The Fifth Sense: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel (Order of Magic Book 4)
Page 1
The Fifth Sense
A Paranormal Women's Fiction Romance Novel
Michelle M. Pillow
MichellePillow.com
Contents
About the Book
Order of Magic Series
Author Updates
Author Note
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
Get the Books!
Newsletter
About Michelle M. Pillow
Free Reading Guides
Please Leave a Review
The Fifth Sense © Copyright 2020 by Michelle M. Pillow
First Electronic Printing December 17, 2020
Published by The Raven Books LLC
ISBN 978-1-62501-252-4
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
All books copyrighted to the author and may not be resold or given away without written permission from the author, Michelle M. Pillow.
This novel is a work of fiction. Any and all characters, events, and places are of the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or events or places is merely coincidence.
Michelle M. Pillow® is a registered trademark of The Raven Books LLC
About the Book
Some secrets refuse to stay buried.
By all rights, Sue Jewel should be dead. In place of celebrating her fortieth birthday, she was wrapped in plastic and stuffed in the trunk of a car. Worst part is the man she promised to spend her life with is the one who tried to kill her. With a little help from Fate, Sue walks away from the ordeal, but her husband doesn’t.
Now with a new lease on life, Sue wants to put as much mileage between her past and her present as she can. It would be a lot easier if something supernatural with dark intent wasn’t along for the ride. Desperate to break free from it all, she finds herself in Freewild Cove, making new friends, catching the eye of the handsome coffee shop owner, and hoping to magically cut her ties to her would-be murderer once and for all.
Lorna, Vivien, and Heather are back. And with the help of Grandma Julia’s ghost, they’re kicking supernatural butt and taking names!
Book contains: three very strong women in their forties who aren't letting themselves be defined by middle age, paranormal phenomenon (psychics, ghosts, magic, etc), romance with sexy times (moderate, not OMG I have to read through my fingers), mildly strong language, and all the fear and excitement of taking a second chance at life. These ladies are doing midlife right!
Order of Magic Series
Second Chance Magic
Third Time's A Charm
The Fourth Power
The Fifth Sense
The Sixth Spell
Visit MichellePillow.com for details!
Author Updates
Join the Reader Club Mailing List to stay informed about new books, sales, contests and preorders!
michellepillow.com/author-updates/
To my husband, John.
Thank you for all you do.
I love you.
Author Note
Being an author in my 40s, I am thrilled to be a part of this Paranormal Women’s Fiction #PWF project. Older women kick ass. We know things. We’ve been there. We are worthy of our own literature category. We also have our own set of issues that we face—empty nests, widows, divorces, menopause, health concerns, etc—and these issues deserve to be addressed and embraced in fiction.
Growing older is a real part of life. Women friendships matter. Women matter. Our thoughts and feelings matter.
If you love this project as much as I do, be sure to spread the word to all your reader friends and let the vendors where you buy your books know you want to see a special category listing on their sites for 40+ heroines in Paranormal Women’s Fiction and Romance.
Happy Reading!
Michelle M. Pillow
Praise for Michelle M. Pillow
For Books in the Order of Magic Series
“The perfect combination of spine-tingling magic, paranormal fun, and the strength of female friendships. Michelle M. Pillow delivers an emotionally powerful, must-have read.” - K.F. Breene, Wall Street Journal, USA TODAY, and Washington Post Bestselling Author
“Michelle M. Pillow brings us yet another hilariously touching story, this one set in the world of paranormal women’s fiction, and you won’t want to put it down. I know I didn’t! Then again, she had me at séance.” - NY Times Bestselling Author Darynda Jones
"When the past and the present merge…awesome author Michelle Pillow brings secrets from the grave and other things that go bump in the night into a fantastic story of second chances in the second act of life." - Jana DeLeon, NY Times, USA TODAY, & Wall Street Journal Bestselling Author
“Michelle M. Pillow's Second Chance Magic is full of delicious secrets! What's not a secret is how much you're going to love this book and this heroine. I'll take book two now!” - Kristen Painter, USA TODAY Bestselling Author
“Delightfully heartfelt and filled with emotion. Psychic powers, newly discovered magic, and a troublesome ex who comes back from the grave. Michelle M. Pillow delivers a wonderfully humorous start to a new paranormal women's fiction romance series.” - Robyn Peterman, NY Times and USA TODAY Bestselling Author
Chapter One
St. Louis, Missouri
The steady beep of a heart monitor let Sue Jewel know she was alive. She focused on her breathing. If she inhaled too deeply, the pain would shoot through her side.
