I finally realized I was staring blankly at the doll and broke myself out of the shallow trance. I closed the lid and snapped the latch shut then nestled the box snugly at the bottom of the hole. I stood and with almost mechanical repetition, scooped the loose dirt in on top of it then tamped it down with the back of the shovel. After rolling the decorative boulder back into place-as well as muscling it around to make sure it looked close as possible to its original position-I scattered some of the fallen leaves around it in an attempt to hide any evidence that it had been disturbed.

I stood there staring at the rock for a long while, leaning on the shovel handle as I pondered the magnitude of what I had just done. A spell was supposed to be cast in perfect love and perfect trust. I could easily claim perfect love, but the issue of perfect trust was another story entirely. I was inflicting my will upon my wife without her knowledge, much less her blessing, and I knew for that I would eventually pay. Even so, if it kept her safe, the debt was one upon which I would gladly make good.

Finally, even though there was no one there to hear the words but me, I simply said, “Not on my watch, Felicity Caitlin O’Brien. Not on my watch.”

A few minutes later, I stowed the tools back in the shed then went inside to clean up and get down to work. I had a client with a system crash and two more with remote updates scheduled for installation this afternoon.

It was going to be a full day. Had I realized how full the days beyond this one were about to become, I would have considered it a vacation.

Tuesday, November 8

12:27 A.M.

Suite 1233, Concourse Suites

St. Louis, Missouri