Thursday, May 23, 2013
It was still raining, though softly, and she pulled her hood up against its gentle pattering. The night was a runny, watercolor black, rain sighing high in the tree tops, rustling on the pavement. There was no wind, no animal sounds, no eyes blinking along the fence line. Peaceful. Jade clicked on her big Maglite and let the beam bounce along in front of her, leading the way down the drive to the cracked front barn doors. Raindrops flared in the light, bright as crystal, there and gone again. For a moment – one brief flash that she didn’t understand – something like a cold wet hand slid along the back of her neck: trepidation. A spike of hesitancy that she waved away because she couldn’t find any context for it. She tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear, inside her hood, and slipped through the doors.