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.
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