After Adam backed out of the driveway and left Becca sitting beneath the live oak, she glanced down at the diary in her hands. She sat frozen in the chair as panic began to rise within her. "No, no," said the voice above her head. "Come now." And this time, she couldn't fight it, will it away, or shake it free. The part of her that had struggled to maintain control let go and surrendered. She felt suddenly free and expansive at once. It was like she'd slipped into another world and was somehow tuned into a different frequency. She knew she was sitting beneath the live oak in her own yard, but what she saw and heard was different, as if someone had switched the channel and she was watching a new show.
The cicadas were still humming, but the night was younger somehow. The sun had not yet set, and was glowing like a hot, orange ball in the western sky. From where Becca sat, she could see a cactus that had gone wild and flared out on a weeded lawn that was now more sand than grass. A small house stood beyond it. On the front porch, an old woman sat wrapped in an afghan, while a young girl pushed herself back and forth on a double swing that hung from chains that were bolted into the porch's ceiling. Becca blinked a few times to clear the vision, but it remained intact. Later she would say the scene had been prophetic and had come to warn her. But tonight, she knew only that it had something to do with Rebecca's diary that she held close to her chest.
What did Becca envision that night sitting beneath the live oak? Who was the old woman wrapped in the afghan and the young girl who kept the porch swing moving with the push of her foot?
Read the next blog to find out how these new characters are connected to the Westcott family mystery and the disappearance of King Daniel.