Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) Read Online Free PDF
Author: LYNN BOHART
the charm bracelet fading
as she reached her car. Lee watched her pull away from the curb, finding it
difficult to breathe.
She continued to stand in the
doorway long after the car was gone as if Amy might change her mind and come
back. When Amy didn’t come back, Lee crossed her arms over her chest trying to
hold in the sob that struggled to get out.
How could it be that her daughter
was old enough to be in college? Lee still remembered the smell of the baby
powder she used to smooth onto Amy’s skin after a bath, and how she laughed
every time Lee touched the bottom of her tiny little foot. Lee remembered
staring at that foot, wondering how a foot could be that small. It was like a
perfectly made miniature of the real thing. Now, Lee wondered how that foot had
grown so big it could walk away on its own.
With a deep sigh, she looked down
at the dog standing quietly by her side. “Don't get any ideas. I'm not a
willing partner in this.”
The dog whined and placed its head
beneath her hand. Lee grimaced, but didn’t push her away this time. As a brisk
breeze wound up outside, Lee glanced once more to the street. A handful of
dried leaves had begun to chase each other down the sidewalk, pushed on by an invisible
force. She closed the door under the watchful eyes of a large, black bird
perched on the telephone wires above her property.
CHAPTER FOUR
A hundred small water jets pounded
the knots out of Lee’s neck and shoulders, sending tingles of pleasure down her
back. Moments later, she toweled off and dressed in her favorite lime-green
chenille sweater, faded jeans, and black flats, before surveying herself in the
oval mirror that hung next to the vanity. If she thought the image would
lighten her mood, she was disappointed. The high cheekbones, a gift from her
Norwegian grandfather, helped support the visage, but the whole image lacked
energy. Even pinching her cheeks only succeeded in creating red blotches that
stood out in contrast to the shadows that dulled her normally clear blue eyes. Only
the dark curls that had been cut to frame her face seemed to add any vitality
to the image in the mirror. Lee stared for so long at the haggard reflection,
that the image blurred and she no longer recognized the person staring back. Just
the hazy outline of a woman she didn’t really know - a mother, a sister, an
ex-wife, an ex-friend.
You’re no friend of mine!
The last words Diane had ever said
to her seared her mind, and she closed her eyes, willing the tears to retreat.
Finally, when she opened them again, her tear-soaked gaze came to rest on a
picture reflected on the wall behind her. In it, she and Patrick were perched
on the lap of a department store Santa when they were very young. Patrick was
two years older than she and sat tucked in the old man’s elbow, eyes twinkling,
his hand outstretched to snag a curl of the man's fake beard. The expression on
Patrick’s face never changed. She saw it then as she saw it now. To him, life
was a bit of a lark, something to enjoy, but not take too seriously. On the
other hand, at some point in her own life, Lee had retreated to an inner
sanctuary where few people were allowed. Even Patrick.
Lee sighed and shook her head to
dispel the conflicting images. She reached over and picked up the onyx bird
from where she’d placed it on the counter earlier. The head was polished as
smooth as an oil slick, and the beak was carved like a fishhook. Reflections
from the light over her mirror made the chiseled eyes seem as if they were
alive, keeping track of her every movement. The lamp on the counter had also
warmed the onyx. It was comforting, and somehow familiar. She’d been with Diane
the day she’d bought the figurine in a second-hand store in Yakima, Washington,
near the Indian reservation. They’d been browsing for antiques. Diane found the
bird tucked behind a dusty old watering can, along with two other stone
sculptures. Although the other figurines were of the same
as she reached her car. Lee watched her pull away from the curb, finding it
difficult to breathe.
She continued to stand in the
doorway long after the car was gone as if Amy might change her mind and come
back. When Amy didn’t come back, Lee crossed her arms over her chest trying to
hold in the sob that struggled to get out.
How could it be that her daughter
was old enough to be in college? Lee still remembered the smell of the baby
powder she used to smooth onto Amy’s skin after a bath, and how she laughed
every time Lee touched the bottom of her tiny little foot. Lee remembered
staring at that foot, wondering how a foot could be that small. It was like a
perfectly made miniature of the real thing. Now, Lee wondered how that foot had
grown so big it could walk away on its own.
With a deep sigh, she looked down
at the dog standing quietly by her side. “Don't get any ideas. I'm not a
willing partner in this.”
The dog whined and placed its head
beneath her hand. Lee grimaced, but didn’t push her away this time. As a brisk
breeze wound up outside, Lee glanced once more to the street. A handful of
dried leaves had begun to chase each other down the sidewalk, pushed on by an invisible
force. She closed the door under the watchful eyes of a large, black bird
perched on the telephone wires above her property.
CHAPTER FOUR
A hundred small water jets pounded
the knots out of Lee’s neck and shoulders, sending tingles of pleasure down her
back. Moments later, she toweled off and dressed in her favorite lime-green
chenille sweater, faded jeans, and black flats, before surveying herself in the
oval mirror that hung next to the vanity. If she thought the image would
lighten her mood, she was disappointed. The high cheekbones, a gift from her
Norwegian grandfather, helped support the visage, but the whole image lacked
energy. Even pinching her cheeks only succeeded in creating red blotches that
stood out in contrast to the shadows that dulled her normally clear blue eyes. Only
the dark curls that had been cut to frame her face seemed to add any vitality
to the image in the mirror. Lee stared for so long at the haggard reflection,
that the image blurred and she no longer recognized the person staring back. Just
the hazy outline of a woman she didn’t really know - a mother, a sister, an
ex-wife, an ex-friend.
You’re no friend of mine!
The last words Diane had ever said
to her seared her mind, and she closed her eyes, willing the tears to retreat.
Finally, when she opened them again, her tear-soaked gaze came to rest on a
picture reflected on the wall behind her. In it, she and Patrick were perched
on the lap of a department store Santa when they were very young. Patrick was
two years older than she and sat tucked in the old man’s elbow, eyes twinkling,
his hand outstretched to snag a curl of the man's fake beard. The expression on
Patrick’s face never changed. She saw it then as she saw it now. To him, life
was a bit of a lark, something to enjoy, but not take too seriously. On the
other hand, at some point in her own life, Lee had retreated to an inner
sanctuary where few people were allowed. Even Patrick.
Lee sighed and shook her head to
dispel the conflicting images. She reached over and picked up the onyx bird
from where she’d placed it on the counter earlier. The head was polished as
smooth as an oil slick, and the beak was carved like a fishhook. Reflections
from the light over her mirror made the chiseled eyes seem as if they were
alive, keeping track of her every movement. The lamp on the counter had also
warmed the onyx. It was comforting, and somehow familiar. She’d been with Diane
the day she’d bought the figurine in a second-hand store in Yakima, Washington,
near the Indian reservation. They’d been browsing for antiques. Diane found the
bird tucked behind a dusty old watering can, along with two other stone
sculptures. Although the other figurines were of the same