner block properties.

Entrepreneur Cole Steele was trying to force him out of business. Cole owned almost all the properties along First Avenue and Broadway.

Last week, the owner of the tool and die shop next door had been in a severe car accident. He was fortunate to survive, and Nick learned today that the business sold to Steele Construction. Henry’s Tailor Shop was the last business on the block to hold out. 

Rumor had it Cole was going to tear down all the existing businesses along the riverfront to build another high-rise hotel to accommodate the new convention center. Cole made him a nice offer on Henry’s, but the threats began when Nick refused to sell the store. During his meeting with Cole, Nick lifted what he thought was Cole’s journal but later realized it was a relic. He placed the book in a locked box at the bank as leverage against Cole’s attempts to force him to sell the store.

Nick ran his fingers through his hair and looked at his Timex watch. He folded the map, placed it with his key to a safety deposit box in a folder, and wrapped it with a large rubber band. 

He searched for a place to hide the folder. He walked over to the vent return, popped it open, and put the folder in front of the air filter before securing the latch.

It was nearly two in the morning, and he needed to get home to relieve his wife’s sister, Alice. His wife, Martha, had a stroke six months ago, impairing her speech and leaving her bedridden.

He picked up the phone and dialed it. Alice, did I wake you? I’m sorry I’m so late. How did she do today? Oh, good. Do you need me to pick up anything? I’ll be along soon. Tell my girl how much I love her. He hung up.

Nick walked to the front door and flipped the open sign to closed.

After bolting the door to the shop, he jogged across First Avenue to the parking lot close to the Cumberland River. A sudden chill ran up his spine. He looked over his left shoulder and quickened his steps.

Once inside his car, Nick started the ignition, backed out of the spot, put the car in drive, and pulled onto the street. He turned left at the intersection and drove along Broadway when a car pulled in behind him with its headlights on high beam.

Fear and panic gripped Nick as he pressed his foot on the gas pedal. The car behind him was riding on his tail. He ran a red light and decided to take a detour home through Music Row. He drove through the side streets, trying to lose the car, but the vehicle gained speed and hit his bumper. 

Nick swerved his car onto 17th and Edgehill. He lost control of his vehicle and slammed into a brick mailbox. The black Ford Explorer swooped in and blocked his exit. He was trapped. Nick slammed the car into park, reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out his gun.

His assailant was quick to knock the gun out of Nick’s hand. Where’s the book, London?

Nick pressed his lips together in a tight line. One of Cole’s thugs, Hammer, backhanded him across the face. Tell me where the book is or you’re dead meat.

Nick narrowed his eyes. He gasped for breath. I’m dead whether I tell you or not. So, I think not. An explosion of light and sound released as Hammer shot Nick in the chest, twice. Nick watched his murderer race to the Ford Explorer then flee the scene.

Everything went silent, and time move into slow-mo.

Nick didn’t feel any pain. A bright light appeared before him, and he wasn’t afraid. His last thoughts were of his wife, the love of his life. He muttered, I’m sorry, Martha. His spirit faded away. 

Sandy released Nick’s arm. The NPD’s blue lights, and an ambulance with blaring sirens, flew into the driveway. She stepped away from Nick as the paramedics arrived and the officers secured the area.

She set up the camera as Detective Bob Wade sauntered over with his signature Camel behind his ear. She encountered the detective weekly.

Bob wore a brown leather aviator jacket and a pair of Levi’s with Timberland hiking boots. How did I know you’d be here?

Sandy flipped the camera on, reached into her bag for the mic. Well, if it isn’t Bob Wire. I’m glad you boys could join the party. It looks like our mystery killer’s struck again. If you’ll excuse me, I have a story to cover.

Bob placed his hand over her mic and whispered in her ear, You’re playing with fire, girlie. These boys don’t mess around.

What boys? And is that on the record? Sandy leveled her gaze on the detective.

You know it’s not. I can’t comment during an ongoing investigation.

Sandy pinned the mic to her sweater. "You and I know who’s behind the shooting. I’m going to prove it. Don’t