No secret is safe – even his own

The man who can see anything sits in a cell, that grows smaller every day.

After years of using his paranormal senses to expose frauds, Paul faces either a life in prison or the vindication he needs. Most of all, he needs to keep his powers hidden from a world that would never stop exploiting him… and it may already be too late.

Corrupt leaders tighten their grip around him. Every move Paul makes risks exposure, and his family and friends might be the first to pay the price.

If Paul runs, they’ll never be safe.

If the truth about him is discovered, he’ll never be free.

Shadow Sight is the final adventure in the Shadowed Steps paranormal trilogy. Paul’s last decision awaits – if you open your eyes and see.

 

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Sample

“The first charge is Criminal Trespassing in the first degree, at the LifeLab facilities, Your Honor.”

Of course it is. But I did that to restore the company’s reputation, after I was tricked into framing them… at least until I got blackmailed myself…

At Paul’s side, his new lawyer gave her head the smallest nod at the charge. But back a few benches behind them were Paul’s father and brother—what kind of pain or shame had to be on those faces?

Focus. He kept his eyes on the judge up in front. At least that man’s craggy, impassive face wasn’t tightening in hostility so far.

Paul resisted the urge to Open and lock his sight onto the tiniest motions of the judge’s face, or look beyond it to glimpse his thoughts. Those senses might still tease out some advantage for his plea, but not yet.

“Criminal Trespassing again,” the prosecutor went on, “at St. Cedric’s General Hospital. Also, additional counts of that will likely be filed soon.”

Still no glower or scowl from the judge. This time Paul did steal a glance back at his father—no expression on his face, even at being reminded how his “missing” son had never even gone far from the hospital he’d been last seen… The place that Paul had been so sure held the answers to his suddenly Opened senses. But I was trying to keep whatever trouble I was in away from you two.

Paul swung his head forward again. Even that motion felt like a wild wave of his arm in the coiled stillness of the courtroom, under the eyes of the painted judges hanging on the wall, and the flesh-and-blood man weighing him up in front. The bench under him felt harder than ever, and the chains were cold on his hands and ankles.

“Criminal Trespassing in the first, and Stalking in the second, regarding Addamson Abbot Insurance.” The prosecutor laid out the words with elegant motions of his hands, one point at a time. Never mind how they’d ever prove the intent to commit a crime element of those charges—it was Addamson Abbot that had been cheating its customers for years, until Paul had exposed them.

“Electronic Eavesdropping…”

“Criminal Trespassing…”

“Criminal Impersonation…”

Paul tried to keep his eyes on the judge, and whether those thin lips really were twisting that crucial fraction of a scowl that could mark that he was turning against the parade of small charges. But now the assistant DA’s manicured fingers were tapping a manila folder on his desk, a folder half an inch thick.

One of those charges could mean half a year of Paul’s life, sealed away in stone walls. Another could add a year for every count, and another and another, and they still only listed six times they thought they could prove his work in exposing lies. Only six.

“The People expect there’ll be many more charges, Your Honor. We have a span of at least two years of Paul Schuman’s life to investigate.”

“That’s quite a list.” The judge leaned forward. “Quite a list of nonviolent offenses, as if you’re dealing in quantity over quality. Criminal intent, but no actual thefts to make it burglary? And weren’t there charges of previous assault on the arresting officer?”

Detective Reid stood up beside the prosecutor. “That would be me, sir. I asked the People to not follow that up, so the case would stay concentrated on the volume of Mr. Schuman’s offenses.”

He gave Paul a cold look, his infamous huge eyebrows lowering to all but cover his eyes. Those eyes that could be skimming through Paul’s mind as easily as Paul could his, if the detective had been willing to use his own powers.

“Hmm. Mister Schuman, you’ve heard the charges, as they stand. How do you plead?”

The lawyer beside Paul—Celia Claire, “yes they call me CC”—whispered “It’s too soon for a deal. Still, Reid’s sure to come up with more charges, and you might head that off now if the judge is friendly. Wouldn’t recommend it, though.”

It might stop them from reopening the death of that blackmailer Quinn, but his father said not to worry there—

Paul looked at the judge, tightened his thoughts around his own need to know, and Opened.

The world shrank, from five senses to something other than sight, that held only an image of the graying man up on the bench, and that “image” melted at the edges. That still, hard face tightened, features drawing together in concentration and body slowly leaning forward toward his prey, fingers reaching along the desk and curling ready to grasp…

Paul broke the trance. His other senses flooded back in, and he saw Reid’s eyes on him. Just that one instant of watching the judge’s thoughts must be enough for Reid to guess he’d taken a peek.

No mercy in this court. Paul gave CC a small shake of his head.

The lawyer raised her voice. “Not guilty, Your Honor.”

“Of course. Yours is an odd case, Mr. Schuman. A list of misdemeanors and possible felonies, with limited evidence and a lot of promise that more will come out of the woodwork. You may want to think about what deal you can make.”

Paul’s throat felt dry as he answered “I will, Your Honor.”

What they’d do was fight, against every piece of weak evidence Reid could produce without him revealing how Paul really got to the truth, and every accusation that Paul’s work had been “crimes” instead of proper whistleblowing. Instead of what it should be.

The prosecutor said “The People request bail be denied. Mr. Schuman has shown himself a flight risk many times, including fleeing clear out of state.”

“—and then surrendering voluntarily, Your Honor,” CC added smoothly.

To take the blame for Sarah Gomez, and they still won’t tell me what they did with her.

“And after he exposed—”

Paul’s brother cut off that stage whisper, before he mentioned the police corruption out in Cedar Springs.

“That will be enough,” the judge told Greg, then turned back to Paul. “Mr. Schuman’s activity in this city is the issue. Bail denied. The defendant is remanded to North Penitentiary.”

The single rap of the gavel could have been an inch from Paul’s ear. Not because he had Opened to the sound, but because it meant every sound and motion from now on would be crowding in on him. And they’d make him serve every day of the charges they could, in the deepest hole they could find.

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