Page 4 of Forever Found

“Would you direct me to Norwood Street, though, please? My GPS stopped working as soon as I crossed into town.”

“Turn left at the end of the drive. It’s one more street north.”

She smiled. “Great. Thanks.”

She started the ignition, put the car in gear, and looked around to decide which way to exit. If she took the large circle drive as Rylan had, it would take her closer to the house, which she guessed David wouldn’t appreciate much. So she backed up, made a three-point turn, and drove out the way she had entered. At the main road, she turned left as he’d instructed, leaving the crows and the intimidating yet way-too-handsome man behind.

Look what I’ve been missing.Back from the dungeons of hell, his timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Shifting from crow to his human form, Caleb rubbed his hands together as he watched the woman drive away. All this angst, turmoil, and life. She had been upset over her camera and…something else. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what. However, he was out of practice.

Purgatory was the most boring place. Nothing but lessons upon lessons. Heaven or Hell was where the action was at. He’d spent twenty-five years in Purgatory as punishment for his failure in taking the lives of Lyndsey and her mother. Plus, Lucifer still blamed him for allowing David to become another angel. As if Caleb could have had any clue the man was going to run out in front of a dump truck to save them!

Damn that Mountain of Purgatory with its seven terraces of wrath, envy, pride, sloth, lust, gluttony, and greed… Blah, blah, blah. It was a horrible prison for someone who enjoyed vices as Caleb did. The inferno of Hell itself had been much more to his liking. And now Lucifer had allowed him to earn his way back to fun and pleasure.

Retaining his shape as one of the crows, he followed the girl.

* * *

David paused inside the massive foyer of Thurston Mansion as the door clicked shut behind him. Lyndsey Goeig? He hadn’t heard the name in years, although it seemed a part of her was always with him. It was as if something of her essence had latched onto him in that long-ago instant. She was frozen in time in her fearful, little-girl gaze when her eyes met his as he’d thrust her stroller across the street into safety. She was the baby he’d rescued. Well, she hadn’t been a baby, but a three-year-old toddler. That would put her at—he did the mental math—twenty-eight now. And man, she’d grown into a beautiful woman. Her skin glowed beneath a perfect bone structure, and her lips were expressive and slightly full. A chestnut brown with a hint of gold and red hues, her shoulder-length hair was rich and thick. But her eyes were the most alluring…it was as if she could see right into his most guarded secrets.

What was she doing in Terror? And right when the demon Caleb showed up? That couldn’t be good or a coincidence. A chill ran through him, settling in his gut. He needed to keep a close eye on her.

Prissy and Ruby, his Pomeranians, rushed to greet him, yipping and barking. He scooped a pup into each hand, then tucked them close to his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked the pups. Prissy’s pink tongue darted out as she panted in delight.

With leisurely steps, David strolled down the hall before entering the family room at the back of the house. He set the dogs in their matching beds with the fluffy pink pillows, then went into the kitchen where he dropped another Starbucks coffee pod in the Keurig and pushed “start.” He had told Diego, a wolf shifter and the owner of a motorcycle and repair shop, that he’d stop by today. May as well take a hot cup of Joe for the road.

* * *

Whether she was traveling north or not, she couldn’t be sure. She lacked that kind of directional compass, preferring to use left and right labels and landmarks to navigate places.

A mile up the road, she came to the sign for Norwood Street and turned right. It was a natural choice since it was the only way she could turn. As she drove along, she noticed the houses were not well marked. There was a charming sidewalk, and the neighborhood was filled with huge old trees. They didn’t have mailboxes on the street, and most homes had detached garages. She passed a home that had the number348above the door, so she deduced Justin’s home was most likely two blocks down. Next, she passed a house numbered516 ½. That made her smile. Man, things were crazy in this town. By her best estimate, she guessed Justin’s house was three more down. A truck blocked the driveway, so she parked at the curb.

When she reached the front stoop, she peered at the numbers on the mailbox. They were askew and not visible from the street, but they now confirmed she had the correct house—562.

She moved up the steps to stand on the old wooden porch, pulling her coat closer around her ears and approached the faded green door. Lifting the brass knocker, she knocked. The wind whooshed by again, lifting a fresh dusting of snow on the lawn and contributing to the white mound piled against the picket fence—a crow perched on a slat of wood, watching her. With a shiver, she knocked again, this time with several taps in quick succession.

Footsteps sounded from inside the house as someone approached. The door opened, and a woman with hair the color of cayenne pepper surveyed her with curious blue eyes. “Hello,” she said.

“Hi. I’m looking for Justin Smith. Is this his place?”

The woman smiled. “Ah, yes. You must be Lyndsey.”

“I am.”

“I’m Solis McGuire, Justin’s friend. Come on in. He’s out back.” She opened the door wider to allow Lyndsey to enter, then led the way through the house. “Justin found an injured owl, so he called me to see what I could do. I have somewhat of a special connection with animals.”

“Like an animal whisperer?”

“Something like that,” the redhead said with a gentle laugh.

Lyndsey followed Solis as she exited the house and porch, leading her into the backyard. The yard was dotted with barren trees except for a few pines that were clumps of green. A small area had been cleared of snow. Her cousin knelt beside an oversized animal cage with a huge, beautiful owl inside. Justin’s left arm was wrapped with a tan towel, and he wore heavy garden gloves. He must’ve been trying to get the owl out of the cage.

He sat back on his heels, waving at the two women with a gloved hand. “Every time I go to grab him, he scoots to the back and pecks at me.”

“Let me try,” Solis said. She slipped a long leather glove over her left hand and arm as if she did this all the time. Then she knelt, reaching into the cage with her bare right hand. A stillness seemed to surround them, floating through the back porch like a breeze. She held her hand perfectly still as she coaxed the bird to her. “Come on, baby. Step up. You’ll be fine.”