Book Two of the Sisters trilogy: Sabra's story.
Sabra Davies, a clairvoyant, distances herself from her special gift after being
unable to rescue a child from the clutches of a kidnapper. Too late, the child is found dead and Sabra is devastated.
Now the cops are knocking on her door, begging for the kind of help that only her gift can provide. The scenario
is much the same as the one that broke her spirit.
If she agrees, will she be able to survive the destruction of her heart and soul if she fails?
“Please don’t make me do this!”
Her eyes seemed large in her too small face. Full with unshed tears. Her throat knotted with emotion. She fought back the sob that threatened to escape. One lone teardrop spilled over and ran down her cheek.
“I can’t,” she finally whispered.
Sabra looked around her into a sea of faces. Some expectant. Some sympathetic. Some annoyed with brows brought down in frowns. But one. One stared back at her with disgust. She flinched outwardly.
“We’re wasting time here. For all we know she’s a fraud.”
“She’s not a fraud, Detective Grayson. I’ve seen her in action. She can find the child.”
“You don’t understand,” Sabra began, trying to explain. “It’s too much to ask of me.”
“We’re not asking anything of you but to give us a description of the kidnapper. That’s all. Not like before.”
Sabra jumped as Grayson slammed his fist down on the paper-strewn desk in front of her.
“Damn it, Captain! This is getting out of hand. We don’t have time for this,” he bellowed.
“Will somebody get this moron out of my office! We’ll never get anywhere with him ranting and raving like a frigging lunatic!” the captain snarled.
Grayson’s nostrils’ flared in anger as Detective Tonya Price tugged on his arm. He stared down into the pale face of the young woman seated before the desk. For the first time since he entered the room he really looked at her.
She lifted her face as he moved. Her gaze locked on to him and he felt a swirling sensation like he was being drawn down into some deep unknown void. For a moment he felt her sorrow. Her features spoke of a frailty, a vulnerability, that made him want to pull her into his arms. To hold her close and tell her it would be all right. To tell her she didn’t have to do this. To tell them all to go to hell and walk away.
He had a sudden overwhelming urge to protect her. To soothe away the pain that showed so plainly in her water-laden eyes. It was a feeling that was foreign to him and he blinked in surprise at the strong sensation that rippled through him.
She tugged at him from somewhere deep within. If it was another time, another place, a different situation, he would be interested. He would want to know her. With her pixie face and gentle smile. But the smile was gone now. Only haunted eyes remained.
Grayson closed his own eyes tight and broke the contact. Drawing in a deep breath, he shrugged off the hand that now gripped his arm. He hardened his heart. He was a cop, damn it, and he had a job to do. He strode for the door and yanked it open. His anger evident. He turned.