Chapter 3 #2
Devyn’s psychic connection painted the full picture for her.
The details of Samantha’s crisis—her emotional break—were bubbling up to the surface, quietly now, at a manageable rate.
She could see Samantha through Cade’s lens.
He loved her dearly, adored her confidence and inner strength.
Although losing the baby was horrible, he couldn’t fathom a world where Samantha didn’t recover.
His distress, heartache, and near-constant panic since her death was rooted in a sense of failure.
He believed he’d failed her when she needed him most.
For months now, he’d berated himself about missing the signs that must’ve been there, compounding his grief and making it impossible to heal.
No therapist could convince him that he’d done his best, that Samantha had made a choice independent of his efforts.
But Cade continued to search for a way to reconcile and atone for what he perceived as letting her down.
Devyn’s informants—that’s often how she thought of the wisps of insight that came to her—wanted her to assure Cade that he hadn’t failed. Samantha had lost her will to live under the tidal wave of grief. In that draining blackness, she’d simply surrendered.
She listened as he shared the rest of the story in his halting, heartbreaking way. As he spoke, the air chilled and Devyn sensed another presence pressing closer. She recognized what—or rather who—it was. Samantha had joined them. She might well have been lingering close to Cade all this time.
Ghosts and the afterlife weren’t Devyn’s strong suit. Her dear friend Serena often spoke directly with ghosts. She wished she could hand all this over to the expert. Instead, she leaned into her own strengths, hoping Samantha found a way to communicate if she needed that.
“Cade,” Devyn murmured. “None of this was your fault.”
“So I’m told.”
“Shh,” she soothed. “Can I hold your hand again?” Going this deep with a person she barely knew was risky.
For both of them. Running wide open, with a ghost nearby, could peel back layers and show her more of his life than she needed.
The invasion of privacy could make things worse—angering Cade and leaving her burdened beyond measure.
Too bad she was out of options. He was in such a state that circumstances demanded a departure from the norm.
He didn’t flinch or pull away as she cradled his hand in hers.
“Samantha loves you. She wants you to be happy.” She paused for any input and only felt confirmation, a soft nudge to keep going.
“Samantha is sorry for causing you pain. For adding to your pain. She couldn’t bear it, and didn’t want anyone else to find her like that. ”
With a physical connection to Cade and Samantha’s ghost nearby, Devyn bore witness to both sides of that terrible day.
Samantha, climbing into the bathtub with the knife, weeping as she gave in to the sorrow, her heart weighted with despair as she ended her life.
Cade rushing in, long after Samantha was gone, holding her body and shaking with the crushing emotions.
“We could’ve tried again. Or not.” He swallowed another sob. “She was more important to me than children I hadn’t met yet.”
Devyn had heard a similar refrain from families of other suicide victims. “Samantha had met your child,” she reminded him gently.
Although the bond between mother and baby during pregnancy developed differently for every woman, miscarriage was always an emotional assault.
“The intensity of the loss, the grief, and the depression overwhelmed her, Cade.”
Devyn braced for pushback as she carefully pressed onward. “It’s okay to be angry,” she murmured, giving him words straight from Samantha.
“No.” A sharp denial. “She was tangled in a net she couldn’t escape. It wasn’t her fault,” Cade said. “I—walking in like that, I couldn’t believe my eyes. She wasn’t the type. She was so strong.”
He shivered. “Until she wasn’t.”
Devyn felt he was on the precipice and she asked her informants or Samantha or any available source to show her how to help him. Wait. Nothing else came through. So she did just that, sitting quietly with him in his agony.
“I’m angry.” His voice was low, but the shock of his admission reverberated like thunder. He looked up, his gaze full of misery. “I am angry.”
Devyn felt another shiver across her senses and the pieces snapped into place.
Samantha had been hovering around Cade to help him.
An apologetic effort that was backfiring in a big way.
She was caught where she didn’t belong and Cade, sensing her, wasn’t healing.
“Of course you are. Samantha understands that. More than anything, she hopes you’ll find someone stronger to love and build a new life with. ”
He shook his head. “Too soon, Norris.”
She didn’t bother pointing out that she was only delivering the message. “You’ll know when.”
“I still see her. In that tub.”
“I know.” It didn’t have to be that way forever, if she could help him.
“That wasn’t her,” he repeated. “Not her at all.”
Devyn took a deep breath, relieved to be back on familiar ground. She knew how to use memories to break patterns and reframe emotions. To kickstart healing. “Tell me what you remember,” she said. “Tell me your favorite things about Samantha.”
“I don’t know,” he muttered.
“You do.” She squeezed his hand just enough to emphasize her psychic nudge without making it obvious they were still connected.
The words flowed, slowly at first. He talked about the first time he saw her, about their first date—an afternoon at the zoo. The adventures of moving in together, the surprise birthday she’d thrown for him. And her startling acceptance after he walked in late from a long, harrowing day on the job.
On a roll, he shared more as the fondness and affection overrode the grief for a few minutes.
Underneath it all, she worked quickly, weaving an emotional veil around his memories of finding Samantha’s body.
Nothing that would close off his access to a very important part of his life.
Just enough to shelter him a little. A dose of self-care he needed desperately.
If he couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t heal. And if couldn’t relax in his apartment, he couldn’t sleep.
As a detective, Cade faced more stress, anxiety, and death than the average person. He’d been telling himself—and everyone else—that he was coping when he was in fact losing the battle.
She suspected he hadn’t moved out of their apartment because doing so would pile abandonment onto the mountain of failure. Helping him today would allow him to make that decision with clarity and confidence when he was ready.
She’d finished all the shoring up he needed, but he was still sharing stories of his life with Samantha. Devyn stayed right there, listening until he went quiet. He seemed a bit baffled as she walked him back to the police station.
He looked weary, but no longer despondent. She counted it an improvement. More importantly, when he walked into the building, he seemed to be alone.
She felt a cool touch glide over her arm as she turned for her car. She hoped it was Samantha’s farewell. After such a heartache, the woman deserved peace in the afterlife.