Where Souls Collide by Stefanie Worth

Author:Stefanie Worth [Worth, Stefanie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Romance, General, Contemporary, Fiction
ISBN: 147783740X
Google: ENTMnQEACAAJ
Amazon: B003WUYPVU
Publisher: Montlake Romance
Published: 2013-10-30T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

Monday, May 23

Just weeks away from Labor Day and the launch edition of Our Scene, Anderson receives a call from Fern. Across the newsroom he watches her mouth move in slow motion as her words spin through his phone receiver.

“There’s a break in the case,” she exclaims. “I just heard it on the police scanner.”

“They found our boy?” Anderson asks in disbelief. Despite his complaint against her, after his mother’s death, he needed her help.

“On their way to the place right now,” Fern confirms. “We gotta be there.”

“I know that’s right,” echoes Anderson. “I’ll drive. Let’s go.”

He hangs up the phone, shaking his head, astonished at their incredible luck. For months he’s been working on Our Scene’s cover story with Fern. Once Navena got her organized, Fern was pretty cool to work with. A potential Dispatch investor connected her with Neal Raines, the brother who ran Detroit’s Pit Bull Boyz back in the eighties.

Two jail terms, bachelor’s, master’s, and doctorate degrees later, Raines was now working in the psychology department at Wayne State University teaching “Street Mind 101” to area police departments. He was also trying to pull his nephew off the same streets that brought him down twenty-five years before.

Nephew, as he lovingly referred to him, could only be traced through surveillance tape and informant leads. Raines pursued the young man relentlessly, determined to reel him in before the cops or a paid hit felled him. It looked like tonight was going to be their night.

Navena watches Fern eye Anderson oddly from across the room. She watches Anderson shudder as if a sudden wind has chilled him. Almost in unison, the pair turns from their parallel spaces to eye each other suspiciously. Navena wants to warn them. Warn him. But instead, the duo scoop notebooks and ink pens into purses and pockets, hurriedly tell Navena they’re chasing a break in the story, and dart out the door.

Navena sighs from her dream perch, awaiting her next opportunity to warn them.

Nightfalls. Time, space, and distance blur, thrusting Anderson’s car onto a darkened, tree-laden street of dilapidated houses and undercover SUVs. The scene screams “Halloween” in a bad B-movie.

Shuddering under a down comforter and quilted duvet, Navena reached blindly for more covers. Finding none, she tumbled deeper into her dream.

Anderson drives slowly as Fern ticks off the odd-numbered addresses. “Twenty-one, twenty-five, twenty-seven, next block,” she announces with authority. “Should be…right there. Over there, 62855. This is Whitlock, right? That’s it up there.” She places a hand gently on Anderson’s arm as if to brake the car. He stops. They hold their breath.

“Yeah, that’s it.” Navena hears the fear welling in Anderson’s chest as he speaks, strongly, calmly, not knowing he faces death. He exhales. Fern drops her hand, picks up her purse, and slowly slides the bag beneath her seat. “Ready?” they ask each other.

“Maybe.” Fern reaches for Anderson’s arm again. “Isn’t that Maxwell’s truck across the street?” The space around Anderson’s head turns in dark watercolors, leaving ripples of black hair and cocoa skin in an opposite space.

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