Cha
pter One - LETHAL LAWYER
Thumper sniffed the wind and shivered, but not from cold. Something was about to change. It wasn’t the weather. This perfect day looked as if it had jumped off a picture postcard. A breeze from the lake touched the porch swing and sent it swaying. He turned toward an itch just behind his left shoulder and gave it a quick lick. Sunlight streaming through the wisteria vines overhead dappled his fur with wavering spots of brightness. He sniffed again. The scent of wisteria blossoms filled the yard surrounding Kimberlee’s newly restored house.
The cat turned in a circle, lay down and began to bathe. First, down his white bib and across his broad black body and then around all four white paws. To finish, he licked his front paw and drew it across his white mustache and then groomed his flowing black tail. His toilette complete, he curled into the swing, and watched his ancestors’ memories flash through his mind like scenes in a drive in movie.
Ah yes. Thanks to the memories, his life was more exciting than most cats. Why, just last year, when Kimberlee returned to Fern Lake to search for answers to her father’s murder, his great-grandfather’s memories had guided him and he in turn, guided her, to the clues that helped solve many of the Fern Lake mysteries. She married Brett and they restored this old house with its tragic history of infidelity and murder.
Last year, before Kimberlee returned and he first became aware of his ability to call up his ancestors’ memories, he had no particular loyalty to any human, but now he was dedicated to the care and nurturing of Kimberlee, her daughter, Amanda and to Brett.
Thumper half closed his eyes. His gaze drifted over the yard of the once tumble down house, now restored to its original Victorian beauty, boasting trimmed shrubs and flowerbeds bursting with color− pink roses, yellow marigolds and blue hollyhocks.
A sudden gust of wind ruffled his long black fur. Change was in the air.
He knew it as surely as when he saw into the past through his ancestors’ eyes. More of a sense of knowing rather than seeing, but for sure, things would never be the same in the little house....
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