Excerpt:
Excerpt from CHAPTER
21
(a little on Hank and
Christina, on Emma and her aunt, Franka and on solving this mystery).
Hank opened
his eyes and tried to focus on where he’d spent the night. Memory trickled
through a fog of shadows in his mind—a haze at least as thick as the one
filling the room where he lay. Flowered curtains drawn, windows closed to keep
the cool air in, the only sound of what took place outside came carried by
light rain tapping against the window pane.
He rubbed his
eyes and felt a long slim arm drawn against his torso. Christina, he thought, a
twinge of excitement coursing through him.
He stretched
his right arm to grab the clock on the night stand, but connected to the wall
the timepiece didn’t go quite far—far enough to show him he would be late if he
didn’t get up and leave.
With care he
slipped Christina’s arm by her side and gently slid out of bed. Thank God he’d
taken a shower only a couple of hours ago, so dressing in the dark and
tiptoeing out the door would be easy. He watched her sleep, pangs of guilt assailing
him. He grabbed the blanket and the small coverlet she used as a comforter and
drew them over her bare back.
She slept on
her stomach with face deep in the pillow. She likely wouldn’t discover his
departure until much later.
Unable to get
enough of each other, their passion had taken over their senses and now, he
depended on three hours of sleep to get him through the day. They’d talked for
hours and pooled a lot of their dreams and thoughts, more so than during all
the years they had lived together. Now he was sorry he hadn’t told her how much
he loved her. She had, more than once. His stupid pride had choked the words
out of him, still unable to live down the years she’d forced him to struggle
without her.
He slipped
his pants on, found his shirt and jacket and slipped on his shoes shoving his
socks in his pocket. He’d put them on later.
On his way to
the door, he doubled back to take one last peek at the woman he loved. The real
reason he hadn’t spoken up dealt more with other issues, like the shame of
betraying his former avowal of love to her. A bloody miracle she was even back
in his arms. She’d certainly held nothing back.
***
Emma stood in
her aunt’s living room looking down at the street below. To get a better view
she’d pushed back the satin white sheers she now rolled between her fingers the
sensation tickling her pleasantly. She wondered if the rain was an omen of a
gray day ahead of her.
“Coming, Aunt
Franka.”
Her mother
and father had left early to go to work. And after a bout of morning sickness,
Franka had resolutely wanted to make her breakfast despite her protests that
she was old enough to make her own.
She let go of
the curtains to finger the amulet still hanging around her neck, tucked under
her t-shirt and swishing smoothly against her skin like a protecting hand. She
figured she wouldn’t always wear the Eye of Horus. But she’d slept beautifully,
staying put the whole night. Or did her environment have something to do with
the peace of a dreamless night? She often wondered if Granny Dottie’s influence
might still be connected to her through the house’s familiar surroundings,
lending her the possibility to perform the unusual things she did. Then again,
she’d conjured the shiny new penny for the officer’s benefit while on her way
home from the clinic.
“Better get
some food inside you, sweetie. Hank Apple will be here soon.”
After
breakfast, Hank would arrive. He’d bring loaded questions and she’d work to
remember all she’d seen in her dreams while trying not to juggle with the
emotional baggage strapped to the memories. She would do as her mom had asked
her to do. Dispatch the facts, let Hank connect the dots and forget about the
rest.
She pulled
the wooden chair away from the table the scraping sound on the tiles echoing
throughout the open concept breakfast nook, and she wondered why her aunt
needed such a large apartment living by herself.
Settling in,
she bit into a mouthful of pancake dripping with maple syrup. “This is
delicious, Aunt Franka. Jimmy’s a lucky guy.” Emma teased.
“What are you
trying to say, munchkin?” Franka grabbed her glass of juice and sat down facing
her.
“Just that
you’re a good cook.”
“These
pancakes came from a mix. Nothing to them,” she added.
Emma thought
she seemed self-conscious about the compliment. “You’re going to make a good
mother too,” she smiled nodding for emphasis.
Franka
pinched her lips as though tears were close at hand. She stared at the pancakes
in her plate seemingly mesmerized with her fork pushing the pieces around to
soak up syrup.
“You’re not
having second thoughts are you … about the baby?”
“No, no.
Nothing like that.” Franka put down her fork and wiped her mouth with her
napkin. “I guess I better tell you, you’ll learn about it soon enough.” She
toyed with Emma’s fingers. “You have pretty shaped nails. They’d look spectacular
with a little pink polish.”
“What are
trying to tell me?”
