Page 106 of The Premonition at Withers Farm
He gave her a nonplussed look, heavy-lidded eyes piercing and oh so handsome and suddenly dangerous. “If this isn’t enough to convince you, what will it take, may I ask?”
Perliett darted a look at Mrs. Withers, who was rocking back and forth in a kneeling position on the study floor. “Well, I—”
“And surely her family won’t take the necessary steps to do so.”
“But—”
Jasper must have read the question in her eyes. “Where I was raised, there was a woman in town who continually sunned herself in her front yard, in full view of the community, dressed only in her petticoats.”
Perliett blushed.
He continued, “It took the wisdom of one concerned male citizen to bring attention to her erratic behavior, and they committed her. For two years.”
“Because she enjoyed the sunshine?” Perliett cast another nervous glance at Mrs. Withers.
“The species of humanity will either evolve, Perliett, or devolve.” Jasper lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles down her cheek. There was gentle confidence in them, and for a moment, Perliett swayed against them, before a nagging irritation disturbed her. “Mrs. Withers shows that sometimes a portion of humanity is simply not to the, shall we say, standard of other humankind? They need assistance to exist, whereas we exist on our own purview.”
“Our own purview?” Perliett repeated, realizing she sounded a bit like a parrot she’d read about once that mimicked its master.
“Mm-hmm.” Jasper smiled thinly and graced Mrs. Withers with a quick assessment. “There is so much intelligence in man. Both here and after our souls cross over. We must protect it. The species.”
“The species,” Perliett repeated, hearing herself, almost hypnotized by the man and his darkly charismatic nature.
“Stand watch, Perliett. I will return shortly.” With that, Jasper left in a bluster of spice and pine scents that left Perliett’s senses reeling.
Fingers closed over her arm, clamping into her skin. “We must move her from my room,” Maribeth murmured. “I am not comfortable with her disturbing the spirits.”
“How can she disturb them here and not in the parlor? Are they restrained to one room of the house?” Suddenly,Perliett wished the answer would be yes. The idea of lurking spirits of the dead wandering through her home no longer seemed all right or even comfortable.
“You know what I mean.” Maribeth’s eyes narrowed in a way that pled with her daughter to understand.
Perliett nodded. She did. The study was Maribeth’s sanctuary of sorts. A private place into which she invited guests only by her bidding. Mrs. Withers was an intruder. A disconcerting intruder conjuring up memories of two frightful experiences.
“Eunice is not a safe spirit,” Maribeth confided in a whisper. “I fear her mother’s presence here will only exacerbate her angst. She is restless. Angered.”
“And what has she revealed to you of her killer?” Perliett searched her mother’s face, longing for resolution to her doubts.
Tell me something. Something I can grab hold of.
Maribeth looked pained, shaking her head. “She speaks in riddles. In writings manifested through me that make the puzzle only more complex.”
“Then why seek her out?” Perliett hooked her arm through her mother’s. The woman was still beautiful. Being in her forties had done little to diminish her youth. In some ways, Perliett felt more her equal than her daughter.
Maribeth leaned her head against Perliett’s shoulder. She offered no answer but a distant affection. Perliett realized it was what her mother often did when she didn’t know how to respond, or worse, when there was no answer to be given.
35
Molly
A solemn quiet fell over the foursome. After examining page after page of the diary, Gemma had reluctantly left. It was evidence of crimes long committed. A glimpse into the mind of a killer. Now Trent and Molly sat side by side on Sid’s couch while Sid and her husband, Dan, lounged in their recliners.
“Do we turn it in to the police?” Sid asked quietly.
The diary lay on the coffee table between them. It was open, revealing ominous words.
Monster.
Blood.
