Silhouette on a Train

By Kathleen Olson

Sandy had to escape her abusive, sometimes violent, husband, so after two years of planning, she ran away. She ended up in the middle of Iowa, bought a house, and began her life all over again. At the time she purchased the house, she was unaware it had a secret that sent Sandy looking desperately for information to help the entity that was begging for her aid. At the same time, she was terrified that her husband would find her, so she had to keep her old life a secret. That meant two things to keep strictly to herself: her old life and whatever it was that was roaming her house and what it wanted from her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jun 23, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098083250

Kathleen Olson

Kathleen Olson always had a great interest in history, and when it came to writing "Shadow Journeys", she was able to incorporate so many periods of the past into a fascinating story. Kathleen lives in northeast Illinois with her husband of fifty-five years, and two cats, Goober and Piper who, she says really run the house. 4/21/2021: Kathleen Olson always had a great interest in history, and when it came to writing "Shadow Journeys', she was able to incorporate so many periods of the past into a fascinating story. World traveler and animal lover, she visited a hypnotherapist many years ago to get help in quitting smoking. A friendship developed and together they explored the concept of past lives thus opening a pathway into other realms. Kathleen lives in northeast Illinois with her husband of fifty-five years and their two cats, Goober and Piper. According to Kathleen, it's the cats that actually run the house.

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Silhouette on a Train

Kathleen Olson

Copyright © 2021 by Kathleen Olson

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

For Tom

Chapter 1

Today, everything would change. Sandra Reynolds, age fifty-five, would simply disappear.

Sandy stood on the front porch. Her hands felt empty without her coffee mug. But there was something exhilarating about the morning, the early October sun warm on her face, and the leaves all up and down the street just beginning to turn. The bright blue morning sky and inviting sunshine called to her. Loudly.

She always knew she would recognize the day when it came. She never did think that some great cataclysmic event would give her the cue, but neither would she have guessed something as trivial as a smashed coffee cup would turn out to be the impetus. She leaned across the porch railing to drink in the day and then, deliberately, sat down on the steps to get her thoughts together.

She suspected that her husband didn’t have a clue that he had done anything out of the ordinary. Alex seemed to have a talent for picking the exact thing that would hurt her the most at the most appropriate time. This time it had been her favorite coffee cup.

As she had picked the splinters out of the sink where he had smashed the mug during one of his tantrums, she had cut her finger and cried in frustration and anger. Although it was just one incident in years of his unreasonable outbursts, this time, along with the cup, he had irreparably broken the camel’s back.

For the last two years, she had planned to leave Alex. It was probably the coward’s way out, but she was at a loss to see any other escape. Alex would never agree to a divorce unless it was his idea. He seemed to be very happy controlling her life.

She was quite sure how Alex would react. First, he would be angry, then possibly violent, and finally would need to somehow get revenge. It never seemed to occur to him that he might be at fault.

Once she disappeared, there was no doubt that he would contact the police, and after they failed to find her, he would probably hire a private detective, if only for a little while. He would actively curse her for leaving him with the housework, yard, and the mortgage payment. There wasn’t much she would miss about Alex, at least not the man she knew now.

For years now, she had found that her life was bent substantially to the left of her dreams, and things seemed to be rapidly deteriorating. Alex was clearly apathetic about their marriage, and she was sure he had had or was having an affair. However, she had accepted that fact and even lived with his indiscretions because she was so incredibly average and wasn’t good enough for anyone anyway.

She knew her three children would be fine. They were all grown and gone, living their independent lives, and they didn’t need her mothering anymore. When Trisha married Pete three years ago, she immediately declared she wouldn’t be burdened with children. She and Pete had their careers, and they were sticking to that plan, so it appeared she wouldn’t even be needed for grandmother duties. Mark had been her real worry, but after he got out of drug rehab, he had gone back to school and graduated with a higher grade point average than even he’d expected. He was now settled in a promising job in Colorado. Craig, her baby, was in the Air Force, ran around with blinders on to anything that wasn’t military and, at the present time, was circumnavigating the world in a jet. The last time they were all together was at Trisha’s wedding. The phone calls from them had become fewer, the visits almost nonexistent. Yes, they would be fine, and each would receive a note from her when she left.

Momma, she thought, might be a problem, however. After Dad died, she had become lost and clung to Sandy harder than ever. Their marriage had been like a fifty-two-year honeymoon, something Sandy thought was natural until she married Alex. It was time her sister, Leslie, stepped in and persuaded Momma to come to Connecticut to live near her and Barry. Leslie’s two children were married with families of their own. Momma should be with her grandchildren, she reasoned, not stuck in a town with a son-in-law for whom she had little respect.

