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Back Waking the Witch Save as PDF
Chapters (46)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. one
  6. two
  7. three
  8. four
  9. five
  10. six
  11. seven
  12. eight
  13. nine
  14. ten
  15. eleven
  16. twelve
  17. thirteen
  18. fourteen
  19. fifteen
  20. sixteen
  21. seventeen
  22. eighteen
  23. nineteen
  24. twenty
  25. twenty-one
  26. twenty-two
  27. twenty-three
  28. twenty-four
  29. twenty-five
  30. twenty-six
  31. twenty-seven
  32. twenty-eight
  33. twenty-nine
  34. thirty
  35. thirty-one
  36. thirty-two
  37. thirty-three
  38. thirty-four
  39. thirty-five
  40. thirty-six
  41. thirty-seven
  42. thirty-eight
  43. thirty-nine
  44. forty
  45. forty-one
  46. forty-two

“Suspect?” He wheeled on the cop. “Are you serious? She called it in.”

“No, someone else beat me to it,” I said.

“This is stupid. She got a text—”

I held up my hand as I climbed in. “It’s okay. I’ll answer their questions and we’ll get this straightened out.”

The officer tried to shut the door, but it wouldn’t budge. He glared down at my feet—which were well within the cab confines—then at Jesse, who stood three feet away. He tried again. The door wouldn’t shut, held by Jesse’s telekinetic powers.

“Do you want me to call anyone?” Jesse asked.

“Not yet. I should be able to sort this out on my own.”

He nodded. “That’s what I thought you’d say. I’m here now, I can help, and if we need Lucas, he’s only a call away.”

“That’s enough,” the officer said.

He gave the door a sharp wrench and Jesse’s telekinetic control over it snapped as it slammed shut. Jesse stood there, watching me, looking anxious.

“I’m okay,” I mouthed.

He headed into the warehouse. The officer shouted at him to stay out of there. Jesse ignored him. The cop glanced from me to Jesse, and decided to remain at his post. A few minutes later, Jesse came out, escorted by the older cop.

“Look, just talk to her,” I heard Jesse saying. “She was here because she was lured here. Set up.”

I didn’t catch the officer’s answer, but Jesse’s face darkened. He said something back, too low to hear. The cop stiffened, then pointed to Jesse’s truck.

“Fucking rednecks,” Jesse called back as he stormed off.

The cop’s flashlight went flying. A parting shot from Jesse. As the Deputy chased after it, Jesse mouthed “I’ll fix this” to me. Then he climbed in his truck and peeled out.

It got very, very quiet then, left alone with a silent cop standing guard.

Michael was dead.

The guy I’d just gone out to dinner with. Just laughed with. Talked with. Kissed and thought “this could be something.”

I kept seeing him. Hearing his voice. Smelling the faint scent of his cologne. Then smelling blood, jerking out of the daydream, shivering, eyes prickling. I didn’t cry. I don’t cry. I wished I could. But all I could do was keep playing those memory loops. Michael alive. Michael dead.

The chief finally came out. He didn’t say a word to me, just motioned for the officer guarding me to follow. Leaving the other cop guarding the scene, he got into his car. We followed him back to the station.

twenty-two

twenty-two