Blood in the Ozarks

12. Faith In Me

The next morning when I woke up, I was sure I was dying. My rib cage ached and even breathing was too much movement. Then when I did manage to take a pain-filled breath, the scent of burnt sage filled my nostrils. I'd taken a quick shower and changed into fresh clothes before bed in the early morning hours, but the smell clung to me as a vivid reminder of the night before.

Carefully, I scrunched my shirt up my torso to look at the damage. The side of my stomach had been taken over by a sprawling bruise nearly the size of a Bible. I'd had worse days, but man did it hurt. Leaving my shirt raised, I closed my eyes and laid back against the overstuffed pillows. Letting my limbs go lax as I tried to take small, ginger breaths.

Then the ear-splitting melody of brass instruments broke through the silence of the room. With a heavy sigh I turned my head to see my cell phone ringing out the Imperial March on the nightstand. The same nightstand that had been mere inches away the night before, but was now miles away. I groaned as I reached an arm out to grab the LCD-screened siren.

"'Lo?" My voice was like gravel being shoved through a garbage disposal.

"Ellery!" In contrast Cian's was chipper like two shots of espresso straight to the veins.

I attempted to clear my throat and will myself awake. "Yeah, I'm here." I coughed. Sage. So much sage. "What's up?"

"Just wanted to check-in. See how the case is coming along. Tell my beautiful fiancé 'good morning.'"

"Good morning," I breathed with a sleepy smile, warmth pumping through my chest.

"So how's the case? Find anything good for me yet?"

Warmth was replaced with panic. "Did you not get my email? I sent everything in last night before—" Before I went hunting for souls with Ortega was obviously something I couldn't say. My mouth had nearly moved faster than my sense of logic.

"Before what?"

"Before I went to bed." Technically. "Was there something missing? Do I need to re-send it?" My eyes darted around the room in search of my backpack. I scraped my fingers through my hair, which had come loose from its top knot at some point leaving a hair tie in my bed and a rat's nest of a mane down my back. Tugging my hand free of my gnarled tresses, I tried to remember what I'd done with my bag. Who knew where I'd thrown the damn thing when I'd gotten in the night before.

"No, no. I got them. But I wanted to hear what you really think." Cian paused. "I also wanted to hear your voice."

"Mm." I murmured, still on an immobile hunt.

I spotted the black bag upside down resting against the lid of my suitcase and relaxed. My shoulders sagged and I rubbed my thumb and index finger over my closed eyes, the silence weighing heavy between us.

"Ellery?"

"Yeah, sorry. So, um, the case." I grimaced, willing my thoughts to collect and focus. "What did you want to know again?"

"Just what your impressions are so far. Anything I may need to know?"

"I think everything is there in what I sent you. Not much else to say until I see the Sheriff later."

"That's it? That's all the great Agent Ellery Ross has for me? Usually a day in the field and I can't get you to stop giving me details."

I smiled to myself. "Okay," I admitted. "I did meet a local when I went out for dinner. She said her sister is a palm reader. Could be a psychic, could be nothing."

"Do you have plans to meet her?" His words rushed with eagerness. "If we could get her to help us, we could have this thing solved today. What's her name? Maybe someone in the Bureau has dealt with her before. I knew I should have checked if there were any psychics in the area..."