44 Book Four

44 Book Four

by

Jools Sinclair

Copyright © 2012 Jools Sinclair

You Come Too Publishing

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical without the express written permission of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Praise for
44

*****

A FANTASTIC novel!
44
was just about impossible to put down once I started. From the very beginning, there was an air of mystery that kept me on the edge of my seat… I highly recommend this fantastic novel!

The Caffeinated Diva

*****

Everything from the setting, to the time frame, to the characters, was beautifully developed. This book is truly a gem and I highly recommend it. It literally took my breath away.

Avery’s Book Review

*****

Sinclair sucked me in like a vacuum cleaner sucks up dirt. She brings mystery, love, and friendship to the book and weaves a lovely tale.

Just Another Book Addict

*****

IMPRESSIVE!
44
is a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and will take readers by storm. With so much information in such a small book it will impress readers to the detail and depth in so few pages. The conclusion will take your breath away. Don’t miss you chance to check out this amazing story.

The Book Whisperer

*****

Fantastic, edge of your seat thriller. A MUST READ! It twists you about and as soon as you think you have it all figured out, throws you for the final loop with an ending that will break the hardest heart.

Wormhole

For Buddy...

44 Book Four

by

Jools Sinclair

CHAPTER 1

The wind pushed through the trees as I stood in the darkness of my bedroom watching the black branches sway back and forth, touching the moon and the stars and the clouds that raced across the sky, disappearing in the distance.

“I’m okay,” I whispered, trying to slow my pounding heart. “I’m home.”

A train howled in the distance, filling the night with loneliness. I opened the window and a gust of icy wind ate at my face, drying the sweat that was dripping down my forehead.

I inhaled slowly. Again and again and again. Sucking down the cold air and trying to shake off the dread that flooded through my body.

I glanced back at the glow of the numbers on the alarm clock.

2:23

It had just been a dream, the nightmare that was haunting me, the one that I brought back from the island where I had been held prisoner. The dreams were all the same. I was in water, swimming hard and fast away from the house and out into the large, black swells of the Pacific. I was tired, my strength leaking away with each stroke. Then I couldn’t go any farther, couldn’t force my arms and legs to move and I started sinking down into the watery darkness, staring up at the bright sunlight above me while I held my breath.

“Take a breath, Abby,” he said, his voice soft and sweet like a daffodil opening in the warm spring sun. “Die, and then I will bring you back.”

He floated above me through the waves of water and light, those intense cat eyes, dancing with excitement.

I shuddered and rubbed my arms as I remembered the dream, so vivid and clear and dark. I pushed my hair back behind my ears as I moved over toward my bed and sat down. I touched the clock on my nightstand. Touched my pillow. My blankets. I looked over at the desk and stared at my computer, a silver necklace wrapped around a picture frame.

These were all my things. I was in my own room.

I was home.

I put on my robe and wandered back over to the window and looked out at the yard lit up under a large, bright moon.

“Just a dream,” I said again. “I’m home.”

2:45

A thin moonbeam stretched across the floor. I sat at my desk looking at the small stuffed panda I won at a fair when I was little, the Messi poster hanging on the wall, the Barcelona soccer scarf wrapped around my bedpost. On my bulletin board was the Kathleen Edwards ticket from the concert I went to a few years ago, pinned up next to my high school diploma.

During the day, I walked by all these things, not noticing them, not even thinking about them. In the daylight, they gathered dust. But now, in the dark hours before dawn, I realized how much they meant.

3:13

The noise startled me.

I went over and closed the window quickly, pushing down the lock. I looked out, searching for some movement as I tried to steady my breathing.

It could have been a lot of things. The deer that sometimes ate from the neighbor’s bird feeder, the cat two houses over that prowled around in the early morning hours, the wind blowing through the chimes. I stayed there, watching the night, until all the silhouettes made sense.

I stayed there at the window for a while. A long while, until I was sure nothing was there.

3:50

I left the light off in the bathroom, splashed cold water on my face and caught my reflection and gasped.

In the faint light, I looked like a ghost.

I stared back at the dead girl in the mirror.

5:44

I pulled the thick, white comforter around me. It made me feel safe as I listened to the groans and creaks of the house against the wind, vigilant for anything that didn’t belong.

