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One
“Stay on the floor, asshole, if you know what’s good for you.” Detective Savannah Flowers pressed her knee ruthlessly into the suspect’s bony spine, her voice as cold and lethal as midnight steel. The scrawny perp squirmed beneath her, but she doubled her grip, the harsh click of the cuffs like music to her ears.
His nasal whine—God, that sound—scraped raw nerves already shot from two sleepless nights chasing criminals. Savannah gritted her teeth, wrestling a surge of anger that threatened to swamp her professionalism. Yeah, she wanted to smash his smug face into the concrete, blur the line between cop and vigilante just for a satisfying moment. But she wouldn’t—unless he continued to try her patience.
“Move, and I swear you’ll wish you hadn’t,” she growled.
“I did nothing…” Sprawled on the ground, the young man wouldn’t stop fidgeting. His black skull jacket contrasted with the red Canadians hockey hat on top of his dirty blond hair that spilled out from the sides. She summed him up as someone who hadn’t decided whether to be good or bad. Well, today he chose bad. And not only because he dared to wear her favorite hockey team’s hat.
“So what you’re saying is that the purse filled with jewelry is really yours, you live in that house we found you hiding in the main closet, and you forgot why you ran from us, right?” One knee leaned heavier on his thin back. Only the stupid would have missed the dripping sarcasm in her tone. “Hold still.”
“I’d be very careful how you answer that, mate, because she doesn’t take too kindly to liars,” said Detective Noah Virgil, Savannah’s partner, watching the man squirm.
Savannah yanked the thief to his feet by one arm, her patience for desperate men and their pathetic lies worn razor-thin. Of all nights, it had to be the eve of her day off—and thanks to this idiot, she was waist-deep in overtime instead.
“Hey, that hurts,” the scumbag complained.
She shot Noah a sideways glance, one eyebrow arched with wicked precision, surveyed the area, and—without warning—drove her knee hard into the robber’s groin. Leaning in close, her lips nearly brushing his ear, she whispered, “Now that’s gotta hurt.”
“Told you, mate, don’t mess with her.”
The pitiful excuse for a robber slumped over, his chest heaving as he struggled to draw in a ragged breath. “As…sault,” he rasped.
Savannah leaned closer, a tight hold on one of his bony wrists. “You’re dumb as a bag of rocks, right?” Dimwit kept quiet. “Listen carefully ’cause I’m not repeating. You shoved an elderly lady down the stairs, broke her leg, attempted to steal her jewelry, then hid like the fucking coward that you are. You’re lucky she’s not dead, otherwise, I would do more than bust your family jewels, you got that?”
A repetitive shaking of his head meant he understood the threat.
After shoving the robber into the backseat of the police cruiser, she leaned hard against the closed door, facing Noah. “Seriously? Why did they call homicide to haul this idiot in? The uniforms already had it covered.”
“That’s not why we were called.” Noah’s voice was quiet, almost haunted, as he motioned for her to follow him around the side of the house. She did. They stepped off the pavement, unlatched the iron gate, and the world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. The sight hit her like a fist to the gut. Several yards away—ringed by yellow police tape—rested a severed head, grotesquely out of place amid the blades of grass. Her legs faltered. Suddenly, memories she’d buried deep clawed their way back—climbing up a gnarled tree years ago, the sickening bounce of a head tumbling to the earth. Past and present collided in a nauseating rush.
* * * *
Fifteen years earlier…
This morning’s horoscope: Man of your dreams will sweep you off your feet.
In Savannah’s mind, this affirmed horoscopes sucked big time as she ran for her life.
Jenna, her ever-persistent best friend, had practically dragged her out to this party in the middle of nowhere. It’ll be fun, Jenna had promised—maybe even fate. Despite her usual skepticism, she’d agreed, secretly hoping the stars had aligned for once.
The house wasn’t just a party spot; it was a secluded sanctuary of a mansion, sprawling across the countryside like a lavish retreat. Jenna had wasted no time cozying up to the host, Pete something-or-other.
When the music faded and most of the guests had slipped away, Jenna’s car refused to start. Pete, ever the charming host, said he’d find someone trustworthy to give them a ride. She and Jenna piled into the guy’s back seat, expecting nothing more than a bumpy drive home.
Then everything went to hell once they had passed the main gates.
