Cloaked
Easthaven Crest, Book One
A. D. Justice
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Books by A.D. Justice
Acknowledgments
CLOAKED.
COVIS REALM: EASTHAVEN CREST.
Copyright © 2020 A.D. Justice.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, resold, or transmitted in any form without written permission from the copyright holder, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. If the location is an actual place, all details of said place are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to businesses, landmarks, living or dead people, and events is purely coincidental.
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.
All copyrights are held by A.D. Justice and have not been transferred to any other individual. Sharing or posting of this material in any group is considered copyright infringement and will be reported to the authorities. Criminal and civil charges will be pursued for damages.
Cover Design by: Regina Wamba of ReginaWamba.com
Chapter 1
Present Day
Confusion mixes with an inordinate amount of fear as I walk toward the front of my nana’s store. The door looks like it has been kicked in, barely hanging on by the bottom hinge. The glass pane that displayed her store name and logo is shattered in a million pieces on the floor. The large picture window from the front of the store is smashed, mixed with the debris scattered throughout the front room. The usually safe and quiet streets of Aspen Springs, Montana, that I’ve known my whole life, and have walked without adult supervision for almost as long, suddenly feel very dangerous.
“Nana?” I call out into the dark room and pull my phone from my back pocket.
With no regard for my own safety, I rush inside, using the flashlight on my phone to peer into the store. The crunch of glass and mixed debris under my feet as I move room to room makes me sick. I search for her everywhere—behind the cash register, in the bathroom, the kitchen, and finally, the storeroom. But she’s not here, and I instantly feel lost and alone.
This store has been her pride and joy my whole life. If she were aware of the break-in, she’d already be here, cleaning up before the police arrived to do their job.
Unless she was inside the store when the door was knocked in and the front window was shattered…
That thought sends chills down my spine, and I quickly call for help. When the dispatcher answers, I rattle off the address and ask her to tell the deputies to hurry. Not that it’ll take the police long to get here in this small town, but hearing the dispatcher reassure me they are already on their way makes me feel so much better. When she begins to tell me to stay on the line until the police arrive, I hang up and call home instead. I have to reach Nana and make sure she’s okay, then break the bad news to her.
The phone at home rings endlessly. We live on the edge of the forest, several miles outside of town, so we’re one of the few places left in the world where landlines are a necessity in this modern age. Nana refused to get an answering machine or, God forbid, a digital answering service. With no way for me to leave a message telling her to call me as soon as she can, the level of anxiety building inside my chest feels as if it’ll explode, leaving no trace of me behind.
She knew I was going out with my friends tonight, so she wouldn’t have been far from the phone. Every troubling piece of this situation is so out of character for her. I can feel something is terribly wrong, like a sixth sense warning me of impending danger, breathing down my neck.
“Calm down, Sara. She could just be on her way home. They waited for her to leave the shop before breaking in.” I try to talk some sense into myself—aloud because I’m still alone—but it’s not helping at all. In fact, it sounds a lot like I’m lying to myself.
The wail of the police sirens grows closer, and a voice inside my head tells me they won’t find her. I shake my head harshly as if that will dislodge the depressing whispers. When I turn toward the oncoming cars, I notice one is a regular patrol vehicle and the other is an unmarked car. They stop with their headlights shining into the front of the building before getting out and walking to me.
“Detective Ryan Miller. And you are?” He extends his hand to me, and I shake it absently.
“Sara Nemertes.”
“Is this your family’s business?” He pulls a small notebook and pen from the breast pocket of his jacket and starts taking notes.
“It’s my grandmother’s store. Her name is Sue Nemertes. She’s usually still here at this hour, especially when she knows I’m going to the movies with my friends. But I just walked up and found it like this. I called our home phone, but she didn’t answer. I need to try again.”
When he doesn’t say anything, I look up at him and see an empathetic expression in his eyes. He’s thinking the same thing I did earlier. If she’s not here and she’s not at home, the alternatives are not good. He doesn’t have to voice his thoughts for me to hear and feel them. It’s something I’ve dealt with my entire life.
Nana always told me I was just more intuitive than others, that’s why I could sense what everyone else was thinking before they spoke. I learned to filter through all the extraneous noise at an early age and focus on what was important. Detective Miller’s thoughts flow freely to my mind because I’m so focused on him and he’s standing so close to me.
“Have you been inside yet?” He quickly changes gears, getting back to business and refocusing his attention on his job.
