Unfinished Death

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Book: Read Unfinished Death for Free Online
Authors: Laurel Dewey
like a tired cat and, in doing so, caught a glimpse of the insides of her wrists. Blue and green bruises the size of half dollars covered her skin. Her thoughts turned to the struggle on the porch, but then she realized that the bruises were the result of her activity with Chris from the night before. She’d survived plenty of rough days and nights in her life, and had her fair share of bloodied lips, noses and bruised ribs at the hands of another man. These new marks were just another reminder of why she started drinking 21 years ago. The bruises would disappear, but the reason Jane drank would remain in front of her, never allowing a moment’s rest or a sense of safety. It was the pattern of belief that life and love were meant to be violent and painful. And thus, the pattern ensued of grabbing a bottle every time the twisted memory emerged of that fateful night when she was 14.
    Patterns die hard. Jane was off the clock, so she didn’t hesitate to locate a nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels leaning against the bed and drain the final few shots from the bottle. Between the bone-breaking fatigue and the warm blanket of whiskey, she languidly collapsed on her bed, as her soul dove into that silent space.
     
     
    The stale air of her bedroom disappeared, as she inhaled a blend of lilacs, spring daffodils and…sandalwood. Opening her eyes, she stared into the aqua sky and verdant grass. She felt the wicker chair against her back and then a
gentle hand on her shoulder. Her body was so heavy—the weight of the world like a yoke around her waist. She tried to turn to him, but the movement was too difficult.
    Devinder walked in front of her, his eyes warm and grateful. “Thank you, Jane.”
    She heard his voice clearly without his lips moving. Her head hurt and she felt a deep pressure she hadn’t felt before in this place. “The light behind my neck,” she asked, struggling with the words, even though she was speaking with her mind, “it’s bright again?”
    “No. Not completely,” Devinder said.
    “But I survived their attack.”
    “Yes, you did. But…” His eyes briefly looked off to the side.
    “What?”
    “I’m not certain. There’s something else… very soon.” He studied the white-planked porch floor. “There’s a child… a little girl. She dies. Be careful, Jane.”
    Jane’s chest tightened, as a blistering heat engulfed her left hand. “Tell me how to save her.”
    “You can’t save her. It’s her fate. Her karma.”
    “No! Tell me her name. She deserves a life.”
    “It’s only one of her many lives, Jane. Just like the rest of us. I’ll live again in a stronger body. But now, I need to rest and review.” Jane noted that the light behind Devinder’s neck grew much weaker. He took her hands in his. “You can take all the credit because you won’t remember any of this.”
    “Of course, I will!”

    “No. I promise you, you will not. And because you’ve never spoken a word of our meeting to anyone, there’s no trail of the memory to others.”
    “I will remember you,” Jane stressed.
    Devinder smiled. “You won’t. But I’ll remember you. Forever.” And with that, his image dissolved.

8
    The next day, Friday, Jane sat at her desk waiting for Weyler to give her the heads up. The pressroom downstairs was filled with local and some national media. Chris was primping in the hallway and accepting congratulations from fellow officers. She hated the whole idea of the press conference, especially since her mind was like Swiss cheese. What if they ask me how I cracked the case? Could she tell them it was her gut instincts because, right now, that’s all she could dredge up. She attempted to piece together the events of the last four days, but it was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle with twelve missing pieces. She remembered following Miles to Cath Bashir’s home, but she couldn’t understand why she did it. She recalled how she visualized the murder of Devinder Bashir with

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