Second Sight

By L Hunter

While working on what seems like just another case, Forensic Pathologist Adelaide Paige discovers something so shocking she can no longer concentrate. Something is wrong with her visions and her new assistant thinks the world should know about Addy.

When her boyfriend pulls away from her, Addy fears the mounting pressure will break her if she is to lose Killian.

As if things couldn’t get any worse, Addy is asked to take a case in New York, taking her away from everyone who loves and supports her. The opportunity is too big to turn down, but without Killian to hold her together, Addy fears she’ll be forced to return to the asylum.

Is there a new ability plaguing Addy—or is she really going mad this time?

The much anticipated sequel to the bestselling First Glance.

• Language: English
• Publisher: L Hunter
• Release date: Mar 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781310478970

L Hunter

Professor Lawrance Hunter, Divisional Fellow (Manufacturing and Materials Technology) CSIR and Head of the post-graduate Department of Textile Science of the University of Port Elizabeth, South Africa, has been involved in textile R&D for almost 40 years and has published many papers at conferences and in journals. He was awarded the Textile Institute Warner Memorial Medal for his outstanding contribution to textile science and technology.

Book preview

SECOND GLANCE

EPISODE TWO

OF THE ADELAIDE PAIGE SAGA

L.L. HUNTER

Copyright © 2015 L.L. Hunter

Second Sight, by L.L. Hunter

ISBN: 9781310478970

Smashwords Edition

Second Edition — 2016

Edited & Formatted by

Literary Editor, Rogena Mitchell-Jones

Rogena Mitchell-Jones Manuscript Service

www.rogenamitchell.com

Cover Design by

Rebecca Berto of Berto Designs

http://bertodesigns.com

All Rights Reserved.

This book may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. All characters and storylines are the property of the author and your support and respect is appreciated.

This book is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

The author and editor have taken great effort in presenting a manuscript free of errors. However, editing errors are ultimately the responsibility of the author.

Dedication

To my readers –

You asked for more Killian? Enjoy.

"The only difference between saints and sinners is that every saint has a past while every sinner has a future."

—Oscar Wilde

Chapter 1

The wind whipped across my skin, and the force of it made my clothes flap around my body, almost pushing me further toward the edge. I looked out at the building opposite me to distract myself from the fact that I was standing on a ledge a hundred stories up. I could see my reflection in the glass windows of the building across the street. I looked like a black and white statue wearing a red tie.

As I shook my head, I thought to myself—Whoa! What was that? A red tie and a suit? Seriously? Normally, when I had visions, I was on the outside looking in, an observer to the scene, but in this vision, I was the person featured. That had never happened before. I was pretty sure it was a man, and he was standing on a ledge on the outside of a skyscraper.

I shake my head again. I need to focus on my job. I pick up a new scalpel. The one I had been holding had fallen from my hand during the vision and landed on the floor by my feet. Blood was now splattered all over my boots, pants, and the floor. Perfect. Since Jim was no longer working for me, and my replacement pathologist had yet to arrive, I would have to do everything myself. Cleaning was the least of my worries at the moment, though.

I make the Y incision over the chest, put down the scalpel, and then pull the flaps of skin back. The man who I was working on now was very battered and bruised, and as soon as I pull the skin away from his ribs, I can see almost every bone in his rib cage is broken. I make a few notes on my notepad about this and continue. When I am done noting everything about the man’s ribcage, I make an incision around the face and pull the skin back revealing the soft tissue and network of veins and arteries that make up the face. There is a lot of trauma to the face and head, soft tissue, as well as damage to the skull. In fact, some of the skull is indented and starting to collapse inwards. Brain matter oozes out of the cracks of the skull. The brain has already started to turn into a gooey, runny mess. I hate doing autopsies when the body is more than two days old.

You must have fallen from a great height, I muse. Yes, I had a habit of talking to my patients. It was one thing that kept me sane. I sketch the injuries of the soft tissue onto the diagram inside the report, giving special attention to the high impact on top of his head. The left side of his skull is completely crushed. It seems my patient landed on his head when he fell. I lay the skin back over my guy’s face and then lift up his eyelids.

Someone taps me on the shoulder causing me to jump.

Freaking hell! Next time a little warning would be advised.

Sorry, Doc.

I’m not a doctor. Not yet anyway, but thanks. I look up at my visitor and see a face not familiar to me. Do I know you?

Oh, my apologies, ma’am. I’m your new partner. He holds out his hand and I look at it as if it’s a snake. Scott Grey.

Adelaide Paige. I’m the head Pathologist here, and you, Mr. Grey, are my assistant, I say as I enunciate the word assistant as if I am spelling it out for him. I hate not being told about things. Looks like I need to do serious damage control.

My apologies, ma… I shoot him an icy glare. Miss Paige.

Where did you come from? I ask. Who is this guy and why wasn’t I told about him?

Uh, I used to be in the class under you. You and Doctor Channing were kind of my idols.

I roll my eyes. I was over this. Where was the qualified forensic pathologist I had asked for?

Doctor Channing is dead. I need someone qualified to assist me. I pull my disposable gloves off and throw them in the trash. Now you can scrub up or you can leave.

Yes, ma’am, I mean, Miss. I’m sorry. He runs off to wash up and I let out a breath. It was going to be a long day.

* * * * *

At six, I let myself into my house and hang my coat and scarf on the hook by the door.

Hey, I’m home, I call out to Killian, hoping he isn’t already at work. There is no answer so I know he’s already left. He now owns the Irish Tavern down the road and stays late most nights. I hardly get to see him, but I’m glad he is happy. This has always been his dream. He has always wanted to own his own pub.

I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, but something falls off and flutters to the floor landing near my feet. I bend down to pick it up and freeze. Normally, Killian would leave me some flirty note on the counter or fridge telling me how much he missed both me and my ass—but tonight’s note is different. It is quite out of character for the Killian I know.

Won’t be home tonight. Have a lot of work to do at the pub. Dinner in the fridge.

The note is vague, but I shrug and open the fridge to hunt down my dinner. Yum! He’s made me a plate of chicken parmesan with garlic mash potatoes. My favorite. One of the things I love most about Killian, other than his sexy as hell accent or sexy nerd glasses, is his cooking. Killian is the most amazing cook. My mother had always said if a man can cook, he’s worth keeping. I smile and heat the meal up while I pour a glass of merlot. When I sit down at the kitchen counter with my plate and glass of wine, I check my phone for messages. There’s none from Killian, which makes me sad, but there is one from my best friend, Cory.

Two months ago, I had been maid of honor at her wedding. Cory was the most beautiful bride and it made me a little jealous. I had never been one of those girls who dreamed of her wedding or obsessed over the perfect dress, but being in love changed that. I didn’t want to rush anything with Killian, but I hoped a wedding for us was in the cards for the future. It had been Channing’s dying wish for us.

Hey, hon. Derek and I are heading down to Killian’s for drinks. Meet us! I sigh and proceed to text back when a new one comes in. I click into the new one and laugh aloud. Damn, girl. I’m not single, but it doesn’t mean I can’t look! Your Hottie McIrishman is looking especially yummy tonight! I shake my head and text back.

K. Will be there soon. Hands and eyes off, bitch! I joke.

I get a reply immediately. "He says he’ll keep a stool warm for