Massive, heavyset clouds tinged with the blood-red blush of twilight gathered ominously along the horizon, masking most of the shimmering moonlight. Only one stubborn moonbeam managed to slip free, slicing through the darkness like a beacon—illuminating a lone path like a spotlight to freedom. Savannah barely dared to breathe, her pulse thundering in her ears as she pounded down the gravel-strewn side road, the sharp stones biting into the soles of her shoes, fighting the urge to look back.
Run! Keep running.A crisp fall breeze prickled her exposed flesh.
An eerie silence blanketed the night, broken only by the metallic clatter of the mansion’s wrought-iron gate chains rattling in the distance. Savannah’s head throbbed, her nostrils flaring as she fought to steady her heavy, haggard breathing.
A bloodcurdling scream tore through the silent night—a painful wail slicing at the core of her heartstrings.
Jenna!
Lips clamped shut to avoid yelling out, determined not to betray her location. Veering off to the side, she ran down one dirt path, the next, vaulting over one obstacle after another until entering the stillness of the countryside forest. Ragged, pausing for a second, a weeping willow offered a temporary reprieve. She gasped for air.
Desperate to add more distance, she pulled in a deep breath and bolted once again, zigzagging around a thicket of gnarled trees, rocks, and trampling over dormant weeds. Heavy feet groaned from exhaustion as though trying to barrel out of quicksand.
Come on, Savannah. It’ll be fun. You don’t go out enough, Savannah. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
She flinched. Another scream, but this one more animal-like, not a painful cry. Lungs burned. Savannah stopped, back pushed against a tree, looked up at a low-bearing branch and heaved upward. Survival instinct kicked in a powerful hold. There was no way she was dying tonight. One branch, two branches, four branches…she climbed on as many as possible, balancing on thin footing. Out of the maniac’s sight, cowering like a hatchling from a predator.
Wait it out here, stupid. Stop running. Just wait until daylight.
Evaporated into exhaustion, she crouched, scanning the surroundings below for the assailant. Thoughts rocketed to Jenna. Was that her screaming? Oh God, I shouldn’t have run. She swallowed back a sob.
She leaned forward, pressing her palms into her burning thighs, every muscle thrumming with exhaustion. The sharp, salty tang of sweat curled upward. Damn it. She cursed herself inwardly, guilt prickling beneath her skin as frayed nerves threatened to unravel completely. She should have made sure Jenna was following. The thought gnawed at her, more painful than any cramp or bruise.
A clap of thunder and several veils of lightning bolts nearby lit the velvet-black skies.
Great. Why not? Murderous psycho mingled with a rainstorm, of course!
A guttural snarl somewhere below dragged her gaze downward. Her jaw slackened with shock. Staring back up at her were menacing, stone-cold red eyes against a mask of unnaturally pale skin. His lips curled into a predatory smirk, revealing the tips of fangs. Then, with a speed that defied anything human, he surged upward, clawing at the trunk with elongated, talon-like fingers that dug into the bark for purchase.
Confusion reigned over her senses. “What the fuck are you?”
“I’ve been looking for you,” rasped the red-eyed creep—A.K.A. the Samaritan asked to drive them home—from a branch below her. Blood dribbled from his mouth and more oozed out when he licked his lips.
Savannah braced for the inevitable. Fists clenched, knuckles turned white, ready to strike. Back pressed hard against the bark, thoughts to jump down and take a chance jumbled through a frazzled brain. I’m bloody toast either way.
Darkness all around became more heinous as a shadow passed overhead.
As claw-like fingers reached upward for her, something flew out of the sky and grabbed the almost-assailant, tossing him off the tree. Swallowing dread, she dared a peek below. The world ground to a stop. A fight so fast moving she couldn’t grasp what was happening. Once adjusted to their movement, she noticed Freakzoid with the red eyes crouched low, growling, while Savior-who-appeared-out-of-nowhere-in-a-black-coat stood several feet in front of him holding a sword. He laughed, taunting the creature/man to attack. If she had to guess, she’d vow Freakzoid just met his nemesis.
A shuddering roar later, Freakzoid slammed both hands to the ground and charged.
Within a blink of an eye, Savior-whatever’s muscular form raised his sword, slicing it through the empty air several times. For a moment, she lost sight of him until he suddenly materialized behind Freaky Dude, and…
Ohmygod!
