Page 51 of The Familiar Stranger

When we arrived at the house—me just a second behind Maddie—Andi bolted from the car.

Mike was at the door.

“Dad!”

And she ran to him, collapsing in his arms. He carried her inside, leaving the door open for us to follow.

We stayed for a few minutes. Andi downed a glass of water and started to come back to life. She retold the story we’d just heard to her dad, arms flailing—just like her dad when he spoke with passion—her face contorting into all kinds of positions as she relived the gamut of emotions. After she’d gotten it all out, and her energy waned, she plopped next to her dad and tucked into him.

He leaned over, planted a kiss on top of her head.

Looking at us, his expression full of mixed emotions, he said, “Thanks, ladies. Again.”

“I’m so relieved it turned out okay,” I said, rising from my chair.

“Hold each other tight,” Maddie said, and we walked to the door together.

“But … but you were going to tell me about your visit with Dr. Beetle,” Andi whined.

“Give it a rest for tonight, kid,” her dad said, and he pulled her even closer.

CHAPTER34

We didn’t say much during the drive back to the hotel, our bodies and minds weary, needing rest and lots of care. The remainder of the night was even quieter. No phone calls or texts. Just a dreamless sleep.

Miracles do happen, I thought when I stirred later that morning, feeling rested. Maddie was still sound asleep, so I dressed for the day, left her a note that I’d be right back, and headed out the door on tiptoes. A hot cup of coffee and some light food were calling my name, and I had never been so grateful as I was now about the breakfast they served in the pretty atrium on the main level.

I placed my to-go order at the atrium’s reception desk, one for me, the other for Maddie. While I stood there and waited, I felt the unmistakable sensation that I was being watched.

I turned to find no one was behind me or even close on either side of me …strange. I scanned the lobby area, but everyone was busy doing their own things, not paying one bit of attention to me.

Still, the sensation lingered.

The woman who’d taken my order handed me a bag of breakfast sandwiches and a tray of four coffees. Two may have sufficed, but it felt like it was going to be a multiple coffee type of day.

“Thank you,” I said. “Have a good one.”

I moved through the lobby, dodging two children who were running around, having fun. As I turned to head up the grand staircase that would take me to my room, my eyes were drawn to one of the leather lobby couches.

A hand-carved walking cane was leaning against it.

I took a few steps back, staying close to the wall, and watched to see who would come back for the cane.

Five minutes went by, and I placed my food order on a nearby side table, sipped on one of the coffees—black—and continued to watch.

Another five minutes.

And another.

No one came for the cane.

Time for a closer look.

I grabbed the tray and the bag of food, then walked over to the couch and sat down. I placed the food on the table and prepared the coffees. Cream and sugar. One at a time. Nice and slow. All the while I was examining the cane and its intricate carvings of a forest and small creatures.

A tiger’s eye stone made up the knobbed handle.

Just like Dr. Beetle had described.

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