Most of her friends found excuses not to come around any longer. Alex had a way of making them feel very unwelcome and often picked a fight with Sandy in front of them.

Her job and her boss could go to hell.

For eleven years she had worked as a secretary for a wholesaler dealing in plastic pipes and fittings. At first the job had been fun helping a new company get off the ground, but in the past few years, she saw that the only people who were hired or promoted were either friends or relatives of the boss. Even though she was his first employee, she was ignored when she requested even a simple thing to make her job easier. However, let one of the relatives ask for the same item, and it appeared magically. There was only one way to think of him: he was a nepotistic bastard. After today, going to work was a nightmare she wouldn’t have to face anymore.

There was no question. Today was the day.

She must hurry. There wasn’t much time to discard one life and pick up in the middle of another. She stood up and went back into the house, grabbed the phone, and dialed her office.

Her assistant answered.

Hi, Joanie, it’s Sandy.

Hi. You’re running a little late, aren’t you?

You’d better tell the big guy I won’t be in today.

Anything serious?

Sandy didn’t trust Joanie. She was some kind of a shirt-tail cousin.

Nothing that a trip to my OB-GYN man can’t help.

Yuck. My sympathies. Will you be in tomorrow?

Depends. I’ll call you tomorrow and let you know, but I won’t be in today.

Okay, Joanie said with a heavy sigh, I’ll tell him. Good luck.

Thanks. Sandy hung up. That should put him off for a while.

For all her fantasizing about escape, she couldn’t deny the harsh realities of running away from home. In her dreams, she simply left and spent the rest of her life doing what she wanted to do. She wasn’t quite sure what that was, but it would be glamorous and she would be brilliant at it. But to do any of the things she had planned, she knew there could be no trail left. There could be no trace of Sandy Reynolds either on paper or in person.

In the bedroom, she pulled out the third dresser drawer and un-taped two bankbooks from the underside. One was the account she started many years ago as an emergency account, and she had made regular percentage deposits from her paycheck. Any bonus or overtime money was also squirreled away, and it had grown to a very respectable total. The other account was a generous bequest from Aunt Ruby, her father’s sister, who lived downstate. In spite of the differences in their ages, Sandy had considered Aunt Ruby to be one of her best friends. Alex knew of neither account.

She handed the withdrawal slip to a young woman behind the window at the bank who took the slip, studied it for a minute, and then said, I’m sorry but this is a rather unusual transaction, and I must speak to the head teller. I hope you don’t mind waiting a minute.

Oh no, of course not. Sandy felt a slight wave of fear at this change of events. Somehow, in her rush, she had forgotten this possibility.

Good morning, the head teller said in a professionally cheerful voice. Ms. Gralewski tells me you wish to close your account, is that correct?

Yes, Sandy replied quietly. She hated being the focus of a fuss, especially today. Is that all right?

Well, of course it is, but you’ll have to fill out our Currency Transaction Report. Any transaction of ten thousand dollars or more must have a CTR with it. It’s federal law, and I need to warn you it will take about forty-five minutes to fill out, so I hope you came prepared for that expenditure of time.

Sandy felt her stomach fall, and another wave of fear went through her. She had to make the move today. That money had to be there for her, and it had to be there now. But time was of the essence. She had plans for that money. Today.

Of course, the woman went on, we could let you have a lesser amount. You must understand that this law is merely for your protection.

All right. Sandy momentarily brightened. Why don’t you make it for just under that? That should get me by for a while.

After the young teller had counted out a startlingly large amount for her approval, she requested that Sandy count it out again. She complied.

Clutching her purse tightly, she made a quick dash to the car. Should anyone discover how much money she had, she was sure she would be promptly relieved of it. Nothing could happen to this money. It was her ticket.

Time was evaporating. It was past ten, and she still had what she perceived as a mountain of preparations. To add to the problem, she needed to find a way to get more money before she left. She had planned to be far out of Alex’s reach by the time he got home, but now she had to hang around the area. Where was she going to stay tonight where she wouldn’t be known or traced? She took a wonderfully comforting deep breath and let the rush of oxygen clear her mind.

The necessity for haste was sidetracked at the post office where her plans came to a temporary halt. She had carefully written three letters, one to each of her children. She wanted to let them know that she loved them very much but that her life was going downhill by staying where she was. She needed, she wrote, to get away, to start over, and asked them to please honor her decision and not to try to find her.

