Dying to Be Heard: Your Friends Came to See Me Book 2

Your Friends Came to See Me —Book 2— Dying to Be Heard DL Benning Your Friends Came to See Me —Book 2— Dying to Be Heard Featuring Investigative Medium Lynn Monroe DL Benning Copyright © MMXXIII by DL Benning All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Printed in the United States of America First Printing, 2023 ISBN: 978-1-953640-18-5 (paperback) ISBN: 978-1-953640-19-2 (Kindle edition)Library of Congress Control Number: 2023909023 Published by McCrady Park Books, an imprint of A Page Beyond, Fishers, Indiana. This book is a work of fiction, channeled from the Other Side by a self-taught medium. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is either coincidence or confirmation. Table of Contents —Chapter 1— Here We Go Again —Chapter 2— The Backyard Discovery —Chapter 3— Calling for Backup —Chapter 4— Natalie Speaks —Chapter 5— Mrs. W. —Chapter 6— Detective Roman —Chapter 7— The Dead Woman’s Name is Daisy —Chapter 8— Daisy’s Demise —Chapter 9— R is for Ruth —Chapter 10— Along Came Polly —Chapter 11— Putting the Pieces Together —Chapter 12— The Truth Finds Its Way About the Author —Chapter 1—Here We Go Again My call that morning with Captain Simon of the Ford Heights Police Department had been brief. Still, it would dominate my whole day. Captain Simon wanted me to use my skills as a medium to solve more cold cases in his department’s backlog. But could I really do this again? I hadn’t channeled any new messages in months, since we’d closed the decades-old murder cases of four young women. And now they’d identified eight more victims, with characteristics and circumstances like the ones from before. Eight! My heart sank at the thought of those young women, their lives taken too early, their families in anguish all these years. As I laid my phone down on the counter, a faint whiff of cigarette smoke caused my nose to scrunch up. None of the windows were supposed to be open, but since neither my husband, Sam, nor I smoked, the smell had to be coming from outside. I took a few steps forward, closed my eyes, and sniffed the air again, trying to locate the source of the offensive odor. I was surprised by the sudden mental image of a rough-looking young woman taking a long drag from a cigarette. Her name formed in my mind just as unexpectedly: Polly. Polly didn’t say anything. She just looked at me coolly, as if sizing me up. There was no malice in her stare, but no warmth either. She struck me as someone who was slow to trust others, someone to whom the world had not been kind. She finished her cigarette, lit another one, and walked away. Sam came into the kitchen then, just as I opened my eyes. He stopped short when he saw the worry in my face. “You okay? You look like you just saw a ghost,” he joked. “Actually,” I said, “you’re not far off. I just spoke to Captain Simon. He wants to see me tomorrow about some more cold-case files. And I think I just met one of the victims.” “Here we go again,” Sam sighed. He was always supportive of me and came to respect my work, although he had initially shrugged it off as “that New Age shit” he didn’t really believe in. He had seemed relieved when my investigation of the Ford Heights murders came to an end. Our dining room was better suited to dinner parties, he’d said, than to seances and interviews with the dead. Honestly, he had a point. I studied him for a moment to see if he was exasperated with me for opening myself back up to medium work. He gave me a quick wink. I appreciated his confidence in me. *** Just as the day had been full of self-doubt and worry, the night was a restless one for me. No matter what I tried, I just could not fall asleep. Finally, I grabbed my pillow and blanket and tried to leave the room quietly. The floorboard creaked, and Sam asked, “You can’t sleep?” “No, I can’t sleep. See you in the morning.” “Okay,” he mumbled. I made my way to the den to try to sleep on the couch. As soon as I closed my eyes, a black-and-white scene started playing in my head. Corn stalks whipped past my field of vision. I quickly opened my eyes. “What was that?” I wondered out loud, shaking my head. I felt my heart start beating fast. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes again. I heard little girls giggling. They were in the field, running through the dried cornstalks. I could not see their faces. But I could feel them and hear them very clearly. Their voices sounded young. “Yes, Sam,” I whispered to myself, looking up to the ceiling, “here we go again. I guess it is time for me to get involved with more cold cases.” And with that statement, I drifted off to sleep. When I woke up, Sam had already left for work. He had left me a note wishing me luck and reminding me I was doing the right thing. I smiled as I read it. I folded the note in half and slipped it into my pants pocket. I would need that reminder today. I sat down for my morning meditation practice. My practice included setting my intention for the day, morning prayers, and always a note of gratitude. As I sat enjoying the solitude, the black-and-white movie with the girls started playing again in my mind. I was sure it was a message of some sort and that more information would come to me when I was ready. As I was ending my practice, I added a prayer asking for the most benevolent outcome with