The Lance Brody Series: Books 0-7 by Michael Robertson Jr

Author:Michael Robertson Jr [Robertson, Michael Jr]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-11-04T00:00:00+00:00

At least that was the sales pitch. The ruse.

But with Quinten, they’d been digging. They’d abused his mind, searching. They’d wanted information only. Something the boy had locked away in his thoughts. What that thing was, Lance didn’t know.

“You know,” Meriam said, “sometimes I got the feeling Quinten knew something like that was going to happen. Maybe I’m only trying to convince myself in retrospect, but I swear … sometimes, the way he talked—it was like he knew his time was limited. Do you think that could be true?”

Lance remembered the look he’d seen on Quinten’s face as he’d told his aunt to trust him that day in the motel’s office. “I think it’s possible, yes,” Lance said. “Your nephew had many gifts. I wouldn’t doubt he could have sensed something bad might have been on its way.”

Meriam shook her head. “And he never said a word to us about it.” She smiled. “Either too brave or too stubborn, or both.”

Lance said nothing.

“After all these years,” Meriam said, “I may not understand it all, but at least I won’t die completely in the dark as to what happened that day. So, for that I want to say thank you. I’m sorry if I became rude. It’s just … well, I didn’t want you to—”

“It’s fine,” Lance said. “You’re perfectly fine. Your nephew seemed like a fine boy, and I’m very sad I won’t get to meet him.”

Meriam looked as though she were going to say something and then stopped. Instead, she pushed her chair away from the table and walked to the bedroom, disappearing out of sight, replaced with the sounds of a drawer opening and some things being shoved aside. She returned a moment later with something small and white in her hand. “Here,” she said, handing the thing to Lance. “You can have it.”

Lance took the object from her—a folded white piece of paper, yellowed with age. Meriam’s name scribbled across the front. The letter from the dead woman in room one.

“She was very nice,” Meriam said. “We chatted a bit when she first arrived. She seemed very sad, and I was trying to be friendly and cheer her up. I don’t know why she addressed the letter to me instead of Quinten. I assume it’s because she thought it would be me or Murry that would find her.” Meriam shrugged. “Anyway, I used to read it whenever I wanted to remember how pure Quinten was. How much good there was in him.” And then, like a switch being flipped, Meriam’s eyes filled with tears again and she spoke through a sob, saying, “I never even showed it to him. I was so selfish. I thought … I … I didn’t want him to feel responsible for her, for that woman killing herself. I know he did, still. Probably would have either way. She thought the letter would make it better, but I thought it would have only rubbed salt on the wound. Yet there I was, all these years reading the letter for my own comfort.

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