THE LIGHT: Emma Quinn Mystery

By Mariah Martin

In book two of the Emma Quinn Mystery, THE LIGHT, Emma takes on a new challenge within the circle of her own family. Her visions reveal her mother's secret past. Inspired by the energy of visions that come to her in a beam of light, Emma goes on a search to uncover the tragedy that holds her mother in a non-functioning state. The search involves family betrayals, racial tensions, adoption traumas, spiritual rituals, out-of-body experiences, a hidden crime, and new love. Will she be able to mend the rip in her family's tapestry in time to save her mother?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mariah Martin
• Release date: Nov 28, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370938483

Mariah Martin

For the past forty years, Mariah has traveled and taught around the world. She now lives in Rhode Island surrounded by her family. Inspired by the struggles of humanity, Mariah offers you these stories of facing fear, finding voice, and healing suffering. Over the years she has been a teacher, counselor, professional intuitive and spiritual mentor. Two of her personal stories, Freedom and Danny, were published in Arielle Ford’s More Hot Chocolate for the Mystical Soul.

Book preview

The Light

Emma Quinn Mystery

Book 2

Published by Mariah Martin at Smashwords

Copyright 2017 Mariah Martin

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Precedents of law are products of the author’s imagination.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 Thursday Emma

Chapter 2 Thursday Tamara

Chapter 3 Friday Emma

Chapter 4 FridayTamara

Chapter 5 Saturday Emma

Chapter 6 Saturday Tamara

Chapter 7 The Watcher

Chapter 8 Sunday Tamara

Chapter 9 Monday Emma

Chapter 10 Monday The Watcher

Chapter 11 Monday Tamara

Chapter 12 Tuesday Emma

Chapter 13 Tuesday Evening Emma and Durant

Chapter 14 Tuesday Tamara

Chapter 15 Wednesday The Watcher’s Plan

Chapter 16 Wednesday Searching

Chapter 17 Revelations

Chapter 18 Reunion

Chapter 19 Tribal Gathering

Acknowledgements

About Author

Book 1 The Return: Emma Quinn Mystery

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Chapter 1: Thursday Emma

Emma roused herself from a deep sleep. She reached for the journal on the nightstand and began her ritual of jotting down her dreams. This one demanded that she pay close attention to it. Bits and pieces filled her mind but the full picture of the dream was slipping away. A sense of urgency drove her to capture as much as she could before the strong images faded from memory.

Bewildered, she let her hands fly across the page faster than her eyes could focus. When she finished scribbling the details, she read them and shook her head. What does it mean? she asked herself.

She lay back against the pillows and reviewed the evolution of the recurring dream. A week ago, in the first dream, a formless image of a woman had appeared with outstretched arms. Two nights ago, the image took on more definition and action when a panicked-looking, dark-skinned woman stepped forward as if to grab her.

What did the woman want from her? She had a strange feeling of recognition, but the woman’s identity eluded her. Could it be someone she had met at a social event or through her work? It was apparent that whoever the woman was, she had an urgent need to connect. After a few attempts to figure it out, Emma gave up, tossed the journal aside, and sat up to pray.

Placing her hands over her heart, Emma pleaded with God to give her strength to accept any challenge this dream might be bringing. She knew better than to ignore visions from the time when she hadn’t grasped the importance of the vision of Elizabeth Fitzsimmons reaching out to her. Would it have made a difference? Who could tell? That vision had helped restore love in herself and the Fitzsimmons family, so why was this dream vision frightening?

Emma rolled out of bed and took a moment to gaze at the spectacular red-orange sunrise over Narragansett Bay. A whiff of warm spring air came in through the open window. There was just a hint of humidity. The view and the soft air helped her relax.

Hopeful for a good day, she went into the bathroom, but while brushing her teeth the anxiety crept back. She rinsed her mouth, leaned into the mirror and told the tired, white, middle-aged woman facing her to calm down and go meditate.

She moved to the far corner of the bedroom and stood in front of her favorite print of a smiling Buddha. In one smooth flow, she stretched her spine by moving her arms to the floor and then up over her head. She twisted left and right to shake off the stiffness of the night. With a practiced grace, she sank to the floor, sat on the meditation pillow under the print, and attempted to surrender to inner peace for half an hour or so, as she did most mornings. But today, it was futile.

No matter how many deep breaths she took, or how many times she repeated a mantra, her thoughts refused to settle into a calm rhythm. A scene similar to her night’s dream came before her mind’s eye that of an older African-American looking woman with pitch-black hair styled close around her face, and luminous, piercing charcoal eyes. Her skin was smooth, with a dark golden hue like a piece of purely polished agate.