“You’re awake.” The doctor’s smile was perfunctory as his eyes moved to the chart hanging at the end of her bed.
First, the heart monitor let her know she was alive. Now the doctor was informing her she was awake. What was next? Would the nurse come in and confirm she was female?
“This was one heck of a way to spend your fortieth birthday,” he continued as if attempting a conversation out of habit rather than the situation.
“How did I get here?” Sue felt nauseous and dizzy and wanted to sleep.
“Ambulance,” the doctor answered. “You don’t remember the car accident?”
The last thing Sue remembered before blacking out was being kicked in the ribs, then strange flashes of images that looked more nightmare than real.
“No. I don’t remember what happened,” she lied out of habit.
“That’s not unusual after a head injury. The police will want to take a statement later. They’ll be able to answer any direct questions you may have.” The man’s bedside manner was a little cold and clinical, but she preferred it that way.
As the doctor neared, Sue averted her gaze. The painkillers they’d given her helped and, if she didn’t make sudden movements and concentrated, she could manage to keep breathing. She welcomed the numbness they offered.
In. Out. In. Out.
“Mrs. Jewel?”
Sue glanced at the doctor. He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she flinched. “Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yeah,” she muttered, trying delicately to pull away from his hand. “I have a head injury.”
His hand didn’t leave her. If anything, he pressed more firmly. She stiffened under his touch.
“Make what?”
“He didn’t survive the wreck,” the doctor clarified.
Sue didn’t speak. She finally looked him in the eye.
“He’s dead,” the doctor stated when she didn’t react.
Sue could see, even in his taciturnity, the reaction the doctor expected from her. The truth was she didn’t know what she felt—sadness, relief, pain, grief? She closed her eyes, and a tear slipped over her cheek. Her hands trembled.
“Is there someone we can call for you?” he asked.
“I don’t have family,” Sue answered. The last thing she wanted was Hank’s mother showing up to berate her for surviving in place of her precious son.
“Friends?”
Sue shook her head in denial. “I want to be alone, please.”
“I understand. A nurse will be in to check on you. Push the call button if you need anything.” The man gave her another awkward pat on the shoulder. “When you’re ready, we have people you can talk to about what happened.”
In. Out. In. Out.
Sue kept her eyes closed and focused on her breathing, counting them to distract her mind from the pain. She had no idea how much time passed in the marking of those seconds.
In. Out. In. Out. In…
“Mrs. Jewel, I’m Detective Price. I’d like to ask you a few questions, if that’s all right?”
Sue hadn’t heard the detective come in. She debated whether she could pretend to sleep until the man went away. Finally, she opened her eyes and glanced at him. Like the doctor, he looked at her like he was there to do a job, and she was merely part of that job. All she had to do was give him enough answers to make him check all the little boxes on whatever form he needed to fill out.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember anything,” Sue said. “The doctor said I have a head injury.”
“You don’t remember being in the trunk?” a woman’s voice interjected.
Sue rolled onto her back as she realized another person was in the room, a second detective if the dark slacks and button-down white shirt were any indications. And, if that wasn’t, the shiny badge hanging on her belt was a dead giveaway. The woman tried to give her a sympathetic look, but a hard edge remained behind her eyes.
“This is my partner, Detective Sanchez,” Price said.
“Nice to meet you,” Sue managed. The words sounded polite, maybe too polite considering the circumstances. It wasn’t nice to meet anyone at the moment. She didn’t want to be here.
In. Out. In.
“Can you tell us how you got in the trunk of your car?” Sanchez asked.
“I don’t think I was in the trunk.” Sue took a deeper breath, fighting the memory of tight spaces and the feel of a crowbar poking into her ribs as tires sped over asphalt. Lying came easier than it should have.
In. Out.
“We believe that when the semi clipped the car and sent it into a tailspin down the ravine, you were thrown from the back of the vehicle,” Sanchez continued.
“That doesn’t sound right,” Sue lied out of habit. Her nose burned with the threat of tears. “The doctor said I injured my head in the accident.”
“Yes, you mentioned that.” Price crossed his arms over his chest. “The truck driver said your car drifted into his lane. Skid marks on the road support that. Fingerprints on the steering wheel tell us Hank was driving at the time.”
“Then that is probably what happened.” Sue shook her head. “I don’t remember.”
“That’s not surprising.” Sanchez held up her phone to show a picture of a wrecked silver sedan at the bottom of a ravine. The vehicle looked totaled. How Sue survived was anyone’s guess. The top had been caved in and the sides were smashed liked crumbled tinfoil. “We found evidence that you were in the trunk when this happened.”
