Page 87 of Forever and Other Lies

“We don’t have time to waste building a playhouse,” Burke whined.

Ignoring Burke, Jamie dragged a large sheet of plywood toward the corner she had indicated. Derek grabbed the second sheet.

“I can’t connect with Jayna directly,” Jamie said as they screwed the sheets of plywood together, forming an L-wall. “But maybe I can connect with her through this. It’s like creating a bridge between our world and the spirit realm.”

Burke grumbled, but he took the jigsaw and cut out a door.

“Jamie, she’s still alive. She has to be.” Derek fought the panic that threatened to consume him.

Within ten minutes, they had a rudimentary structure built. Jamie secured a full-length mirror against the cement wall and set a wooden chair in front of it. Burke brought in two chairs, placing them away from the mirror, while Derek covered the doorway with a tarp for a makeshift door.

Jamie sat, staring at the mirror, while Burke took a chair in the corner and Derek pulled down the tarp. Shadows filled the room, with only a candle on a small table by the mirror providing light. Derek sat beside Burke, opening his notebook and using the flashlight function on his cell phone for light. Jamie had asked him to take notes.

He wasn’t sure what to expect, but a chill raced up his spine as Jamie spoke out loud. Her voice sounded distant, like she was in a tunnel.

“She is frightened. Was frightened.” Another chill raced through Derek. Was!

“She shouldn’t have stopped her car,” Jamie continued in that eerily out-of-body voice. “But she knows him. Feels safe pulling over and opening her door.”

“Her car? Jayna wasn’t driving,” Burke muttered.

“Shh,” Derek whispered. They weren’t supposed to speak.

“She can’t breathe, he’s holding something against her mouth and nose. It’s dark now. There’s a small window. No, it’s a door, high up. Cold. She’s cold, and it smells moldy and like apples.”

“The boots. Not the boots,” Jamie spoke in a lower pitch now. “He’s excited. Staring in the window. She doesn’t know he’s there. She’s so pretty. Wait, someone has seen him. A man. He’s angry, grabbing him. His head. It hurts so bad.”

What the hell was Jamie talking about? This was complete nonsense, not that he would admit it to Burke.

“I told you this was a waste of time,” Burke muttered. “The boots, not the boots. What the hell does that mean?”

Jamie spun around. “It means something, I just don’t know what. I tapped into Greta. She was insistent about the boots. And Duncan. I saw him. It was the same man. He killed both Greta and Duncan.”

“Who is it?” Derek sat forward in the hard wooden chair.

“No idea,” Jamie said in frustration.

Derek stared at the notes he made. Cloth soaked in chloroform he’d written. Basement or cellar, apple, boots. Greta knew the man as well. The boots, not the boots. What the hell did that mean?

“Complete waste of time,” Burke muttered again.

Chapter 43

It had been a complete waste of time—or had it? Derek kept rereading the notes he’d made. Notes? More like a few cryptic words. He had put so much hope in Jamie’s rumored psychic abilities. Yet all she’d come up with was some nonsense about boots and a root cellar with apples. None of it made sense. Was Jayna in a root cellar somewhere apples were stored? “The boots. Not the boots.” But Jamie had been adamant that the boots were important. Cryptic nonsense.

Another 24 hours had passed. Jayna was still missing, and Burke was still holed up in his office. Doing nothing. Wasting time.

Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off with the paramedic. The police had cleared him with an airtight alibi, but they wouldn’t share the details. The guy didn’t sit right with him, even if he’d passed the scrutiny of the Blythe Landing P.D. Lance Roman was too polite, too polished, too good to be true. No one was that perfect unless, they were hiding something.

Mabe Lance was a psychopath with a personality disorder, or simply an evil monster!

Derek would swear it on his life—Lance was hiding something. He just prayed he didn’t have to swear it on Jayna’s life. Damn, if he didn’t find her in time, it would destroy him.

Those three weeks spent pretending to be her boyfriend had irrevocably changed him. He’d actually enjoyed being her boyfriend. Fake though it was, it had somehow felt real.

And that realization terrified him. He didn’t want a real girlfriend. But he wanted Jayna.

He missed the way her nose crinkled and her laugh with that little snort. She was blunt and over the top. The way she hustled men at pool—it was sexy as hell. She could pound back tequila like it was Kool-Aid. There was not a single woman like her.

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