This image was different from the other intuitive flashes that often happened when someone in her life needed help; Emma now heard the apparition. The woman said, Look for me. I need you.

Emma’s eyes flew open. She looked around to see if someone had walked into the room. No one was there. Was she losing her mind?

She stood up and paced around. How many more times was the woman going to haunt her? What problem did she need help in solving?

No answers came. Spending more time to analyze this strange dream was useless. Time was getting tight. It was already late; she had to get to the office.

The waiting work pulled at Emma to stop her inner pondering. How would she function with so much intensity gripping at her? But what if she couldn’t remember who the woman was? What if no one at the office could identify her? How would she attend to the urgent need of this woman? What if the dream kept haunting her until she figured it out?

No matter what chaos she was feeling, Emma had to make sure she looked in control, professional, and ready for work. She hoped that her conservative gray suit and low heels would conceal her inner anxiety. She put on a touch of makeup and fixed her hair. With each stroke of the brush, Emma pushed away the dream.

Arriving an hour late, Emma felt relief to see that her assistant was already there, arranging papers on her desk.

Thanks, Donna, for getting here early and doing this. I’m out of sorts today. I appreciate your help, Emma said.

No problem. We all have our days, Donna answered.

By any chance, have I missed any appointments or board meetings?

Not that I know of. Anything in particular concerning you? Donna asked.

No, just checking. Emma wasn’t ready to confess that she was being haunted by visions. Is Peter in his office or at court?

He’s in a meeting right now. Do you want me to let you know when he’s free?

Yes, please, I need to talk to him.

Emma settled into her office chair and swirled around to look out the window. She felt compelled to go over the dream one more time before focusing on work. The woman was a stranger to her but felt strangely familiar. Was she a person in her life, or community, or a figure from TV or other media? If so, what did the woman represent to her?

If the apparition appeared again during the week, Emma knew reaching out for help was necessary. Her emotions settled down just thinking that Patrick, her spiritual coach, might meet with her after Friday evening’s consciousness class. He might have an insight as to who needed her so much.

So far, studying with Patrick was fun. After a long day of doing legal work using rational, detail-oriented intelligence, she needed time to play around in the circular inner world of images and stories. The dance between rational thought and intuitive dreaming was a wonderful way for Emma to feel balanced. But this dream didn’t create balance; it was demanding and disruptive.

Peter dropped into her office. Want to talk about something?

Again, she moved her focus from the dream to the legal issue at hand, a case the firm was handling for Providence General Hospital.

Providence General called late yesterday. They’re having a dispute with one of the doctors. I have a conflict of interest and would appreciate it if you could take over the case.

What’s the problem? Peter asked.

She’s one of my docs. It would be hard for me to represent the hospital board in this situation, Emma answered.

All right. I have some contracts you can review to free up some space in my schedule.

Thanks, Peter, she said as he left her office.

Emma slumped back in her chair. She closed her eyes and took three deep breaths. The tension drained from her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how afraid she was that Peter would want more information about the reason for the conflict.

Her relationship with Dr. Grace Young, an MD also trained in alternative medicine, was too private to talk about at work. Dr. Young had treated Emma’s grief over her husband’s illness and death with homeopathic remedies. Dr. Young also had encouraged her to learn to meditate and had referred her to The Wellness Center to study with Patrick. This was a private world she worked hard to keep away from the office. If Patrick couldn’t help her with the dreams, Emma might have to seek treatment from Dr. Young to ease the stress.

Relieved that the conflict of interest was resolved, Emma attended to other tasks and then got busy clearing her desk so she could leave the office early. It was a sunny, warm spring day, perfect for a ride at Abbey’s Run Ranch on her son’s horse, Knight. Now that Matt was at college, she was exercising the aging horse more often. Emma hoped a ride through the woods would clear her mind. She wasn’t disappointed. The minute she saw Knight waiting in his stall, the grip on her mind released and her heart took over.

She hugged Knight, saddled up and headed out to the trail.

The parking lot of Waterman office complex wasn't plowed, leaving it covered by a thin layer of icy slush. Emma could barely steer the car into her small parking slot.

The weather matched her negative mood. She had gone to bed tense and woke up tense. She tried to push the feelings aside, but a rush of energy slammed her back against the seat. Her sight clouded over. All she could see was a scene with a woman in light reaching through a mist to her.

Who was this woman? And why was she reaching out to her? And why was this vision sending her into such a negative spin?