“Yes. I know that’s against the ‘preserve the crime scene’ rules, but I had to know if she was inside and unable to answer me because she was hurt. I tried to touch as little as possible, but I couldn’t stand here and not look for her.”
“Sounds like you know a bit about police procedure.”
“I’ve watched way too many crime movies and episodes of CSI.” I shrug one shoulder, knowing watching a few fictional shows doesn’t make me an expert in anything.
“Wait here while we have a look around.”
Another call home is fruitless. No answer, only endless ringing on the other end. She’s not there and she’s not here.
After the detective finishes asking his final questions and assuring me he’ll be in touch if anything turns up, I watch him get into his car and drive away, all while my feet remain glued to the floor. He offered me a ride to a friend’s or family’s house, but I lied and said I already had someone coming to get me. The last thing I need is to be away from home right now.
Nothing feels real when
I turn my head and look around the store Nana loved so much. The once perfectly arranged displays of soils, herbs, and seasonal plants are now strewn across the floor in pieces. The shelves lie flat against the floor, leaving the stacks of paperback books and boxes of plant food bent and mangled.
The deputy is still here, boarding up the smashed window. Then he fixes the broken door as much as possible before he leaves. With a hammer and a few nails, he boards up the door enough to prevent anyone else from getting inside. He also offers me a ride home before exiting out the back, but I decline, choosing to wait for my best friend Kristi to pick me up instead.
Detective Miller said there was definitely a struggle, but he didn’t find any sign of injury in the debris. No blood. No hair. No pieces of torn clothing. Nana couldn’t have just disappeared, though. She wouldn’t have left the shop in this state. The only explanation that makes any sense is someone took her against her will. A botched robbery, maybe? A store invasion that went wrong, possibly? So many scenarios fly through my mind, each worse than the last. Each with a more disturbing ending.
“What if they come back?” I ask myself aloud. The words tumble out of my mouth before my brain even has a chance to consider them.
In an instant, I’m across the room and standing in front of the back door with my hand on the top deadbolt lock. Everything is such a blur that I don’t even remember crossing the room. With a flick of my wrist, I secure the door, my heart beating so hard it makes my shirt jump. Next, I rush to the remaining storefront windows and pull down the shades, hiding inside.
Now, I’m alone. All alone. Just me, in the middle of the broken pieces of Nana’s livelihood.
And just like that, I can’t breathe. All I can hear over the sound of my pounding heart is the blood rushing through my veins, swishing in my ears as violently as the Class III rapids on the Yellowstone River.
“Kristi, are you almost here?” I try to keep the terror building inside me out of my voice. I don’t want to scare her any more than I already have.
“I’m about to pull into the parking spot now. Are you okay, Sara?”
“Yeah, just freaked out over all this. The front door can’t be opened now because it’s nailed shut until we can get someone out to fix it. I’ll come out the back and around the building.”
“I’m right here in front, waiting for you. Stay on the phone with me until you get to my car.” This time, I listen to sound advice and keep talking while I lock up and sprint the entire way to her car.
I know Kristi talked to me on the ride out to my house, but I can’t remember a single word of our conversation when we pull in my driveway. Our home is set among the trees, bordering the national forest behind us. When the house comes into view, all my hopes are quickly dashed when I see the completely dark windows and no car in the carport.
“I just realized Nana’s car wasn’t behind the building either. Someone really does have her, don’t they?”
“I don’t know what to say, Sara. I’m just so sorry about all of this. You should stay with me tonight. You really shouldn’t be here alone.” Kristi pleads with me, but one thing I have in common with Nana is my stubborn streak.
“No, I need to be here in case she calls or comes home. If she’s not home by morning, I probably will stay with you tomorrow night. I just can’t leave tonight.”
“Do you want me to stay with you?”
“No, Kris. You’re my best friend and I love you for offering, but I know you’re taking the ACT in the morning. You need to focus on that instead. I’ll talk to you tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll go from there.”
She doesn’t like my answer, but she can’t argue with my logic either. She gets out with me, insistent on checking the entire house before she leaves me alone. Now that we’re both satisfied no one is waiting in the closets or behind the doors, we hug goodbye before she gets back into her car. I watch her drive away through the front window with all the lights off so she can’t see me…and the river of tears flowing down my cheeks.