The sound of crunching, bones splintering, and a god-awful banshee-like screech erupted. Freakzoid’s head bounced away and hit the base of the tree. Her stomach lurched. Heart slammed against a heaving chest. The world tilted as she fumbled forward, free-falling.
The last thing she heard before everything turned black was a male’s voice saying, “I gotcha, love.”
* * * *
Present…
Noah gripped her shoulders. “Earth to Savannah. You okay, baby wings?”
Words lodged in her throat, mind yearning to scrub clean painful, guilt-ridden memories. “Yeah, yeah, I’m okay.” She steadied her breathing, pushed the memories back, shrugged away, and shuffled closer to the victim. Snap out of this, now. “What do we know…and please don’t tell me it’s a head. Not in the mood.”
“Gets worse. Looks as though the victim’s head was literally torn apart from its body. No blood anywhere, which indicates he wasn’t killed here, naturally, otherwise we’d have his body or a shitload of blood.”
She put on latex gloves, removed a pen from her inner jacket pocket, and crouched close to where the neck should have been. Tilting the head, unnatural jagged edges probably confirmed what Noah said. “Did you call Bill?”
“On his way.”
“Who found the victim?”
“A police officer who came to investigate a call about some sort of a racket here outside the vic’s home. Robbery just coincided at the same time.”
“And we’re sure it’s not dimwit in the car?”
“That skinny dude couldn’t rip apart a banana.” He grinned. “And now, most likely, won’t be able to stand straight for quite some time.”
“Whatever. Seems every year,” she began while getting up, “these murders get more gruesome.”
“Or we’re getting too old for this shit.”
“Speak for yourself, old man, I’m only thirty-five.” She wiped the pen and placed it back in her pocket, tossing the gloves in the trash bin close by.
“That’s right. Just two years younger than me and I’m referred to as the old fart.”
“Nope, I said old man, you just said old fart. By the way…” She reached out and touched his chin. “…when is this scruffy goatee coming off? Will knock ten years off your ugly brew of a face.”
“Neeever. Don’t ever mess with Samson’s power beard.” His smile never reached his hazel eyes. Noah didn’t appreciate someone telling him what to do in the looks department. Although he definitely was in the realm of handsome, with those broad shoulders, and muscular arms necessary to apprehend scumbags, he always carried this sullen expression as though put on time-out in the corner. Perhaps in a different universe, she might’ve accepted his date invites. But she never mixed business with pleasure, or as she delicately put it, Don’t eat where you shit. Too many anomalies if something went wrong with a relationship, which she avoided like the plague. Noah eventually stopped asking her out, finally taking the hint.
“Now, about the head…meaning…” He pointed to the victim.”…that head.”
She ignored his sly grin and meaning, gaze centered back to the victim. Besides looking like a waxed mannequin piece fit for a horror museum, there was a terrifying fixed stare on the man’s face.
How could someone do this to another human?
Her jaw clenched along with her fists.
Fear.
It was fear fixated before his death. A hammering familiarity kept rolling in her thoughts. But from where? When? Closing both eyes, she struggled to locate someone from the past or present that came close to resembling the victim. Nothing. She’d come across a few bald men in her life. No other apparent marking or feature on the victim other than the cliché bald as an eagle.
“Most likely someone tossed it over a fence.”
She nodded. “Have the team knock on all the homes in the neighborhood. Maybe someone glimpsed our psychopath.” She paused. “And who the fuck carries a head with no bag? Have them search for a discarded bloody bag too.”
The scent of Old Spice snatched the air from behind, and she smiled. “Always on time, Bill.”
“You need to tell me how you do that. Bloody eerie.”
She turned to greet the newcomer. “Maybe if you stop using so much of that after-shave of yours then I wouldn’t smell you coming from a mile away.”
Head medical examiner William Whiteman smiled. “And here I thought you were some supernatural being with powers. What do we have?”
“Nothing pleasant as usual when you’re called.” She walked over and hugged the Santa-like older man. And Santa was the perfect description, right down to the beard and moustache other than being salt and pepper instead of pure white. And no glasses. Although his height fitted more in the elf department, no one dared make any disrespectful, crude jokes. Considering the time he’d been a coroner and everything witnessed, William’s face always remained in a permanent jolly display. Brown eyes twinkled with kindness, yet Savannah was sure his job must have caused many sleepless nights for the widower.