“Jimmy asked
me to marry him.” She stuck out her finger and Emma gazed at a small pear
shaped diamond. Then she stared into her aunt’s eyes. “You’re not sure, are
you?”
“I’m not.
Can’t say why. I love him and all … he’s just not the type of man I saw myself
ending up with, make sense?” She shook her head and Emma realized her silence
wasn’t making it easier for Franka.
“We all dream
of prince charming,” Emma said. “Of some white knight. We’re all guilty of
doing that.”
“Or of some
intellectual equal …”
“He’s smart
though, about the day to day things, right?”
Franka was
quick to nod which only gave Emma the impression her aunt was covering
especially when she added, “I mean this business about the car. He should have
realized an abandoned vehicle is not good news. Should have brought the car
straight to police … or to the pound, gotten rid of it somehow.”
“They might
have traced the car back to him anyway. He did a good thing for his mother …”
“Not out of
kindness, only because she nagged him.”
“Maybe you’re
being a little hard on him. Think of my father. Who would have thought he would
ever come through for me? And he certainly was not kind to his mother while
growing up, but I recently learned they fought because they were both scared.
She feared him hanging with the wrong crowd, and he rebelled because of all the
threats she made. Men like Dad and Jimmy … they’re moved by strong emotions.
They don’t always say nor do the smartest thing. But they’ll lay their life
down for the people they love.
Franka
squeezed Emma’s chin. “How did you get to be so smart?”
Emma raised a
couple of nonchalant shoulders.
“Ahhh,” Franka breathed out in despair her
eyes closed. She smiled at her niece. “I’m just not sure this is enough. You’ll
understand all this someday.”
The door
intercom had them jump. Emma figured this wasn’t the time to ask her aunt why
she wore the ring if she hesitated about marrying Jimmy.
Once Franka
hung up, she said. “Speaking of men who are slaves to their emotions. Got a big
one on his way up.”
Emma giggled
at her aunt’s attempt at crossing her eyes as she went to unlock the two bolts
to her door. She was right. Hank would be another one of those primates who’d
go to war, pound his fists against his chest in a show of triumph only to wrap
his arms around the girl adrenalin feeding his frenzy.
Hank came in
flanked with Val. “Howdy, folks. Franka, this is Val.”
The two women
shook hands. “Pleased to meet you, Val,” Franka said. “Please come in. You can
use the small parlor to your right. I’ll close the French doors to give you
privacy.”
“Very
thoughtful. Thank you.” Hank took off his shoes to protect the floors.
“Don’t, Hank.
My floors need a good scrubbing and I have excellent help.”
“Nah. My big
tumblers have been everywhere. They’d only muck up the carpet in your sitting
room.”
Emma glanced
at Hank and wondered what was different about him this morning. He seemed
tired, yet not as edgy as usual almost happy if this word could be used to
describe the rugged detective.
“I’ll bring
in a pot of coffee,” Franka said. “Anyone want anything else?”
Val smiled
and tugged at her backpack’s zipper. “I
stopped …” She tossed the flap to her big shoulder bag and carefully extracted
a bulging box. “I got donuts for everyone,” she said as she opened the lid to
let them gawk at the treasure she carried. “I got one of every kind. Hope it
will do.”
“Do?” Franka
opened wide eyes. “It’s wonderful. Sweets are about the only thing I can keep
down these days.” She took the box from Val. “Okay, then. So there’ll be donuts
with your coffee.”
Hank laughed,
and Emma pondered she’d never heard him laugh. The boisterous tone suited him.
When they
finally sat down in front of coffee and donuts, and a tall glass of ice tea
for Emma, silence fell like a shroud and Emma found herself wishing for
Christina Tyler’s presence.
“He drives a
blue Ford station wagon.” Emma didn’t know why she’d blurted the words out.
Perhaps a sense of duty since she’d promised her mother or because her secret
being out in the open with her father, she needed to unburden what she carried.
Whatever the reason, she stared at the shock on Hank’s expression hoping he
didn’t judge her confession too outrageous.
Hank glanced
at Val to make sure she was ready to take notes. “Do you mind if I tape, Emma?”
Val asked.
“What if
someone were to get hold of the tape?”
“No one will,
I promise. You have the information in your head, I don’t. I’ll never remember
everything you tell me.”
She pinched
her lips and lowered her eyes. She did not want Val taping her conversation.
She glanced at Hank.
“Never mind
the taping, Val. Emma’s right. We’ll both take notes and this will suffice.”
Hank asked.
“How do you know he drives a blue Ford? What kind of blue?”
She gazed at
Val whose own eyes had narrowed on her as she waited pen poised in hand.
