The purple note explained everything. Tish wrote that she had promised Mac I would get the letter. He’d hidden it in our special tree at her house. Tish had taken the letter and “saved it for another day” because her guides told her it was not the right time for Mac and me. His aura was muddy; my aura was cloudy; all the signs said it wouldn’t work.
I wished she were still alive so that I could scream at her. She’d never meddled in my life, and hardly gave an opinion unless it was dragged out of her. But, when she was entrusted with the most important letter of my life, she had not only read it, she’d kept it from me. The anger and sorrow at how different life would have been blended together into a dark mess in the pit of my stomach. I crumpled her note and stuffed it in my pocket, promising myself I would burn it later, maybe even let Diana do some sort of spell on it. This was something I would have expected from Vi, or my mother. Not Tish.
26
I snuck home, grabbed my Browning pistol, and headed out to Dad’s cabin. I borrowed Mom’s smart car, since mine was still in the shop. It was like driving a roller skate compared to my Jeep, and the bright orange exterior didn’t help my desire for stealth. I texted Alex to say I would be delayed, and then shut off my phone. I needed to think.
The quiet before I pulled the trigger worked its magic. I lined up the target, sighting along my arm to the end of the barrel. Standing thirty feet away from the poor tree that served as target holder, feet apart, weight balanced, I held my breath and squeezed.
Still reeling from Tish’s will and, more, from her letter, I tried to make sense of it all. Originally, I’d had no intention of staying in Crystal Haven. The summer was supposed to be a brief break from Ann Arbor and the mess I had left there. But now, I imagined what it would be like to leave Ann Arbor for good. I had entered the academy thinking I would help people, but the reality of the job was very different from my fantasy. There was less helping and more paperwork than I had imagined. The hierarchy grated on my independent nature, and I was frequently at odds with those further up the chain of command. And then Jadyn happened.
I had been so sure that night. My partner and I had answered a call for an attempted breakin. We’d chased the suspect through backyards and then to a cemetery. There had been no moon, and the graveyard had lain dim and sinister. When I heard a noise ahead of me and turned to see the tall, bulky suspect facing us, I knew he had a gun in his hand. I can’t remember now if I saw it or felt it, but I was sure it was there. The guy was a threat. Standing in the dark among the headstones, I stopped listening to my normal senses and tuned in to something else entirely. Something I had spent many years trying to ignore.
But, the suspect didn’t have a gun. He had a knife, in his pocket. I don’t know what I thought was in his hand, but it wasn’t there later when the other officers arrived with their lights and their questions. My intuition had betrayed me. My partner stood by me and claimed he had seen a gun as well, a trick of the light, perhaps. He risked his own job and probably lied, although every time I brought it up, he refused to talk about it. We had been in pursuit of a suspect who then turned on us with what I thought was a gun. Lethal force was warranted. That was the story we told, but the truth was, I felt the threat with senses that were rusty and apparently not very reliable.
I am an excellent shot. Police training doesn’t include shooting to injure. If an officer fires her weapon, she should do so with lethal intent. But I shot his knee. Jadyn was only seventeen and he’d probably always need a cane.
Not only did I shoot a suspect that was not actively threatening, I had broken the unwritten rule. I should have aimed to kill. Now, to my colleagues on the force, I had become an unreliable back-up; too weak to be trusted in the heat of battle. But, I was thankful for that weakness. Thankful I hadn’t killed him. Still, the experience left me filled with doubt. I doubted my actions and judgment. Most of all, I doubted my “gift.” Like always, my psychic talent had caused nothing but grief.
I walked back from the tree after putting up another target. The first had been shredded. I held my breath and squeezed.
*
After four targets, I decided it was time to head to Alex’s house and tell them the news about Tish’s will. My arm throbbed where the cut had been stitched. I lined up for one final shot. Then I heard it again—that click-click sound. I looked around the clearing. Nothing. I lined up again and felt the recoil travel up my arm. I would be sore later.
“Whoa, so it’s you making all this noise.”
I spun around, gun still ready and aimed at the intruder.
Milo put his hands up, but his smile showed he wasn’t afraid.
“Milo, what are you doing out here?” I put the safety on and released the clip.
He held a metal detector and a shovel. That was the clicking I’d heard; I knew it had sounded familiar.
“I like to come out and visit the building site, even if nothing’s being built yet. It’s only about half a mile that way.” He pointed east.