I Speak for the Dead

I Speak for the Dead: Prologue

I speak for the dead. No, I’m not a psychic or a ghost-whisperer, or any of that. I don’t see little green men, either. The dead have stories to tell, wounds that still bleed. Abel's blood cried out from the ground against his brother, the very first murderer, and blood of victims still cries out, if someone will listen. Because the dead have no voice of their own, I speak for them.

I’m a private investigator, and I deal with the coldest of cold cases. The victim may be dust and ashes now, and the killer too, but the truth is still out there. I want to be the one who finds it, the one who points the finger and says, “Thou are the man.” The lady Justice wants her scales tipped.

I know there won’t be any charges filed. There won’t be an arrest, and a big media trial. But someone will know the truth, and if that makes the dead rest a little easier in their long-cold coffins, that’s all to the good. I don’t get rich, but that’s all right, too. The dead want me to tell their stories.

My name is Rachel Banner and I speak for the dead.