Chapter 8Modern Day
Eli balled up the paper and threw it in the corner trash can. The wood floor creaked from his weight as he walked towards the steps of the 1940s neo-Victorian home. As he approached the edge, he rubbed the faded wooded near the step with his boot, scratched his head and sighed. He closed his eyes and listened. All he heard was the breeze. He placed his hand on the wood frame. He didn’t even sense the cats that he saw in the home the last time he met the psychic.
Two days now. I’ve driven here two days and she’s not here.
He didn’t mind the forty-five minute drive from Orlando to Cassadaga.
Orlando was a thriving, growing city full of subdivisions and gated communities, many of which sported luxurious landscaping including s**o palms, alternating flowering impatiens
