Whisper Cape (2 page)
Authors: Susan Griscom
Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Mystery; Thriller & Suspense, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Romance, #Paranormal, #Psychics
Table of Contents
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Acknowledgments
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Many thanks to my children for their patience with my wandering mind during their visits. In particular: Brodie, your brilliant idea of genetics started this whole thing; Traci, your keen insight on police procedure was wonderful; and Mike, your awesome knowledge of firefighting is amazing. Extra thanks to my publishers and editors at Amber Glow Books for their continued encouragement and enthusiasm for this project. A big thank you goes to all my beta readers (you know who you are) and to my mom for understanding my desire and need to write this book. To my husband—you believed in me, knowing from the very beginning you’d see this book published. Special thanks for never giving up on me.
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A Special Dedication
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To Cael and Addie—you were with me in the beginning and have never left.
"Every heart sings a song, incomplete, until another heart whispers back. Those who wish to sing always find a song. At the touch of a lover, everyone becomes a poet."
— Plato
“One day our descendants will think it incredible that we paid so much attention to things like the amount of melanin in our skin or the shape of our eyes or our gender instead of the unique identities of each of us as complex human beings.”
— Franklin Thomas
“Discrimination is a horrible reality. People are afraid of what they don’t understand.”
— Cael Sheridan
"Love is an irresistible desire to be irresistibly desired."
— Robert Frost
Nightmares suck.
Addie put her face in her hands, rubbing her tired eyes.
“Recurring ones suck more,” she grumbled and resumed her unskilled search of the internet.
Gritting her teeth at the annoying hum of the old laptop, Addie tapped the keyboard, one finger at a time, thinking the sound might be enough to drive her insane. “Come on, don’t die on me now.” She stroked the lid, the gentle motion softening the hum to a silky purr. “Hmmm, that’s it, hold steady old girl, hold steady,” as if the machine could actually hear her. “Atta girl, I must have a magic touch.” She blew out a puff of air, relieved she wouldn't need to spend her next paycheck on a new computer.
Addie clicked on the top search result,
“Dreams and Nightmares, Types of Dreams ...”
With one hand on the mouse and the other massaging her throat, she tried to ease the phantom pain where, just moments ago, it seemed as though someone else’s hands had been. She read the comments on the computer screen.
“When repeated, nightmares are a way for the subconscious to wake up and take notice. Pay attention!”
She sighed. Hugging her knees to her chest, she rocked back and forth, willing the vision and the sensation away, and then sank back against her pillow. Addie glanced around at the familiar and somewhat comforting surroundings of her tiny one-room apartment. She stared at the bare walls and stark beige counter separating the kitchen from the living room, wishing for just a second—one tiny second—that she wasn’t alone as she remembered the horrible dream.
Everyone has nightmares, but night after night? And why were they always the same? The same, except along with each new episode rolled in an additional piece of the story, but they always ended with someone choking her, the face shadowed or masked each time. Similar to a suspenseful horror story where you know the beginning and end, but the middle—the who, the where, and the why—comes in bits and pieces like tiny clues, each new revelation more terrifying than the last.
They seemed so real and drained her energy. She shuddered and read on.
“Recurring dreams show little variation in story or theme.”
“Well, the theme’s the same, but what about the rest ... and the face; why can’t I ever see the face?”
“Dreams may recur because an encounter portrayed in the dream remains unsettled. Once a resolution is recognized, the dreams will stop.”
“Hmmm ... a resolution. Identifying the murdering bastard would help,” she said, the memory of her father’s death forever present in her mind. Always.
She'd been awake for hours, never able to fall back to sleep after a nightmare. Addie rubbed her burning eyes and gingerly pulled herself up from the sofa. Holding her breath, she tiptoed to the kitchen as though the nightmare might gather substance and engulf her any minute. She poured herself another cup of coffee and sighed.
“Get a grip, Addie, it was just a bad dream,” she said, having developed the habit of talking to herself now that she lived alone.
Bad dream my ass
. Something evil lurked in those dreams, those nightmares. She trembled a bit remembering the way it took hold and wouldn’t let go, strangling her until she woke up.
She sipped the strong brew while absently massaging her throat, glancing out the window and down at the almost empty parking lot. Her truck sat in its usual spot—alone in the lot—the last of its fellow smog machines. At half past nine in the morning everyone else in the small apartment complex had already left for work, school, or wherever. It looked so lonely—the way she felt now—and that familiar longing for her dad crept over her. Addie was convinced her nightmares had something to do with his recent death.
***
The eerie wail of the howling wind sent shivers down Addie’s spine. Pulling her jacket sleeves down over the palms of her hands, she gripped the steering wheel to hold it in place. Thank God the heater worked. The vicious cold air outside mixed with the fog floating in from the ocean, enveloping her truck, filling her with an ominous sensation. It swirled its way over the landscape, transforming the spectacular terrain into something unfamiliar. Sinister. The late morning haze shrouded most of the highway, snaking its way through the massive redwoods, stirring visions of her nightmare. The roar of the surf thrashing against the rocks emphasized the menacing force.
