Brief Interludes (5 page)

“
You need to stop sitting around here sulking over something you had no power over.
”

“
But why did it take so many years to identify her?
”

“
The police told you yesterday. Sometimes these things
can't be helped
. She had no prior police record for fingerprints and no known dental records.
”

“
Do you think they'll find out who killed her?
”

“
Doubt it.
”

“
How can you be so certain?
”

“
Been too many years,
that's
all. Let it go, Jenna.
”

“
I can't.
”

She and Russ hadn't talked about Beth for years. Jenna sensed his eyes
staring at her and she sighed.

“
I loved her.
”

“
Yes, yes, I know.
Closer than sisters.
You've told me so many times
before, but it makes me sick.
”

“
Sick because I loved her more than
I loved
you?
Or
sick because she was a woman? Someone you could never be. You were always jealous of her.
”

“
Damn it, Jenna.
”
He slammed his fist on the table and stood up, knocking his chair over in the process.

Jenna flinched at his abruptness. He was angry and the vitriol building behind those dark brown eyes
threatened.
She'd only seen him like this once before. Fifty-three years ago, before they were married. Russ walked into Jenna's dorm room to find Jenna and Beth in bed naked and embraced in each other's arms.

“
Experimenting
”
was what Beth had called it. Jenna wondered. In all of her seventy-three years, she'd never loved anyone as much as she'd loved Beth. Not even Russ, her husband of fifty-one years. Oh, she loved Russ, but that flame in her heart burned so much brighter for Beth. Beth was beautiful and exciting. The love they shared had been pure and unconditional, a sweet innocence, and just like that gone. Snatched away, plucked from the veins of her heart before it had a chance to ripen, leaving nothing behind but the secrets of a broken heart.

Beth, her best friend and lover gone, vanished, without a word. Never to be heard from again. Russ had consoled her and she took comfort in his arms as he convinced her it was for the best, saying Beth would only hurt her in the end. He'd called Beth a wildcard.
Uncontrollable.
H
e
also
said Beth confessed to him that she was only using
Jenna
.

Like a fool, she believed him. Now Beth is dead.
Ha
d
been for fifty-three years.
Oh God.
Somewhere deep down she'd sensed it. The emptiness in her heart spiraled to a bottomless pit.

Russ stepped toward Jenna and stood in front of her. His face inches from hers. His warm coffee breath flowed over her mouth and nose.

“
Don't you ever mention her
again.
I forbid it.
”

“
You forbid it?
”
Russ had never forbidden her to do anything
before
.

“
Why?
”

“
Beth was a slut and you know it. I don't want people to get the wrong idea about you.
”

“
No. If you call her a slut, you call me a slut. She was my best friend and all of this was so long ago. No one would care. No one would even think to care.
”

Russ placed his age-spotted boney fingers around Jenna's throat and shoved her back against the counter.
“
Then you're a slut. Think of the miserable life you would have had, people whispering behind your back. Thin
k of the life you have. I care...
”

“
You're hurting me.
”

His grip tightened and Jenna couldn't breat
he her eyes stinging with fear and
she prayed to God she would wake up from this nightmare.

“
Don't ever mention her again. I wouldn't want you to have to end up dead like her.
”

He released her and walked away.

Jenna clutched her throat and coughed as she slunk down to the floor sobbing, bile rose and she retched.

All these years I've lived with a murderer.

The End

Keep reading for a sample chapter
from
Whisper Cape
, the first book in Susan Griscom’s Whisper Cape series…
writing as Regan Walsh.

Whisper Cape

An Amber Glow Books Publication

ISBN
: 978-0615585734

e-ISBN
:
978-1-4507-8981-3

A powerful woman, an extraordinary man, and a maniac who wants to destroy them. Fate has brought them together, but will it make them stronger or destroy them all in end?
 

Escape to a world where the impossible becomes possible and sparks ignite.
 

WHISPER CAPE
is a town of secrets and Addison MacKenna soon becomes tangled in a web of them. Plagued with nightmares of her father's sudden and brutal death, Addie struggles with her anguish and refuses to believe his demise was accidental.

Fighting to shake off one of those devastating early morning nightmares, Addison finds it even harder to escape from the vision of a man lying on the side of the road--a man she may have just killed. When she frantically tries to locate him, he seemingly disappears, just the beginning of strange occurrences in her life. She also cannot ignore the weird sensations in her own body. Suddenly, the impossible seems possible, but is that a blessing or a curse?

