by Sharon Sala
Anders Conway rolled over and then sat up in bed. He didn’t know what hurt worse, his conscience or his belly. Grumbling beneath his breath, he crawled out from beneath the covers and started through his house in search of some more antacids. One of these days he was going to have to change his eating habits…or his job.
Today he’d faced the consequences of the law officer he’d become. With one year left to retirement, he’d let the office and himself slip. In spite of Glory Dixon’s farfetched claims about her psychic abilities, the fact still remained that someone was out to do her harm.
The stolen car that they’d recovered had been wiped clean of prints…all except for a partial that they’d found along the steering wheel column. They’d already eliminated the owner and any of his friends or family. It only stood to reason that it would belong to the thief. But it was going to take days, maybe weeks, to get back a report from the state office. During that time, Glory Dixon could be dead and buried.
He’d sent the bit of fabric along to a lab with the faint hope that something could be learned, although what they could possibly glean from a bit of denim cloth was impossible to guess.
He popped a couple of effervescent tablets into a glass of water, waiting while they fizzed, and consoled himself with the fact that at least he was doing his job.
Minutes later, he crawled back into bed, more comfortable with the situation, and with his belly. On the verge of dreams, the memory of Carter Foster’s hangdog face drifted through his subconscious. But he was too far gone to wonder why, and when morning came, he wouldn’t remember that it had.
Miles away, in a cabin nestled deep in the piney woods above Larner’s Mill, Wyatt slept, with Glory held fast in his arms. The fear that had kept him virtually sleepless for the past two days was almost gone.
They’d gone to bed secure in the knowledge that somewhere beyond the walls of this cabin, there were six mountain men who’d sworn to a vow that he knew they would keep. He’d looked at their faces. He’d seen the men for what they were. The steadfast honesty of their expressions was all that he’d needed to see. With their help, maybe…just maybe, there would be a way out of this situation after all.
It was the quiet peace of early morning that woke Wyatt up from a deep, dreamless sleep. Or so he thought until he turned to look at Glory’s face and saw it twisted into a grimace of concern.
He’d never seen horror on a face deep in sleep, but he was seeing it now. And as he watched, he knew what must be happening. Somewhere within the rest that she’d sought, another person’s nightmare was taking place and taking Glory with it.
Except for the day at the city dump when she’d had the vision of the body being disposed of, he’d never witnessed this happening. His heart rate began to accelerate with fear. He wondered if this was how she’d been when she’d come to his rescue, then wondered whose life was about to take a crooked turn.
Uncertain of how to behave, or what to do, he realized the matter was out of his hands when she suddenly jerked and sat straight up in bed, her eyes wide open and staring blindly at something other than the room in which she’d slept. Her eyes moved, as if along a page, watching a drama that only she could see. She moaned softly, wadding the sheet within her hands, rocking back and forth in a terrified manner.
Still. Everything was still. No wind. Not even a soft, easy breeze. Dark clouds hovered upon the early-morning horizon, hanging black and heavy, nearly dragging on the ground.
The outer walls of the white frame house were a stark contrast to the brewing weather. Fences ranged from barns to trees without an animal in sight.
And then everything exploded before her eyes, shattering the unearthly quiet by a loud, vicious roar. Trees bent low to the ground, and then came up by the roots, flying and twisting through the air like oversized arrows.
Windows imploded. Glass shattered inward, filling the air with deadly, glittering missiles of destruction. Everything that once was, was no more.
And then as quickly as it had come, it passed. Where there had been darkness, now there was light. The house was but a remnant of its former self. The limbs of a tree protruded through a window. Beneath their deadweight, a baby’s bed lay crushed on the floor. And near the doorway, a clock lay on its side, the hands stopped at five minutes past seven.
Glory shuddered, then fell forward, her head upon her knees, her shoulders shaking as she pulled herself back to reality.
“Honey…are you all right?”
