Hi there.
This is my evolving novel. Read. Enjoy. Have fun.
And let me know what you think if you like. Actually I hope you find it interesting..
[ what writer does not?!]
ALL the BEST.
Jc
THE GRAYSLAYER TALISMAN
Talisman : an object such as an inscribed ring or stone that is believed to have magic powers and to bring good luck.
Chapter 1
“Good morning.” Tina smiled. ” May I help you? “
The stranger stood in the open office door frame. He was tall, slim with a craggy appearing face half hidden under a dark, flat brimmed Stetson hat. He was dressed in black jeans and black shirt, with a brown suede jacket hanging from his narrow shoulders.
He turned slightly as he pushed the door closed. Tina felt a slight twinge of surprise. The man’s hair was thick, gray and fell to his waist- gathered at the nape of his neck with a black tie.
Unusual. Especially for a man of his age. What was he, about 60?
He turned to face her directly. Tina felt another twinge. It was his eyes. They were dark, penetrating, direct. Almost glittering.
“I’m here to see Mrs. Beckham, please,” his voice was quiet and clear.
” Yes sir, and who shall I say is calling? “
The tall stranger stared at the secretary for a moment in silence.
Before he spoke, the office door opened and Kate Beckham came out.
“Tina, could you…” she stopped as she noticed the man standing before her secretary’s desk. “Oh, pardon me, I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”
Kate smiled. “Did we have an appointment?”
“No,ma’m,” he said, “I’m afraid not. But I would appreciate a moment of your time.”
“Of course,” Kate smiled again,”I have a few minutes this morning…Mr….?”
The stranger looked at her directly from beneath the hat brim. Suddenly, with a start, Kate recognized the eyes.
” My name is GraySlake, he said quietly,”SunGalen GraySlake. “
Tina Vargo had lived in Broghan all her life. She knew that name.
Everyone did. But to Tina, it was especially familiar because she worked here in this office.
Everyone had pretty much decided that the owner of that name was likely long ago dead. Had to be. No one had heard even a whisper of that name in years, much less actually seen the man.
One thing was always certain-even if he was, by some miracle, still alive, Broghan was the very last place on earth he would ever be seen in.
Until now.
And Kate knew that name extremely well, having heard the stories over and over from the time she’d been old enough to listen.
And to understand.
Tina swallowed down a suddenly dry throat.
And Kate’s smile faded like spring rain on a hot sidewalk.
The stranger stared at her beneath the hat brim without a blink.
Three hours earlier……………..
What is a grave?
A final resting place. A location where friends and family my go to visit a departed loved one, to remember fond memories, or express feelings of remorse. Maybe, even, to talk with the departed loved one about life, love, and the pursuit of happiness.
Even though such a conversation is only one sided.
Perhaps, even, to regret about things that never were or might have been.
But does a grave still offer those possibilities if it does not contain the one thing that it was meant to, the one physical purpose that it has?
What if that grave does not actually contain a body?
Attorney Katherine Beckham was sitting on the edge of her bed as these thoughts meandered through her head, wondering what in the hell she was doing. She stifled a yawn as she crouched stiffly down to tie her shoelaces, her long dark hair tumbling down over her face.
She knew what she was doing. Damn it.
It was 5:00 AM, dark outside the windows of her tiny bedroom and dark inside her snug little house. She could hear the wind rustling the tree branches just outside the paneled walls, and shivered as she thought of what was waiting for her just beyond the heavy closed door.
Fall had arrived. Winter was not far behind. Cold. Snow. Ice
She shivered. No snow yet. Or ice. Just cold.
She was actually running a few minutes late this morning. The warm covers of her bed had been especially comforting, urging her to stay put.She had snuggled deeper and deeper, even pulled the thick comforter over her head.
But her inner alarm clock would simply not leave her alone. After rolling over several times, she finally gave up and swung her legs over, feet to the cold hardwood floor.
Seven minutes later she was dressed in her usual running outfit: gray sweatpants, grey sweatshirt, dusty jogging shoes, the familiar brand name worn thin now from much use.
Covering thermal wear she was most grateful to have.
Katherine, or Kate as she preferred, stood up and looked at the vanity mirror over her maple wood dresser. Reaching in the darkness, her fingers grasped the headlamp resting there. She adjusted it on her headand snapped it on. Her reflection glared starkly back at her.
She smiled slightly. Not exactly glamorous at this time of day. Not that anyone would see her, she thought Not that it would matter if anyone did, she thought again. Except maybe Max.