“I’ll let you in on a little secret. Death is my middle name so, yeah, nothing pleasant ever.” Bill offered a small and tired looking smile, then glanced over her shoulder. “Just a head?”
Noah nodded. “No blood, splatters, or other evidence to indicate this was the crime scene.”
“Bloody hell. I swear, civilization has gone back to the caveman years.” He cursed under his breath and then walked off in a slow gait.
Savannah turned to Noah. “Have the team search this vicinity, and like I said, the other connecting homes. See if they find anything. I’m heading back home. Call if you have anything.”
“I’ll let the cap know to put out a call to other stations in case a body with a missing head shows up.”
She nodded, tapped him on the back, and turned to leave but stopped. “Um, Noah…anyway you can—”
“Do the paperwork? Figured as much since you’re not sticking around. Just remember I’m adding up all the favors. You owe me big time and I am cashing in soon.”
She waved goodbye with both middle fingers at attention.
Once inside the car, hands gripped the wheel, and she forced whispering shadows to remain in the past.
* * * *
Kicking the slippers off, Savannah plopped down heavy on the bed, exhausted. The comforter was pulled right up to her chin. No matter how tightly she cocooned herself, memories surged—relentless, merciless. They swept her up and spun her helpless, pulling her down into that same, suffocating nightmare she could never seem to escape. After all these years, Jenna remained the regretful crossroad that haunted every shadow, every sleepless night, refusing to let her go. Even now, in the darkness, Savannah could almost hear her best friend’s laugh—ghostly, just out of reach—reminding her of everything she’d lost and all she could never change.
“Come on, Savannah, don’t be a chickenshit, for God’s sake. There’s two of us and one of him. He’s just giving us a lift back home. Pete couldn’t leave his guests. What’s with you?”
Even way back then, before any cop training, instinct dictated there was just something off about the guy giving them a lift, along with several others. Heck, with most of the guests. He smiled but it never reached those shifty, conniving eyes. His clear ogling over Jenna’s body, tongue licking already saliva-enhanced lips…bloody creepy. She would have preferred to walk one hour through that countryside to get home, but Jenna had grabbed an arm and shoved her in the car.
Barely contained terror heightened while closed eyes followed the dream sequence. His disgusting sneer while pulling the car to the side. “You ladies want to party in private?” That raspy voice as though he’d inhaled a thousand cigarettes all in one sitting. He had reached over grabbing Jenna, who sat up front, by the hair. “Momma never taught you gals not to take lifts from strangers?” Savannah’s hand turned the knob, and she bolted out of the car.
“Jenna!” A sob caught in her throat.
Urgent pounding at the front door snapped her out of the nightmare’s grip, shattering the suffocating cocoon that had held her captive.
“Savannah! Open the door. You okay? Savannah!” The intrusive banging increased.
What the…? She squinted over at the nightstand’s digital clock. Eight a.m. Pushing the comforter away, feet snuggled into a pair of fluffy bear slippers, and she headed half-awake downstairs.
Yanking the door open, she scowled at Noah. “It’s my bloody day off. What do you want?”
“Well good morning to you too, baby wings.” He gave her a once over. “Love your Pink Panther pyjamas. Got a theme going on? Panthers and bears…oh my?” He bent and lifted two large styrofoam cups from the front step. “Brought your morning delight, French Vanilla.”
She turned and headed to the kitchen. By no means was she a morning person, that’s for sure, unless heading off to work. That had a purpose. Day off purpose? Do nothing. Vegetate. The soft click of the door sounded and Noah’s footsteps right behind.
“What was all the screaming about?”
I screamed? “Nothing. Bad dream.” Tamping down tense nerves, she leaned over the sink, cupped one hand under the faucet to sip some water and remove morning breath before relieving him of one cup. “Thanks.”
Niceties out of the way, it was time to cut straight to the chase. “So, what’s so important you had to wake me on my day off?”
“Bill called. He confirmed that the head wasn’t detached with any blade or cutting instrument. From his guess, like mine, it looked to have been ripped apart.”
“Any way an animal tore into the victim’s body and ran off with his head?”
“I asked the same thing, you know, great minds think alike, but there were no apparent bite marks or pieces of flesh anywhere near the scene. It was literally torn off, but once the body is found, he’ll know one hundred percent. And according to Bill, looks like we might have a werewolf on our hands.”
Her head jerked up. “Come again?”
