Authors: Kristen Heitzmann
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #Christian, #Thrillers
“I’m not sure, but there might be an eyewitness.”
Jonah straightened. “Who saw Michaela?”
He shook his head. “Earlier that day, Natalie Reeve saw someone who scared her pretty badly.”
“Can she give a description?”
Hands spread, Trevor cocked his head. “Normally, no problem.” He explained as noninvasively of Natalie’s privacy as he could.
“And you think she saw, but doesn’t remember.”
“I think fear’s blocking what she saw. Could Tia talk her through it?”
Jonah leaned back in the chair. “She works with a licensed counselor, but …” He tapped his lips with his pointer fingers. “I’ll talk to her. It could be the break we need.”
Fleur made her way down the sidewalk from the bakery toward the corner, tap-tapping with her stick. While she knew the way, there was always the chance of impediments, dogs leashed to poles, debris, sale tables moved outside of stores. People greeted her as she went, even strangers. That’s what kind of town Redford was. Until last night.
No one understood why one of their own teens would go off like that. Did she mean to hurt herself? There’d been no suicide in Redford since the former chief of police, Jonah’s father. Fleur shuddered. What a dark time that had been. But if anyone could figure out—
“Fleur.”
She paused, turned her head a little to the side. “Officer Newly?”
“Wait there. Let me park the cruiser.”
She moved to the edge of the sidewalk and leaned against a brick storefront. It had absorbed the sunlight and radiated heat to her back. After a short while, Officer Newly approached.
“Sorry to hold you up.”
“I’m in no hurry. The sun is out. The wind has stopped. No snow to shovel.”
“That’s all true. But I need you to know something,” he said. “It’s sensitive to the investigation—last night’s incident? I’m guessing you heard.”
“You mean Michaela’s accident?”
“Yeah.” He leaned closer. “Thing is, we don’t think it was an accident. There’s reason to believe someone took her from the parking lot and left her on that ledge.”
“An abduction?”
“It’s looking that way. I’m telling you because, well, she was vulnerable and you’re …”
“A blind woman.”
“You’re amazingly capable and self-sufficient. But if there’s a predator …”
Fear engulfed her.
“Until we can talk to Michaela and find out for sure, I don’t know how safe it is for you to walk alone. I hope that’s not insensitive.”
“Of course not.” The fear trickled into her limbs, dissolving their strength. “I appreciate your concern.”
“Can I give you a ride?” He sounded so earnest.
“As long as it’s not in the backseat with handcuffs and Miranda rights.”
“No ma’am.” He laughed and took her elbow. “This way.”
Sun! to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
I fell, how glorious once above thy sphere;
Till pride and worse ambition threw me down.
S
taring at the monument, he had felt the ache, that longing, which so pitiably denied, he would reject, lest it lead once more to misery. Gazing, stricken, at his foe immortalized, he’d seen the depths to which he’d sunk, all hint of glory shriveled, all transcendence turned to dust. What remained in desolation? To strike and destroy that which he would love and cherish, which he would worship had he the capacity.
Strike, tear down, destroy. It must be done, the idol cast down. The noble visage shattered, fulsome form wrecked and broken. Seraphic guardian unmade.
In that commission would come relief, if only for a breath. He had no expectation of peace. He knew well the Final Act, the coup de grâce, but must before that make his message known.
No longer daunted, but renewed in purpose, he stepped into the sunny world.
Twenty
N
atalie couldn’t remember, didn’t want to remember. But then she thought of the girl Trevor and the others had gone out in the storm hoping to help and save, while someone else intended such great harm. Whatever she could do mattered, no matter how horrifying.
The knot in her stomach loosened when she saw the grassy meadow enclosed by fir and spruce with a creek along one edge and a cozy cabin she could sink into like a deep warm comforter.
Bars of light broke through the tree branches, liquid gold on the foliage below. Sumac flamed. Sky blue spruce dangled long papery cones like honeycombs. Patches of snow clung to the dark recesses under the trees, but sunlight warmed the pungent grasses. Great mountain swells rose up all around.
“Wow.”
“Pretty nice,” Trevor agreed.
Not at all on par with the new mansions, but so much richer in its way.
Tia admitted them, greeting Trevor, then said, “Thank you for coming to the cabin, Natalie. Jonah’s worried about leaving Sarge alone.” Tia had exotic beauty without the conceit that often accompanied it.
“It was worth it to see this setting.”
She ushered them in and introduced a woman standing in the kitchen. “This is Carolyn. She’s overseeing my internship. We’ll be working together, if that’s all right.”
Natalie glanced over briefly with a smile, then let her gaze roam. The last thing she needed was new faces. “Trevor thinks what I saw might help. I’m not even sure it was real.”
“Do you see things that aren’t?” Carolyn’s tone was calm, nonjudgmental.
“I never have. My visual memory is precise and acute, but it’s not mystical. I need real input to process.”
“Why do you think this might not have been real?”
“Because it’s gone. There’s no eidetic image. Every time I tried to model it … nothing.”