Once she dropped the letters into the mailbox, there would be no turning back. Right now was the time.

Could she really leave Alex today?

She had only to look at the cut on her index finger to remember the smashed coffee cup. Her father had given her that cup. Coffee had always tasted better from it, and it had been her companion for years. It was such a trivial thing, but it had sentimental value.

Alex knew what he was doing.

She took the envelopes out of her purse. Once they were dropped in the waiting slot, there was no retrieving them.

This is for me, she said under her breath as she slowly, slowly dropped each letter into the slot. When the last envelope had disappeared, she turned, clenched her teeth in determination, and headed for home.

She debated for a long time whether she should leave a note for Alex, and if she did, what on earth would she say? Any love she had once felt for him had disintegrated in the past few years, accelerated by the sketchy clues he had unknowingly given her. These clues were always more abundant when she had returned from several days with Aunt Ruby. She decided he didn’t warrant a note.

When she opened the front door, Purrdue, the calico cat, gave her a puzzled greeting. He was used to having the house to himself all day long. Purrdue was inherited from Trisha and Pete when they moved into their condo that didn’t allow pets. Sandy picked up the warm silky fluff and buried her nose in the cat’s neck until he purred loudly. One thing she was sure of: Alex would take good care of Purrdue. She had often heard him talk to the cat with more kindness than he had ever shown to any human.

Eleven o’clock. Hurry.

The next thing to tackle was the basement. Like most basements, it held a lifetime in cardboard boxes. Alex was a pack rat and had boxes and boxes of magazines, some of them more than twenty years old. She never bothered to ask him why he wanted them because he would tell her only that he might need them someday. She wasn’t sure how anyone could need a twenty-year-old copy of Car and Driver, but they weren’t in anyone’s way and they kept him happy. Actually, it was a blessing he had so many boxes of useless junk around. It made a perfect disguise for her plan.

Going straight for a corner of the room, she dug out three large boxes, all marked in crayon, one declaring Baby Clothes, another, Plastic Pitchers, and the third, Picnic Basket. Over the past two years, she had begun squirreling away things that she would want to take with her. She had clothes, family pictures, a few sentimental objects, jewelry, cosmetics, linens, a modest set of kitchen equipment, and her grandmother’s wedding silver. She hadn’t brought much to the marriage and had no intention of taking anything that wasn’t hers. She didn’t need to give Alex any more ammunition.

The boxes were heavier than she thought, but with a bit of grunting, she got them upstairs. On the third trip up, she almost stumbled over a very confused Purrdue. With a heavy thump, she let the last of the cartons rest in the foyer. Feeling very pleased with herself, she brushed off her front and whisked her palms together. These, plus the money, would be her companions as she started on her journey.

The money! she remembered out loud. She checked her watch. It was just past noon. Clutching a withdrawal slip, she drove over to the south side branch bank. Confidently, she thrust the withdrawal slip toward the teller. I’d like that in cash, please.

Smiling, the teller took the slip and looked at the figure. Suddenly, Sandy was shaking. Suppose the teller noticed that she had withdrawn the same amount just a few hours before from another branch.

Are you sure you want this amount in cash? the teller asked. Wouldn’t you rather have a cashier’s check? It’s for your own protection.

No, thank you, Sandy answered. I really need the cash.

How, though, was she going to get the rest of the money out of the account? Sandy had planned another trip to the bank first thing in the morning, but she had to be out of town and out of Alex’s reach as soon as possible. There would still be a substantial amount left in the account.

On an impulse, Sandy said, I’m leaving town for a few months. If I need to withdraw more money, can I do it by mail?

The teller’s plastic smile remained fixed. Yes, but that’s slow and awkward. What you need is a wire transfer. When you establish yourself at a bank wherever you’re going, you can have them set it up for you. There’s only a small charge for the service.

She could get her money! It wouldn’t be trapped in town with Alex! She wouldn’t have to come back and risk being sighted!

Thank you so much. Sandy smiled as the teller handed her the cash.

Wire transfer or no wire transfer, she still needed more initial money, so another visit to the third branch next morning was still in the offing.

Next barrier: how to get those boxes to the car rental agency without being sighted. It was a plus that in this day and age most of the people in her neighborhood had day jobs, so some of her comings and goings wouldn’t be noted and create suspicion.

