The Darkness Within, The Darkness Without

The Darkness Within, the Darkness Without continues the story of Roystone, a small seaside town in the North of England and its struggle for survival. After the death of her husband, Maggie Granger, a young lawyer, is rejected by her family because of her suddenly acquired psychic ability and finds herself completely alone in the world. She moves to Roystone looking for employment. On an impulse, she attends an exhibition of three John Trentham paintings at the town museum. To everyone’s surprise, a ghostly shimmering apparition of John Trentham appears. But only Maggie hears his warning—“Beware the darkness without.” Months later, now established as a reputable lawyer in the town, Maggie believes all is well. She loves this Yorkshire country life and has made new friends. Then out of the blue, she has a nightmare. She sees a woman being horribly murdered and hears her saying, “Forgive me, my child. I have betrayed you.” She consults a gypsy psychic. Sirisa informs Maggie that, at her birth, to keep her safe, her true identity was deliberately concealed. She tells Maggie she can see the darkness surrounding her and that someone wants to kill her. Who was murdered? Who has betrayed her? Who is Maggie Granger? And will the gypsy Rafael, a jockey who rides the fast steeplechasers and with whom she has fallen madly in love, be able to save her? Will his dog, the Maji, a black Russian wolfhound, be able to help him? The Darkness Within, the Darkness Without is a page-turner. This is the second in a series of stories by Lin Harbertson about Roystone, England. The first is Doorway Through Time. And the third will be? Do Not Go Restless into Death……..

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

The Darkness Within, The Darkness WithoutBy Lin HarbertsonAuthorHouseCopyright © 2012 Lin HarbertsonAll rights reserved.ISBN: 978-1-5462-5906-0CHAPTER 1The motorway stopped at the edge of the town and turned into a busy two-lane road. As she followed it toward Roystone, a small town in North Yorkshire, England, Maggie tried to ignore the voice in her head. Over and over, it chanted, "Blood will out. Blood will out." It was her dad's voice, and she struggled to understand what he meant. Why could she no longer work for him? He had always been her hero. His anger had broken her heart, and she desperately swallowed the lump that kept coming up into her throat. If only, if only I hadn't gone with him that afternoon, she thought.To her left, Maggie could see large signs with directions to the Roystone Racecourse. On the right, there were advertisements for the recent opening of the Roystone conference centre. She caught a glimpse of the sea and inhaled deeply. It was all going to be so different from anything she had known.There were enormous heaps of rubble on both sides of the road, and the noise of jackhammers pierced the tightly rolled up windows of her car. She could see a crane with the words "Stokes Construction" emblazoned on its side. There was even a sign that said, "Welcome to Roystone, population, 24,500". Once past these, she found herself on a busy street crowded with cars and people, and to her delight the two- and three-storey buildings were painted in bright colours.Following the instructions of her GPS, she turned onto several side streets until she came to one that paralleled an inlet of water. She parked the car in front of a white two-storey building and heaved a sigh of relief. She had arrived. Out of the blue, after Steven's death, his parents had given her this new blue Mini Cooper. A new car was something she hadn't thought about, probably because, after months of taking care of Steven, her bank account was severely depleted. Her own car, like herself, was hovering on the brink of exhaustion."We want you to be safe, Maggie. We heard you have a job interview in the north of Yorkshire of all places," they had said, regarding her with two pairs of troubled eyes. "It's the least we can do. He loved you so, my dear."The north of Yorkshire was somewhere she had never visited. She had heard it was a cold, wild, empty place, and the calm voice of the GPS system giving her directions in the new little car had given her a feeling of security on the long drive.Oh, Mom, when will I see you again? Her heart wept. Those last few days at home had been so difficult, with her father striding around ignoring her and her mother tight-lipped, her eyes refusing to meet hers. She couldn't understand why her parents were treating her so cruelly when she needed their support. In the past, they had always been there for her, always, always.Now she had no one — not even Steven's parents, who had departed on a round-the-world trip."Come with us, my dear?" they had offered. But she had refused, wanting only solitude with time and space to grieve.Maggie turned the mirror towards herself and examined her appearance. She looked the same as she had three and a half hours earlier — dark curly hair, longer than usual; pale skin; and blue eyes. "You're looking a little thin, my girl," she told her reflection. But under the circumstances, she supposed it was to be expected. As she opened the door of the car, she could hear the shrill cries of the seagulls. She felt the sharpness of the wind reaching under her short black skirt until it found its way to the top of her black tights. She shivered, feeling all the hairs on her arms stand on end, thankful she was wearing a jacket.To pass the time before her appointment, she crossed the road and stood, leaning on the railing that separated the pavement from a steep embankment that led down to an inlet of water and noticed her wedding ring was still on her left hand. With a sudden movement, she twisted it off and pushed it into the pocket of her jacket. Her fingers played with it, unwilling to let it go. But the ring belonged to her past. Now she must concentrate on her future.The tide was in, and she admired the reflections of light on the ripples of water, remembering the last months of Steven's illness that had put an end to their dream of going into business together. All through law school, they had been lovers and best friends, but somehow she had always been aware that their time together would be short. How she had adored him. Perhaps he reminded her of her father, with his steadiness and absolute integrity. Perhaps it was