“The only way he could describe it to give a visual. Said the lashes at the base appeared to have been made with long fingernails, talons of a sort, like the murderer slashed his head apart in one great swoop.”
Her head felt as though someone was plucking and peeling every nerve ending to get to the outer layer of skin. A sharp prism-like aura disturbed her eyesight for a split second, then it vanished. She arched her back, removing a kink. This case kept bringing up images of red-eyed Freakzoid and that Savior? from long ago. How did it factor in with this case? Did it or was she stuck at one scene from the past?
“Who the hell has the strength to do that?” she mumbled. Stomach clenched.
“Earth to Savannah,” Noah said, snapping his fingers. “Where did you go?”
Somewhere I wish I never was. “Just thinking about the case. Bill said nothing about dental records?”
“Nadda. Nothing came up so far.” Noah leaned back and unbuttoned his burgundy brown jacket. White shirt with three opened buttons showed off his sun-kissed sculpted chest. She had to give it to him; the man knew how to dress sexy. Undeniably handsome. Still, not her type, but more importantly, no chemistry. Seems all her life no one even came close to heating her emotions enough to warrant a second date. Deep down the stupid notion there was someone who was her soul mate always pushed to the forefront. Even dreamed of Mr. Right, sending oozes of heat throughout her body. Mr. Right possessed the most gorgeous grey eyes she’d ever seen, tall, muscular in an Alpha way, and thick black hair. Yet, no Mr. Right so far.
She rolled her neck, chasing away the stubborn knot of tension between her shoulders, flipping the middle finger at her migraine. Lately, there were quite a few middle finger salutes. At least the walk-in clinic doc had given her a clean bill of health. Nothing to worry about, he’d said after glancing at her blood test results. And yet, worry clung to her like a second skin, ever since the dreams started because that’s when the migraines also began.
“Let’s pray no kid stumbles across a headless corpse. Traumatizing enough to see a dead person, let alone one without a head.” She sat, sipped her coffee, then turned to Noah. “Remind me again why you’re here at this ungodly hour? You never said. And it’s not to report that Bill found nothing new.”
She didn’t bother hiding the accusation in her glare. Noah could have just called if that was it. But he hadn’t. Which meant there was something else. Something he wasn’t saying.
He leaned forward, reached into his jacket and took out a photo. “When I went back to the scene this morning I found this taped to one of the exterior fence walls. Now, I’m not sure, but—”
She reached over and snatched the photo. Patience wasn’t one of her virtues, especially when a migraine was playing knock knock on her temples. Her eyes squeezed shut before opening again. Can’t be. “That wasn’t there last night, I’m sure of that. We scoured the place and if we missed it one of the cops would have found it.”
“We did a thorough search around the grounds after you left, and no, that wasn’t there, not at the spot I found it at. I wouldn’t have missed it.” He hesitated for a brief second before saying, “Is that you, with black hair?”
Her hand clung tightly to the photograph, the edges worn thin by time. Lately, the whispers from the past had grown louder—insistent. It was the picture of her and Jenna, snapped years ago at that party, frozen in a moment right before everything changed.
Noah stared. His mouth was moving but nothing registered with her until he shook her arm.
“Savannah, what the hell is wrong with you? Are you okay?” He drew his chair closer and sat, eyes narrowing. “Tell me what’s wrong, and no bullshit that all’s well. You had that same faraway look on last night.”
Savannah pushed to her feet, walked to the counter, and dropped her Styrofoam cup into the trash. The ghostly wails of the past simmered in the background. Dread tightened its noose around her chest, and she expelled a weary breath. “I was attacked.”
When she finally forced herself to face Noah, his stunned expression confirmed her confession had shaken him to the core.
“Attacked? When? Why didn’t you call me?”
How much should I reveal before he thinks I’m crazy? Would he believe her?
“It happened a long time ago, I was twenty. My best friend and I attended a party. Well, she was invited. I was dragged to it because Jenna, the girl in that photo with me, had a thing for the host.”
She walked over to the table and settled into her chair once more. Words failed her. The past tumbled in chaotic heaps. Inhaling a deep, steadying breath, best thing to do was to let him in and worry about his impressions later.
“The party was…okay, although weird at the same time. I can’t explain it but most of the guests, they were just off, somehow. We had a drink or two, but nothing crazy. Not like the rest of the partygoers. When it was time to leave, Jenna’s car wouldn’t start, so the host asked one of the guys we’d just met to drive us home.”
