Free Blind Sight: A Novel by Terri Persons Page B

she can tell that it’s daytime and snow is falling. Beyond the white blur, green blurs. Pine trees. This could be virtually anywhere with a winter season, but she knows it’s up north. She can feel it.
    The murderer drops the blinds and cranks them so they shut tight. Why close them in the middle of the day? What is this person up to?
    The killer turns away from the window and flicks on a table lamp but makes the move too quickly for her to study the hand—its size, whether there is jewelry or a watch. Whether this person has tattoos.
    The room is small and butter-yellow. Rectangles decorate the walls. Color photos or paintings—she can’t tell which. A bed with a nightstand and the lamp. Odd lamp. The base is bright yellow and in the shape of a duck.
    Suddenly everything goes dark, but it isn’t the same as when Bernadette loses a connection. There are shadows and vague shapes. Movement. A distant, throbbing light beyond the blackness. What is this? She’s never been here before. Her sight has never done this sort of…
    Inside the yellow room again, glancing toward a door beyond the bed. The murderer steps up to it, raises a fist, and knocks. Again, too fast for her to scrutinize the hand. The killer backs away, and the door pops open. Someone standing in the doorway. Bernadette can’t make out the details of the face, a creamy round with dark slits for eyes. Long brown hair. A rose-colored robe or dress. Can’t tell which. Doesn’t matter. This is a woman. The killer puts a hand on her shoulder and they walk together to the bed. Is this the next…?
    •   •   •
    That strange, shadowy world again. Gray shapes like amoebas, moving and undulating and pulsating. A hint of light behind them, or between them. Past them. What is this place? This is the weirdest thing she’s ever …
    The rosy woman is sitting on the edge of the mattress. She turns on it and brings her legs up. The killer is standing over her, concentrating on the woman’s face. She’s talking.
    The woman lies back against the pillows, and the baby butcher puts both hands on her belly.
    Black and gray again. Bernadette tries to will the shadowland away, but it stays in her eyes. Stays. Stays. Swimming gray shapes. A promise of light, but no light. She can’t waste time with this nonsense. A woman is in danger.
    Bernadette forced her fist open and tipped her hand, dropping the fabric.
    She closed her eyes tight and opened them to a familiar darkness. The cabin’s basement. She could see daylight oozing out from the edges of the makeshift curtain. Before she could speak, she had to take a gulp of air. “The killer’s with a pregnant woman!”

CHAPTER TEN
    G arcia turned on the light. “Where?” She jumped to her feet and ran up the stairs while stuffing the plastic bag into her pocket. “Could have been a private home, a clinic.”
    He followed her. “The hospital?”
    “We were over every inch of that place, and I didn’t recognize the room.” She gave him a summary as they put on their outdoor gear. “A small yellow room with a bed. The murderer looked out the window and I saw snow coming down, so it’s gotta be up here.”
    “The entire state and half of Wisconsin are under a blizzard warning,” said Garcia.
    “Fine. I think it’s up here.” Bernadette zipped her jacket. “A woman came out of another room. The bathroom, maybe. She had brown hair and wore a rose-colored outfit. After she stretched out on the bed, he put his hands on her stomach.”
    “Sure it was a he? What about Ashe? Could have been her hands doing that healing-touch bullshit. Potters have strong mitts, right?”
    While Bernadette couldn’t visualize the witch’s hands at that moment, she did recall the woman’s athleticism. She tossed those dogs around like puppies. “Could have been Ashe.”
    “Should we go back there?”
    “Wasn’t her house. No black paper or sheets on the window. Blinds.”
    “How do you know the gal on the bed was