Nighttime feels as if it lasts forever. I toss and turn all night, sleeping for a few minutes at a time before turning over and looking at the clock yet again. When the sun begins to rise, I decide to get up with it since getting any sleep now is out of the question. I head straight for the shower and get dressed before moving downstairs. As much as I was awake last night, I would’ve known if Nana had come in. Since I know she didn’t, I’m in no hurry to walk into the kitchen, look at her empty chair at the table, and see her favorite coffee cup unused on the counter.
But that’s precisely what happens…and it’s all too much for me to process.
* * *
Two days pass in a blur with me waiting for some word from Nana or Detective Miller. I’ve called him too many times to be socially acceptable, but he’s shown nothing but patience with me. He continues to reassure me he’s working every angle possible, but he doesn’t have any answers yet. That’s a roundabout way of saying he doesn’t have a single shred of evidence more than he did a couple days ago when he showed up on the scene. He has no leads that point to where Nana may be. He has no idea of who has her, where they are now, or what they could possibly want. If that’s even the case.
All I know is, I’m going crazy after two days of not having any news of her whereabouts. I can’t even entertain the horrible thoughts trying to invade my mind.
I wake up Monday morning with every intention of going to school, despite knowing I won’t be able to focus on anything in class. I’ve debated with myself over the merits of staying home—or facing all the questions from my other friends at school. I decided being with others would be better than staying here alone for another day, with my mind dreaming up new and more inventive horrible scenarios with each passing minute. I’ve rejected Kristi’s requests, and eventual demands, for me to stay with her family for the time being. I’m just not very good company right now, and I don’t want to bring my burdens into their home.
When I step out of our house with my backpack in one hand and the other on the doorknob, my mind plays tricks on me. I see Nana everywhere and in everything—the flower beds waiting for spring planting, the garden that needs to be tilled and planted, and the forest she taught me to love so much. My future feels utterly uncertain without her guiding hand, the one I’ve tried to get out from under for the last seventeen years.
The weight of the world on my shoulders is too much to bear. Over the past couple of years, I’ve thought I was grown and didn’t need my grandmother’s constant watchful eye. I thought I was ready to take on the world as an adult, making my own decisions and plotting my escape to more exotic locales. Funny how quickly perspectives change.
On second thought, it’s heartbreaking how quickly life has changed for me.
So much so, I can’t stand the agony for one more second.
My book bag slips from my hand, crashing to the ground, and my legs move without conscious thought, as if they have a mind and a will of their own. When I finally slow down, I realize where my feet have carried me—deep into the interior of the forest that feels like home to me.
This is my happy place—the one that fills me with peace and clears my head of all the noise and clutter. Before my lungs have time to stop burning, I scale the biggest tree I’ve ever seen, climbing from limb to limb until my legs burn and shake, too fatigued to hold me up any longer. Feeling lost and afraid, I lean against the enormous trunk with my legs stretched out along the branch. I don’t sense the bitter sting of February in Montana. The snow on the ground and on the boughs doesn’t faze me. It’s actually the oddest sensation I’ve ever felt. I’m simultaneously completely numb and a raw, exposed nerve that feels so many levels of the indescribable pain.
My last conversation with Nana replays in my head and how I complained about details that don’t seem so important anymore. A couple days ago, those trivial desires were all I could think about. Today, they only crossed my mind because of her absence.
My world feels
as if it’s crashing down around me, and I can’t contain the feelings threatening to strangle me from the inside. When the heartbreak inside my chest becomes too much to restrain, I sit up straight and scream out at the top of my lungs. Letting go of everything I’ve bottled up over the last few days, I release one long, sorrowful wail after another. With no one around to hear or judge me, I can wallow in my pain and get it out of my system to focus my attention on finding her instead.
With my throat sore and my supply of tears depleted, I release a defeated sigh. It’s time to get back to real life and face the hard tasks the way Nana would expect me to. I reach to grab the limb above me to stand and begin the climb back down, but a loud pop underneath me makes me freeze in place. Before I can wrap my hand around the limb above, the one below me breaks in two, and I start to free-fall toward the thick branch ten feet below me.
This is really going to hurt.
Just before I reach the thick lower limb, a vast black hole appears from nowhere, pulling me in and closing behind me.
I land on a soft, thick cushion of moss with barely a thud.
The only problem is…this isn’t my forest.
In fact, I have no clue where I am.
Chapter 2
Three Days Prior
“Sara, are you pouting again?” My grandmother puts her hand on her hip and cocks one eyebrow at me, her usual stance of disapproval.
Cloaked: Easthaven Crest, Book One Page 1