Wyatt’s voice was a calm where the storm had been. She threw her arms around his neck, sobbing in near hysterics.
“The storm…I couldn’t stop the storm.”
Wyatt held her close, smoothing the tangled hair from her face and rubbing her back in a slow, soothing motion.
“There’s no storm here, honey. Maybe it was just a bad dream.”
Glory’s eyes blazed as she lifted her head, pinning him with the force of her glare.
“Don’t!” she sobbed. “Don’t you doubt me, Wyatt! Not now! I don’t ever dream. Either I sleep. Or these…things come into my mind. I can’t make them stop, and I can’t make them go away.”
She rolled out of his grasp and out of the bed, desperate to see for herself what it looked like outside. Wyatt followed her frantic race for the door, grabbing for his gun as he ran.
Sunlight hit her head-on, kissing the frown on her face with a warm burst of heat, while an easy spring breeze lifted the tail of her nightgown and then flattened it against her legs.
“Oh, Lord,” she muttered, and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t understand. I saw the storm. I saw the…!” Her face lit up as she remembered. “What time is it?”
He looked back inside the house at Granny’s mantel clock. “A little before eight. Why?”
Glory moaned, and began pacing the dewy grass in her bare feet. “This doesn’t make sense. The clock had stopped at a little after seven. That time has already come and gone.”
“Come here.” He caught her by the arm, gently pulling her back inside the house. “Now sit down and tell me exactly what you saw. Maybe it was happening in another part of the country, and if it did, there’s not a damn thing you can do to stop it, darlin’. You can’t fix the world. I’m just sorry that you get pulled into its messes.”
She went limp in his arms, and at his urging, curled up on the couch, tucking her bare feet beneath the tail of her gown to warm them. When she started talking, her voice was shaky and weak.
“It was so real. The house was white. And it’s set on a hill right above a creek. There was an old two-story barn just below the house, and corrals and fences behind that stretched off into the woods.”
Wyatt was in the act of making coffee when something she said made him pause. He turned, listening to her as she continued, the coffee forgotten.
“What else?” he urged.
She shrugged. “The sky. It was so black. And everything was still…you know what I mean…like the world was holding its breath?”
He nodded, although the description gave him a chill.
“And then it just exploded…right before my eyes. There was a roar, and then trees were being ripped out of the ground, and the windows…” She closed her eyes momentarily, trying to remember what had come next. Her lips were trembling when she looked up at him. “And then it was all over. There was a tree through a window, and a baby bed beneath it. And there was a clock on the floor that had stopped at five minutes after seven.”
Wyatt shuddered. “Damn, honey. That’s got to be hell seeing things like that and knowing you have no control of the outcome.”
“Sometimes I do,” she whispered. “Remember you?”
His eyes turned dark. “How could I forget?”
But the memory was too fresh to give up, and she thumped her knees with her fists in frustration.
“I just wish I’d recognized the place,” she muttered. “It was so pretty. There was a rooster weather vane on the roof of the house, and it had a wid
e porch across the front, and a big porch swing. I love porch swings.” And then she smiled sadly. “And there was the prettiest bunch of pansies growing in a tin tub beneath one of those old-fashioned water wells. The kind that you had to pump.”
Wyatt paled. He listened to what she said as the air left his lungs in one hard gush. Panic sent him flying across the room. He pulled her to her feet, unaware that he was almost shaking her.
“Oh, God! Oh, God! What time did you say that clock stopped?”
Glory went still. The shock on Wyatt’s face was impossible to miss. “Five minutes after seven,” she said. “Why? What’s wrong?”
He started to pace, looking at the mantel clock, then comparing the time that she’d stated.
“Oh, no!” He was at the point of despair when it dawned. “Wait! We’re in a different time zone. It’s not too late.” Before Glory could ask what was wrong, he was running toward the bedroom, muttering beneath his breath. “The phone! The phone! I’ve got to find that phone.”
Seconds later, she was right behind him.
