Page 144 of Visions of Darkness

Her attention was fixated on the man who’d passed.

He was a plain-looking guy. Wearing a button-up and slacks. Blond. Maybe in his mid to late thirties.

He didn’t seem to be paying us much mind as he strolled around the corner of another building and disappeared.

Confusion bound her, and something unsettled toiled in her spirit.

“Did you feel something about that guy?” I demanded.

Uncertainty pinched her brow. “No. But I swear ... I swear I’ve seen him before.”

Agitation crawled through my chest.

“Where?”

She blinked through her memories. “The first morning. At the diner. He was sitting at the bar next to the old man. I didn’t feel anything strange from him then, either.”

Dread seeped through my insides. “Are you sure it’s the same guy?”

Air puffed from her nose as she gave a harsh shake of her head. “No. I’m not sure of anything. I think I might be paranoid. Seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe all this is catching up to me. It’s all so much.”

“And I don’t think we should discredit a single thing you feel,” I told her as I put my car in reverse and whipped out of the parking spot and out onto the road.

I searched for someplace secluded we could go, and five minutes later, we pulled into the lot of a park. Figured it’d be quiet at this time of day, which it was. I whipped into a spot, left the car idling, then handed the phone to Aria.

“You ready for this?”

Aria gave me a tight nod. “Yeah.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Aria

My hands were trembling as I dug the piece of scrap paper out from my pocket. “Where do we start?” I whispered.

“Search the name she has in caps?” he suggested.

I typedCharles Lewisinto the Google search bar on Pax’s phone. The hope I was feeling sank when it populated with more than three hundred million results. How would we ever sift the information out?

Thoughts spun through my mind, and I narrowed the search, typing inCharles and Maria Lewis, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

The results were much more manageable, and I started to scroll down the page, looking for anything that stood out.

I wasn’t sure what it was, but my spirit rattled in awareness when I crossed an article that read,Charles Lewis, Local Artist, Found Dead at 38.

It was an article from more than twenty-five years ago.

I glanced at Pax, who vibrated at my side, his body shifting so he could also see the screen.

He gave me a look that said he was interested, too, so I clicked on the news article.

Charles Lewis, a local painter known for his sweeping, scenic murals found throughout the city, was found dead in his home Saturday morning. Authorities arrived at the scene after a frantic 911 call from his wife, who found him unresponsive after he’d suffered a gunshot wound. There was evidence of a break-in, and authorities are currently searching for any clues regarding the incident.

There was a picture beside it of the backside of a Black man as he stood on a ladder, painting a mural onto the wall of a building. He swept a scene of color and beauty. But the beauty ... it was Tearsith.

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

Pax exhaled a heavy breath. “Laven.”

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