But there was nothing. I yawned, resting my head on the pillow, and waited.

The bittersweet light of dawn filtered through the curtains, taking me down through the layers of dreams, finally ushering me back into the illusive world of sleep.

CHAPTER 2

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Subaru pull up into the parking lot and squeeze into the last empty space.

“Abby Craig!” David yelled from behind the espresso machine, startling me. “Yo sista’s in da house.”

Kate had gotten in the habit of stopping in at Back Street Coffee a few times during the week when I was working. I knew she was checking up on me because she liked Thump Coffee better. But I didn’t mind and I usually tried to take my breaks with her.

I finished taking the order from the woman with dark hair and thin lips and handed back her change. The next customer, a regular who always had tired eyes and a loosened tie, wanted a large black coffee so I poured it myself and handed it to him.

“Thanks,” he said, throwing a dollar bill in the tip jar.

A loud eruption of laughter shot through the window. I looked over at the small group huddled together outside, standing in a circle. They were young and looked like they had come back from the mountain, dressed in parkas and beanies pulled tight down around their long hair that stuck out in strands. Even though it was April, it was still pretty cold. Snow was in the forecast for the city. But the sun was strong and people liked being outside around the metal tables and chairs while they soaked in the icy rays.

Kate came through the door and headed straight for the last empty table in the back. Her hair bounced a little as she waved at me. She was wearing her new Frye boots and they pounded on the wood floors as she walked through the crowd. I looked over at David, who had been staring at her feet.

“Cowgirl in the house,” he said as he pulled a shot of espresso.

He walked away from the counter and moved quickly in her direction. Back Street Coffee didn’t have waiters but ever since she had used a few of David’s quotes in a story she had written about the Tower Theatre, Kate was his new best friend.

Mo, short for Maureen, sighed loudly from behind a thick band of steam rising up toward the ceiling and moved over to the machine that David had abandoned. I helped the large guy wearing a Red Sox baseball cap and called out the order. Mo didn’t look up or acknowledge what I had said, like always, but I watched her reach for the nonfat milk and knew that she had heard me.

“It’ll be just a moment,” I told him and he moved down and waited in front of Mo, staring at her tattoos.

Kate set her things down and wandered back up and said hello while David walked over to the bar to start her drink.

“Hey,” I said. “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said, her eyes scanning the large glass case filled with pastries. “You?”

“Good, too.”

“And I’ll take one of those,” she said, pointing to a blueberry scone. Then she lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “Your friend over there is sure, well, friendly.”

“I think you mean
our
friend,” I said. “So how long do you have today?”

“Not too long,” she said, running her fingers through her hair. “I’ve got to cover a press conference at two. But can you take a break? I need to talk to you.”

“Yeah. I’ll let Mike know.”

David handed Kate her drink in a large, white ceramic mug. She smiled after she looked at it and I knew that he had put a chocolate powder heart on top of the white foam. He did that for his special customers.

“I’ll be over there working,” she said. I handed her the scone and she walked away.

Lately when Kate said she needed to talk to me, it just meant one thing. The investigation. But I didn’t really want to talk about it, not here at work anyway and not on my break. But she never understood that. Whenever she heard something, she always wanted to tell me immediately. She was thinking I was like her, that I also had that same anger burning deep inside and that I would want to know about any new developments right away. She was on the phone regularly with the special agent in charge of my case, checking for updates even though they said they would call when they had anything new to report.

She thought it would bring me comfort. That the case was moving along. That progress was being made.

But mostly I didn’t care. I mean, sure, I wanted those people to pay for what they did to me. It was wrong. I knew it wasn’t altogether realistic, but I wanted to get on with my life. And as impossible as it was, I wanted to forget about Nathaniel Mortimer and his band of ghouls.

It had been just over five months since I was rescued from a private island in the Puget Sound, since Kate and Dr. Mortimer and a small group of security agents found me locked away in a house.

Charges had been pressed against the four members of Nathaniel’s crew who had been captured, including Simon. The FBI didn’t come out and say as much, but Kate suspected that Simon ended up confessing and cut a deal with the authorities, agreeing to testify against the others. But everything was moving slowly and we were told that the trial was still several months away.