When the past comes back to haunt you

The bus slowed to a stop and Jim stepped out. It had been 15 years since he had returned to his hometown. It still looked exactly the same.

At the corner of Main and Park was the 7-11 where he hung out with friends during high school. Across the street was the pizza parlor who made the best deep dish pepperoni pie he'd ever tasted. Its green awning was still faded from the sun and torn in the corner. The Rusty Nail was still there, parking lot full of bikes even though it was 11 in the morning. He'd had his first beer in that tavern and gotten into his first fistfight in the men's room with a big biker who thought Jim had been hitting on his girlfriend. Jim lost the fight, but got his revenge - screwing the guy's girl in the backseat of his car.

A smile played on Jim's lips at the memory and quickly faded. Not all his memories of this place were good. The town had been struck by a terrible tragedy, one which seemingly froze it in place. Sara. Just thinking her name hit Jim like a ton of bricks. No one took her disappearance harder than him.

Sara had been his first love, though the feelings were unrequited. She was nothing short of amazing. Stunningly beautiful, she turned heads where ever she went. She was the head cheerleader, class president and a star on the stage. She was the kind of person who made you feel special just being in her presence. Sara volunteered at the local hospital and animal shelter. She was a waitress at her parent's restaurant to earn money for college, where she planned to major in acting. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that she would be discovered and make it big.

But all that changed the night of prom.

Sara had never looked better in her silver Donna Karan sheath. The silky fabric fell to the floor and her blond curls hung wildly around her shoulders. She looked like a goddess. Jim told her so when he tried to kiss her that night. Sara laughed and pushed him away, breaking his heart into a million pieces. He stormed out of the dance and awoke the next morning in his car, with a splitting headache and an empty bottle of Jack in his hand.

Forcing his bleary eyes to focus, he realized he was down by the river. He had a vague recollection of driving there the night before. Then the pain of Sara's rejection came rushing back. He flung open the car door and retched.

That was when he saw it. One of Sara's silver stilettos lay on the ground. He inched closer, finding it sitting in a pool of blood. Jim stared, completely transfixed, until something caught his attention, something sparkling from under a rock. It didn't take long to recognize Sara's necklace. She was never without it. Now it was broken into pieces and he knew, as surely as he knew his own name, that Sara was dead.

He broke into a sprint back to his car. He could barely dial 911 his hands shook so badly. The police came. They investigated. They searched for any sign of Sara. They found nothing. Sara became a missing person and they waited in vain for the ransom note Jim knew would never come.

Graduation was tinged with sadness. Sara would have been the valedictorian. Jim gave the commencement speech in her place. He left town the very next day. He planned to never return.

Jim went to college, studying criminology and journalism. He became a private investigator and wrote the crime beat for a paper in Miami. He was good - very good - at his chosen professions.

Though prom was ages ago, the events always haunted Jim. The police had long since given up on solving Sara's case. Jim began to investigate on his own. He used every connection available to him, prying into the details he knew the cops must have overlooked. Over time, a theory developed. One the police never explored. They would have dismissed it as the ramblings of a love sick madman, but in his heart, Jim knew he was on the right track.

Jim had always wanted to write a novel. He tried, many times, but the right story always escaped him. Until now. He came home to write her story.