“He’s the one who attacked you?”
“He…” How could she explain what happened next?
“He what?”
She drew in another deep breath. Here goes nothing. “He fanged out, okay? He whipped out these bloody fangs, grinned at us, and then I vamoosed out so fast I believed Jenna was right behind me because I saw her hit the guy when he reached for her hair. My mind roared to get as far away from that creep as possible. I just focused on running, never looking back, just ran and ran.” She spoke but watched Noah’s features, mostly his hands to make sure he wasn’t using his cell to dial the loony bin. If someone related a similar story to her, she’d be dialing ASAP.
“Wait, what do you mean he “fanged” out?”
Why do people use finger quotes? Savannah pressed a hand to her throbbing temple. “Listen, I never took drugs, never drank, just a glass at social events and even then, white wine. So don’t look at me like I’m off my rocker, okay?” She focused again on the photograph, doing her best to ignore his but-I-don’t-understand stare. After several seconds of him continuing to eyeball like a total confused buffoon, she placed the photo down. “The guy turned and he bared his fangs.” She pressed both index fingers to her lips, wiggling them like makeshift fangs. Better than finger quotes. “Were they fake? No fucking clue. Were they real vamp fangs? Hell if I know. All I knew was my chest felt like it might burst from the running and the terror gnawing my insides. To this day, I have no idea what happened to Jenna. My dreams are haunted by my guilt that she may have died that night and I did nothing to save her.”
If he dared comment on the fangs, she was ready to slug him. Smart man kept quiet, probably processing everything. She picked up the photo again. “I’m assuming you dusted this for prints? Otherwise, you haven’t seen my Hulk side yet.”
“Nothing on them. Photo was clean of any prints.”
“Why would someone tape a photo of me and Jenna at the crime scene?”
“Unless the victim has a connection to you, maybe to that time in your life?”
It made sense. Everything pointed that way. But what connection and why?
“Did you ever report the incident to anyone? I mean, your friend went missing, you must have, right?”
“The very next morning when I hadn’t heard from Jenna.”
“The next day? Why not the same night when you got home?”
“Don’t ask. I don’t even remember how I got home. All I know is when I woke up the next day, everything came back to me. Cops went to the party location, investigated, found nothing suspicious, and left. Jenn’s mom called after she was missing for almost forty-eight hours like they told her to do, yet nothing was done or the bare minimum…two years later, the poor woman had a funeral for her daughter with no body because in her heart she knew Jenna died. Sucks ass. There was no way she’d run away or never contact her mom or me.”
“Is that why you became a cop?”
In muted agony, she nodded. “To this very day I feel Jenna’s investigation didn’t go far enough. So yeah, that’s why I’m a hard-ass at times. I need cases solved.”
“Have you been in communication with her mother since then?”
Silence ensued. An unsettling feeling crumbled her resolve. “Not for a long while.” Those words ripped a beat from her heart. She ogled him. “Okay, out with it.”
“Out with what?”
“I can see the question marks plastered on your face.”
More silence. He eased back in the chair but his gaze never wavered from her face. “We’re partners. If you say ‘fanged out’, I believe you.”
The crushing weight carried all those years eased, if only a little. Even if he was lying about believing her—heck, who wouldn’t?—she finally told someone. Maybe the barrage of nightmares would subside. As for the guilt? Not likely.
She nodded, he leaned forward, arms stretched to hug her. One hand stopped him. “Whoa. I’m grateful to you for believing me, but I’m still me.”
He shrugged, rising and buttoning his jacket. “Then I best leave while my nuts are still attached, right?” A small, devilish smile tugged at his lips.
“Day off…broke my solitude…I’d say yeah. On another note, you heard me screaming so why didn’t you use the spare keys I gave you?”
“Left them at home, but I was close to busting down your door.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “By the way…vamps, demons, weres, demigods, dragons, they’re fictional, so what you saw were probably fakes.”
Not on your life. She didn’t argue with him. That’s what she’d always believed…until fifteen years ago.
Once Noah left, emotions unwrapped. She glanced at the photo. Memories flashed once again then just as quickly ebbed as she marched to the bedroom to get dressed. The small peace of mind Noah offered by listening now paved the road for something that was long overdue.
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