Free Grave Doubts (A Paranormal Mystery Novel) by LYNN BOHART Page A

thought. What in the world did she think she was doing?
    The sound of an
engine caught her attention just as a brown pickup truck pulled slowly through
the parking lot. The headlights swept across her as the pickup passed by, and
she quickly got up. She brushed old lettuce from the front of her sweater and
flicked chunks of something gooey off her sleeve. Too stubborn to leave, she
ripped open the bag in her hand. Pieces of porcelain tumbled onto the asphalt,
along with empty tomato sauce cans. Lee squatted in the dark, shining the
flashlight onto the white, glazed pieces at her feet feeling cheated. It wasn’t
the urn. Maybe Diane hadn’t broken it after all. Carey would probably find it
when she emptied the condo over the weekend.
    Lee returned
the pieces of porcelain to the bag and angrily threw it back with the rest of
the trash. After wiping her left arm on a paper bag to get rid of the muck, she
closed the lid and marched back to the condo, heading straight for the kitchen
sink where she grabbed the liquid soap and began to scrub. Her hands were
covered with slime, and something green filled the underside of her fingernails.
Through tears of frustration, she scrubbed them clean, dried them, and then
leaned on the sink as she’d done that morning with Amy.
    “I can’t do
this alone, Diane,” she cried. “Please!  Show me something. Anything!”
    That’s when she
heard a thud in the other room.
    Lee turned with
a jerk. Her heart pounded so hard, she thought it might escape her chest. But
she waited – waited and listened. Her ears strained for the slightest sound. There
was nothing. After a long pause, she pushed her right hand along the counter,
looking for a drawer handle. She never took her eyes off the kitchen doorway. With
trembling fingers, she pulled open the nearest drawer and blindly searched for
something she could use as a weapon. When something sharp poked her thumb, she
risked a glance. The drawer was filled with cooking accessories. She grabbed a
meat skewer and moved slowly forward, holding the long spindle before her like
a dagger.
    She inched her
way across the kitchen into the small dining room, where the light from the
kitchen splashed shadows across the oak table and chairs, but left the corners
in complete darkness. Stopping at the end of the table, her senses reached out,
searching for foreign sounds. Only the ominous ticking of the grandfather clock
greeted her. She crossed to the front door and then turned and faced the living
room, fully expecting to confront an intruder.
    Instead, she froze,
her eyes wide, her veins pulsing.
    Her purse lay
on the floor in front of the wing back chair, its contents regurgitated across
the carpet. Along with her wallet and car keys, the small onyx bird sat upright,
facing her. Lee gaped as one bird eye seemed to glint in the low light. The
saliva in her mouth tasted sour, and the buzzing was back in her ears.
    She had left
the figurine on her vanity table at home. She hadn’t brought it with her. And
her purse had been thrown back into the corner of the chair. So how in the hell…?
    She swallowed a
lump the size of a golf ball. What was going on?  Was someone else in the condo? 
She turned towards the front door, but it was closed and locked.
    Lee moved
slowly into the living room and did a quick three-sixty next to the sofa, meat
skewer at the ready. As she did so, the toe of her shoe lifted the braided rug
and something scraped against the floor. The noise caught her off guard, and a
chill rippled down her spine. For a moment she forgot the possible intruder and
reached down cautiously to lift back the rug. A thick chunk of smoky yellow
porcelain, about a quarter of an inch in diameter, fell to the floor.
    Lee’s knees
almost buckled as thoughts of imminent danger evaporated; it was a piece of the
missing vase. She dropped the meat skewer on the coffee table and leaned over to
pick up the piece of ceramic. Her eyes danced back and forth from the