Daisies for Innocence Read Online Free PDF

of reading ahead,” I said to my dog when we were almost home. Just what I needed: another bout of the insomnia that had plagued me for months after I’d moved out on my own.
    A rustle in the bushes behind us made me stop and turn. Dash woofed deep in his throat, and his long, pointed ears turned to catch every sound in the darkness. All was silent. I flicked on the flashlight, but saw only a cluster of low willows at the side of the trail. Dash staredinto the night, and I saw the ridge of hair down the center of his back was on end.
    My thoughts shot to the word I thought I’d seen on the river rock in the garden that morning:
Beware.
    Heart banging against my ribs, I turned and ran the rest of the way home.
    Once Dash and I were back inside, though, I felt silly
. It was just some animal settling in for the night, you nervous Nellie.
    That gave me comfort as I put on my pajamas. Despite my earlier worries of not being able to sleep, I drifted off within minutes.
    •   •   •
    S OMETHING tugged me back to consciousness. For a few confused moments, I stared up at the angled skylight above my bed, registering the square of ripe blue that indicated the sun had been up for a while. Fresh air blew in from the open window to my right.
    Elliana . . . Elliana . . .
    The realization dawned slowly. I hadn’t been awakened by wind or light, but by my olfactory nerves. My nostrils flared as I sat up, testing the air. Beside the bed, Dash came to his feet, and I saw his nose twitching, too. I swung my feet to the floor and hurried to the staircase. The corgi made his stout way down the outside of the spiral steps as I took the tighter inside route.
    It was the same aroma I’d smelled the day before in the garden. The one I couldn’t identify. Now it was stronger, pulling me, intoxicating in the way catnip must be to felines. Still in my pajamas, I opened the door andwalked out into the morning, barefoot and goose bumped, my head swinging right and left like a hound on a trail as I tried to identify the source. It seemed to come from everywhere. Maybe over there—
    And suddenly it was gone.
    Just like that. Gone. As if the strange, heady scent had never existed in the first place. I stopped, one foot poised in front of the other. That was impossible.
    Right?
    Had my sense of smell turned on me? Or maybe I was losing my mind. Or both.
People with brain tumors smell things that aren’t there,
I thought, scrambling for an explanation, however morbid it might be.
    Dash growled low in his throat. Surprised, I looked down to see him standing with all four feet firmly planted and his muscles bunched like springs. He barked then, high and urgent, and took off like a shot for the partially open garden gate. My gaze followed him as I stood, still stunned, in the middle of the garden. He veered around an overturned rocking chair and stopped next to the gate. Something was there, on the ground, holding it open a few inches.
    Something that shouldn’t have been there.
    I squinted.
    A
boot
.
    Dash looked over his shoulder and barked again.

CHAPTER 4

    B ARE feet forgotten, I flew down the path. When I reached the gate, I pushed it open and fell to my hands and knees, all worries about smells or brain tumors forgotten.
    Josie Overland lay crumpled on the ground at the end of the boardwalk that ran in front of Scents & Nonsense, shadowed by my fence. I recognized her work uniform from the Roux Grill: jeans and black T-shirt, the orange flames of the restaurant’s logo visible under her arm. Her shiny brown hair fanned out, unbound, obscuring her face from view. She was on her side, one jeans-clad leg bent up toward her chest while the other stuck out straight, her foot wedged in the open gate. Her bare arms were wrapped around her torso as if she were trying to keep herself warm.
    “Josie?” I reached a tentative hand toward that thickveil of hair, intending to push it aside. “Josie, honey?” My voice was calm and soothing,