Vision of Shadows Read online

  Uncle Mark and Grandpa wished me goodnight as I headed upstairs. I was exhausted. I had a feeling tomorrow would be a long day. I never even changed into PJs and just collapsed into bed. It didn’t take me long to fall asleep. My last thoughts were of Payne and what would happen the next time I saw him.

  * * * *

  I approached the house as fog billowed around me. I felt the wet grass underneath my bare feet, the moist blades between my toes.

  The house looked expensive but run down, with the exception of the front garden. The truck also looked pricey but dinged up and parked crooked.

  But it was the shouting that grabbed my attention. Voices filled with venom sliced through the air. Whatever was going on, it was something I needed to see. So I approached the front stoop, knowing even if whoever was in the house should storm out they would never see me. After all, I wasn’t really there.

  I made my way to the front door and heard a crash. The voices stopped a moment before picking up again, this time angrier than before.

  “You little punk!” one voice yelled in a slurred, deep tone. “You think I don’t know what you’re thinkin’? I know you think I had somethin’ to do with that stupid kid getting himself dead.”

  I quickly made my way to the window. I could see the man yelling. His messy dark hair looked like it hadn’t seen a comb since the turn of the century. His clothes were disheveled and barely hid his beer gut. His eyes were dark and bloodshot. If not for all of that, he might be considered attractive, but he didn’t look very appealing as he rubbed his hand against his face while he still held a beer bottle in the other.

  “Now why would I think that?” said another voice. It was smooth and silky, and I knew it immediately. Payne stood defiantly in the center of the room, unafraid of the drunken man before him. “Really, Dad. It’s interesting how you came to that conclusion on your own so quickly.”

  Payne’s father snorted. “Wasn’t all that hard. Well, let me tell you somethin’.” He gestured toward Payne with his beer. “I aint had nothin’ to do with Jared getting himself dead.”

  “Dad, you’re drunk,” Payne said. “You’re slurring your words and forgetting how to speak properly. I’m sure Sheriff Blackburn will be able to find enough evidence to catch the responsible party, whoever it is.”

  I wondered if Payne was nuts. I could hear the accusation in his words. Did he not care if he keyed his father up?

  “You little…” The last word was drowned out by the crash of Balthazar’s beer bottle hitting the wall behind Payne. Payne never flinched when his father threw the bottle, whether because he knew his father would miss or because this was not a rare occurrence, I had no idea. It didn’t matter. I flinched enough for us both.

  Suddenly, Payne’s father grunted and turned, leaving Payne alone in the room near the front of the house. Payne looked at the mess and began to pick things up. He was close to me now. I watched him closely as he leaned down and picked things up off the floor. I enjoyed the view.

  So much so that I almost didn’t see his father re-enter the room. Or what he was holding.

  I screamed to warn Payne, but it was of no use. I was home, safely tucked into bed. I had no way of warning Payne that his father was getting ready to shoot him.

  I held my breath, trying to will Payne to look up, turn around, something that would let him know the danger that he was in. I prayed Payne’s father would leave. That he would realize how horrible a thing he was getting ready to do.

  Suddenly, Payne looked like he sensed something. For a brief moment, he looked up at the window, and I swear he was looking right at me. Then with an odd, knowing look on his face, Payne spun around and faced his father. He didn’t seem surprised to see the shotgun. His father stepped further into the room, gave Payne a look of contempt, and squeezed the trigger.

  Feeling a sharp pain in my chest, I woke up in a cold sweat, the blast still ringing in my ears.

  Chapter Seven

  Don’t Get Dressed On My Account

  I launched myself downstairs. I knew what I needed to do. I was living with an uncle who was the sheriff of this town. I needed to get him to Payne so we could get Payne to a hospital.

  I still wasn’t sure how I felt about him, but I wasn’t prepared to have him killed. Not after all of this time wondering who he was or what he was meant to be to me.

  I came skidding to a halt in the living room where Grandpa and Uncle Mark were watching TV. Seeing the terrified look on my face, Uncle Mark shot up.

  “Bristol,” he said, “what’s the matter?”

