Something’s very wrong. I feel enormous anxiety—a child in blue—and fear, terrible violence.” She lowered her penetrating gaze. When she raised her eyes again, the dark pupils were like the points of a chisel. “There’s danger in this piece of jewelry. Don’t use it. Don’t.” With a shudder, she handed back the brooch.
Brandy stiffened and her thoughts raced. Had Ada felt such terror? Bewildered, she laid the brooch back in its narrow box, returned it to her canvas bag, and lifted out the prayer book. “I brought another item. See if this works better.”
The medium still seemed flushed and disturbed. “I’ll try.” Her forehead contracted in a frown. “Let’s hope for something better.” She accepted the little volume and held it. No agitated reaction. Instead, her fingers caressed it. “Does the letter ‘A’ mean anything here?” she asked. “I can’t seem to get a full name.”
Brandy voice was tight. “It might.”
A tear slid down the medium’s cheek. “There’s danger here, too, but not the same kind. I sense awful grief.” She drew in her breath. “Danger and then this awful sadness.” Once more she waited a few seconds, her eyes moist. “I feel a longing, a yearning.” She shook her head. “It’s a very long time ago.” She lowered her eyes, then looked up. “This prayer book is almost too sad to handle.”
“Can you tell me the nature of this sadness? What caused it?”
Ms. Marco handed the little volume back. “Separation and loss, I think.” She leaned back with an air of finality and clasped her hands.
The reading seemed to be over. “Anything else? Please!”
Ms. Marco placed a finger on the recorder off button. “There are two people involved in the instances of the jewelry and the prayer book. One person seems involved in both, I think. The other two are different people.” She punched the off button. “Does that make sense to you?”
Brandy’s expression was blank. “I don’t know. Can you tell me who caused the terror?”
“My dear, I don’t think the one who’s so frightened even knows.”
She handed over the tape and stood. When Brandy took the fifty dollars from her wallet, Ms. Marco hesitated. “I don’t believe I was able to go the full time. When someone comes with a specific expectation, the reading is more difficult. This one was very difficult.”
“The reading was worth it,” Brandy said. Ada wasn’t alone when she died, and she had been terrified. It didn’t sound like suicide.
Ms. Marco walked Brandy to the front door. “I know there are lots of charlatans in my work,” she said. “But I must warn you. Be very careful. I cannot predict accurately beyond three months. Too many things can change. But you have put yourself in danger—and also someone very close to you.”
Time and again, her final words would resonate in Brandy’s mind.
FIVE
After the Sunday morning session with the medium, Brandy zipped through the Ocala National Forest by ten-thirty, her thoughts in turmoil. Rain threatened again, and thunder boomed in the west. Above the pines, lightning flared. Fortunately, traffic was sparse.
Had Adele Marco actually pierced the veil of the past? Brandy might suspect murder only because she had investigated other cases. But this morning the medium’s vision confirmed her suspicion. No one except the dead woman’s daughter would still care how Ada died. Townspeople were curious, of course, but only Hope had grown old yearning for the truth.
Under wind-driven branches, Brandy drove into Micanopy about 12:30. Rain now pounded the roof of her car and masked the windows of houses facing the road. Cholokka Boulevard seemed to close around her. No one else was on the street. The only sound came from water sloshing in the gutters and her windshield wipers beating back and forth. As the light from her head-lamps leapt before her from place to place on the wet pavement, she strained to follow the shimmering
Brandy stiffened and her thoughts raced. Had Ada felt such terror? Bewildered, she laid the brooch back in its narrow box, returned it to her canvas bag, and lifted out the prayer book. “I brought another item. See if this works better.”
The medium still seemed flushed and disturbed. “I’ll try.” Her forehead contracted in a frown. “Let’s hope for something better.” She accepted the little volume and held it. No agitated reaction. Instead, her fingers caressed it. “Does the letter ‘A’ mean anything here?” she asked. “I can’t seem to get a full name.”
Brandy voice was tight. “It might.”
A tear slid down the medium’s cheek. “There’s danger here, too, but not the same kind. I sense awful grief.” She drew in her breath. “Danger and then this awful sadness.” Once more she waited a few seconds, her eyes moist. “I feel a longing, a yearning.” She shook her head. “It’s a very long time ago.” She lowered her eyes, then looked up. “This prayer book is almost too sad to handle.”
“Can you tell me the nature of this sadness? What caused it?”
Ms. Marco handed the little volume back. “Separation and loss, I think.” She leaned back with an air of finality and clasped her hands.
The reading seemed to be over. “Anything else? Please!”
Ms. Marco placed a finger on the recorder off button. “There are two people involved in the instances of the jewelry and the prayer book. One person seems involved in both, I think. The other two are different people.” She punched the off button. “Does that make sense to you?”
Brandy’s expression was blank. “I don’t know. Can you tell me who caused the terror?”
“My dear, I don’t think the one who’s so frightened even knows.”
She handed over the tape and stood. When Brandy took the fifty dollars from her wallet, Ms. Marco hesitated. “I don’t believe I was able to go the full time. When someone comes with a specific expectation, the reading is more difficult. This one was very difficult.”
“The reading was worth it,” Brandy said. Ada wasn’t alone when she died, and she had been terrified. It didn’t sound like suicide.
Ms. Marco walked Brandy to the front door. “I know there are lots of charlatans in my work,” she said. “But I must warn you. Be very careful. I cannot predict accurately beyond three months. Too many things can change. But you have put yourself in danger—and also someone very close to you.”
Time and again, her final words would resonate in Brandy’s mind.
FIVE
After the Sunday morning session with the medium, Brandy zipped through the Ocala National Forest by ten-thirty, her thoughts in turmoil. Rain threatened again, and thunder boomed in the west. Above the pines, lightning flared. Fortunately, traffic was sparse.
Had Adele Marco actually pierced the veil of the past? Brandy might suspect murder only because she had investigated other cases. But this morning the medium’s vision confirmed her suspicion. No one except the dead woman’s daughter would still care how Ada died. Townspeople were curious, of course, but only Hope had grown old yearning for the truth.
Under wind-driven branches, Brandy drove into Micanopy about 12:30. Rain now pounded the roof of her car and masked the windows of houses facing the road. Cholokka Boulevard seemed to close around her. No one else was on the street. The only sound came from water sloshing in the gutters and her windshield wipers beating back and forth. As the light from her head-lamps leapt before her from place to place on the wet pavement, she strained to follow the shimmering
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