his sense of humour and his lopsided smile. Whatever it was, they had loved each other totally and completely. After the devastating prognosis that he had only months to live, she had walked with him to the edge of eternity, holding onto his hand and his soul, drawing back only at the very end.She was far from home now, in a part of the country with which she was not familiar, and an image flashed through her mind of her father, his face distorted with fear. Again she heard his words. "There's no place in this firm for you, Maggie."While she'd looked for a job and an apartment after Steven's death, she had put her furniture into storage and moved back into her room at home. She was a lawyer, a solicitor like her father, James Dawkins, determined to follow in his footsteps as closely as she could. She admired his logic, the way he could calmly find his way through any problem and solve it. She had patterned her way of thinking on his. And as she had hoped and predicted, he'd offered her a position with his firm, Dawkins and Smythe. Everything was working perfectly for her, as it always had, all of her life, until that afternoon."Would you like to go with me, Maggie? I have an appointment with an old school friend, John Bailey. He's been a client of mine for many years. It'll be worth the trip for you just to see the house and the gardens. He called me yesterday wanting to change his will, something to do with disinheriting his son. I'd have introduced you to him a long time ago." He cleared his throat. "But Steven was so ill. It's a ways away from here, and I'd be glad of your company on the drive."She was flattered to be asked. It had been a long drive north, but he was right; the property was worth seeing. The two-storey Tudor house set well back from the road was surrounded by several acres of immaculately tended landscaping. What surprised them both was to find an ambulance at the front door and a uniformed policeman who wanted to know their business. They were shown into a room that looked to be an office of some kind and introduced to a Detective Inspector Shawn Oliver."Mr Dawkins? We've been expecting you," he said. "There's an appointment with your name and a note in Mr Bailey's daybook. It states his intention to change his will and why. Did you bring a copy of the current will? Good. But first, sir, I'm wondering if you could help us identify a body? We haven't been able to locate any members of the family as yet. Miss, could you take a seat and wait out here?""Maggie, hold this for me." Her dad gave her the large brown envelope he was carrying."Come this way, Mr Dawkins. We're waiting for the coroner now." The inspector looked troubled, and he sounded very down to earth. He was older too, about the same age as her father. There were lines beginning on his forehead. She could see a deep crease between his brown eyes, and his dark hair was beginning to grey. She wrinkled her nose. There was the odour of cigarettes about him. He was definitely not one of those fancy detectives that she had seen on the television."A large package was delivered early this morning," she heard him say. "The delivery man couldn't get anyone to answer the door. He knew they were expecting him, happened to look through the front window, and called us."They left the room together, and Maggie, without really thinking what she was doing, opened the envelope and took out the will. She sat turning it over and over in her hands, thinking what a sad business this was.It was then she felt a strange tingling in her stomach, and all the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. She saw a man standing by a fireplace, saw him as he turned to watch someone enter the room, and heard his thoughts. Angie, what are you doing here? Now she was seeing the room through his eyes. She felt the sharp blow to his head, felt the pain, tasted the blood in his mouth, and heard his words. "Angie, why are you doing this? It's for his own good."It was all so vivid. She grew dizzy. "I see him," she cried out, her voice shaking. "I see him. John Bailey was murdered."The next thing she knew, her dad was shaking her. She opened her eyes to see his face, very close to hers, looking at her with an expression of, could it be, fear? "Maggie. What is going on? What on earth happened to you?" he asked her, his voice trembling.After her explanation, he stood transfixed, staring at her as if he might be the next one to faint.It had been Detective Inspector Oliver who had been kindness itself. "You are not to worry, my dear." His brown eyes were sharp with excitement. "You are most interesting. Would you stop by the police station tomorrow? Could you look at some photos to see if you can recognize who it was you saw? It's nothing official, Miss. We can get an artist to draw a sketch if need be."All the way home, there had been a strained silence. But she was not prepared for what happened next. After the car pulled into the driveway, her dad grabbed his briefcase, opened the car door, and bolted. She sat watching him in dismay as he slammed the front door of the house behind him shouting, "Blood will out. Blood will out. I knew it would. Nothing good could ever come of this. I can't work with her. She has to leave."Following him. Feeling bewildered, Maggie kept asking, "What on earth is wrong?"But her mother, her mouth in a tight line, would say nothing, nothing in answer to her frantic questions.The next morning, Maggie drove to the police station, and from her description, an artist drew a sketch of the woman she had seen. Afterward, DI Oliver showed her a photograph. The resemblance to the sketch was uncanny. "Was this the woman?" he asked her.Maggie broke down sobbing. "He was screaming 'Angie' when she struck him over the head with a golf club."Nothing like this had ever happened to her. "My husband died of cancer a month ago. My dad's throwing me out of the house. He won't let me work with him. You won't tell anyone of this — what I saw, will you, Inspector?""No, of course not. Not a word," he replied, crossing his fingers behind his back. "Although I do reserve the right to call on you again should I need your help." He smiled cheerfully and brought her tea and a chocolate biscuit. "You're a lawyer? I know of a little town that needs a solicitor. It's a nice little place, with a racecourse of all things. Do you like horse racing? It's not