What little sleep I got the rest of that fractured night came in snatches, punctuated by dreams of being chased by faceless intruders. By 5 a.m. I could no longer stand the nightmares. Dragging myself out of bed, I slipped into my jeans and a red T-shirt and staggered downstairs to plug in the old, yellow coffee pot. By the time I had washed my face, brushed my hair, and fed Jethro, dawn was a faint glimmer in the east.
Surely, if there had been someone outside our house, the gunshot had scared him away. Yet, as I stepped onto the back porch, a feeling of fear met me. Overwrought nerves again? Drat that Jim Clendon! I found myself second-guessing every emotion, wondering if my nerves were playing tricks on me. Did I hear or only feel something stirring? The world lay still in predawn grayness although the sky promised the sun was back there somewhere, waiting to slip above the horizon, but the air felt odd, heavy and damp. I took a deep breath and tried to banish the jitters.
Far back in the woods, a cracking sound began and grew into a roar. The trees in the yard shivered as if they felt a sudden chill.
If you enjoyed the first Darcy and Flora cozy mystery, The Cemetery Club, please take a look at Grave Shift, the second mystery in my mother/daughter sleuths series.
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