She shuddered. Her breath quickened. Hot and tingly blood pulsed through her body, swamping her with a sense of dread. The force strengthened and burned as though her veins were on fire.
Addie inhaled, holding her breath for a few seconds before exhaling. “Deep breaths, Addie, slow, deep breaths,” she whispered as the memory of the horrible nightmare flooded her mind.
She concentrated on her breathing, feeling the rapid beat of her heart, determined to steady her nerves.
“Think of something else,” she demanded and glanced down at her camera and tripod. She’d remembered to bring them along today, hoping the sun would come out so she could go to the cliffs during her afternoon break, still determined to decorate her bare apartment walls with pictures of the giant waves crashing against the massive rocks. She grimaced, leaning forward to peek at the sky, perturbed the sun wasn’t going to cooperate.
Addie turned her concentration back to the road. One wrong turn could be fatal if her truck were to swerve and go over the cliff. Her new truck—well, new to her anyway—was sturdy and powerful, exuding confidence and strength, the exact attributes Addie needed at the moment.
She absently tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. “Another cloudy day. I should have taken pictures during the summer months, like any other normal person.” She glanced up at the sky again before bringing her eyes back to the road.
That’s when she saw him standing in the center of the highway.
She screamed, grasped the wheel with both hands, and steered to the right. The truck lurched. Her camera and tripod clunked against the passenger door and then fell to the floor. Addie tried to straighten the wheel, but the gravel on the side of the road sent the wheels spinning toward the ditch. She slammed on the brakes, skidding several feet before finally stopping inches from a very steep slope.
“Oh, God … did I hit him?” She’d heard a thump against the truck. “I must have hit him.”
Her hands shook. In fact, her entire body trembled with fear. Forcing her uncooperative limbs to move, Addie shoved open the heavy truck door, held on to support her quivering body, and stepped out. Her rubbery legs buckled under her as the fierce wind blew her jacket open. Steadying herself, she used both hands to keep it closed and crept to the back of the truck, scanned the area, but saw no one. Not even a hint of a body.
She called out. “Hello? Sir, are you all right?”
No one answered. The silence was disturbing, as if something sucked all evidence of life out of the area, leaving nothing behind except the sound of the wind rustling through dead leaves and the surf pounding against the rocks below. Still holding her jacket closed, she sprinted to the other side of the truck, but there was no trace of the guy.
Her stomach knotted. Her eyes fell upon the dents and scratches on the front fender. She studied them for a few seconds, but it was impossible to tell if there was any new damage. Just last week she’d miscalculated a turn and scraped the fender against the dumpster at work.
Keeping her jacket closed with one hand, she held her long dark hair back from her eyes with the other and searched the area the best she could. She didn’t see anyone.
“Where did he go?” She ran back to her truck, pulled herself up onto the seat, and quickly shut the door. Her hands shook as she pushed down on the locks, and for a moment, she just sat, frozen.
“No one was there.” Her eyebrows tightened and tears stung her eyes. Certain there was nothing to do, Addie glanced down the highway before slowly easing the truck back onto the road. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other fumbling with her seatbelt, she glanced in the rear view mirror. Addie let out a long, uneasy breath, and managed to relax some, but questioned her sanity. Was she seeing things? No, she saw him. Why was he standing in the middle of the road, and how did he just vanish? Where had he come from? She hadn’t seen a car parked anywhere and knew this stretch of the road. There wasn’t a house or any other building around for at least a quarter of a mile.
Addie tried to picture his face after only a brief glimpse of the guy. He wasn’t someone she recognized. He wore a tattered black leather coat that hung down to his thighs and his thick black hair, falling just inches above his shoulders, blew around his face. Any more detail was impossible to recall. The idea of a man standing in the middle of the road and then just vanishing was absurd, but she had seen someone and the whole experience frightened her. She considered the possibility that it was a ghost, but he’d looked so real. Then again, she had never seen a ghost before, so how would she know what a ghost really looked like? No, no, the ghost theory didn’t cut it. He had been real.
She needed a distraction, something to take her mind off the man, and out of habit, pushed the power button on the radio before remembering it stopped working during an electrical storm a week ago. Frustrated, she banged the top of the dashboard with her fist. The veins in her fingers burned and as she opened her hand, tiny sparks shot forth from her fingertips.
“Ouch!” She shook her hand as the radio crackled for a few seconds then began to play. Perplexed, Addie glanced at her hand as though it belonged to someone else and then back at the radio again. She shrugged, deciding the jolt from the sudden stop somehow jarred the wires. In an effort to calm down, she sang along with the radio, her voice timid. Every now and then, she glanced in the rear view mirror as if the man were somehow running behind her. She couldn’t help wondering how he materialized out of nowhere, and then ... poof, just vanished. Was he a figment of her imagination?