There was always the chance, however, that Lyle Bester next door would glance out the window just as she was doing something out of the ordinary. He was a pain and had been since the day he moved in. Not only was he the nosy type, but he felt it was his God-given right to borrow whatever anyone else had. He wasn’t fussy. He’d take anything: garden tools, their newspaper, snow blower, socket wrenches, sugar. Never asking, just taking. Once he had even borrowed Craig.

Craig was always prompt, but when he didn’t show up for dinner one evening, both Sandy and Alex panicked. When he finally did appear, Alex shook him hard until his head rolled drunkenly. After recovering from the shaking, Craig told them Lyle had been using him to help bleed the brakes on his car and wouldn’t let him answer their calls until the job was finished. After that, Lyle Bester became known as the neighborhood hemorrhoid.

That’s one person Sandy wouldn’t miss.

To get to the final part of her plan, Sandy had to open one of the boxes to get her forged papers out of the tin box she had hidden for several months. All of them declared her to be Sandra L. Prescott, never married, and living at what was, in reality, a vacant lot.

Hurry. It was past noon.

She walked the half mile to the car rental agency. There a woman in a trim, cranberry-colored suit smiled and asked what she could do for her.

She was told to fill out some forms and then was asked for a major credit card. Sandy thanked whoever was listening that she had the foresight to obtain a credit card under her assumed name and a PO box address. It was so easy, it was scary. To establish Sandra Prescott’s credit, she had even used it for a few large items. She flipped the card out of her wallet, and the woman ran it through a machine.

The driver’s license was something else. It had taken some time and determination, but she had finally located one of society’s bottom-feeders, those who make false ID’s for teens who want to drink. It had cost her. She flashed the license, and the woman took down the information.

It wasn’t a long wait, but Sandy was getting more and more nervous with every tick of her watch. Finally, she heard, Here’s your car, Ms. Prescott. You’ll find the keys in the ignition. Please leave it on the east side of the Chevrolet dealership when you drop it off and leave the keys in the glove compartment.

Sandy thanked her hurriedly and slipped behind the wheel.

One o’clock.

And miles to go before I sleep, Sandy said to herself.

As she pulled the rental car into the driveway, she was relieved to see Lyle Bester’s draperies still closed. Apparently, he wasn’t home or not in one of his nosy moods.

This time, Purrdue wasn’t surprised to see Sandy in the middle of the day. He just meowed a greeting and rubbed the top of his head on Sandy’s shin. She swooped the cat up and hugged him, wishing very much she could take him with her. Maybe she could get a kitten when she got to a safe place. But this wasn’t getting the job done.

Those boxes were her next move. She tugged and grunted them into the rental car, terrified that they wouldn’t fit. They did. She looked around. Was there anything else she wanted to take with her? This was probably going to be her last chance. She had thought carefully for a long time about anything else she would need or couldn’t buy once she left town. If she took anything obvious, Alex would know right away, and she wouldn’t have time to get out of town before he or someone else spotted her. She needed all the lead time she could get.

One last look around the bedroom prompted her to take a few small sentimental pieces of jewelry and a watch her father had given her for high school graduation. She left all the large objects alone.

In the end, she decided to leave Alex a note, not a note of explanation, but rather one saying that she and her girlfriend, Lucille, were going to have dinner and catch a movie. This story just might buy her more time. Alex was creature of habit. He was in bed at ten forty-five every night and asleep a minute later. So if she went to a movie and dinner, it wouldn’t be unusual for her to come in after eleven. However, it was uncharacteristic of her to be out on a week night. The gamble was worth it.

It was nearly five o’clock when she looked around the house for the last time. A marriage had begun, blossomed, and died here. She had brought all three of her babies home here, and this is where their memories were. Her knees began to turn to water and her resolve weakened, but she knew there was no going back. Alex would be home soon, and when that happened, she would be stuck in his grasp forever. She looked at her sweet Purrdue, gave him a pat, walked out the door, closed, and locked it.

Chapter 2

Sandy was alone. As far as she could see down the road in front or in back of her, there wasn’t another vehicle in sight. She had an almost uncontrollable urge to mash the pedal to the floor and fly down the empty road and really give her Blazer a workout, but she tempered the feeling for the sake of being inconspicuous. It was midafternoon. The sky still that brilliant blue that called so loudly yesterday morning, and now the voice was even clearer. It was so clear, in fact, that she knew what she had done in her dreams so many times and, today in reality, was the only, the right thing for her to do.

After leaving her house, she went to the Chevy dealer in a rented car, leaving her own car in the garage untouched, and purchased a Blazer. It was so un-Sandy like that it seemed to fit her new personality profile perfectly. That night she stayed in a local