Loving Madison

One

I must save the boy!

Madison Haywood breathed deeply, focusing her concentration on the matter at hand. A strong scent of coffee drifted around her, and she tried pushing the aroma from her thoughts. Mr. Clarkston stood by the little office window inside the Metropolitan Police Station, noisily sipping from his cup. His grown son, Harry, sat by Inspector Johnson's wooden desk, drumming his fingers on the oak top.

These fools were making it impossible to clear her head.

She squeezed her eyes closed and clutched the lost little boy's boot to her chest. She ran the pad of her finger over the slightly frayed laces and onto the smooth leather. The lad had been wearing this boot before he'd disappeared.

"You must try harder, Miss Haywood. Concentrate!" Inspector Johnson's grating voice pierced her focus.

Grumbling under her breath, she snapped her eyes open and stared at him. Try harder? Indeed! One did not merely ask a woman with her particular gift for assistance and expect her to produce results while screaming at her.

"This is hogwash," Mr. Clarkston said irritably. "We are wasting valuable time. My son and I should be with the other volunteers searching for Judge Gruber's grandson, not listening to this mad-woman."

Madison gritted her teeth as she raked her gaze across the men in the room. "Inspector, please. I must have silence for this to work."

Inspector Johnson inclined his head. "My apologies, Miss Haywood. Please proceed."

Drawing a deep breath, Madison closed her eyes once more, blocking out the judgmental gazes of Mr. Clarkston and his son. She realized that not everyone believed in her visions. Most people called her an imposter, in fact. She was used to people thinking that way regarding her gift.

She couldn't fathom why the boy's image hadn't suddenly popped into her mind. Usually, she didn't have to struggle with her visions. Then again, she'd never had three impatient men staring her down, either.

Pushing all her negative thoughts aside, she focused on clearing her head of any images besides the lad's boot. The deeper she breathed, the more her body and mind calmed. Slowly, the image of Mr. Clarkston's pocked blanched face faded from her mind.

Just as she finally put everything aside, the boy's face became clear. Scratches marred his ten-year-old body and dirt-smudged his face. His reddish-blonde hair matted his head, and a small amount of dried blood stained his ear. He wore one boot, and it was wet, as were the bottom of his trousers.

Relief flooded her. He was alive. At least for now.

She couldn't hear any sounds around him, but sometimes her visions didn't allow the sound to come through. From what she could tell, he was outside in the woods. He sat on a fallen tree, eating... She breathed deeper, trying to focus harder. All around him were trees that were lying on the ground instead of rising toward the sky. However, the lad was alone. She couldn't see anyone nearby.

The boy's frightened gaze darted all around him. His chest rose and fell with quick breaths. His mouth moved, and Madison heard no words. His lips formed the words Ma and Pa.

"I see him," Madison whispered. Still blocking out the sounds in the room, she continued to describe her vision to the inspector. "He's in the woods near fallen trees. He's scratched up, but I think he's fine."

"Do you see who kidnapped him?" Inspector Johnson asked in a tight voice.

"No. He's alone."

Madison zeroed in on the trees, searching for clues that might hint at the boy's location. There were only a few glades like this around London. At first, nothing discerning met her eye, but then the boy leaned over and scooped up a handful of rusty, orange-colored shavings. Next to his hand was an ax.