Read Online Beyond Your Touch by Pat Esden - Free Book Online Page B

and slipped upward, bounding from one tread to the next. Stepping inside, I pulled the door shut behind me and followed the cat up the dark stairwell to the attic. Once there, I flicked on the first light switch I came to.
    A dusty bulb wavered to life above me, its dim light filtering down onto the last flight of stairs that went up the walk. As I climbed up them, the bulb’s faint shimmer was joined by square reflections of moonlight coming in through the widow’s walk’s windows and stretching across the walls in pale, rippling sheets. It was beautiful and about a million shades of eerie.
    A thousand steps later—or at least it felt like a thousand—I reached the top of the stairs and stepped out onto the widow’s walk’s deck. A breeze blew my hair back from my face. I hooked the rebellious curls behind my ears and made my way to the walk’s wooden railing. Moonlight bathed the slate rooftops, and the gardens and lawns far below me. The ocean stretched luminescent white and plum-black to where a hint of dawn glimmered on the horizon. Behind me a stark moon settled on the treetops, lost somewhere between its first quarter and full. I shivered at the sheer power of the view and shivered again from the chill in the air.
    I set my shoulder bag down on the floor next to a wooden chaise and wrapped the quilt around me. The deck was fairly small, only room for a couple of Adirondack chairs, a tiny table with a pentagram carved into its top, and the chaise. It was well maintained, though. My guess was that Chase and Tibbs used it to watch the grounds sometimes and the pentagram pretty much screamed that witchy-type rituals also happened up here.
    I snugged the quilt tighter and sat down on the chaise, resting my elbows on my knees as I gazed across the rooftops and gardens toward the ocean. The faint trill of a wood thrush’s morning song reached out from the forest’s depths. A robin joined the chorus as the darkness lightened a shade.
    â€œHey,” Chase’s voice came from right next to me.
    Startled, I jumped to my feet and spun toward him, leaving the quilt behind. “Wow. How did you do that? I didn’t even hear the door open.”
    â€œComes with the territory,” he said, handing me a plastic bag full of ice. “What’s up?”
    I shrugged. “I couldn’t sleep and thought it might be fun to watch the sunrise.” I retrieved the bottle of strawberry vodka and orange juice from my bag and set them on the table. “Maybe toast the new day? Want one? Virgin-style or with a touch of something extra?”
    â€œThe extra sounds good. But just one.”
    I opened the bag of ice and scooped cubes into each cup. “I kind of wanted to make up for being a bitch in the research room too.”
    He squeezed my shoulder. “Forget about it. I should have told you about the feather.”
    I smothered a smile and focused on pouring the orange juice, the ice crackling as the warm OJ flowed over it.
    â€œWe’re still going to Bar Harbor later, right?” he asked.
    â€œYeah. Around ten.” I added vodka and used my finger to mix the liquids. “By the way, I checked to see where Beach Rose House was.” I swallowed hard. Bringing this up would most likely ruin the mood, but it was important. And I had a feeling we wouldn’t get many moments like this again soon. I brought him one of the drinks. “It’s in Bar Harbor. We could stop by while we’re in town—if you want.”
    â€œAh, maybe.” Taking the drink, he turned away and walked to the railing. He stared out toward the ocean, his head, broad shoulders, and muscular arms silhouetted against the skyline. “A facility like that isn’t going to let strangers just walk in and visit.”
    â€œWe could try.”
    He sloshed the cup in a slow circle, then lowered his gaze to drink as if he could foresee the future in the icy liquid.
    I slipped