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Authors: Dale Mayer

Tags: #Mystery, #Suspense

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BOOK: Eyes to the Soul
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“Good.” Great, actually. He’d been raring to get back to work, but he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle a full day’s work after being off for so long. He tired faster and he wasn’t sure how he was going to get used to not having his afternoon nap. Still, he was glad to get back into the swing of things. He was way too young to retire. Maybe another ten years and he’d see. He liked being home with Mary just fine, but being an invalid wasn’t the same thing as being retired. Mary had fussed until he’d been ready to lock the door between them every chance he’d gotten. He’d quickly reversed that strategy when he’d been strong enough to lock her in the bedroom with him. To his delight she’d stayed more often than not, too.

The time home had been a wonderful reinvention for his marriage. Even now he could feel a silly smile breaking out on his face.

Life was good. He grabbed the schedule and the keys from Connie, the receptionist, and walked out to old Bessie. Damn, she looked fine. He patted her front grill. “Are you happy to see me, old girl?”

He hopped up, ran through the basic checks, and smiled when he realized the guys had her filled, fueled, and ready to go. “Gonna make it easy on me for the first day back, huh?”

Brady, one of the servicemen on staff, waved at him from the side of the lot. “Drive carefully.”

Bernie honked lightly and headed out on the first run. He had to pass a school and several parks. Worked for him. He headed down the main street and pulled off to the side street to take him down and around the main traffic. He geared down and took the corner, then headed up Hurricane Hillside. Getting up wasn’t so bad, but going down the long, slow corner on the other side – that was the bitch.

He crested and slowed, and then Bessie picked up speed. He geared the truck down, smiling as she responded beautifully. “Good on you, Brady. Glad to see you treated Bessie right. She’s tuned up prime.”

At the bottom of the hill on the side were the high school and the big ball park. It was full today. He frowned, trying to remember who was playing. “Well, it’s a great day for it.”

He downshifted again and smiled.

Nice to see the community doing so well.

He was picking up speed again on the long, slow slide to the bottom when he felt it hit.

Heat. Not a nice warm heat, but a crushing density of power and pain and…burning heat in his chest.

His heart. God, it hurt, like a fire inside the actual organ. Like a hand reaching inside his chest and squeezing. He groaned, feeling heat then ice racing through his body. His ribs locked and he couldn’t breathe. He hit the brakes, desperate to pull the big rig off to the side of the road. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he couldn’t think for the blackness in his mind.

The rig turned, finally following his command. And he realized he’d pulled it in the direction of the massive playing field. The crowded playing field.

No. Bessie, no!
His foot slammed on the brake hard as he shifted down. Too hard. His foot was on the brake, his hand on the emergency brake, and neither was working properly. His big body had always been a source of pride and joy – until the accident that had changed so much.

Bessie started to take on a life of her own.

Bernie tried to save Bessie. He tried to save the park full of people. He already knew it was too late to save himself. Death didn’t appear to be done with him.

Well, he refused to take a mess of happy, bright kids with him. He’d take out the power lines and that damn building before he’d go out doing this kind of damage. With a superhuman effort, he yanked at the wheel as the black mist crept into his eyes.

Just then, his beloved Bessie hit the guardrail, flipped on her side, and slid across the road. He blinked and tried to focus, only he could see nothing but a reddish black mist.

The effort pushed him over the edge and he knew no more.

Chapter 5

C
elina opened her
eyes and bolted upright. She stared into the cloudy gray world of her room. Normally she saw enough to see blurry shadows with light and dark playing games with her mind. Right now there wasn’t even that much going on, but the hair on the back of her neck was standing straight up and shivers rippled down her spine. Something was wrong. Fear reached up and grabbed her by the throat.

Damn. This odd warning system had only gotten stronger since her blindness. Before it had been a purely peripheral sensation. Now it was an instant prodding in her psyche. She just didn’t know what to do with it.

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard, and tried to relax. And thought she heard something. Like a heavy breath. Her eyes flew open, her gaze darting around the room helplessly. She held her breath and listened. But there was no movement. No more breathing. Nothing shifted except for the ice hardening in her stomach. She sat up again. “Hello?”

She tilted her head at the eerie silence. She swore she’d heard someone. But who? And why?

Her chest expanded in a huge gasp as she realized she’d been holding her breath again. She took a second deep breath. She couldn’t hide her presence. If someone else was here, then they knew she was too. She slipped from her bed and snugged up against the wall, her breathing low and shallow. She carefully walked the perimeter of her bedroom and then moved out into her small apartment. She knew the person was gone. Inside. But her mind and psyche weren’t on the same page. She’d never be able to go back to bed until she knew for sure.

It took a good ten minutes to check the nooks and crannies of her apartment before she made her way back to her bedroom. She slipped under the covers but couldn’t relax her mind. She checked the time. It was four in the morning. A horrible thought struck. She grabbed her phone and called the hospital to check on Jacob’s status. He was doing well, but another member of her group hadn’t done so well. He’d died less than an hour ago.

James. She knew him, but not as well as other members of the group. He played trumpet and had an online company with his wife.

