Dream Caller by Michelle Sharp

Author:Michelle Sharp [Sharp, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Dream Seeker
Amazon: B016SGTDFW
Published: 2015-10-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Jordan made it back to Saunders Cemetery just before dark. The drive had given her enough time to sort through what her uncle had told her. Ben Steel was the man in her dream. And he hadn’t murdered her parents and Katy, he’d been trying to save them.

All she had seen was his face and then the murders. She’d been too young, too inexperienced, and too hard-headed to figure out what the dream had really meant.

After a little digging, she found out that Ben Steel and his wife were also buried in Saunders Cemetery. They were several rows away from her family, but she needed to see his grave. Needed to apologize.

She placed a single red rose on Steel’s headstone. “I’m sorry.” It was perhaps the most inadequate apology ever. Unless she counted the one she was about to make to her father.

Turning from Steel’s headstone, she thought about how a whole cemetery of truth had existed less than five minutes from where she worked every day. And yet she hadn’t been a good enough cop, psychic, or daughter to figure it out. The guilt was like a living, breathing beast inside her.

She made her way over to her family and looked down at the four headstones, all that was left of a family who’d appeared almost normal at one time.

They’d gone to the movies. They’d camped. She remembered playing softball and eating ice cream, just normal stuff. Until one day, normal no longer existed.

Maybe Ty was right. Maybe normal never existed. And maybe chasing normal had been her biggest mistake of all.

She squeezed the stalks of flowers in her hand. Roses for her mom and dad. Colorful daises for Katy. Still unsure if having graves to visit was a blessing or a curse, she kneeled and arranged the flowers carefully against the headstones.

Day after day, year after year, there’d been so many people and spirits and cases she’d opened herself up to. But the case that mattered most, she refused to see, like a vindictive child. How many times over the years had her father tried to connect with her? Time and again he’d tried to show her the truth, and she’d been too stubborn to pay attention.

“I’m so sorry, Daddy.” Her chin quivered, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to quiet the sob. “Maybe I needed someone to blame,” she whispered. “Someone to hate more than I hated myself.”

The tears came in a rush. “Please don’t hate me. Please don’t . . .” She sucked in a ragged breath.

I’ve always loved you.

I loved you then.

I love you now.

And I’ve loved you every day in between.

Her eyes opened. She looked around. No one else was there. Correction: no person was there. But she recognized the sensation and the overwhelming heartache of her father’s spirit trying to communicate. And this time, she let him.

So much anger, she realized. So much energy spent blocking all his attempts at communicating for so many years.

“I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m so stupid. I should have—”

You’re anger kept you going.

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