I shared the prologue to this WIP a few weeks ago and thought I'd share a portion of the first chapter. Bear in mind this is the first draft and if I keep true to form will probably change slightly during the final editing stages. Critiques are welcome, and if you enjoyed it I hope you'll leave a comment below. Happy Reading!
"Please don't leave me here."
Catherine heard the whisper over the rustling of the leaves. A heavy mist had begun to develop over the river, drifting up the ravine into the creek where she knelt beside the water. Her search for twenty-one-year-old Timothy Bond had led her to many ravines in the past two weeks. Her visions confusing. Pieces of jigsaw puzzles
that seemed to fit every creek area surrounding the Kentucky River.
Letting the cool water flow over her hand, Catherine paid attention to the gentle force as it pressed against the barrier, connecting with the emotions it contained.
He'd been here. Walked this bank. Trudged through this water. And he'd never left.
Hearing Cody's unasked question she stood, turning to glance in his direction. "He's here, Cody. I can feel it."
"The fog is rising fast. I'm calling off the search, bringing everyone in."
His voice held an edge of defeat. He'd followed her through snake-ridden ravines, shallow pools, and even into the river twice. She knew he consciously ignored the ridicule of his fellow officers, but he couldn't ignore the rising wind, misty rain, and fog swirling into ghostly clouds. To not call off the search put everyone in danger.
Catherine turned back to the pool of water, staring into the murky depths. A vision of Mr. and Mrs. Bond appeared. Arms wound around each other, eyes swollen and red, beseeching her. Their voices echoed in her mind. "We know he's dead, Ms. Mans, but we can't sleep at night. Not 'till our boy comes home."
Mrs. Bond's cry had touched her in a way she hadn't expected. She touched the scar just above her right breast. Had her own mother felt that way when she left? Had she looked that way?
Catherine shook off the thoughts. Now wasn't the time to think about her mother, or the past. Nor was it the time to allow the frustration in Cody's voice to stray her from her task. She knew he respected her abilities, and believed in her. So much had changed in the last six years since he'd knocked on her door and asked for her help in finding three-year-old Danny Wells. He was the head of the homicide division, and through his efforts a special fund had been established to pay for Catherine's "consulting fees". She also knew it was through his efforts that other departments had begun to call upon her for help. Still there would always be the non-believers. The ridiculers. It didn't matter that her success rate ranked at ninety-eight percent. It was the two percent failure that everyone remembered.
A steady rain began to fall as the whisper reached her ears again. "Please don't leave me here."
The Gifts, A Jacody Ives Mystery