Breaking News by Fern Michaels Page B

age got a second chance at life. The first half of her life had been decent, except for her son leaving for parts unknown. Sharing Abby with Toots and those other three old women had made for a good life.
    When the others had all gone upstairs to check out Toots’s attire for her big night out with Dr. Becker, and knowing they wouldn’t expect her to climb the stairs, Bernice made her escape.
    Careful of all the plant growth and shrubbery that separated Toots’s house from old Mrs. Patterson’s, Bernice wished she had thought to bring a flashlight. Some spy she was turning out to be. Dusk in Charleston was late, however, and for that she was grateful. Still, she wished she had remembered to bring along a flashlight, or, at the very least, one of those nasty cigarette lighters that were always being tossed on the kitchen table. Then she could have made a torch out of the dried limbs she was constantly stepping on, no matter how hard she tried to avoid them. She saw people do it on television all the time. With her luck, however, she’d catch herself on fire, along with the entire estate. No, her eyes and ears still worked pretty darn good for a woman her age. She’d just watch and wait. Something was bound to happen.
    Carefully, she inched her way through the thick shrubs. Dried sticks cracked beneath her feet, the sound amplified in the early evening air. Most people were having dinner then or watching the evening news. She wouldn’t be missed for at least another half hour, when Dr. Becker was expected to arrive.
    The Patterson home was on the South Carolina Historical Society’s list of homes.
    It had been neglected since Mrs. Patterson’s death. There were all sorts of wild green vines trailing up the side of the house that faced the back of the guesthouse where Jamie lived. Bernice noticed that seaweed-colored moss fanned the glass windowpanes, preventing anyone from seeing inside or outside.
    Bernice pushed one last thorny bush aside, then stepped fully onto the side lawn, where she encountered knee-high grass much in need of a big drink of water. Adirondack chairs, faded from too much time in the sun, were turned over on their sides and backs. Out of the corner of her eye, Bernice saw something move. Her heart drummed in her chest, and for the briefest moment, she was frightened.
    â€œAh, crap, I’m a wuss,” she said out loud, hoping to calm her fears. She wasn’t afraid of whatever was hiding under the chairs. No, she’d felt her heart race, and that had scared her more than anything. Remembering when she’d last felt such a flutter in her chest reminded her that she was in decent shape, at least heart-wise. Her fear, reasonable though it might be, was nonetheless unfounded. Her mission clearly at the forefront by then, she pushed all negative thoughts aside.
    As she walked across the neglected yard, she spied movement under the wooden chairs for the second time. Before she walked any farther, she searched for a weapon. To her left, she spotted a large limb lying on the ground. Must have been from that storm last month, she thought as she reached down to pick it up.
    â€œPerfect,” she said out loud. “If there’s a snake, or a . . . goblin, I’m gonna have the first swing.” Maybe Sophia and all her psychic mumbo jumbo were having more of an effect on her than she realized. No, she refused to go there. She was here because she’d died on that operating table. She was on a mission, had been sent back to earth to watch this old place, and that was precisely what she was doing. Though, come to think of it, wasn’t this mission along the same lines as Sophie’s séances and her ability to reach out to the netherworld and beyond? Maybe she’d been a bit too hasty in judging Sophia. Could it be there was something to that mumbo jumbo, after all?
    Distracted by her musings and knowing she had to hurry before Dr. Becker arrived