Of That Day and Hour: A psychological thriller Read Free

chair. A stray part of his mind notes the titles: Kubler Ross's On
Death and Dying ; Michael Shermer's The Believing Brain . Readings for
his course. He focuses back on Eve.
    “From the beginning.”
    “Did you follow the Casey
Lee Jones trial?”
    “The cop killer?”
    “Yes.”
    “Yeah... he’s the psychopath
that claimed he could see into the future. His defense was that if he hadn’t
shot them, they would have killed him.”
    “That’s the one.” In a more
serious tone of voice Eve states. “I’m his psychiatrist.”
    For a moment Jeff’s silent,
then with concern he asks “Why do you need me?”
    “To be honest, I’m scared.
He has a future memory.”
    “A future memory? Come on,
Eve, you know there's no such thing. He’s a psychopath playing head games with
you.”
    “You have to believe me.”
Jeff can hear the desperation in her voice. “I have him under clinical study.
He taps into a sensory world beyond my understanding, and he’s prophesied events
around us before they’ve happened. The government is interested, we have agents
here; he knows this, somehow, and has shut down on me. If anyone can open him
up, it’s you.”
    “Me?”
    “Please, Jeff, I need you.”
She pauses. “There’s one more thing you should know.”
    “What’s that?”
    “He’s the one who asked for
you.”

CHAPTER TWO

 
 
    The plane starts
its descent towards Pueblo Memorial Airport. Jeff looks out from his window
seat. Cloudless skies reveal the beauty and contrasting landscapes of the South
West below. Reaching upwards are the jagged peaks of Southern Colorado, whilst
the rolling plains of the east stretch far out beneath them, leaving to the
south the New Mexico Rockies. These rise up out of the desert, expansive
canyons and green slopes, a flourishing oasis of trees and foliage.  
    For all our technology, cell
phones and in-flight entertainment, the act of a plane landing is still a
brutal affair. A momentary squeal of rubber and smoke on touchdown. The howl of
reverse thrust, and four hundred tons of vibrating steel hurtling towards
oblivion. The plane docks with the precision of a watch maker.
    All Jeff wants to see is
Eve. With luggage trailing, anticipating, he walks out into the lounge. His
heart flutters. She’s there waiting for him. Jeff can’t stop smiling as he
walks towards her. She still wears her long dark braided hair in pigtails. Her
slim, athletic yet voluptuous figure is the envy of many. Plump ruby red lips
and emerald eyes; damn, he would travel the world to lose himself in her.
    “Jeff.”
    “Eve.”
    She offers a hug. It feels
good to be able to hold her once again; she smells like home. Then she pulls
away.
    “Come on, let’s go.”
    Outside in the car park he
can only shake his head and smile. This vehicle is without doubt an extension
of Eve’s personality. Three thousand pounds of black American muscle sits on
the tarmac.
    “A Camaro?”
    “A 1969 Chevrolet Camaro to
be precise.” Eve finds it difficult to play it cool, biting her lip to stop a
big corny smile erupting. She opens the trunk, can't hold back the smile any
longer. “Come on, throw your gear in.”
    Jeff smiles back. She looks
so damn sexy holding that trunk open.
    “Your lip piercing is new,
it suits you.”
    “I know.”
    The key turns and the
unmistakable sound of a big block Chevy V8 purrs out. Through chrome and steel
the beast roars and leaps forward. They leave rubber behind on the concrete.
Travelling through the desert heat, Jeff can’t help but inhale her. He's drawn
to her like a bee to nectar. If only he could touch her again, those perfect
legs so close next to him.
    “Stop it.”
    “Stop what?”
    “I can feel your thoughts.”
    “Sorry.”
    Unbeknownst to Jeff, who now
feels scorned, Eve is secretly flattered.
    “It’s okay, I forgive you.”
    “Thanks. Do we have far to
travel?”
    “No, it’s just over the
ridge.”
    The roar of the V8 calms as
they turn left past the old black