Page 21 of Tangled Past
When her throat tightened, her fingers curled around Asa’s jacket sleeve for balance. He stayed close without crowding her, his presence a steady warmth at her side.
Through the veil of trees, the barn appeared warped by storms. The door hung crooked on rusted hinges, like a mouth that had sagged open.
She stopped walking, not because she wanted to, but because her legs refused to move another inch.
Asa paused immediately. “Maya?”
“I remember this.” Her voice shook. “Not all of it, but the shape . . . the air . . . the smell.”
Rachel stepped up beside her. “Take your time.”
Maya closed her eyes and inhaled. Cold air. Rain. A gunshot. Then smoke.
Her ribs tightened, evoking a painful gasp.
Asa placed his hand against the small of her back—not pushing, just steadying. “We go in when you’re ready. Not before.”
She nodded, though the motion felt disconnected from the rest of her body.
JT and Eli scanned the perimeter while Declan and the chief fanned out to check blind spots and footprints. No one moved casually. No one spoke above a whisper.
Maya hated that. She wanted normal voices. Normal sounds to remind her that this nightmare belonged to the past, but fear didn’t care about calendars.
“Okay,” she whispered. “I’m ready.”
Asa’s fingers laced through hers. “I’m right here.”
JT pushed the barn door fully open with a slow, controlled shove. It groaned loudly, the sound dragging across Maya’s nerves.
The interior was dim. Dust suspended in pale beams of light spilling through gaps in the walls and roof. The air inside was colder, and it smelled like damp earth and old smoke.
Her boot touched the threshold. The barn came alive around her.
Not in a distant memory. No, this was sharp. Immediate. Like sliding backward in time.
Rain hammered the roof, pouring through the holes. Wind pushed at the door. A flashlight beam cut through the dark.
She was that frightened girl again, terror rolling in waves around her.
Raymond’s voice echoed through her mind.
“Stay here. Don’t move. I’ll come back for you.”
A shadow crossed the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate.
A single, perfect sound ringing through the storm. Ching.
The chime echoed from the door. Once. Twice.
Maya’s vision blurred. Her knees buckled. The memory pressed down on her like a weight.
Asa released her hand and grabbed her arm. “Hey. Easy. Just breathe.” He guided Maya toward the center of the barn.
“Let the memory come on its own,” Rachel told her. “Don’t reach for it. Let it reach for you.”
Maya swallowed hard. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Asa stepped in front of her. Not blocking her view but anchoring her. “Nothing here can hurt you.”