Tia poured and offered her a cup of tea.
“Thank you.”
Carolyn went on gently probing. “So what do you think it was?”
“I hope a hallucination.”
“Any medication that might cause hallucinations?”
“No.” She sipped her tea. “I don’t take anything.”
“Why don’t you want it to be real?”
She stared into her cup. “He.” She swallowed a sudden hard pain.
Trevor said, “When it happened, you said you felt destroyed.”
“I did?” She took a drink, not wanting to feel it again.
“They’ve been real emotions you saw—mine, Sara’s, Paige’s, and Aaron’s. The people at the opening.”
“I know.”
Tia said, “Any reason to think this is different?”
“I didn’t hold it.” They’d come full circle.
“Let’s sit down.” Carolyn motioned.
They moved into the main room by the fireplace.
“Hypnosis can help witnesses recall details and events. Like every tool, it’s imperfect, but in this case, worth a try?”
Natalie shrugged. “I’ve never done it.”
“With something like this especially, I’d like to start with prayer, unless anyone objects.”
Her prayer was simple and brief, but Natalie felt the peace and solemnity.
“Tia, why don’t you begin with a relaxation exercise? Would you prefer we did this alone, Natalie?”
“Trevor can stay.” She wanted him to. Sinking into Tia’s voice, she felt herself relax. As awful as it might be, she wanted to help.
In a rich tone, Tia said, “Bring yourself to that morning, Natalie.
What did you feel?”
“Excited for Fleur.” She explained Carter Granby’s interview.
“And then what did you do?”
She saw herself walking toward the windows where the sunlight shone on Trevor’s statue, how he seemed to glow like the archangel she’d imagined. In the glare of the window, she saw someone else staring at the statue. Everything went black. She gripped the arms of the chair. “Trevor?”
Groping for his hand, she sat up.
Tia tipped her head. “What happened?”
“It all went black.”
“Are you all right?”
Natalie shook her head. “I’ve never had a block.”
“Well,” Carolyn said, “let’s try something else. I’ll name something, and you just say what comes to mind.”
She nodded.
“You might still want to close your eyes.”
She did.
“A window.”
Instantly she was back at the front of the gallery. Her throat tightened. “A spiral.”
“One of your sculptures?” Tia asked softly.
“No.” Tears burned up and slid from the corners of her eyes. “It’s red. Painful.”
“How does painful look?’
She opened her eyes. “It reminds me of something, but I can’t place it.”
“Something you’ve seen somewhere else?” Her head throbbed.
The door opened and Chief Westfall came in. He looked like a scrappy Hugh Jackman, and since she’d only interacted with him a few times, his image imprinted as he crouched down in front of her. “Hey, Natalie. How’s it going?”
She shrugged. “Not good.”
Tia said, “Natalie’s doing great. It’s just a process.”
“What do we have?”
“Something about a red spiral. It had a painful connotation.”
He fixed his stunning eyes back on her. “Could it be a tattoo?”
She frowned. “Maybe.”
“Anything you can give us helps.”
Like Trevor, this man carried the weight of others, yet the warmth in his eyes encouraged her.
“I’ll try again. I just can’t promise results.”
“Whatever you can do.” He smiled.
Another imprint.
Looking on, Trevor experienced something he’d never felt before—jealousy that the chief’s features were now fixed in her mind. It bugged him to think of her hands modeling Jonah Westfall’s face. As Natalie sat back in the recliner and closed her eyes, Trevor covered her hand with his, comfort and appropriation. Had he lost his mind?
The man was married, having a kid. His wife was in the room. Across their little group, he caught Carolyn watching, and shifted focus. This was about what Natalie saw, what might catch a predator. This was about Michaela.
“Where were you when you saw him?” Jonah’s voice was low.
“At the gallery. He was outside the window, looking at Trevor’s statue, and the look on his face—”
A collective gasp. She was remembering.
“Go on,” Jonah urged.
“It was like worship. Only … it hurt. His face—” She bolted up, shaking.
Jonah locked her in a stare. “What about his face?”
“Scarred. An angry, raised coil over half his face like an old-fashioned stove burner.” She ground the heels of her hands into her eyes. “And the other side had long, straight cuts.”
“Fresh cuts? Scratches?”
“No. Old, deep scars.” Her voice sounded raw.
Trevor squeezed her hand. “Can you model it?”
“I’ll try.” She was blind to anything else, he knew.
“I’ll take her to the studio. But, Chief, if she saw him, he probably saw her.”
Jonah rose. “I don’t have the manpower to guard her while we solve this.” He cursed the city council.
“I’ll do it.”
“What about Cody?” Natalie gripped his wrist. “If I’m a target, he’s in danger.”
That and something else she’d said sent dread straight through him. “Chief, there’s more to this. Can you meet us at the gallery?”
“I’ll follow you over.” He paused. “Tia, Carolyn, thank you.”
“As if we had anything to do with it.” Tia smiled crookedly. He started to speak, but she raised her hands. “You are what you are, Jonah.”