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Authors: Barb Hendee
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exposing the nail.
Then he reached into the girl’s mind again, erasing her memory of meeting him and replacing it with one where she entered the stall, cut herself on the nail, and fainted from the blood and pain.
Then he slipped out, left the dressing room, and went to find Eleisha—still standing among the nightgowns and slippers.
“Everything okay?” Her tone suggested worry.
“Yes, go and look. She’s still alive and not lying alone in the street.”
“I don’t need to look. Did you alter her memory?”
“Of course!”
She reached out and touched his arm. “What’s wrong then?”
“Nothing.”
She tried to smile. “So it’s my turn?”
He tried to smile back. “Yes, your turn.”
Rather than make the hunt more fun, his game had only made him hungrier for what he’d lost.
As they walked back onto the dark street outside, he knew he would need to go hunting alone—and soon.
Wade sat on the floor of the empty sanctuary, looking at the open letter in his hand. Eleisha and Philip had gone hunting, and for the first time in five nights, she’d been too preoccupied to check the mailbox.
But after she left, Wade checked it.
The first thing he’d seen was a DVD he’d ordered for Philip, and then he saw the letter lying there beneath it. He recognized the handwriting.
He’d stuffed it inside his shirt and then gone back inside with no intention of opening it, and he found ways to keep himself busy. The new television had finally arrived, so he hooked everything up, noting how homey the sitting room in the downstairs apartment was becoming. He much preferred Eleisha’s taste in furniture to Maggie’s, as Eleisha tended to choose pieces that were functional and comfortable as opposed to impressive. She’d ordered a sage green couch with a lot of pillows. She also liked little tables and lamps to read by.
But no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about the letter.
He went back upstairs, through the sanctuary and then outside, through the gate to the street, looking up and down. Eleisha was nowhere in sight. If only she would come home, he’d hand the letter over, and then he was certain she’d let him read it. But to open her mail? Something addressed to her? That felt wrong.
He walked slowly back to the sanctuary, closed the doors behind himself, and sank down onto the floor.
He felt torn between Eleisha and Philip. He didn’t have to read their minds to see where they stood. Eleisha trusted Rose completely. Philip clearly believed this whole arrangement was a trap.
The problem was, Wade had no idea which of them was right, and he wasn’t used to leaning upon his own instincts. All his life, Wade could read minds. Other people could not feel him doing this, so they couldn’t stop him. He was never invasive without a reason, but he’d been a police psychologist, with tough calls to make every day. Knowing what was going on inside somebody’s head was a unique advantage in offering diagnoses.
However, Eleisha and Philip could feel him inside their thoughts, and if they chose, they could keep him out . . . and the three of them had set up some ground rules anyway.
No, if he was going to protect Eleisha, and himself, from a trap, he was going to have to rely on his own judgment. What if he didn’t read the letter, didn’t know what was in it before giving it to her, and his caution resulted in her being hurt?
Reaching inside his shirt, he took the letter out and opened it. Even while doing this, a part of him felt it was wrong, and another part felt that it was the only right thing to do.
He read.
Eleisha,
I cannot tell you what your letter meant to me. The church . . . the underground, sounds like a haven and a fortress.
There are so many things I long to say that cannot be written down on paper. You keep promising the danger is over, that you brought Julian to his knees and sent him away. But you speak of things you do not understand . . . could not
Then he reached into the girl’s mind again, erasing her memory of meeting him and replacing it with one where she entered the stall, cut herself on the nail, and fainted from the blood and pain.
Then he slipped out, left the dressing room, and went to find Eleisha—still standing among the nightgowns and slippers.
“Everything okay?” Her tone suggested worry.
“Yes, go and look. She’s still alive and not lying alone in the street.”
“I don’t need to look. Did you alter her memory?”
“Of course!”
She reached out and touched his arm. “What’s wrong then?”
“Nothing.”
She tried to smile. “So it’s my turn?”
He tried to smile back. “Yes, your turn.”
Rather than make the hunt more fun, his game had only made him hungrier for what he’d lost.
As they walked back onto the dark street outside, he knew he would need to go hunting alone—and soon.
Wade sat on the floor of the empty sanctuary, looking at the open letter in his hand. Eleisha and Philip had gone hunting, and for the first time in five nights, she’d been too preoccupied to check the mailbox.
But after she left, Wade checked it.
The first thing he’d seen was a DVD he’d ordered for Philip, and then he saw the letter lying there beneath it. He recognized the handwriting.
He’d stuffed it inside his shirt and then gone back inside with no intention of opening it, and he found ways to keep himself busy. The new television had finally arrived, so he hooked everything up, noting how homey the sitting room in the downstairs apartment was becoming. He much preferred Eleisha’s taste in furniture to Maggie’s, as Eleisha tended to choose pieces that were functional and comfortable as opposed to impressive. She’d ordered a sage green couch with a lot of pillows. She also liked little tables and lamps to read by.
But no matter how hard he tried, he could not stop thinking about the letter.
He went back upstairs, through the sanctuary and then outside, through the gate to the street, looking up and down. Eleisha was nowhere in sight. If only she would come home, he’d hand the letter over, and then he was certain she’d let him read it. But to open her mail? Something addressed to her? That felt wrong.
He walked slowly back to the sanctuary, closed the doors behind himself, and sank down onto the floor.
He felt torn between Eleisha and Philip. He didn’t have to read their minds to see where they stood. Eleisha trusted Rose completely. Philip clearly believed this whole arrangement was a trap.
The problem was, Wade had no idea which of them was right, and he wasn’t used to leaning upon his own instincts. All his life, Wade could read minds. Other people could not feel him doing this, so they couldn’t stop him. He was never invasive without a reason, but he’d been a police psychologist, with tough calls to make every day. Knowing what was going on inside somebody’s head was a unique advantage in offering diagnoses.
However, Eleisha and Philip could feel him inside their thoughts, and if they chose, they could keep him out . . . and the three of them had set up some ground rules anyway.
No, if he was going to protect Eleisha, and himself, from a trap, he was going to have to rely on his own judgment. What if he didn’t read the letter, didn’t know what was in it before giving it to her, and his caution resulted in her being hurt?
Reaching inside his shirt, he took the letter out and opened it. Even while doing this, a part of him felt it was wrong, and another part felt that it was the only right thing to do.
He read.
Eleisha,
I cannot tell you what your letter meant to me. The church . . . the underground, sounds like a haven and a fortress.
There are so many things I long to say that cannot be written down on paper. You keep promising the danger is over, that you brought Julian to his knees and sent him away. But you speak of things you do not understand . . . could not
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