That there’d been yet another fatality in that stupid accident really bothered her. When would this be enough? The driver of the pickup was also dead. Then again, there was a good possibility that he’d been dead before he’d hit the pub. He’d possibly had a heart attack before the crash. She certainly didn’t blame him, but she wanted to blame
someone
, anyone, for the senseless loss of life. James was a young man. Bruce was older but full of life, and had so much more to give.

Cindy. She’d been a blessing to be around. Always with a smile on her face and in her voice. She had a ready wit that often caught people unaware.

Celina had been blessed to know these people since before her accident, and she knew their faces. Cindy had been beautiful inside and out.

Before she realized it tears were rolling down her cheeks. She sniffled them back. Heavy emotions sent her energy even further off track, and those ghostly friends in her life tended to know instinctively when she was upset. Both physical friends and ghostly friends, although there weren’t many non-ghostly friends left. Jacob was one of the few.

“Damn right we know. What’s upsetting you now?” Mimi asked. She’d become the spokesperson for a less-developed group of ghosts.

“Another friend died tonight from the accident,” she whispered through the tears.

“And as we keep telling you – and you more than most should know – death is not an ending.”

“It is for him – and me in a way. I might be able to see his ghost, but that’s not a good thing. Like you, he should move on.”

She reached for a box of tissues sitting on the corner of her night table. “So it is an ending. And one that didn’t need to happen.” She crumpled up the tissue and wiped her eyes. Half done, she lowered the tissue. “It’s all so senseless.”

“Unless you believe in karma, or God, or fate. If you believe in a grand plan at all, then you have to accept that this happened for a reason.”

“I won’t accept that,” Celina cried. “Bruce didn’t need to die like this. Neither did Cindy. Or any of them.”

“You don’t know that. It’s not for you to know. It’s for you to accept.”

“I don’t want to accept it.” That was the core issue. She was losing friends all over the place and she wasn’t ready to accept that. And underlying all that was the knowledge that she wasn’t ready to accept her own state.

A weird blankness filled the room.

Mimi gasped and poofed into the air without warning. Celina already knew what was wrong.

The cold creeping into her soul told her she had another visitor.

That’s easy to fix
, came that horrid, smug voice.
I’ve told you time and time again. Let me see.

Never.
She rolled over, pulled the covers up over her shoulders, and blocked that hateful voice out of her head.

*

Stefan washed his
hands, but the very effort of cleaning them was almost too much for his exhausted body. The painting was behind him. He didn’t bother looking. This painting had been an outlet for his frustration and nothing else. And it had done its job. Tension no longer rode his shoulders like a steel bar. He was physically tired but mentally calm. Now he’d take a quick glance at Brandt’s file and deliver answers in the morning. He picked up the file and walked upstairs to his bedroom. He dropped the file on his bed and headed to the shower. Feeling clean and refreshed, he collapsed on his bed and opened the file.

Five minutes later sleep was the last thing on his mind.

He reached for the phone and called Brandt. A sleepy voice answered. “He’s not here, Stefan.”

He glanced at the clock. It was six a.m. Damn, where had the night gone?

“Sam?” His voice gentled. This woman who’d gone through so much was a kindred spirit to Stefan’s soul. She was small, gentle, with an inner core of steel. She needed the steel to have survived the horror in her life. “I’m sorry, I thought I called his cell phone. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s all right,” she said, the smile in her voice warm and caring. “The dreams have been tough lately. I’m glad you pulled me out.”

“Brandt mentioned you were having trouble sleeping. What kind of dreams?” he asked, his voice surprisingly sharp. He immediately apologized. “Sorry, it’s been a long day and night. Something is happening but I can’t pinpoint what.”

“I’m just getting snippets myself. Not strong enough to see who or what, just lots of blood. But not any one scene. One time it’s a car accident – at least I think that’s what it was. Another time it seems to be a surgery happening. Then it’s a suicide. Honestly, I have no idea what’s going on. Tonight I felt as if my chest was so hot it was like it was on fire and I was gripping a steering wheel from a big truck.” She sighed. “It’s weird to connect to accidents or suicides. That’s so not me.”

“Maybe your skills are changing again,” he suggested, “now that you’re learning more control.”

“Great. Not.” She yawned again. “Sorry, I’ve been trying to sleep for a couple of hours, and it looks like I’m ready to try again.”

“Then do. I’ll call Brandt at the office.”

“Good night,” she murmured, then it sounded to Stefan as if she dropped the phone as she fell off to sleep.

He smiled. At least she’d sleep. Like himself, Sam often found sleep hard to come by. He redialed, getting Brandt this time.

“Thought you were going home.”

Brandt snapped in disgust, “I did and got called back in. Did you sleep?”

Stefan snorted and walked to his studio in the back. He flicked on the light and stared at the massive bloody heart in the middle of his canvas. “I painted a bloody valentine scene tonight when I came home from the hospital. I’m trying to figure out if this is related.”

“Why would it be?” Brandt asked. “I’m sure any shrink would have no trouble associating the painting to Celina being in an accident tonight.”

“Except I spoke with your lovely wife about her dreams and now I’m wondering if my painting and her visions are connected. I need details. And how did you get all this information on the different cases anyway?”

BOOK: Eyes to the Soul
7.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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