Still not bad. Aging well. Face a bit lined but with character and living rather than bitterness and anger. Firm chin. Skin mostly tight, little sag. Eyes clear. Some laugh lines. Still could smile. A good body, that showed gym time as well as running time. Hair still long and brown, maybe a little gray if she was honest.
Not bad.
All in all, maybe a little to be regretful about but could be worse.
And Max approved. Somehow that mattered to her.
She pulled that long brunette hair back into a ponytail and secured it with the small rubber band. With a last shrug at her reflection, she turned off the head light and left her small bedroom.
She gently opened the hall door to her daughters bedroom as she passed and listened quietly. Brittany was asleep, her gentle snore soothing to Kate’s ear. She eased the door back. There wasn’t really a need to be that careful: her 13 year old daughter would sleep soundly in a working railroad yard.
A short walk to the back door and Kate let herself out into the quiet, cold Adirondack morning, closing the heavy door behind her. .The breeze rifled through her hair as she walked down her short driveway toward her street, stretching a bit as she did. Kate didn’t waste a lot of time with warm up- she never had.
She reached the end of her drive, turned right, told the voices in her head to shut up already and took off.
The Village of Broghan in Upstate New York. Population 1,000 give or take. Sitting right on the edge of the Adirondack State Park, a settlement dating back generations, rich in history-from the Indian nation that made its home by the Otter River to the lumber industry that provided the town it’s hay day courtesy of the lumber baron who gave the little town its name.
But that was many years ago.
These days, Broghann was a little worse for wear. The homes along the street were like dusty ball gowns in a museum: older, worn but still holding on to their original elegance. The surrounding forests still beckoned to the Fall deer hunters and the Winter snowmobilers. There were still sugar bushes operating when the maple sap ran: family owned enterprises that stretched back generations producing the rich syrup that sold gallons near and far.
Though somewhat fewer gallons now.
There was the lumber mill that sat right on the bank of the Otter River, that still received its power from the flowing water.
All in all, Broghan was an interesting combination of new and old : one could easily imagine a sleigh being pulled by horses on the snow while the driver talked on a cell phone.
Kate was jogging her usual route: up to where her street deadended into Main. She would turn left down the quiet Main Street , run out past the village limit, around the cemetery and back.
A good two mile early morning run. Quick.Quiet. Predictable.
Reaching Main , she turned left. Down the broken, gray sidewalk,past the storefronts that had stood for generations, hosting different businesses over the years, past the old, somewhat rundown yet stately homes that lined the street and hinted of earlier, more prosperous days of the logging baron Jarrod Broghan.
She smiled slightly. Broghan’s original home still stood on Main Street surrounded by a wrought iron fence. The Thompson family occupied it now and had for years. First by James Thompson, Broghan’s most prosperous citizen since lumberman Broghan and now by Maxwell Thompson, his eldest son.
At this time in the morning, she pretty much always had the streets to herself. The cars and trucks were occasional at this early hour-there were always a few locals who got an early start. Some were used to seeing the bobbing light of her headlamp, a few actually waved.
Kate liked Broghan. It was home. She had grown up here, surrounded by the fields, the woods and farms, just outside of the great Adirondack preserve. Most of the kids she had grown up with had long since vanished into the urban obscurity. They had grown up here and spent their school years of classes and homework with one prominent thought: that they would leave at first chance , never to return.
And many had done just that -never returned.
Kate herself had been one of them, had even said that very thing.
And she had left right after high school graduation.
But the years had not turned out as she had once thought they would. First there was college, of course. But then a twist of fate and she had become a cop, later a detective.
The years passed fairly quickly. She worked hard. Found a man. Became a wife. Then a mother. She’d been good at her job.
Then she found herself looking around one day wondering where her life had gone.
At last a broken marriage, becoming a single mother, followed by few other scars ands close calls had eventually changed her mind and struggled with a brand new identity.
And she became an attorney.
In the end, she had packed up, said goodbye and come home with her daughter to start anew, to stay.
She surprised folks with that turn of events.
Considering her sister’s unslolved disappearance so many years ago, most thought she really would leave and never come back.
But she had decided that she what she really wanted was some peace and stability. And she wanted to give some of that grassroot foundation to her daughter as well.
Besides, at the end of the day, Broghan was home.
Hey, Life was an evolving evolution of surprise.
So she came home, set up a small office, and practiced law. The only lawyer in town.
Established herself. Found a new love. Became engaged. Found some peace.