“I’d rather
not say how I know the things I do. I don’t want to go to that place if
I don’t have to. I’m just going to give you the facts. That’s what important,
right?”
“Of course.
The why and the how are just to help Val.”
“Don’t mind
me. I’ll make time to weave a credible story. After all, turns out I’m going
to be right a lot. They’ll have to take my word.”
“Car was dark
blue, but not new. He parked across from my parent’s house two nights in a row,
in the driveway of the abandoned Henderson Home.”
“He was
stalking your place?”
“I saw him.”
“How could
you see him at that distance?”
“I can tell
when he’s around. I can sense him.”
Hank released
his breath shaking his head.
“He has a
place on North Walnut Street in East Orange.”
Hank’s arms
fell to his side and Emma could tell he tried not to appear shaken.
“How … Can
you describe the place?”
“There’s a
torn building beside it. A church or synagogue nearby. His building is old and
rambling and there’s a big sign on it that says: We buy gold. There are five
windows on the second floor. I believe his is the third one in the row, two
away from the demolished construction site—at least this is the window that lit
up that night.”
She sneaked a
peek at Val. The woman had stopped writing and her hand shook as she took a sip
of her coffee.
Hank got up
and began pacing. “We’ve got him. Can’t believe we’ve got him,” he muttered.
“No, you
don’t. This is not where he lives.”
Hank stared
at her long and hard. “Do you know where he lives?”
She shook her
head from side to side.
“What is this
place then?”
“It’s where
he brings …” Emma hesitated. Taking a deep breath, she added, “His victims.”
Val bent
toward her, and for the first time, Emma spotted compassion in her brown eyes.
“Emma,” Val said. “You’ve been there?”
“Only in my
nightmares. “He brought Ashley there, Ashley Miller.” She pinched her lips not
to cry and wiped the tear pearling in the corner of her eye.
“Who?”
Emma didn’t
answer.
Hank grabbed
his leather schoolbag and rummaged inside for his files. “We have no victim by
that name,” he muttered as he poured three folders on the coffee table in
front of him. He stared at Emma.
She raised
her shoulders in a show of ignorance.
“Last little
girl was Anne, Anne Ripley.
“No. Ashley
her name is Ashley Miller.”
“Geez
Louise.” Hank bounded up again unable to contain his energy.
“Maybe she
was supposed to be number four.” Emma stared at her donut having lost her
appetite.
“Emma, could
this be a snapshot of the future,” Val breathed. “Did it seem grainy? Did you
realize at the time you might be looking ahead?”
No. I didn’t
realize anything. I just dreaded being back there again. But this time I
actually made it all the way inside the room past the dirty walls and the lone
light bulb. I tried to turn back, but I couldn’t. Like there was a magnet
drawing me in against my will. He behaved like a vicious dog, and I yelled to
make him stop. That’s when he turned and stared right at me. Called me a
witch.”
Val got up
and walked toward the settee Emma occupied alone. She sat down beside her and
wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Poor chica. No one should live
through this,” she cooed. “To think I envied your talent. Not anymore I don’t.”
“All this
time I thought he’d killed her and I hadn’t been able to stop him.
“Emma you
said Ashley was the fourth …” Hank said. “What did you mean by that?”
“She’s not
anymore. Picture has changed. We altered it or rather I did because now he’s
after me.”
“Emma stuck her
face to the window to watch the rain. Lightening in the background drew a fiery
specter in the sky while her eyes traced the water droplets running down the
pane like tears.”
Emma
Willis is ten years old and has a secret. She not only inherited her
grandmother's power of sight, she can accomplish much more. Like most children
without siblings growing up amongst adults, she is precocious yet at times
lonely.
When a murderer is loose in Newark,
a maniac with a thirst for killing little girls, she begins to understand why
her Granny Dottie called her sight a curse. She will need all her powers to
catch a killer and help the people in her life: Detective Hank Apple, her
teacher Christina Tyler, and her little family of three. Only … the madman
knows who she is!
Joss has worked as a consultant
for more than twenty years, writing copy for marketing firms and assisting
start-up companies launch their business. She recently made the switch from
composing copy and promos, to writing fiction and prose. She is developing her
style through courses and the support of other writers. She is a member of the
Romance Writers of America and is presently working on honing three other
novels for publication.
Email. josslandryauthor@gmail.com
Web site.http://www.josslandry.com
Book: Mirror Deep http://tinyurl.com/cdv37n6
Book: I Can See You http://goo.gl/wiD4Bi1
Amazon Author Page: http://goo.gl/3YgCQh
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