“Evidence?” Sue glanced at them before looking at her hands on the thin hospital blanket. Medical tape held the IV against her skin, hiding where it entered her. She followed the tube with her eyes. She willed painkiller oblivion to flow into her body to turn off her mind, but the saline bag only continued to drip in a steady rhythm. A chill worked up her spine, causing her to shiver.
“Blood and hair on the latch,” Sanchez continued. “The theory is you hit your head when you flew out.”
“That’s one theory,” Price corrected, indicating he had a different mindset.
Sue touched her head, feeling a bandage wrapped around it like a convalescent’s crown.
“Anything you can remember could help us understand what happened tonight,” Sanchez insisted.
“It sounds like you already know what happened. We had an accident. I broke my ribs.” Sue cradled her stomach. “The painkillers they gave me… I don’t feel well. I think I’m going to be sick.”
“What is the last thing you remember?” Sanchez asked.
“Having dinner with Hank,” Sue said. Tears slid from her eyes as she closed them. “He…”
What could she say? The words struggled to push past her tightening throat.
“He didn’t make it.” She repeated the doctor’s phrasing.
Dead. Hank died.
“I think we have all we need for now,” Price said.
Sanchez clearly disagreed. She approached the bed. “Mrs. Jewel.” The detective took a deep breath and gave her a serious stare. “Sue, if your husband did something to you, you need to tell us. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“My husband is dead.” Her voice was weak. More tears streamed down her face. The words felt foreign and thick on her tongue. “He died.”
The stuttered breath felt like a punch in the side. She doubled over and curled her body into a ball.
“Please leave,” Sue begged. “It was an accident. A horrible accident. I don’t know what you think you found in the trunk, but it’s not from tonight.”
“My card,” Sanchez said. “If you think of anything.”
Sue listened to them leave. She reached for a call button and hit it several times. When a nurse entered, she muttered, “Something for the pain. Please. Something for the pain.”
She didn’t want to feel anymore.
In. Out. In. Out.
Blessed numbness came through her IV, and she let it take her into oblivion.
Chapter Two
Three months later…
It started with the smell of Hank’s cologne, a mix of gun oil and cedar, lingering in the bedroom. Sue couldn’t shake the feeling of him standing behind her, watching, judging. In those moments, she forgot he was dead.
She donated his clothing and toiletries to charity, hoping that would erase the scent. Then she caught whiffs of it in the middle of the night, waking her from a troubled sleep. She thought it was the pillows, a haunting scent embedded in the polyester filling, so she threw out the pillows, bought new ones, and then shampooed the mattress with the carpet cleaner.
The smell returned.
It showed up in the kitchen and living room, so she cleaned the house ceiling to floor. Nothing helped. The cologne followed her like a cloud when she walked to the grocery store. Flowers emitted a hint of bourbon with their fragrant petals to cause a wave of sickening sweet nausea that forced her to hold her breath whenever she walked past them.
Sue hated going out. People wanted to hug her and tell her how sorry they were for her loss. Even when she could avoid people, every place she went, she was reminded of Hank—mainly because every place smelled like him.
She didn’t call the doctor to ask him about it. He’d only want to run more tests, and she’d had enough of the hospital to last a lifetime. Each time someone read her file, their expression would change, and they’d say something about her loss.
Using the homeschool medical degree that was the internet, she checked diagnostic sites for an answer. Olfac
tory hallucinations were called phantosmia, and head injuries could cause them. After the wreck, that made sense, and there was no big psychological mystery behind why Sue hallucinated Hank.
Sue decided to ignore the smells and hoped they would go away on their own. She rubbed menthol beneath her nose, relying on the overpowering salve to hide the hallucination. The strong scent made her hot tea taste a little funny, but it was better than the alternative.
The flat-screen television’s sound played low in the background, its blue-tinted light flashing from the wall as a talk show live-streamed. She sat alone on the couch. An ugly floral lamp she hated cast a soft glow behind her. Actually, she hated most of the decorations. They looked like a pastel flower monster invaded the home and threw up on the walls and furniture. It all reflected the style of Hank’s childhood home.
A dirty plate rested on the coffee table next to her purse in the otherwise pristine living room. The half-eaten sandwich had been for sustenance more than flavor. She hadn’t felt like cooking.
Seeing her cell phone light up with an incoming call, she didn’t pick up. There was only one person who’d be calling, and she didn’t want to talk to Hank’s mother. Kathy would go on about how wonderful her son was, “an angel, just an absolute angel,” and how lucky (with a subtext of undeserving) Sue was to have been married to him. Everyone liked Hank. He was a charming and likable guy. He was the life of the party.