too far from here, and Mr Stokes has a position available. He and I used to go to school together. Here's his number, and you can use this phone."He patted her on the shoulder and walked out of the room, leaving her to make the call. "Did you bring the wife in yet?" she heard him ask."She's waiting for you in one of the interrogation rooms, sir.""Good." Oliver was rubbing his hands together, and in his excitement, he allowed his Yorkshire accent to get the better of him. "Let's get to it, lad. According to Mr Dawkins, her husband was going to cut her son out of the will. We'll tell her we have a witness. She has a motive for murder."CHAPTER 2The large nameplate on the wall in front of her read "Stokes and Stokes, Solicitors". The smaller sign below it read, "Dr Hoskins, by appointment only". She hoped Stokes and Stokes would find her references sufficiently impeccable because she really needed this job. Maggie owned up to a feeling of desperation. This was her one chance for success. She had been out of work for six months, and the bills kept pouring in. She had sent her résumé to at least a half dozen firms, but this was to be her only interview.She pushed open the heavy wooden door and walked into a small courtyard. She could see a black wrought iron railing and a number of steep stone steps leading upward. She hoped Dr Hoskins's office was the one at the top and not Stokes and Stokes. Could I walk up such a steep stairway if I were ill? she asked herself. What sort of people live in this town?There was no more time for her imaginings because the door in front of her abruptly opened."Ah, you found us. Thank you for being on time, Ms Granger," the elder Stokes greeted her briskly. "Judith's off today. Do come in."He led the way along a narrow corridor with doors that opened on both sides to his private office. She took the chair he indicated on the far side of the desk from him and waited.They regarded each other in silence, lawyer to lawyer. What kind of solicitor are you? Maggie wondered. He had gone to school with DI Oliver, and there was something similar about both of them. John Stokes looked to be around fifty-five years old. He was of middling height, with brown slightly receding hair and a determined jaw. The ash ray was full, so he was someone who smoked heavily. He was someone who was very busy judging from all the files that littered the desk and the floor. And he was someone who was very astute, judging from the clarity of the brown eyes that were regarding her with sharp appraisal. His scrutiny of her was identical to that of Oliver's. But while Oliver had looked tired and his face lined, John Stokes looked well, pampered even, his cheeks pink and smooth."So, tell me, Ms Granger, what brings you to Roystone?"Maggie looked around the room and hesitated. She looked at the wood-panelled walls that were covered with photographs of racehorses, some crossing the finish line, some in the winner's circle, winners all, and wondered how much she should reveal. She took a deep breath and explained that she felt she needed a challenge, that she had always wanted to work in the north of England, and that working in this office had come highly recommended.His raised eyebrows told her of his scepticism."My father is a solicitor. I was going to work with him," she elaborated. "But ... I changed my mind. He once told me the most interesting thing about being a solicitor is the people one meets. He said they will all have one thing in common, a problem that needs to be solved, and if you apply the law, you will be able to help them solve it.""Ah," he said quietly. At last something believable, "And I see you have double degrees, business and law?""Yes, statistics have always been a fascination of mine."She felt his interest in her quicken. She wouldn't have been the first person after this job. He wanted more information, but what kind?Her gaze flickered over the room, and a small frown line appeared between her eyes as she concentrated. The photographs, the books, something about the desk ... "I was finishing a degree in business when I met my husband. He was studying law, and I stayed on and took a law degree with him.""Where is he now?""He passed away a month ago." In spite of herself, her lower lip trembled, and she bit down hard.John Stokes regarded her for a long moment in silence, before he said slowly, "My condolences to you, Ms Granger. This room belonged to my father. He always wanted me to work in the business with him. Those are photographs of some of his horses. How he loved winning," he mused aloud. "My son does too. He followed me into the business, and I consider myself most blessed that he did. It was my father's death that has made us look for someone to bring into the firm. Even with the economic downturn, we have plenty of work — too much for Robert and me to handle on our own. The town is growing the way my dad always wanted it to, albeit in fits and starts. I only wish he could have lived long enough to see his dream come true," he finished regretfully.Now it was his turn to hesitate. "I suppose you've heard what happened to him? I'd better tell you before you hear from someone else. Mrs Alison Simons, a local author and celebrity, was his favourite client. He was handling her divorce, and when he heard she'd been murdered, he was so upset he had a heart attack. He kept saying, "It's all my fault." You see he was going to see her that very morning. He wanted to tell her something he had remembered about her paintings — that there was some kind of terrible danger to her from them — but we were never able to find out what exactly. My dad was right though," he said slowly. "There was a terrible danger. You see, her husband murdered her."Maggie controlled her exhilaration. If she were reading him correctly, the job was hers. "I didn't realize it had happened here." It had been splashed across the newspapers and television for weeks, and she had followed the story avidly."A sad business. We had hoped to be able to manage. But we are so busy we need someone right away. Ms Granger, would you be interested?" he enquired."What are you offering me?" she countered. (Continues...)Excerpted from The Darkness Within, The Darkness Without by Lin Harbertson. Copyright © 2012 Lin Harbertson. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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