In early 2024, Ann Stolinsky of Celestial Echo Press invited seven writers, myself included, to be headliners for an anthology called Ruth and Ann’s Guide to Time Travel. Aside from one reincarnation story, I had never written a true time hopping tale before. This old familiar trope has been done so often, and from so many angles, that I was intimidated by the challenge.
Nevertheless, I began thinking about how time travel could be used as crime prevention and that led me to write a tale that partners a physicist with a detective to stop a serial killer before he gets started. “A Thorne in Time” went on to win first place in the Pennsylvania Press Club Communications Contest in 2025. I hope you enjoy the opening scene. Thanks for reading!
A Thorne in Time
by Phil Giunta
Captain Garrett McNally straightened his tie as he marched along the concrete walkway that led from the driveway to the front of the sprawling Thorne Mansion. The weed-infested gardens and overgrown lawn clashed with his memory of the last time he stepped foot on this property twelve years ago. Every inch of the place had been immaculate then—a paradise at the edge of the city.
Its luster had since faded and McNally couldn’t help but wonder if that began the moment he informed Robert and Emily Thorne that their daughter, Tanya, had been the latest victim of a serial killer at the tender age of twenty-two. Robert suffered a fatal stroke a few days later and Emily lost her battle with cancer six years after that. As far as McNally knew, Tanya’s twin sister Noreen still lived here, alone.
He jogged up the steps to the portico where two dead plants in mold-covered cement pots flanked a weathered mahogany door in dire need of a cleaning and new finish. He rang the camera doorbell. A few seconds later, a form undulated in the frosted privacy glass before the door swung open. McNally had expected to be greeted by a woman in her mid-thirties, but Noreen’s salt and pepper hair, tired eyes, and drawn complexion lent her the appearance of someone much older.
“Ms. Thorne. It’s been a long time.”
“So long in fact that it’s Doctor Thorne now. Nice to see you again, Captain. Please, come in. I appreciate you driving all the way out here so soon after I called. Can I get you anything? Water, coffee…?”
“No, thank you. I’m good. When you said you had new information regarding the Westside Slasher case, I cleared the rest of my day.”
“Well, I hope to make it worth your time.” She closed the door behind him. “Let’s go to my office. So, how’s your daughter these days?”
“Darla’s doing well. Joined a new law firm not too far from here. Still misses Tanya. Talks about her once in a while.”
“They were closer than anyone realized back then.”
She led him down a short hallway to a room with four large monitors mounted in a square formation above a cluttered desk. They were connected to a single laptop by a tangle of cables and adapters.
Thorne tapped the space bar. Every screen lit up, each with a video file ready to play. “I must ask you to indulge me, Captain. Twelve years ago, the first victim of the Westside Slasher was Sarah Peretti. Do you recall his sixth and final victim?”
“Of course.” McNally cocked his head. “It was your sister.”
“Are you sure about that?” She grabbed the mouse and clicked the play button on the first screen. An anchorman with Channel 14 News shifted in his seat. “The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as twenty-eight-year-old Mae Kaplan of Roycetown. Kaplan worked for MacHale Medical Center, just three blocks from where she was attacked and stabbed seven times. Police are—”
Thorne stopped the video.
“That’s not right.” McNally frowned. “I don’t recognize that name and as the detective on the case, I remember every victim.”
“What about this one?” Thorne launched the video on the second monitor.
“The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as twenty-one-year-old Hailey Mahlberg of Bartlett Village,” the same anchorman reported. “Mahlberg was a senior at Declan University—”
“Hailey Mahlberg was the third victim not the last one,” McNally said. “What is this?”
“As I said, Captain, indulge me.” Thorne slid the mouse to the third screen and clicked play.
“The sixth victim of the Westside Slasher has been identified as thirty-year-old Deb Webb, a mother of three and math teacher at Upper Carlton Middle School. Police are—”
“Are these deepfakes? Did you use AI to fabricate them?”
“I don’t have access to that kind of technology.” Thorne folded her arms and leaned against the desk. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t use it to disrespect these women, especially since my sister was one of them. What you watched are three videos from three different timelines.”
“Come again?”
“I don’t have the tools to make deepfakes, Captain, but what if I had something that could help you stop the Westside Slasher before he claimed his first victim?”
McNally snickered. “Like what, a time machine?”
***
“A more accurate term would be time portal. Beautiful, isn’t it?”
In the center of Thorne’s sub-basement lab, McNally gaped at the gray metal arch that stood floor to ceiling. Several pairs of colored cables wrapped around its thick metal framework, terminating in scattered sockets where small green and amber lights pulsed and flashed. A shimmering, translucent field of pale blue filled the span beneath the arch. Across the room, four monitors were mounted on the wall above a long white counter, reminiscent of the office upstairs.
McNally paced around the arch, examining every detail, before shooting a sidelong glance at Thorne. “You gotta be kiddin’ me.”
“It’s no joke, Captain. Those videos I showed you were the result of my three failed attempts to save Tanya’s life in the past, which spawned three alternate timelines. Originally, she was the slasher’s second victim. Each time I traveled back, I managed to steer her out of harm’s way only for her to be murdered somewhere else a few days later. In the process, the list of victims always changed.”
McNally rubbed his forehead as the reality of Thorne’s words set in. “So every move you made had a kind of butterfly effect.”
“Right, but where you and everyone else remembers only the final sequence of murders—the current timeline—I remember all four timelines, perhaps because I was tethered to the time portal. The computers in the house are all connected to the arch, which allowed me to save the videos I showed you from each timeline.”
“How long did it take you to build this?”
“It was my father’s invention. He spent two decades designing it and working out the math before constructing the arch. All he wanted to do was explore history, but he died before the portal was finished. So, I dedicated the past twelve years to learning the science behind it and making a few upgrades.”
“How does it work?”
“I could show you fifty-five pages of equations.” From the pocket of her cardigan, Thorne produced a small device with a screen displaying several rows of icons, similar to a phone. Its edges glowed with the same blue light as the arch. “Or we could just take a trip.”
“You control your time travels with that?”
“Correct again. I leave through the arch and when I need to return, this handheld controller generates a portal back to it. I have two of these devices, should you decide to help me.”
“I’m listening.”
“Regardless of the changes in the timelines, a few things remained the same. The first victim was always Sarah Peretti, you were the detective assigned to the case, the murders stopped after six, and the killer was never caught. Now we have the perfect opportunity to stop this bastard before he even gets started.”
“You want me to go with you twelve years into the past and catch the Westside Slasher before he becomes the Westside Slasher?”
“That about sums it up.”
McNally laughed. “This is insane.”
“Captain, when you came here twelve years ago to tell us that my sister had been murdered, I peppered you with questions about whether you had any suspects or witnesses or any leads at all. Do you remember what you told me?”
“I couldn’t say much. It was an open investigation. Technically, it still is. But I believe I said I wouldn’t give up until I found the killer.”
“I’m offering you that chance now, Captain. Please help me save my sister.”
Read the conclusion of “A Thorne in Time” and other fantastic tales in Ruth and Ann’s Guide to Time Travel!