Having visions was not unusual for Emma; it was part and parcel of being an intuitive. But there wasn't any time this morning to figure out the message of this vision that was causing her so much agitation. It would have to wait until after work. The only moments available to sort out the culprit of her mood would be during the evening meditation at the Wellness Center. Still a little dazed, she carefully got out of the car so as not to slip on the patches of ice.

The sound of a car pulling into the lot jolted her out of the altered state of mind. A chauffeur parked a black Lincoln Town Car into the space right by the door. Jack Fitzsimmons, the founder of the firm, stepped out. Emma hurried to enter the building and opened the heavy metal door. She smiled to greet him.

Good morning, Emma, he pronounced.

Jack lost his balance a little as he stepped into the building.

This door isn't the only hinge that gets stuck. These old bones are getting harder and harder to move in the morning. I'll be happy when this cold weather is over, he said.

Me, too! Emma agreed.

Entering the warm building seemed to help switch his mood. By the way, Emma, did your crocuses survive that snow we had last night?

I'll know later when I go home. This morning I barely had enough time to gather myself together in order to beat you to the office. And here you are! What brought you in so early? You foiled my plan.

My dear, I've never been known to allow a full partner to outdo me even if she is beautiful.

He teased her in a way that was not her habit to allow from any man, young or old. Jack Fitzsimmons, a power broker in Providence's political community and former state senator, often used charm to control those around him. But to Emma, his teasing was just a lighthearted form of friendship. She had learned from her father how to handle powerful men. Her father was a serious man, very much the perfectionist and controlling in most matters, but who, like Jack, used humor to approach others in social situations. Jack had met his match in Emma. She could tease him right back.

Even for his age, Jack was a formidable figure. A tall Irishman with wavy silver hair, he commanded attention not by just his height, about six and a half feet, but also by the way he presented himself. With impeccable style, he dressed in hand-tailored, dark wool suits. Even in casual situations, his presentation was formal. In all ways, his looked the part of senior partner of a prestigious law firm.

The two attorneys stopped by the back door and removed their coats, putting them in the hall closet. Before Jack turned to go to his rather large and spacious office in the front of the building, he reminded her of his wishes.

Don't disappoint me. I need those papers by this afternoon. I have a luncheon meeting at Brown and will be back in the office around three. Do you think they'll be ready for my signature?

Jack, that’s cutting it a little close. I'd like to have more time to review all the points of the state's fluctuating laws. Could we do this tomorrow?

I want it resolved today! He smiled but looked at her with the focused gaze of a bull. I'll talk to you this afternoon.

As he turned from her, Emma knew she would need to postpone all her other work to satisfy him. Since he rarely put her in such a position, she surmised that he must really need the completed document to be ready to sign. He was also, to her displeasure, reluctant to tell her the reasons for the urgency.

The day before, Jack Fitzsimmons had approached her to draw up some personal papers for him. Since her expertise was conflict mediation and contractual law, she was puzzled. Peter is our best specialist in estate law, why don't you have him do this for you?

I trust your ability, Emma, to discern the right path through conflicting opinions of the law and I believe that you, not Peter, won't leave room for any personal interpretation of my wishes. I've made my choice and that's that!

Emma snapped back, Jack, I don't understand your insistence about this. It’s not my area of expertise. I don't see how I could do the kind of quality job you desire. You of all people should realize that!

Jack was well aware of Emma's slow rhythm in the way she organized her work with precision. He had guided her work in the firm until she had made partner. None of that seemed to matter when he insisted on having his way, as he was doing just then.

My dear, if your father were here, he would handle this for me. I expect you to do as good a job as he would have. You're the ranking full partner, are you not?

Emma knew when to surrender.

All right, Jack, don't remind me about Dad and his loyalty to you. I get the message. I'll take care of it for you. Silently, she added, This is the price I pay for being so competitive with my father.

The firm of Fitzsimmons, Morrison, and Quinn specialized in institutional law. It represented universities and hospitals in the Providence area. Emma's father, Andrew Morrison, Jack's first partner, was now retired. Since Jack's daughter Anne had no interest in the practice of law or in having an administrative place in the firm, Emma had worked hard to prove that she was worthy of taking over her father's position. But in this moment, she wished her father was still working so he could handle Jack's demands.

What was going on with Jack? She didn’t feel comfortable managing his secret desires without knowing his motives. Were his demands the sole reason for her dark mood? Without time to deeply ponder the situation, she walked upstairs.

Her office, on the second floor of the two hundred-year-old building, looked like so many other law offices. The old plaster walls, softened by tones of ivory silk wallpaper, held a large display of university diplomas and licenses to practice law in Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Connecticut.

A client would notice nothing unusual about the room except for the quality of the art and the clutter