Page 113 of Prodigal Son

He shot her an unimpressed glare. “I might have suffered a cramp or two.”

Her lips twitched, but she held back a laugh. “Anything since?”

“No. But would there be?”

She placed a hand on his arm. “Try to come to me in a dream tonight. I’ll do the same. If our connection is lost, I’m sure there’s a reason. I want to know why.”

After Anna left, he contemplated her words. Adam was a prideful male, always in complete control of his emotions. He couldn’t imagine him struggling with any sense of inadequacy or feeling intimidated or threatened, but also didn’t know Anna to lie.

That night, he visited Cybil for only a short time. He wanted to attempt sleep and see if he could find Anna in his dreams. He managed a few hours, but woke with no memory of a vision or experience with Annalise, only the same jarring emptiness that followed his first waking thoughts every day—Destiny was gone.

His heart was a prison he wanted to escape. Rather than pass the hours pining away in his gloomy bedroom, he dressed and readied a horse and carriage.

“Where are you going?” Gracie asked from the front porch, her mind naturally reaching for his.

“Into town. And stay out of my head.”

He didn’t need an audience, so he ignored her and climbed onto the buggy. He rode through the early morning mist, the rhythmic clip clop a balm to his senses. Trees were in full bloom and he resented the cheery landscape. Drizzle started to fall.

When he reached town, he parked the buggy in an empty lot and walked down the main thoroughfare, staring inside each display window. When he found what he was looking for in a shop called Country Antiques, he sighed.

He tried the door, but it was locked. “No.” Scowling through the glass, he banged on the trim. “Open up.” But the store was empty and dark.

The sign claimed they would open in two hours. Irritated by the delay, he found a bench and waited. Stretched out on his back, he folded his hands over his chest and stared at the bright morning sky. The air smelled of spring blooms and the trees lining the road were lush with green leaves and bright buds, a likely result of the endless rain of late.

When the store opened, Cain went right to the clerk. The bell above the door hadn’t stopped chiming before he asked, “The television set in the window, does it work?”

“Should.” The clerk, a middle-aged, overweight man, made a sucking noise with his tongue through the space of his front teeth. “Thought you Godly types were forbidden to use electricity.”

Cain ignored him and went to the display window. Lifting the small television set, he carried it to the counter. “Turn it on.”

The man eyed him suspiciously but guided the long-pronged cord toward an outlet. Once the set was plugged in, he twisted a knob and the glass screen sizzled to life. Black and white specks danced across the display. Cain adjusted the volume dial and the static hissed like the surf of the ocean.

He glared at the clerk, prepared to break his neck for lying. “It’s busted.”

“Ain’t gonna get a clear channel without a cable box. And I doubt they’re compatible with an old set like this.”

He glanced at the many clocks on the wall. He’d wasted an entire morning there. His hand smacked the side of the set.

“Hey, you break it, you buy it.”

“If it doesn’t work, it’s already broken.”

“Says you. You lookin’ for somethin’ in particular?”

“Channel Six. I want to watch the news.”

The man shot a thumb over his shoulder. “Well, you don’t need a television for the news. You just need a phone.”

Cain’s gaze zeroed in on the man’s digital device. “Show me.”

“Now, hold on—”

He met his stare and took hold of the man’s mind. “Pick up your phone and show me the Channel Six news.”

The clerk reached for the device and quickly navigated the screen. “It’s live streamin’.”

Cain took the phone. “Take a nap.”

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