25 August 1982
“Take a deep breath, calm down and tell me when you’re ready dear…” Detective Rowry said as his hands instinctively reached out to comfort Melissa. “Who are you, where are you from and why did you want to speak with me?”
“I-I’m Melissa Portwood, I’m 12 years old, I live in the private sector of the orphanage, and I… I think I witnessed the murder of Frankie Pilton.”
“Can someone get me this young girl’s records?” Detective Rowry signalled to his subordinates. “Okay, I’m all ears, what happened?”
“It started with a d-dream…”
24 August 1982
Melissa woke up frustrated as she fumbled around for a glass of water. “Not again, that damn door, why won’t it ever barge?”
Her steely eyes from her chubby reflection in the mirror was all it took to convince her that she needed to get to the bottom of this mystery. She knew better than to suppress the inner Sherlock within herself. It had been two weeks since the dreams started and the scenes within them felt all too familiar.
Melissa tiptoed out of her room, which proved to be difficult with her large flat feet, but determined, she very quietly made her way down the hallway in case not to wake anyone else up. “So the dream starts here,” she muttered under her panted breath. “at the front door of the orphanage. It passes the office, then the interview room and up the carpeted stairs that lead to my favourite place of all, the DINING ROOM!” Melissa leant back smiling with contentment at the thought of breakfast. “FOCUS MEL, FOCUS, now is not the time to think of food. I have to solve this mystery before the other orphans get in my way!”
Melissa retraced the steps from her dream and as she turned the final corner, strangely enough, came face to face with the door that precluded the end of her dreams. She was fully expecting her dream to stay a dream, but, it was real, and it stood right there. Finally, after a moment of silence to accept the eerie coincidence, she proceeded to inspect the door.
“Hmph, locked, just as expected.” As she nudged the door in an attempt to open it. Then something caught her eye, a metallic silver shine that glistened slightly in the rising sun. “THE KEY! Hanging right here? That’s odd, wonder why I never noticed before? But, I guess that’s why they call me Melissa Holmes, I’m just that good.”
She inserted the key jittering with excitement, she gave it a twist, “ker-lunk” went the door bolt. This was it. What secrets laid beyond?