  I hadn’t had time to figure out how to convince him of what I knew. Somewhere Payne lay either dead or dying from a gunshot wound. Grandpa struggled to get up, using his cane to push to a standing position. He watched me like a hawk, but I didn’t care. I would happily spill all of my secrets out for all to see if it would help Payne.

  The problem was, I was afraid telling the truth right now would just complicate matters. I needed fast action, not questions about my abilities. I knew Payne couldn’t have much time. He might already be dead, although something inside of me said he wasn’t. I was holding on to that something right now as I quickly tried to think of the fastest way to get Payne the help he needed.

  “I think Payne is in trouble,” I said as I ran my hand through my hair.

  “What kind of trouble?” Uncle Mark asked.

  “I called him,” I said, making it up as I went along. “I just wanted to see how he was after today. He said he couldn’t talk, and as he was hanging up, I heard a shotgun!”

  “A shotgun?” Uncle Mark echoed. “Bristol, are you sure? It could have been anything. It could—”

  Uncle Mark was cut off as something happened that neither of us expected. Grandpa hit Uncle Mark’s head with his cane.

  “What’s wrong with you, boy?” Grandpa asked. “You see she’s scared! Bristol says something is wrong with the McKnight boy, take her at her word.”

  Uncle Mark rubbed the back of his head. He glared at his father before turning back to me. “Okay, okay. I can ride over and take a look.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Let’s go.”

  “Go?” Uncle Mark repeated. “I don’t know if that’s such a good—ow!” Uncle Mark said as Grandpa used his cane again.

  “I’ve got to go,” I explained. “I’ll go nuts if I stay. I need to see for myself. I just…”

  “Okay,” Uncle Mark said. “Let’s go.”

  I pulled him out the door as quickly as I could, mouthing a silent thank you to Grandpa, who just nodded. Really, that man confused the hell out of me.

  As Uncle Mark drove, I sat with my arms folded, feet tapping with nervous energy. I stared at the speedometer, which was hovering around fifty-five. Uncle Mark saw my gaze.

  “I’m doing the speed limit, Bristol,” he said. “The McKnight estate isn’t too far away. We’ll be there soon.”

  “You’re the sheriff,” I responded. “Can’t you put on that flashy red light thing and do something like three-hundred miles an hour or so?”

  Uncle Mark laughed. “I’m sure you heard wrong.”

  I glared. “You’re the one who told me you think Payne’s dad might be violent. There was something Payne said today. He thinks his father might’ve been the drunk driver that killed Jared. If that’s true…”

  Uncle Mark pressed down on the gas until our speed grew to eighty. It wasn’t the three-hundred miles-per-hour I wanted, but it was better.

  Uncle Mark’s cellphone chimed. He had it clipped to the visor and set for speaker. He flipped it open. “Sheriff Blackburn.”

  “Evening Sheriff,” came a slow, drawling voice. “It’s Dwight.”

  “Yeah, I got that,” Uncle Mark said. “What’s up?”

  “Sorry to bother you,” Dwight continued. “But we just got a call about a disturbance over at Balthazar’s place. Old Henry Cahill said he’d sworn he heard a gunshot. I was going to dispatch Pinky to check it out, but I figured I should let
you know.”

  “I’m on my way there now, actually,” Uncle Mark said. “I’ve got my niece with me. She thought she heard something when she called to check on Payne. I’ll be there in a minute. Keep listening in case I call for backup.”

  “Yeah, okay,” Dwight answered. “I thought it might be just old crazy Henry again, hearing things, but I guess…. You be careful, Sheriff. You know Balthazar. I wouldn’t be surprised if he got a good one tied on tonight, stupid ass drunk.”

  “I’ll be careful,” Uncle Mark said. “I’ll call back in five minutes, or you send Pinky. You hear?”

  “You got it.”

  Uncle Mark flipped the phone off and pulled onto a side road. The road was like a long driveway that split off into smaller driveways. Each of the smaller drives led to some very large and beautiful homes.

