Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 373(@300wpm)
And he could see it.
The space in front of him widened beyond the spot where he stood. And then he saw the water, a narrow stream that splashed by, a small rocky shore along the edge. A fish jumped into the air and then plunged back into the water, and he could feel its slippery, scaly skin in his palm. He could feel it wriggling and flailing, and he didn’t know how or why, but he could.
He took a step and then another. The woman walked with him, never letting go of his hand. He placed his foot on the sandy pebbles, feeling the bumpy texture on his sole. Other senses opened, and the flash of a blossom unfolding its petals blinked inside his mind. He heard the water now, bubbling and splashing, and he smelled it too. Fresh. Sweet. Good.
He stretched his leg and dipped his toe in. It was wet and cold, and it cascaded over his skin. It made him laugh. The woman laughed, too, and he heard her feet crunch on the rocks next to him. He turned his head to look at her, to see the smile on her face. Her skin looked both soft and papery, and a halo of red curls surrounded her face. Her teeth were big and white, and wrinkles fanned out around her eyes like sunrays. She was the back and the forth and the hand holding his and the thud, thud, thud. She was good. “Wonderful, isn’t it?”
He nodded. There was something in his throat. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“Mama Maisie,” she said, her smile brightening.
Mama. The word scared him, but he didn’t know why. “Or how about just Maisie?” she asked. The thud, thud, thud in the background grew louder, and his lungs filled with air.
He nodded again. Maisie. The voice and the song and the back and the forth were a woman named Maisie. And she held his hand in hers.
“What should I call you?” she asked.
His head swam. He had a name. Someone had given him a name. A woman. She’d smiled when she’d said it. “Jett,” he answered.
“Jett,” Maisie repeated. “Okay, Jett. And now, sweetness,” she said, giving his hand another squeeze as he took his foot from the water and placed it back on the bumpy pebbles. “It’s time to choose a guide.”
“A guide?” He heard his voice. It sounded cracked and unused. He had to push it from his chest.
“Mm. An animal, maybe a bird? Your guide will stay with you even when I’m not here. Your guide will never ever leave you, no matter what.”
Fear. He squeezed her hand tighter. “But I want you. I don’t want you to go.”
“Not yet. And I won’t ever be far. But I can’t come with you where you need to go. Only your guide can. What should that be?”
A guide? He didn’t understand. Where did he need to go? He wanted to stay here, under the sunshine, feeling his skin and his toes and his hand in Maisie’s. Safe. Warm. He wanted to use his voice, to test different words and different sounds. To feel it rush over his tongue and whisper between his lips.
“You can do it,” Maisie said. “I know you can. Focus. Close your eyes and call your guide.”
He did as she said, closing his eyes. But he didn’t know what to focus on, didn’t know who or what to call.
“There it is!” Maisie said. “Open your eyes. There it is.” She sounded happy.
He opened his eyes and saw what she was looking at. A white dove spread its wings and flew from the branches of a tall tree, gliding nearer. He blinked in wonder and raised his arm, and it landed on his wrist. “A dove?” he whispered. A dove with snowy feathers and glossy black eyes.
“A dove, yes,” Maisie agreed, her voice soft and sweet. “Beautiful. Doves signify peace. Did you know that?”
Peace. Yes. He’d wished for peace in a time and space he couldn’t now recall. Somewhere different. “Peace,” he repeated softly. Then the dove spread its wings again and soared into the sky, gliding above the trees.
“Follow it, sweetness. Go.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The call that four more bodies had been found came in just after 5:00 p.m. the next day as Ambrose was leaving for the ring. He’d tossed his equipment aside and pulled on his dress pants, button-down shirt, and tie. Then he’d taken a minute, just one, to sit there with the situation in front of him. Lennon was off, and so he’d likely be at the scene alone, at least for a few minutes. This was a good opportunity, one he hadn’t thought would present itself. And he had to look at the bigger picture, because lives were involved, ones he felt responsible for.
He glanced at his phone, and for a moment he thought about giving in and calling her. Fuck, he’d practically had to sit on his hands all day not to pick up the phone just to hear her voice. But he’d already made a complicated situation even messier, and so he gathered his resolve and reached for his jacket, wallet, and keys before heading for the door.