Killing Time in Georgia

KILLING TIME IN GEORGIA THE SAVANNAH TIME TRAVEL MYSTERIES BOOK 1 SUSAN KIERNAN-LEWIS SAN MARCO PRESS Killing Time in Georgia. Book 1 of the Savannah Time Travel Mysteries. © 2023 by Susan Kiernan-Lewis All rights reserved. Books by Susan Kiernan-Lewis The Maggie Newberry Mysteries Murder in the South of France Murder à la Carte Murder in Provence Murder in Paris Murder in Aix Murder in Nice Murder in the Latin Quarter Murder in the Abbey Murder in the Bistro Murder in Cannes Murder in Grenoble Murder in the Vineyard Murder in Arles Murder in Marseille Murder in St-Rémy Murder à la Mode Murder in Avignon Murder in the Lavender Murder in Mont St-Michel Murder in Grasse Murder in Monaco The Maggie Newberry Mysteries: Books 1,2,3 A Provençal Christmas: A Short Story A Thanksgiving in Provence Laurent’s Kitchen The Claire Baskerville Mysteries Déjà Dead Death by Cliché Dying to be French Ménage à Murder Killing it in Paris Deadly Faux Pas Murder Flambé Toujours Dead Murder in the Christmas Market Deadly Adieu Murdering Madeleine Murder Carte Blanche Death à la Drumstick The Savannah Time Travel Mysteries Killing Time in Georgia Scarlett Must Die The Stranded in Provence Mysteries Parlez-Vous Murder? Crime and Croissants Accent on Murder A Bad Éclair Day Croak, Monsieur! Death du Jour Murder Très Gauche Wined and Died A French Country Christmas The Irish End Games Free Falling Going Gone Heading Home Blind Sided Rising Tides Cold Comfort Never Never Wit’s End Dead On White Out Black Out End Game The Irish End Games, 1-3 The Mia Kazmaroff Mysteries Reckless Shameless Breathless Heartless Clueless Ruthless Mia Kazmaroff Mysteries, Books 1-3 The French Women’s Diet Ella Out of Time Swept Away Carried Away Stolen Away 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 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Chapter 40 Chapter 41 Chapter 42 Chapter 43 Chapter 44 Chapter 45 Chapter 46 Chapter 47 Chapter 48 Chapter 49 Chapter 50 Chapter 51 Chapter 52 Chapter 53 Chapter 54 Chapter 55 Chapter 56 Chapter 57 Chapter 58 Chapter 59 Chapter 60 Chapter 61 Chapter 62 Chapter 63 Chapter 64 Chapter 65 Chapter 66 Chapter 67 Georgia’s Next Adventure About the Author 1 There’s something about waiting for trouble that is extremely unsettling. I’m not sure I should actually be getting paid for it. That just seems wrong on several different levels. I adjusted my headset and glanced around the office. The dispatcher’s center smelled of bad coffee and sweat, and weirdly, old plastic and paper. I’d already drunk too much of the bad coffee. I watched the buttons light up on my call screen and felt my stomach tighten. We had the latest in computer technology at the Savannah Police Department. Of course we did. It was 2023. But the office I work in has been in this part of the building since 1948. The air conditioning unit—literally the most vital piece of equipment in the building—heaved and shuddered as if it was on its last legs, often emitting a fine mist rather than cold air. I reached for my water bottle and took a long sip. I’d been doing the job for over three years now and I knew the drill. Nobody knew it better. Receive the calls, screen them, determine the nature and location of the emergency, dispatch law enforcement or emergency responders as necessary. I was good at it, too. I was fast, competent, and calm with hysterical people, plus I’d incorporated a vast knowledge base of basic first aid that the caller could attempt before help arrived. Last year I’d delivered a baby over the phone. Up until then, I’d not even seen a YouTube video of a baby being born. But I’d somehow managed to talk the young father through it. There was something distinctly surreal about interacting with people during the worst moments of their lives, and then just going home to watch Jimmy Kimmel as if none of it had ever happened. The phone buzzed and I reached for the button to connect. I could feel my heart racing as I took the call. “911. What’s your emergency?” I asked. “My hubs fell offa the ladder,” the woman said, her voice whiney and shrill. “He just laying there!” I checked on the map to see what section of Savannah the call was coming from. Garden City. Not a great area of town. “I’m sending an ambulance now,” I said. “Don’t move him.” “Hell, he three hundred pound if he a pound,” the woman said. “I ain’t touchin’ him.” “Is he conscious, ma’am?” I asked. “No, but his eyes doin’ some blinkin’.” I reached for a water bottle. I felt my mind easing into neutral. Sometimes all the calls sounded the same. Bad habit to get into. I took another long sip, hoping the cold water would jolt me back into the job. I’ve started having to do that more and more. Usually it worked. “You still there?” the woman said. “When that ambulance coming?” “Let me check,” I said. I put her on hold while I connected with one of the mobile field medics. “I have a from a fall from a ladder,” I said into my headset. “6 Main Street in Garden City.” “We have someone enroute. ETA ten minutes.” “Ma’am?” I said to the woman on the line. “The ambulance will be there in ten minutes.” “Do I have to be here when it come?” Nothing surprised me anymore. “Yes, Ma’am. You need to lead them to the—” “Well, they can see what happened! He laying there big as life!” "Ma'am, can you tell me