  “Welcome to the McKnight estate,” Uncle Mark said. “Where you can find McKnights of all varieties, shapes, and sizes. Varick McKnight, of course, lives in the biggest house, but he likes to keep the rest of his family close by. He had houses built for all his kids, his grandkids too, once they’re married. That’s the traditional wedding present from Varick McKnight, a huge new house, with a professionally maintained lawn, cleaning services, and express snow removal.”

  I nodded, not really caring. I just wanted to get to Payne.

  “Here we go,” Uncle Mark said. “We’re here.”

  I sat up and saw us heading to a nicely maintained house with a dinged-up truck parked in the driveway, the same as in my dream.

  “Bristol,” Uncle Mark said. “I need you to promise you’ll stay in the car until I say it’s okay. I need to see what’s happening. If I don’t have your word, we’re pulling away, and going home, and Dwight can send Pinky.”

  There was a huge part of me that wanted to argue, but I couldn’t take that risk. So I agreed.

  “Good, let’s just see…. Well look what we have here.” Uncle Mark pointed.

  Payne McKnight stopped sweeping the front porch and leaned against the broom, watching us with curiosity and amusement in his eyes. He looked uninjured and healthy.

  Not to mention, he wasn’t wearing a shirt.

  Oh. My. God.

  I think I may have gulped out loud. I knew there was a gasp or a gulp from somewhere within the car, so it was either me or Uncle Mark. I’m guessing me.

  The moonlight gave just the perfect amount of illumination for me to make out his muscular arms and bare chest. Seeing him there, alive and undressed… I mean unharmed, I felt a flush of relief. I felt a whole bunch of things flood through me, in fact.

  “Well,” Uncle Mark mumbled, “seems safe enough, but all the same, stay close.”

  I opened the door and moved toward the porch, letting Uncle Mark walk before me. I could make out broken glass scattered across the porch. The bay window that I’d seen was shattered. Payne had been trying to clean it up before we arrived.

  “Payne,” Uncle Mark said, “would you mind coming down here a moment.”

  Payne looked over at us, and I could swear he was able to see me flush. Then he leaned the broom against the house and headed our way.

  There were so many things flashing through my head at that moment. I was relieved Payne was okay but confused that my vision had been so wrong. I was really enjoying the way Payne looked with his shirt off.

  As difficult as it was to push that to the side, I was also starting to worry. One wrong word from Payne and my uncle would realize I had been lying about being on the phone with Payne. If Uncle Mark suspected anything, he could easily check. All he had to do was look at my cell to see there was no incoming or outgoing call since I had spoken to Maggie.

  I would have happily revealed my secret to save Payne, but he apparently didn’t need saving. My secret did. I knew I should have been grateful Payne was alive, but I just couldn’t let my uncle see me for the freak I was. Not if I could help it.

  Thankfully, I had been hiding my freakiness for some time, and I was pretty good at thinking on my feet. A plan was quickly forming in my head. I took a deep breath and prepared myself to do what needed to be done, no matter how horrible it might be.

  As soon as Payne stepped off of the porch, I threw my arms around him, pressing myself against his bare, muscular chest, hugging him tightly. All of this, just to preserve my secret. The sacrifices I make.

  “Payne,” I gasped. “Thank God you’re all right. I heard the gunshot just as we were hanging up. I thought you’d been killed! I was so worried.”

  I looked up to him, my hands resting on his chest, trying to look into his beautiful eyes and not at his stunning pecks. I could only pray he caught on.

  Payne looked down into my eyes, his fingers once again finding that lock of hair he loved to twirl. I could see a mixture of confusion and amusement in his eyes. Finally, the corner of his lip twitched, and he gave my hair a playful tug.

  “I hadn’t realized you’d heard that,” he said. “I thought I hung up before the accident.”

  “Accident?” Uncle Mark asked as he came over and pushed Payne away from me with two fingers. “Payne, why don’t you tell me what exactly happened. What happened to the window? And for that matter, what happened to your shirt?”

  Payne stepped back and positioned himself a more respectable distance away from me, although I was still able to admire the view from here quite nicely. I couldn’t wait to tell Maggie about this. I supposed it would be in really bad taste for me to take a picture with my cellphone.

