Face of Fear by Blake Pierce

Author:Blake Pierce [Pierce, Blake]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blake Pierce
Published: 2020-03-23T16:00:00+00:00

***

Zoe rearranged the thin pillows on the bed, trying to find some way forward. To sleep, to rest. Why was it that the harder you tried to fall asleep, the harder it was to do?

The journey back to the motel had been one of reflection, and now, wrapped in the scratchy over-washed sheets, she knew that Shelley had made a very good point. She knew because the numbers were still itching away at her, well past the point of rawness. Everywhere she looked, even when she closed her eyes. They were still gnawing at her—and one in particular, even though she now tried to refuse to acknowledge it.

Maybe if she ignored it for long enough, it would go away.

No, this was stupid. What was it that Dr. Monk had told her? To focus on her breathing. To try the meditation, even.

All right. She was going to feel like an idiot, but she had to at least try it.

Zoe shut her eyes again, starting to count. One. A slow breath, rising in through her chest and evenly out. Two. Her chest inflated, her diaphragm pushed up and then down, deflating like a bellows. Three. She felt the texture of the sheets under her hands, the weight of her body on the bed, pressing down into the mattress.

Four. A flash of Callie Everard’s burnt face.

No—that was wrong. Zoe fought back control, trying to stop that hitch in her breathing, trying to flatten it out and keep thoughts of work down. Five. She imagined her breath coming out in a cloud of white, disappearing toward the ceiling. Six. The number of stripes on the—no, forget the tiger. Forget about all of it. None of that was for right now.

Seven. The palm trees were calling to her. She wasn’t there, not yet, but Zoe was anticipating the moment. The way she would see them. The picture building up in her head, the feeling of the imagined breeze on her skin. Yes, she would be there soon, and she was somewhat surprised to find that she was looking forward to it. Eight. Her breath came evenly now, just perfect. In and out. And just like that, with the attention turned on it, it became awkward: how long to breathe in for? How long out? How quickly did she normally breathe? Was this it?

Nine. At least she was thinking about something other than the case. Dammit, and there was the case again. Naomi Karling in a pool of blood. No, push it away. Ten. Ten and done. She could go there now. The wait was over.

The island beckoned to her. Zoe stayed perfectly still, constructing the vision from her own body outward. She started with a bikini, the kind of thing she would never normally wear but—she was intrigued to discover—her island alter ego felt very comfortable in. The sun came down to gently warm her skin. She had an even tan, the result of many days of sunbathing.

The water lapped in next. She was lying

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