Believing that her continual and worsening nightmares are both the key to her own new abilities and the clue to her father's death, Addie knows she will not rest until she has the answers she craves. As she strives to cope with her new remarkable talents, someone else learns of her abilities
—a
disgruntled maniacal psychopath with his own agenda that involves eliminating Addie. The only one who can protect her, instruct her in the use of her
powers
and teach her how to destroy the murderous monster is the same man who makes Addie's heart race and her blood heat with passion. The same man she'd left for dead.

Cael Sheridan may be arrogant and mysterious but he's also undeniably gorgeous. A member of a secret society, he is sworn to protect the woman he believes to be the daughter of his recently murdered mentor. In the process, he finds it impossible to resist her magnetic sensuality, complicating his efforts to shield and guide her as she learns to manage her newly acquired skills. At the same time, Addison has much to teach him about trust and commitment. Will fate win in the end? You be the judge.

Chapter 1

N
ightmares suck.

Addie put her face in her hands, rubbing her tired eyes.

“Recurring ones suck more,” she grumbled and resumed her unskilled search of the internet.

Gritting her teeth at the annoying hum of the old laptop, Addie tapped the keyboard, one finger at a time, thinking the sound might be enough to drive her insane. “Come on, don’t die on
me now.” She stroked the lid, the gentle motion softening the hum to a silky purr. “Hmmm, that’s it, hold steady old girl, hold steady,” as if the machine could actually hear her. “Atta girl, I must have a magic touch.” She blew out a puff of air, relieved she wouldn't need to spend her next paycheck on a new computer.

Addie clicked on the top search result, “
Dreams and Nightmares, Types of Dreams ...”

With one hand on the mouse and the other massaging her throat, she tried to ease the phantom pain where, just moments ago, it seemed as though someone else’s hands had been. She read the comments on the computer screen.

“When repeated, nightmares are a way for the subconscious to wake up and take notice. Pay attention!”
 

She sighed. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rocked back and forth, willing the vision and the sensation away, and then sank back against her pillow. Addie glanced around at the familiar and somewhat comforting surroundings of her tiny one-room apartment. She stared at the bare walls and stark beige counter separating the kitchen from the living room, wishing for just a second—one tiny second—that she wasn’t alone as she remembered the horrible dream.

Everyone has nightmares,
but night after night?
And
why were they always the same? The same, except along with each new episode rolled in an additional piece of the story, but they always ended with someone choking her, the face shadowed or masked each time. Similar to a suspenseful horror story where you know the beginning and end, but the middle—
the who
, the where, and the why—comes in bits and pieces like tiny clues, each new revelation more terrifying than the last.

They seemed so real and drained her energy. She shuddered and read on.

“Recurring dreams show little variation in story or theme.”

“Well, the theme’s the same, but what about the rest ... and the face; why can’t I ever see the face?”

“Dreams may recur because an encounter portrayed in the dream remains unsettled. Once a resolution is recognized, the dreams will stop.”

“Hmmm ... a resolution.
Identifying the murdering bastard would help,” she said, the memory of her father’s death forever present in her mind.
Always.

She'd been awake for hours, never able to fall back to sleep after a nightmare. Addie rubbed her burning eyes and gingerly pulled herself up from the sofa. Holding her breath, she tiptoed to the kitchen as though the nightmare might gather substance and engulf her any minute. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sighed.

“Get a grip, Addie, it was just a bad dream,” she said, having developed the habit of talking to herself now that she lived alone.

Bad dream my ass
. Something evil lurked in those dreams, those nightmares. She
trembled
a bit remembering the way it took hold and wouldn’t let go, strangling her until she woke up.

She sipped the strong brew while absently massaging her throat, glancing out the window and down at the almost empty parking lot. Her truck sat in its usual spot—alone in the lot—the last of its fellow smog machines. At half past nine in the morning everyone else in the small apartment complex had already left for work, school, or wherever. It looked so lonely—the way
she felt now—and that familiar longing for her dad crept over her. Addie was convinced her nightmares had something to do with his recent death.

***

The eerie wail of the howling wind sent shivers down Addie’s spine. Pulling her jacket sleeves down over the palms of her hands, she gripped the steering wheel to hold it in place. Thank God the heater worked. The vicious cold air outside mixed with the fog floating in from the ocean, enveloping her truck, filling her with an ominous sensation. It swirled its way over the landscape, transforming the spectacular terrain into something unfamiliar.
Sinister.
The late morning haze shrouded most of the highway, snaking its way through the massive redwoods, stirring visions of her nightmare. The roar of the surf thrashing against the rocks emphasized the menacing force.

She shuddered.
Her breath quickened. Hot and tingly blood pulsed through her body, swamping her with a sense of dread. The force strengthened and burned as though her veins were on fire.