His fingers were shaking as he punched in the numbers, and then he groaned as he counted the rings. Twice he looked down at his watch on the bedside table, and each time, the fear that had sent him running to call increased a thousand-fold.
And then Lane’s sleepy voice echoed in his ear, and Wyatt started shouting for them to get out of the house.
“Wyatt? What the hell’s wrong with you?” Lane muttered, trying to come awake. He and Toni had spent sleepless hours last night with a sick baby, and when they’d finally gotten her earache under control and her back to sleep, they had dropped into bed like zombies.
“You’ve got to get out of the house!” Wyatt shouted. “There’s a storm coming. You have less than five minutes to get everyone into the cellar. For God’s sake, don’t ask me why! Just do it!”
Without question, Lane rolled out of bed, grabbing at his jeans as he nudged Toni awake.
“Was it Glory?” was all that he asked.
“Yes,” Wyatt shouted. “Now run!”
The line went dead in Wyatt’s ear, and he dropped onto the side of the bed, shaking from head to toe as tears shimmered across his eyes. When Glory reached out, he caught her hand, holding it to his mouth, kissing her palm, then her wrist, then pulling her down onto his lap.
“It was my home that you saw,” he whispered. “I’m glad you liked it. It was where I grew up.”
Glory closed her eyes against the pain in his voice. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him, giving him comfort in the only way she knew how.
Minutes passed, and then a half hour, and then an hour, during which time Glory tried to get him to eat, then gave up hoping he might talk. Wyatt sat, staring at the floor, with his hand no more than inches from a phone that wouldn’t ring.
“Oh, God,” he finally whispered. “What if I was too late?”
“Now you know how it feels to hold life and death in the palm of your hand,” she said quietly. “I live with this every day of my life. Can you live with it, as well?”
He didn’t answer, and she didn’t expect one. He’d wanted to know all there was to know about her. And her heart was breaking as she realized that this might be too much to accept.
As Granny Dixon’s mantel clock chimed, signaling the hour, Wyatt looked down at his watch. It was ten o’clock—nine o’clock for Toni and Lane. If they had survived, he would have heard by now…wouldn’t he? He thought about calling his brother, Justin, and then couldn’t remember the number. It was an excuse and he knew it. A simple call to Information would have solved that problem. But it also might have given him a truth he didn’t want to face.
Seconds after he’d discarded the thought, the phone finally rang, startling them both to the point that neither wanted to answer the call. Glory held her breath and closed her eyes, saying a prayer as Wyatt picked up the phone.
“Hello?”
Lane’s voice sounded weary and rough, but when it reverberated soundly in Wyatt’s ear, he went weak with relief.
“It’s me,” Lane said.
“Thank God,” Wyatt groaned. “I didn’t think you would ever call. Are Toni and Joy all right? Did you—”
Lane interrupted. “I want to talk to Glory.”
Wyatt handed her the phone.
“Hello?”
Lane swallowed a lump in his throat as he tried to put into words what he was feeling.
“How do I say thank-you for the only things that make my life worth living?” he asked quietly.
Glory started to smile. This must mean they were safe.
“I will never—and I mean, never—doubt a word you say to me again. Five minutes later and we would have been dead. All of us. A tree fell on Joy’s crib. It smashed the—”
“I know,” Glory said softly.
Lane paused, wiped a hand across his face and then smiled. “That’s right, you do, don’t you, girl?” He paused, then wiped a shaky hand across his face. “There’s someone else who wants to talk to you.” He handed the phone to Toni.
“Is this Glory?”
Glory’s eyes widened. She put her hand over the phone and whispered urgently to Wyatt. “I think it’s your sister.”
He smiled. “So tell her hello.”
Glory dropped onto the bed beside Wyatt, anxiously twisting a lock of her hair around her finger. Except for Lane, this would be her first connection with any of his people.
“Yes, this is Glory.”
