A Wicked Touch: A midlife paranormal mystery (Memory Guild Book 3) by Ward Parker

A Wicked Touch: A midlife paranormal mystery (Memory Guild Book 3) by Ward Parker

Author:Ward Parker [Parker, Ward]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mad Mangrove Media
Published: 2021-08-05T22:00:00+00:00


I woke up the next morning wondering why my forehead, jaw, hip, and pretty much all of me, was sore.

Then I remembered. And then I became distraught over Jen.

Should I contact her husband? The police told me they did so last night. But I felt obligated to check on him. The reason I didn’t do so automatically was I really wasn’t close to him. I was Jen’s friend. We did our bonding thing regularly, and I only saw Marty on special occasions.

I was also a little afraid, because I deserved much of the blame for her kidnapping. She had been at the house because of me. The killer had her in his sights because of me.

Still, I picked up the phone.

“Marty, it’s Darla. I’m so sorry about Jen. If there’s anything I can do—”

“You can’t bring her back to me.”

“I promise I’ll do everything I can.”

“What can you do? You’re not a cop.”

I couldn’t tell him about my psychometry. It took forever to feel comfortable telling Jen, and she was my best friend.

“Um, I was helping the police investigate a similar case.”

“And how did that go?”

I wished I hadn’t mentioned it. “We’re making progress.”

He grunted. Then said, “I’m sorry, but I have to go now. You understand, it’s difficult.”

“I do. Please don’t hesitate to call if you need something. A casserole, anything.”

Shouldn’t have said that. It sounded like she was dead.

He thanked me and hung up. I didn’t feel any better having made the call, and neither did he. So much for social obligations.

As soon as I put my phone down, it rang.

I expected it to be Marty calling back, but I didn’t recognize the number. I normally wouldn’t answer it, but my gut told me I should.

“Is this Darla?” a familiar woman’s voice asked.

“Yes. Amelia?”

“Yeah, it’s me. I got your letter.” Her voice was careful, constrained. “Thank you for telling me about Helen.”

“I didn’t want you to hear about it on the local news first.”

“Oh, I don’t watch the news. I never would have known if you hadn’t told me.”

“Can I buy you a cup of coffee? I asked. “And can we chat?”

Not that she needed anyone to buy her coffee. She was living in the most expensive condo building around.

“Do you have that item you mentioned?” she asked.

“I have access to it,” I said, hedging.

“Can you meet this morning?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

I had to serve breakfast first and then clean up. “Is eleven too late?”

“That’s fine. Ancient City Roasters, okay?”

Ironically, that’s the local chain where I met her cousins.

“I’ll see you there.”



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