Chasing Shadows

Excerpt:
An Excerpt From: CHASING SHADOWS

Copyright © ERIN RICHARDS, 2008

All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing, Inc.

Juliana tossed and flailed about on the disheveled bed. The sheets wrapped around her, binding her like a mummy. “No, no!” The uninvited words jolted her awake.

Her head throbbed with the intensity of a full-blown migraine. The malevolence permeating the dream sank deep into her soul. Goosebumps broke out over her body as her skin crawled with his exhilaration and satisfaction.

The kidnapping had happened.

She’d managed to claim a few hours’ sleep before the vision played through her head. Juliana had witnessed the crime along the fringes of the kidnapper’s mind.

Morning sunlight streamed through her bedroom window, seeping through the sheer bed enclosure. The warm summer rays offered a sliver of relief. But she knew she wouldn’t see a moment’s peace until the child was returned to her home, safe and sound, however long it took. Even though yesterday she had known the actual kidnapping would follow her premonition, the reality never ceased to fill her with sorrow and dread.

Juliana leaned against the carved headboard, tugging at the entwined sheet and throwing it off. She grabbed the TV remote from the night table and punched the “on” button. After flipping through several satellite channels, she found a local news program. A commercial break ended, and the news team returned with day’s top story. The abduction. No surprise there.

Her Persian cat jumped on the bed, craving attention. She absently hugged his silky, fluffy body to her chest, engrossed in the unfolding news story.

The newscast reported the details of the crime before proceeding to the child’s identity and background. “Lisette Chamber is the six-year-old granddaughter of billionaire Grantham Chamber II, founder and chairman of GC Media Corporation.”

Juliana could barely concentrate on the victim’s name and her family as the kidnapper’s leftover taint dissolved. Her headache receded, but her blood flowed icily. She squeezed her cat until he squealed and squirmed for freedom.

“Sorry, JB.” She released her hold and set him on the bed. He arched his raven-black body and rubbed his head against her bare thigh, purring madly. The unconditional love of her cat relaxed her for a heartbeat, until she began searching her mind for details of the crime, particulars from the kidnapper’s mind.

The more deeply she delved into his mind, the more she realized he possessed strong electrical currents in his brain. He had connected easily with her powerful and receptive mind. It wasn’t unusual for her to think or to see everything a perpetrator did while in an excited state, when his transference was the strongest. But it was rare that she felt his emotions, felt what he felt. This man reached out to her in all ways possible¾the strongest psychic connection. She didn’t like it one bit. Fear chilled her thoroughly, and she pulled the comforter over her.

Juliana wished she could determine the kidnapper’s identity, but the puzzle pieces only trickled into her mind. At least she could appease herself with the fact that consistency patterned her premonitions and visions. She‘d eventually dream enough to ID him.

An unwelcome thought surfaced, and she rolled on her side to the edge of the bed. Pushing her hand past the bed skirt, she groped on the floor until she felt cold, hard steel. She pulled the gun out from under the bed and examined the .38 revolver. It was loaded, safety catch on. Frowning, she returned the weapon to its hiding place.

She exhaled deeply, expelling the taint from inside. She hated guns, hated the reasons she possessed one.

* * * * *

The phone’s jarring ring scarcely registered in Alex’s brain. As much as he willed it, the sound refused to stop. His head throbbed and lava spread through his gut.

Three beers and a night obsessing about Juliana had reduced Alex to shambles.

Muttering, he fumbled for the cordless phone on the nightstand, knocking the lamp against the wall. “Shit,” he groaned. His mouth tasted like sawdust, his throat scratchy.

He grabbed a bottle of antacids from the nightstand and dumped a couple in his mouth. The phone continued to ring until he finally clicked it on. The antacid bottle dropped out of his uncooperative hand. He cursed as the multicolored tablets scattered across discarded clothes carpeting the floor.

“Better be damn good,” he managed to say between bites of the bone-dry tablets.

“Alex?” a familiar high-pitched female voice questioned.

Gravity pulled at his lethargic muscles and his arm refused to cooperate with his brain. “Yeah?” Alex reclined back on the bed and wedged the phone between the pillow and his ear.

“It’s Sharon Douglas.” Urgency vibrated in her voice. “You need to get over here. Lisette’s missing. Andrea—”

The words shoved Alex fully awake. He leaped from the disheveled bed, stumbling on a pair of jeans pooled on the floor. He caught the nightstand with his free hand, preventing a head-first crash into the wall.

“What do you mean, missing?” Cold iron edged his words as terror gripped him. He grabbed his rumpled pants and pulled them on one-handed.

“Andrea woke up this morning and found Lisette’s bed empty and her window wide open. Matthew and I heard her screaming and rushed over.”

The last vestiges of sluggishness cleared from Alex’s mind. Andrea’s hysterical crying in the background on Sharon’s end nearly crushed him. With fierce determination, he forced the experienced cop in him to take over and grab the reins.

“Listen to me, Sharon,” he said in a level, authoritative voice. “Don’t let anyone inside the house or backyard. Stay out of Lisette’s bedroom. Don’t call anyone. Can you stay with Andrea until I get there?” He waited for her affirmative response, then flung the phone on the bed and shouted for James.

“I’m up, man.” James sauntered out of the bathroom, hair wet and a towel wrapped around his waist. “You look like shit.” He laughed, but stopped when he caught sight of Alex’s grim expression. “What—”

“Lisette’s gone.” Alex snatched a clean black polo shirt off the top of his laundry basket, not bothering to waste time dressing in his usual suit and tie.

Color drained from James’ face. “What?”

Alex wasn’t going to sugar-coat it, knowing that James harbored a crush on Alex’s widowed sister and loved Lisette perhaps as much as Alex himself did. He seized his service revolver tucked in its holster from the headboard shelf.

“Andrea found Lisette’s bed empty, window open.” Surprisingly, he managed to maintain his cool. His sister would need to depend on his ability to remain the composed professional, despite his overwhelming desire to torture the SOB who had snatched Lisette.

“Juliana Westwood’s dream came true.” James’ voice sounded faraway.