Page 1 of Absent Feeling

CHAPTER ONE

AsJames Banks approached his mother’s house, he rehearsed all the things that hewas going to say to her. This wasn’t going to be easy.

Hewould have to start with an apology. He owed her that apology because the lasttime that he’d been here, they’d ended up arguing. He’d pushed too hard to tryto get her to move into a retirement community where he would know that she wassafe. His mother had pushed back against the idea and before James knew it, thetwo of them had been arguing.

Thehouse was up ahead now. It was big and old, one of the larger houses inGuisborough, West Virginia, but it wasn’t well maintained. James’s father hadalways taken care of all of that, and he’d been dead almost five years now.James guessed thathecould have stepped up to repaint things and cutback the sprawling garden, but there were limits to how often he could bethere.

Thathad been the point of the argument. James had said that his mother wasn’t ableto look after the old place anymore, that it was too much for one woman in herseventies there all alone. She’d shot back with accusations that he was neverthere, that he was too busy with his wife and his children, that he only wantedher out of there so that he could take the house for his young family or worse,sell it off for the fortune she was sure it was worth.

Howwas James meant to get through to her when she was sure that his motives wereanything but pure? He only wanted to make sure that his mother was looked afteras she got older, that she wasn’t going to be there all alone if she had a fallor if something serious went wrong with the house.

Ashe walked up to the door, James found himself looking around. He couldn’t shakethe feeling that something was wrong. There were a couple of people out on thestreets that he didn’t recognize, and a homeless guy seemed to be staring athim. It was creepy, and it only made him worry about his mother.

Jamestried to tell himself that he was being foolish. His mother was still fit,active, and smart. She had an active social life with friends that she saw inthe town, and she’d shown no signs of ill health. She could handle herself.

Itwas just that, with the house slowly drifting into disrepair, James wasstarting to get worried. It wasn’t just the house now. James could feel thegaze of the homeless guy on him, and he couldn’t help the feeling thatsomething was wrong.

Jamesrang the doorbell, remembered that it had stopped working a couple of weeksback, and knocked on the door instead. There was no answer, even though hismother’s car, the ancient Corvette his father had rebuilt, was still in thedriveway.

Wasshe just busy, or was she refusing to answer because of the argument the two ofthem had the last time James was here?

Jamesgot out his phone and tried calling his mother, but there was no answer. Shedidn’t reply to a text nor to an online message.

Jamesalmost turned around and headed back to his car, assuming that his mother just neededtime to cool off, that if he gave it a week and then messaged her, they mightbe able to reconcile. Certainly, he didn’t suspect that going in there andtrying to convince his mother again that she should go into a residential homewould be a good idea right then.

Jameswas halfway back to his car when a thread of worry brought him to a halt. Hecouldn’t just leave like this. What if something had happened? What if hismother had had a fall, or a heart attack, or something else? No, he couldn’tjust walk away. All the worries that had made him try to get her into aresidential home came back to him now, bringing him hurrying back to the doorat a run.

Hehad a key in the inside pocket of his jacket; he’d only knocked before out ofpoliteness and a recognition that this was his mother’s home, not his anymore.James used the key now, letting himself into the high-ceilinged hallway of thehouse. It was filled with bookshelves and decorated in pastel shades thatshould have been soothing, but James was far too worried for that to have anyeffect on him.

“Mom?Mom, are you here? Are you ok?”

Hefound himself hoping that she would call out then to say that she was fine orto demand to know what he was doing in there when she was so obviously ignoringhim. James hoped that all of this would prove to be some kind of sillymisunderstanding, that he’d gotten worried for no reason, and that she wasactually just out in the yard gardening or listening to music throughheadphones or something.

Neitherof those sounded like things his mother would actually do, however, so theworry James felt refused to go away. He kept moving through the house, tryingto find his mother.

“Mom?Are you here?”

Thatwas when James saw the smear of something dark red on the doorframe leading tothe kitchen. It took James a second or two to realize that it was blood.

Now,James rushed forward, terror filling the space that had been filled with mereworry before. He ran into the kitchen and stopped, open mouthed in horror.

Hismother lay on her back, blood pooling around her on the tiles of the kitchenfloor, spreading out from what seemed to be an awful series of wounds. Someonehad stabbed her, again and again, then left her here. She stared up sightlesslyat the ceiling above, but even so, James ran forward, falling to his knees inthe blood and trying to check for a pulse, trying desperately to find any signof life.

Helooked up and let out a howl of anguish as he realized that his mother reallywas dead, that someone had killed her.

Becausehe was down there, he saw the card, just a couple of feet from his mother’sbody—a single square of white cardboard, seemingly placed there after her death.On it was an inkblot, forming a pattern that seemed to echo the spread of theblood.

CHAPTER TWO

Amberstood by the side of the stage set out in front of one of the main buildings atQuantico, feeling nervous as she waited for her moment to walk across it. Herfellow trainees were there around her, at least those who had passed the course,all looking both excited and slightly nervous as they waited for their chanceto graduate as fully trained FBI agents.

“RioAdams!”

Ofcourse, since they were calling the trainees up in alphabetical order, it wouldtake a while before it came to be her turn to step out onto the stage, take acertificate of course completion from the senior instructor conducting theceremony, and hurry over to the other side to stand there waiting for a senioragent to give a final speech.

Thatleft her worrying, because Simon, Agent Phelps, had said that there wassomething he needed to talk to her about. Amber found herself wondering ifthere was a way that she could slip away to find out what it was. But no, shewas stuck there with nothing else to do other than wait.

Amberused the time to look out over the crowd that sat in front of the stage. Peoplehad invited their family and friends to observe them becoming fully trainedagents. For once, the press was there, in the form of Joseph Conolly, herformer colleague at theWashington Newswhen she’d still been a puzzleeditor. He sat there, tall, dark haired, and handsome, with high cheekbones anddeep, dark eyes.

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