40
Shea woke to morning light shining through the peach-colored curtains. She lay on her side, sorting out the crazy dreams she had. Motorcycle dreams. Running dreams. Dreams of her sister or maybe it was her mother; she wasn’t sure which. Maybe both.
For the first time in days, she felt rested, though it didn’t change her circumstances. The darkness and sadness haunted her. The bikes were still missing. If she failed to deliver, Iron Goddess would be ruined. But even if she found them in time, it wouldn’t make up for the loss of her sister.
Shea’s brain kept coming up with excuses for Wendy not to be dead, insisting it must have been a bad dream. It was dark after all. Maybe it only looked like a fatal wound. Maybe the cops called for an ambulance and she was somewhere in the hospital.
