When my husband, Doug, and I lived on Cuesta Grade in SLO, I started dreaming about this man in a blue uniform with a name tag. This dream kept coming back, but I could never make out the name. It was a recurring dream which had a sense of urgency to it. The man appeared outside my house, usually at night, trying quietly to break in. He had little tools with him: a tiny saw to try and slice the window lock open, a pick to force front entry, and a scraper to find weak places where window and wood met. Meticulously, the man tried all his special tools while watching me. He stared in with a vacant smile. I looked back, so frightened that I couldn’t move, which made me feel helpless.
This recurring dream continued when we moved to Oceanaire, closer to town. The murder of a young woman took place not long after, causing our town and our new neighborhood not to feel as safe. My friend, Mark, offered to take me by Hysen-Johnson to drop my car off since it was due for service and not too far out of Mark’s way, just a couple miles from the car dealership to my house. I had just slid out of my car and handed it over, watching the mechanic’s helper park it in the garage. He hopped out like a man on a mission. “Hey Mark, long time no see. How are you? I don’t think we’ve seen each other since high school.” He pointed at me. “Is this your wife? I can take her home if you’ve got to get back to work.”
Mark looked flustered. “No, no, this is the boss’s wife. Just helping get her here.”
I looked at the name tag on the mechanic’s helper-blue uniform. “Thanks, Jeff,” Mark said. “But, I’ll take her home.”
Jeff moved closer to me until we were standing face to face. “Nice to meet you, but I’m not that far away, and Mark doesn’t mind,” I said. “Do you Mark?” I knew something didn’t feel right, and I should pay attention. Jeff shook my hand, and it forced me to hold my breath. I realized he held an invoice that had my information.
He gave me a shrug and a vacant smile. “Suit yourself. Bye, Mark. Maybe we’ll see each other in another ten.”
Mark didn’t utter a word, just waved his hand as we got in his car and pulled out of the parking lot. “There’s something about that guy I don’t trust,” Mark said. “I’m bringing you back when the car is done if Doug isn’t home.”
I agreed with a nod. In my head, I’d put it all together: the blue uniform, the empty name tag, and the vacant smile. I shivered at the thought that this was my mystery man from all of those creepy dreams. Could he really jump out of my nightmares and into my waking life via a car dealership?
After meeting Jeff, I became obsessed with the murder, sitting down every morning with my coffee and newspapers, new and old. I felt like the murdered woman was sitting down with me as we went through the information, attempting to put it all together. I found out from the stack of papers that the young woman was a local, probably close to the same age as Mark. I put a coffee cup down for Alice since I felt she was near. “Alice, please sit. I brought you a coffee. Let me know when something rings true.”
The phone rang. Mark sounded excited, talking fast and first. “You know that I went to school with that girl? Her body was found in her apartment, along with a suitcase and roundtrip airline ticket to San Diego. Somebody she shouldn’t have trusted must’ve given her a ride home.”
I think of my ride home invitation with an unsettled feeling. “Do you think she could have been friends with Jeff?” I asked.
“They didn’t date, but they were friends. Alice always stood up for him. Even back then, he was always stirring up trouble.”
And now, she has a slit throat for all of her effort, I thought to myself.
The night the second murder took place, I was alone in the house and had a nightmare. I was trying to get out of the house, away from someone. I could hear warning voices, trying to wake me, to get me moving out of the house. Maybe it was Alice or my spirit side or both. I felt the need to get out fast. I jumped out of bed, grabbed my keys, and ran for the front door (no time for a robe, purse, or shoes). I jumped in the car, and for some reason, the windows were rolled down. As the engine turned over, the assailant grabbed my arm from the window as I caught a glimpse of his nametag. My heart stopped, and lights came on. I knew that Jeff had killed a second woman because both she and Alice stood in front of the car, glowing from the high beams.