Highland Shifter
Page 54
Even still, a couple of the jurors had met with premature deaths since the trial. Philip would bet his soul his brother was behind their demise.
“Are you waiting for someone else?”
Philip shook his head to clear it, and stared up at the guard. Smartass.
Outside the penitentiary, he walked past the visiting families and made his way to his car. After sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and turned on the heater to ward of the unseasonal chill in the air.
In the seat beside him, he picked up his father’s journal. He opened to the dog-eared page, well worn from use, and read what he’d already memorized.
I found the stone hidden in a half-empty box of tampons. Fucking bitch thinks I’m stupid. Thought a man wouldn’t go there. Thought I’d never look in that box. I’m not stupid. I know she uses it to see him. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find out. One way or another, I’ll find out.
Philip turned the page.
Came home from the club and found the bathroom in ruins. Claire was hysterical. She accused me of ruining her life. Me, the one who stood by her all these years—the one who raised her bastards as if they were mine. It’s me she should love, not him. She’ll never see him again. She’ll learn to love me or die a bitter old woman.
The next few pages voiced the same sentiment. Philip’s parents fought, and his mom fell into a depression—something Dennis Lyons hadn’t seen coming. As much as Dennis loathed his wife’s transgressions, he loved the woman...and hated himself for it.
She’s back in the hospital. This time she locked herself in the car and let it run with the garage door down. The doctors say she’ll make it, but they want to take her to one of those crazy houses. I heard her mumble something about the stone while she was sedated. They gave her something to calm her down.
I’ve tried to make the f**king thing work. It won’t. While she slept I put it in her hand, and the thing lit up like a goddamn star. I had to wrestle it out of her palm. When she woke she stared at me as if she knew.
I could kill the bastard who did this to her—who took her from me. I’ll make this damn thing work if only to wring his f**king neck.
The pages after that were blank. Philip knew where the story ended. His mom successfully ended her own life by driving off a cliff. His dad, well, his step-dad anyway, ended up dying a bitter old man. Philip and Malcolm were ugly reminders of Dennis’s wasted life. All of this happened before Philip’s fifth birthday.
Malcolm remembered their mom, but Philip recalled nearly nothing. He remembered yelling and hospitals, and then the funeral. After that, a series of babysitters raised him and his brother. Mal manipulated every last one, much like his teachers. If he didn’t approve, they didn’t stay.
When Dennis died, Philip found the journal and a bag holding the stone. It was a rock, nothing more. Except the very same rock, or one exactly like it, sat around Helen’s neck in the form of a necklace. The rock Dennis left him sat in a jail cell with Malcolm.
And now Helen had disappeared, just like his mother had from time to time before Dennis took the stone away.
In order to learn the stone’s secrets, Helen had to reappear. Without any family of her own, she’d probably run to the only mother figure she had.
Philip buckled his seatbelt and shifted the car in gear.
It was time to pay Mrs. Dawson a personal visit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amber sat quietly on the back porch of Mrs. Dawson’s home. With the exception of Mrs. Dawson, everyone had left early in the morning. The children were with Helen, and the others were finding suitable clothing and supplies to meet their needs during their stay in this century. When asked to go along, Amber waved them off. “I’ll have plenty of time to explore. Besides, wearing this cloak might appear suspicious. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary attention while everyone is here.”
There was some legitimacy to her excuse for not accompanying them for the day, but the truth was, Amber needed time in her new world to adjust. Myra had warned her of all the modern conveniences and overall noise of this century. Her warnings didn’t do justice to the reality. There were people all around them, strangers whose twisted emotions seeped through the cracks of Amber’s protective cloak. She needed to find a more convenient means of protection. Wearing the cloak at all times might have made lifting her head easier, but it would draw curious eyes. From what Helen had said, the hot weather of California wouldn’t lend itself to a long robe of any kind. Lizzy was searching for a garment that would suit Amber’s needs so they could charm it before they were summoned back in time.
On a sigh, Amber picked up the empty cup used for tea and made her way into the kitchen. The smooth counters and ovens that didn’t use fire to heat brought a smile to Amber’s lips. She ran her hand along the ice box and opened it long enough to feel the cool temperature inside. Multiple colored liquids sat in glass containers on the shelves. She felt as if she were violating someone’s privacy by peeking inside so she didn’t continue exploring the refrigerator.
Amber heard Mrs. Dawson’s footsteps in the hall. “There you are,” she said with a smile. “I was wondering where you might explore first.”
Amber’s spine stiffened. “I’m sorry if I overstepped—”
“Nonsense. Overstep all you like. How else are you to learn?” Mrs. Dawson slid onto a stool at the counter.
“You’re too kind.”
“It isn’t every day I have the company of a beautiful woman from a century long past. I’ll bet you have a question or two about everything in this room.”
Amber glanced around. “Aye,” she said.
“Then ask.”
Smiling, Amber pointed to the first object she saw. “What is this used for?”
“It’s a toaster. You put sliced bread into the slots, push down the button and in a minute or two, the bread is cooked on both sides.”
She placed her fingers on the lever. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Amber pushed the lever down and watched the inside of the machine turn red. “Amazing.”
Mrs. Dawson proceeded to give everything in the room a name. A coffee maker, a can opener, a dishwasher—too many names and uses for Amber to process. It was all fascinating and a bit overwhelming.
How had Myra managed without the guidance of someone who understood where she came from? When her sister returned, she’d have to ask.
The telephone rang and Amber jumped.