Toni caught her breath on a sob. “I’m Wyatt’s sister, Toni. You saved our lives, you know.” And then she started to cry, softly but steadily. “Thank-you is little to say for the gift that you gave me today, but I do thank you, more than you will ever know. If you knew what I went through to get this man and our child, you would understand what it means to me to know that they’re safe.”
A shy smile of delight spread across Glory’s face as she caught Wyatt watching her. “You’re very welcome,” she said. “But it wasn’t all me. Wyatt is the one who put two and two together. He’s the one who made the call.”
Toni sighed as exhaustion threatened to claim her. In another room, she could hear Joy as she started to fuss, and Justin’s wife as she tried to console her. The call had to be short. With a trembling voice, she continued.
“When he comes back this way, I’d love for you to come with him. I’ve always wanted to hug an earthbound angel. Now put that brother of mine on, I need to tell him thank-you, too.”
Glory handed Wyatt the phone.
“Sis?”
At the sound of his voice, tears sprang again. “Thank you, big brother.”
“You’re welcome, honey,” he said, and although he hated to ask, he needed to know. “Is the house gone?”
“No. It will take a lot of work, but it can be repaired.”
“That’s good,” Wyatt said. “Are you at Justin’s?”
She rolled her eyes as Joy’s cries became louder. “Yes, but not for any longer than necessary. If you need Lane, call him here, at least for the remainder of the week. As soon as we get the glass out of the house and windows back in, we’ll be able to do the bulk of the repairs in residence.”
Wyatt grinned. He knew what a headache it would be for two separate families to be living under one roof, especially when two of the people were as hardheaded as Toni and Justin.
“Wyatt?”
“Yes, honey?”
“Don’t you hurt that girl.”
Glory saw the shock on his face and heard the pain in his voice, but she didn’t know why.
“Why the hell would you say that to me?” he asked.
“Because I know you. You’ve got a kite for a compass. You go where the wind blows, and when her troubles are over, you’ll be long gone again. Don’t you leave her behind with a broken heart. If I find out that you have, I don’t think I’ll ever forgive you.”
“That was never my intention,” he muttered. �
��And I can’t thank you enough for the vote of confidence.”
“You’re welcome, and I love you,” Toni said. “Call if you need us.”
The phone went dead in his ear.
“What’s wrong?” Glory asked, aware that Wyatt was more than a little out of sorts.
He tossed the phone on the bed beside them, almost afraid to look at her for fear that she’d see the truth on his face.
“Nothing. She’s just being her usual bossy self. She gave me a warning…and a little advice.”
“And that was?”
He shrugged, then looked up as a reluctant grin spread across his face. He took her into his arms and dropped backward onto the bed.
“Something about hanging my sorry butt from the nearest tree if I didn’t treat you right.”
Glory laughed, and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I like the way that woman thinks.”
Chapter 12
Just after noon, the sound of a car could be heard coming down the road to Granny’s cabin. Wyatt watched from his seat on the steps as a black-and-white cruiser pulled to a stop only yards from the porch. When Anders Conway got out of the car, Wyatt couldn’t resist a small dig.
“Are you lost?”
Conway had to grin. From the first time they’d met, he hadn’t been as accommodating as he should have been, and yet this big, dark-eyed man didn’t seem to hold a grudge.
“You might think so, wouldn’t you?”
Wyatt motioned toward the single cane chair against the wall. “Have a seat.”
Anders shook his head. “Maybe some other time. I just came out to update you on the investigation.”
Wyatt made no effort to hide his surprise. “You mean there really is one?”
Conway frowned. He had that coming. “Yeah, there really is. And I came out to tell you that, no matter what I believe about Glory Dixon’s powers, I do believe that someone is out to do her harm.” And then he scratched his head and took the chair that was offered, in spite of his earlier refusal. “The thing is, none of this makes sense. Why would anyone even want to hurt her? Hell, half the town is afraid of her, and the other half thinks she’s a little bit…”