  “I’m sorry to have scared Bristol like this, Sheriff Blackburn,” Payne said. “No one was hurt. It was just—”

  “Just what, you little punk?” said a slurring voice. “Who the hell are you even talking to? I told you to clean up this damn mess, you little…” Payne’s father, Balthazar, came out, a beer in his hand and a pissed off look in his eyes. “What are you doing here, Blackburn?” He spat.

  Uncle Mark stepped in front of both of us, his hand hovering by his gun.

  “Balthazar, we got a report of a gunshot,” Uncle Mark explained. “Payne was just explaining about an accident. An explanation that includes what happened to your window, I assume.”

  Balthazar kicked his way forward, knocking shards of shattered glass in all directions, obliterating the neat pile Payne had swept together.

  “And I wonder exactly what the little punk told you,” Balthazar said. “What did ya say, boy?”

  “I doubt you even remember what happened,” Payne responded. “Dad had been cleaning his gun when it happened. I told Dad to go to bed while I cleaned it up. I’m sorry for the trouble, Sheriff Blackburn.”

  I watched Uncle Mark take a step onto the porch, looking for anything that would contradict what he was being told.

  I had seen what happened. It was not an accident. But in my vision, Payne had been shot, most likely killed. That part I had clearly gotten wrong. I normally don’t get things like that wrong. Payne McKnight had gotten me completely twisted up.

  As Uncle Mark tried to move in front of the window, Balthazar attempted to stare him down. Attempted and failed. Clearly, Balthazar had no desire to take my uncle on.

  As Uncle Mark looked about, Balthazar came over to leer at me. I could feel the hatred well within Payne. I was grateful when a car pulled into the driveway.

  It was long, sleek, black, and screamed “Get out of my way.” It was an important looking car. Whoever drove it was someone powerful.

  I looked from face to face and tried my best to read emotions. Uncle Mark’s here we go again. Balthazar’s combined fury and panic. He both loathed and feared whoever was in that car. Payne seemed hopeful.

  The door to the Cadillac opened and out stepped the most intimidating man I’d ever seen. He was very tall, at least six foot four. He wore dark slacks and a matching jacket. His white shirt was open around the collar, revealing the hair at the top of his broad chest. He had salt and pepper hair with a neatly trimmed mustache to match. He took his time approaching u
s, his dark eyes looking to each of us in turn. I couldn’t help but notice his gaze lingered on me longer than it did on anyone else.

  Payne whispered in my ear that this was his grandfather, Varick McKnight. Varick went first to my uncle.

  “Sheriff Blackburn,” he said, “might I ask what the devil you’re doing here?”

  “Mr. McKnight,” Uncle Mark responded, “my niece was on the phone with your grandson Payne earlier tonight. Just as they were hanging up, Bristol thought she heard a gun go off. I brought her over to see if Payne was okay. As we arrived, there was a report phoned in to the department about a gunshot heard in this area. We found Payne outside sweeping up. Payne was explaining about an accident.”

  “Who cares what Payne has to say?” Balthazar yelled.

  “I do,” Uncle Mark said. “Go ahead, Payne. Did your father fire the shotgun, or did you?”

  “Neither,” Payne answered. “My dad just…” Payne glanced toward his grandfather who was standing by, listening intently. “He must have left it loaded and it fell. I know it could have been worse, but no one was hurt.”

  Uncle Mark wasn’t buying it.

  Varick looked skeptical as well. “Is that what happened here, Payne?”

  Payne hesitated. “Yes, sir.”

  “Ya see,” Balthazar shouted as he came down the porch stairs, nearly tripping along the way. “Told ya I didn’t do nothing. You got no right being here, Blackburn!”

  “Balthazar,” Varick said. “Be quiet, you understand?” It was framed as a question, but was clearly a command. Something told me Varick was someone who was used to having his commands obeyed. “You are embarrassing yourself,” Varick continued. “Not to mention myself and your son.”

  Balthazar looked like he wanted to protest, but he refrained.

  “Sheriff Blackburn,” Varick said, “do you plan on pressing charges? I would hope not, as our family is currently dealing with a terrible tragedy of which you are well aware. I would hope even a Blackburn would understand that.”