“Are you waiting for someone else?”
Philip shook his head to clear it, and stared up at the guard. Smartass.
Outside the penitentiary, he walked past the visiting families and made his way to his car. After sliding behind the wheel, he started the engine and turned on the heater to ward of the unseasonal chill in the air.
In the seat beside him, he picked up his father’s journal. He opened to the dog-eared page, well worn from use, and read what he’d already memorized.
I found the stone hidden in a half-empty box of tampons. Fucking bitch thinks I’m stupid. Thought a man wouldn’t go there. Thought I’d never look in that box. I’m not stupid. I know she uses it to see him. I don’t know how yet, but I’ll find out. One way or another, I’ll find out.
Philip turned the page.
Came home from the club and found the bathroom in ruins. Claire was hysterical. She accused me of ruining her life. Me, the one who stood by her all these years—the one who raised her bastards as if they were mine. It’s me she should love, not him. She’ll never see him again. She’ll learn to love me or die a bitter old woman.
The next few pages voiced the same sentiment. Philip’s parents fought, and his mom fell into a depression—something Dennis Lyons hadn’t seen coming. As much as Dennis loathed his wife’s transgressions, he loved the woman...and hated himself for it.
She’s back in the hospital. This time she locked herself in the car and let it run with the garage door down. The doctors say she’ll make it, but they want to take her to one of those crazy houses. I heard her mumble something about the stone while she was sedated. They gave her something to calm her down.
I’ve tried to make the f**king thing work. It won’t. While she slept I put it in her hand, and the thing lit up like a goddamn star. I had to wrestle it out of her palm. When she woke she stared at me as if she knew.
I could kill the bastard who did this to her—who took her from me. I’ll make this damn thing work if only to wring his f**king neck.
The pages after that were blank. Philip knew where the story ended. His mom successfully ended her own life by driving off a cliff. His dad, well, his step-dad anyway, ended up dying a bitter old man. Philip and Malcolm were ugly reminders of Dennis’s wasted life. All of this happened before Philip’s fifth birthday.
Malcolm remembered their mom, but Philip recalled nearly nothing. He remembered yelling and hospitals, and then the funeral. After that, a series of babysitters raised him and his brother. Mal manipulated every last one, much like his teachers. If he didn’t approve, they didn’t stay.
When Dennis died, Philip found the journal and a bag holding the stone. It was a rock, nothing more. Except the very same rock, or one exactly like it, sat around Helen’s neck in the form of a necklace. The rock Dennis left him sat in a jail cell with Malcolm.
And now Helen had disappeared, just like his mother had from time to time before Dennis took the stone away.
In order to learn the stone’s secrets, Helen had to reappear. Without any family of her own, she’d probably run to the only mother figure she had.
Philip buckled his seatbelt and shifted the car in gear.
It was time to pay Mrs. Dawson a personal visit.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Amber sat quietly on the back porch of Mrs. Dawson’s home. With the exception of Mrs. Dawson, everyone had left early in the morning. The children were with Helen, and the others were finding suitable clothing and supplies to meet their needs during their stay in this century. When asked to go along, Amber waved them off. “I’ll have plenty of time to explore. Besides, wearing this cloak might appear suspicious. We wouldn’t want any unnecessary attention while everyone is here.”
There was some legitimacy to her excuse for not accompanying them for the day, but the truth was, Amber needed time in her new world to adjust. Myra had warned her of all the modern conveniences and overall noise of this century. Her warnings didn’t do justice to the reality. There were people all around them, strangers whose twisted emotions seeped through the cracks of Amber’s protective cloak. She needed to find a more convenient means of protection. Wearing the cloak at all times might have made lifting her head easier, but it would draw curious eyes. From what Helen had said, the hot weather of California wouldn’t lend itself to a long robe of any kind. Lizzy was searching for a garment that would suit Amber’s needs so they could charm it before they were summoned back in time.
On a sigh, Amber picked up the empty cup used for tea and made her way into the kitchen. The smooth counters and ovens that didn’t use fire to heat brought a smile to Amber’s lips. She ran her hand along the ice box and opened it long enough to feel the cool temperature inside. Multiple colored liquids sat in glass containers on the shelves. She felt as if she were violating someone’s privacy by peeking inside so she didn’t continue exploring the refrigerator.
Amber heard Mrs. Dawson’s footsteps in the hall. “There you are,” she said with a smile. “I was wondering where you might explore first.”
Amber’s spine stiffened. “I’m sorry if I overstepped—”
“Nonsense. Overstep all you like. How else are you to learn?” Mrs. Dawson slid onto a stool at the counter.
“You’re too kind.”
“It isn’t every day I have the company of a beautiful woman from a century long past. I’ll bet you have a question or two about everything in this room.”
Amber glanced around. “Aye,” she said.
“Then ask.”
Smiling, Amber pointed to the first object she saw. “What is this used for?”
“It’s a toaster. You put sliced bread into the slots, push down the button and in a minute or two, the bread is cooked on both sides.”
She placed her fingers on the lever. “May I?”
“Of course.”
Amber pushed the lever down and watched the inside of the machine turn red. “Amazing.”
Mrs. Dawson proceeded to give everything in the room a name. A coffee maker, a can opener, a dishwasher—too many names and uses for Amber to process. It was all fascinating and a bit overwhelming.
How had Myra managed without the guidance of someone who understood where she came from? When her sister returned, she’d have to ask.
The telephone rang and Amber jumped.