She ran on, continued down Main Street, down the hill then up past Sarah’s Restaurant and on out toward South Fork along the river. The old cemetery was just off to the right: a great place to loop around and head back to town.
A good distance to get the day started.
A good run.
Kate picked up her pace a bit, her long brunette ponytail bobbing out behind her as she ran. She began to puff, her lungs working harder.
The old cemetery loomed in the distant gloom.
Running through the cemetery was never scary to her. Her sister’s stone , a simple granite block etched with Julie’s name was there right by the path so running by daily gave Kate a chance to think about her for a minute and say hi.
Her fiance thought that was a bit weird-Kate didn’t care.
The authorities had never found Julie. Even after years of searching. They had searched long after the case grew cold but Julie was local, one of their own.
A valiant but fruitless effort.
Kate’s parents could not bear giving up but found having a stone in the cemetery comforting.
They took what money they had saved , bought a simple marker, had it etched, and set it by the path so it was easy to get to. Her mom had worked overtime so she could afford the etching under her daughters name:
“We will never forget ” the words declared.
And they hadn’t
They had visited daily for the many years they were able. After the fall that put her mother in a wheel chair, her parents still visited: her dad pushing his wife along the path every day. They had never given up hope that one day they would finally discover what had happened to their missing daughter.
But time passed on, fewer and fewer people remembered, people grew up, moved on, passed on, the case grew colder than cold
Eventually both her parents had passed on as well.
Now Kate was about the only one who remembered the significance of the simple little carved stone by the gravel path.
The air was brisk and dark. Autumn was here, always her favorite time of the year in spite of the growing cold :leaves changing, wind blowing, summer camps closing, tourists disappearing.It was not uncommon to have a touch of snow this early on but for this year, it looked like the community had dodged that particular bullet. So far.
Kate jogged up the gravel roadway, puffing a bit more. The gravel narrowed to a path that wound in, out, and around the stones.
She turned and continued along her favorite path, the one that ran past Julie’s stone.
She came running around the bend in the gravel path to find him standing by the side looking down quietly in the dark, suddenly illuminated by her headlamp.
He surprised her. Totally.
She had never encountered anyone before on her early morning runs.Certainly not in the old cemetery.
In the cold
In the dark
Alone.
She stumbled, broke stride.
He looked up. Looked directly at her.
Kate never carried much when running..certainly not a weapon :in a place like Broghan that seemed to be overkill. She did have her tactical pen light clipped to the waistband of her sweat pants that she was never without.
But that was more pen, less weapon.
She regained her step and stared openly at the silent figure.
He was tall, slim, darkly dressed so that he was half hidden in the predawn light. A dark, flat brimmed hat hid his features so that his face was unclear His hair appeared to be long, it ruffled in the slight breeze.
He was standing squarely in front of a small gravestone just off the gravel path.
He continued to look directly at her, his face becoming more distinct in the glare of her head lamp
She got a clear look at his face with her headlamp.
It was a thin face, somewhat craggy. Clean shaven. Long hair, covered by the hat pulled down over his eyes.
It was those eyes that caused the cop hairs on the back of her neck to tingle.
Another surprise.
That hadn’t happened since she had been a city detective in Chicago.
Those eyes were bright. Gray. Unblinking. Penetrating. Intense.
Even angry.
But his face was not tense, and oddly did not appear to be a threat. Or threatened. He simply looked at her for a few more seconds, appraising, evaluating. Then he simply turned back to the stone he was standing in front of as she passed without a word or a second glance.
Unconcerned. Almost casual.
Actually dismissive.
If she had surprised him, he was not letting it bother him.
Kate continued jogging on past the man,carefully listening for any kind of movement in the gravel behind her as she did. There was none. It seemed strange to her that she had not grasped her tactical pen weapon especially since he was a stranger. She had never seen him before which in a town as small as Brogan was unusual. As the only attorney in a small town, she was more or less familiar with the all the residents.
So he was an outsider. In a cemetery. In the dark.
Yet she didn’t feel the immediate need for a weapon? Strange.
It took a few more seconds for her to regain her stride.
She ran on.
And then, in an instant, she came to a dead stop, splattering gravel into the grass.
Because it was then that she realized exactly whose stone the darkly clad man had been standing in front of.
She whirled around.
The man was gone. It was as if he had never been there.
Kate Becker stood there, breathing hard in the cool Adirondack darkness : curious, mystified.
And surprised. Open mouthed surprised.