The Man At Sternwood Manor - Chapter 1 -

Chapter 1
Ten Years1

Mark Green was driving through the night and the rain. He was going down a lonely country road out of his home town and, though speeding, he was not going as fast as he might have had it not been raining.2

He tapped on the steering wheel anxiously. Sweat was on his brow. His large brown eyes stayed focused on the road, straining to look beyond the distraction of the rain and wipers. That was the only sound besides his pounding heart - the windshield wipers going up and down and up and down. He breathed heavily.3

Suddenly he glanced behind. There was nothing but the darkness and ahead there was just the road. The yellow lines streaked past. On either side of him was dark farmland. The sky was just the same so that it was impossible to tell where the sky and earth met.4

He glanced back again, thinking he heard sirens, but he still saw nothing. When he turned back to the road he thought he saw the white ghostly figure of a woman right in front of him, her hand stretched out, signaling him to halt. He swerved immediately and skidded off the road.5

The sound of a police siren became more distinct as he stumbled out of the car. He spun around, desperately seeking the woman he thought he'd seen. Then he screamed at the sky, "Laura! Laura! Come back!"6

When the policeman pulled up, Mark was kneeling in the road and drenched in rain and blood. Even the rain could not conceal that he was crying.7

"Mark," said the officer, reluctantly taking out his hand cuffs. "I'm going to have to ask you to come with us."8

~9

Mark woke with a gasp. Ten years had passed since that fateful night. He was thirty-eight now and his dark wavy hair was shorter. There were bags beneath his eyes. On top of these there was a more drastic change; Mark could not use either of his legs.10

He sighed, leaning back into his pillow and looking around at the dusty room of old books and antique furniture. He eventually, conceding that it was nearly noon, rolled over and rang a silver bell that was on his night stand.11

An older butler came in promptly and, without saying a word, assisted Mark in getting into his wheel chair.
"What's for breakfast, Gregory?" Mark asked plainly.
"Lunch," said Gregory, rolling Mark out of his room.
"Oh that's funny."
"Really sir, this house is far too big for just me to manage. Have you ever thought of hiring more staff?"
"Gregory, don't bring up the past. You know I can't do that. You know why I can't do that. You know -"
"I beg your pardon sir, but with your condition-"
"My condition? My condition!"
"Sir!" Gregory stopped wheeling Mark to the dining room and walked around in front of him. "Sir, of all your staff - ever - I am the only one that remains. You should know that I DO understand."
Mark swallowed his words, "I'm sorry. I know."
"I was only bringing it up because with-" Gregory paused. "Your needs, it is difficult for me to make your meals, attend to the house cleaning, manage the grounds, and garage, and to also be your personal assistant when needed."
"We've managed alright."
"I'm not getting any younger," Gregory began to wheel him again. "And some fresh blood might do you good."
"Fresh blood. Fresh blood. Yes, smeared all over some murder weapon of mine, right? Smeared all over -" Mark struggled with him emotions, holding back tears.
"Sir, please forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," Mark murmured. Then he slammed his hand down on the dining room table, spilling his glass of wine (this being the only beverage he now drank).
"I'll go fetch a towel and a new glass," Gregory hurried off.
Mark rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes, but as he was closing them he saw the newspaper set out in front of him. It was on the classified page.
Perhaps Gregory was right, he thought to himself. And besides, Gregory did not deserve to do so much work. And after all, Mark thought, still with his eyes closed, it had been ten years... well, five counting the second time.