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.

Realization hit her, and she gasped, taking a step back. A large hand grasped her arm as though to steady her. She kept her eyes closed, clinging to the vision, and muttered, "Woodcutters."

In a split second, the vision disappeared. Blinking, she tried to regain her senses as she entered the real world again. Inspector Johnson's brown eyes were wide, and his mouth hung agape. Mr. Clarkston's face paled further—if that was possible. And his son...well, some people would never believe in her gift no matter how many times she had proven them wrong. The younger Clarkston released Madison's arm, folded his arms across his chest, and arched a judgmental eyebrow.

"Woodcutters?" The inspector scratched his long, bushy brown sideburns. "I say, Miss Haywood, I'm not certain what you mean by that. Judge Gruber is not acquainted with any woodcutters that I know of. Why would they have taken his grandson?"

The younger Mr. Clarkston scoffed with disgust. "Deceitful wench. This is all an act. I'll stake my career as a barrister upon it."

Madison sat on the edge of the desk. Her visions had always weakened her for a few moments. The unbelievers usually thought this was part of her performance, but she was exhausted with trying to convince them otherwise.

"We have to trust her," Inspector Johnson snapped, aiming a scowl at the younger man. "We have no other leads."

The younger Clarkston grumbled and motioned toward Madison. "I cannot believe a word that comes out of her mouth. The next thing you'll tell us is that she speaks to dead people as well."

Madison couldn't hold her tongue any longer. "Actually," she began as she tapped her booted heel on the floor, "I can talk to dead people, but only if they allow it. If you'd like, I could ask that ghost standing behind you now..."

The man hitched a breath and swung around, looking behind him. Madison held back the laugh ready to spring from her throat. However, she couldn't stop the grin from stretching across her mouth.

The man growled and turned back to face her. He laughed slowly and forcefully. "You are not very humorous, Miss Haywood."

Madison shrugged as she grinned. "I disagree. I think I was rather funny just then."

"Augh!" The inspector shoved past the large man and moved closer to Madison. "Harry, leave her be. Because of her vision, we have more to go on than the three of us have found. Give her a chance." Inspector Johnson met Madison's gaze. "You said woodcutter. Why?"

Madison swallowed, moistening her dry throat, and looked into the man's desperate gaze. "In my vision, the boy scooped up wood shavings. They looked to be fresh. Fallen trees were all around him. He must be somewhere in the woods where woodcutters have been. And there was an ax by his feet. The bottom of his trousers was wet, as well."

"Hmm..." The inspector paced the small area in the room. "Woods and water." He stopped and switched his gaze to Madison. "Is it possible that the boy is in Bromley?"

The elder Mr. Clarkston choked on his coffee and placed the mug on the desk. "My cousin is a woodcutter. He and his crew have been working in that area."

Madison swung her hand toward the door. "Then gentleman, I suggest you leave immediately and investigate this further before you lose any more sunlight. Judge Gruber's grandson appeared weak. His face was—" she stopped herself before blurting paler than Mr. Clarkston's, "extremely white, and his eyes sunken in."

The inspector dashed around the desk and grabbed a pistol. "Let us go now."

"You cannot be serious." Harry Clarkston shook his head in disbelief.

Inspector Johnson scowled at the younger man and shoved a pointed finger into his wide chest. "I'm very serious. I'd rather look into this lead than tell the judge that we have no idea where to find his grandson. And, if by chance, the boy is in the woods, I'd rather find and return him home than see his parents' sad expressions. I particularly don't want the guilt of knowing that I could have stopped a child's death but didn't because you had reservations about this young woman's visions."

Harry held up his hands in surrender. "As you wish. We'll go, but if the boy is not there—"

"Then you will hear my apology." The inspector nodded. He straightened and plopped his hat on his head. His gaze met Madison's. "I would like you to stay here. We shall return before nightfall."

Madison bit her tongue. Should she argue? What could she possibly do in the inspector's office for that long? She hated twiddling her thumbs. She'd likely expire from boredom.

Slowly, she released a frustrated breath and nodded. She must do what the inspector asked of her. This boy needed to be found soon. The sun would be descending within a few hours, and once darkness covered the land, it would be impossible to find the missing lad.

"I'll wait," she answered.

Inspector Johnson led the way out of the room, and the other men followed wordlessly. Madison meandered out into the large main room and found an empty chair. As she glanced at the other policemen, it was hard to ignore their distrustful stares. One might think she'd grown two heads...or sprouted horns...or even a tail. Most people that knew of her visions didn't believe she was human. Many believed her ability was the work of the devil.

She'd known she was different since she was seven years old. Over the years, it had become very difficult to convince people of her abilities. And now, fifteen years later, no matter how many times she proved herself, most people remained skeptical, and some were downright cruel.

Because she was different than the other children in school, Madison didn't have many friends. Except for Josephine. Josephine had been friends with Madison since they were ten years old. She was the first girl to accept Madison's gift without judging her or thinking she was a fraud.

About a week ago, Josie told Madison that she should be assisting the Metropolitan Police regularly instead of taking a case now and again. Josie had said that these men needed her. She'd been at Josie's house for a visit, and shortly after the mid-day meal, a rider had come to see her, informing her that Inspector Johnson needed to see her on urgent business. The inspector had previously been convinced that Madison could help. No doubt Josie was responsible for Madison's being there now.

Madison adjusted in the uncomfortable chair and stretched her legs out in front of her. The tips of her boots peeked from underneath the brown and green gingham dress she wore. With brown-gloved hands, she smoothed a few of the wrinkles that had gathered since she'd arrived not too long ago.

She lifted her gaze and slowly took in everything—and everyone—in the room. Two men wearing uniforms stood against the other wall, talking in low voices. One older, gray-haired woman sat at the desk of one of the other officers, pleading with heartfelt sobs for someone to help her find her lost dog. She clutched a brown rope, turning it over and over in her hands. The officer assisting her definitely didn't appear as if he truly wanted to help the old woman.

A woman, perhaps in her mid-twenties, sat by the two officers near the wall. The woman's swollen eyes were filled with tears, and she dabbed a white handkerchief to her cheeks as the tears rolled down her face. Occasionally, the woman peered Madison's way but then quickly dropped her gaze to her lap.

Madison closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. This was going to be a very long day as she waited for Inspector Johnson. She sighed and glanced toward the door again. She hoped the inspector would be able to find Judge Gruber's grandson. Although she couldn't give him an exact location, she prayed it would at least lead him in the right direction.