I nod and Nick says, “Yeah.”
“It’s a little strange,” Candace says. “Some of the blood was animal. Possibly feline. You know, from a cat.”
Yeah, lady. I’m not an idiot. I know the word feline has to do with cats. I keep my snarky attitude to myself and cock my head in what I hope is an inquisitive, intelligent expression.
“Anyway,” she says. “There was human blood present as well. And here’s the interesting part. The blood contains placental fragments. Our lab guy says the blood is likely from someone who’d just given birth.”
I catch my breath. This, I wasn’t expecting.
Nick’s brows pull together in a fierce frown. “So, where would someone get childbirth blood? From a hospital?”
“There’s more,” Candace says. “Our tech said the woman was more than likely suffering from placental abruption. It’s a condition where the placenta peels away from the uterine walls. It can be extremely dangerous for both the mother and the baby.”
Nick still looks puzzled. I feel sick. Is this Larissa’s blood? Is this why she’s dead?
I decide to take the bull by the horns. “Could this be connected to the woman who was found dead at the Rest Inn? The paper said she’d recently given birth.”
Candace avoids my eyes and stuffs the papers back into her briefcase. “We’re looking into it.”
“Jesus,” Nick says. “What kind of weirdo are we dealing with?”
“A sick one,” Candace says. “I’ll be in touch.”
Nick stands and tucks his chair close to his desk. “Thanks, Candace. Gotta run. I’m expecting a delivery.”
He dashes out of the room. I’m left with about a bajillion questions, but since I don’t know how to phrase them, I zip my lip.
Candace starts to follow Nick through the door. Then, she turns and gives me a curious look. “Billy called me. He asked the same question you did. About the dead woman at the Rest Inn.”
I feel my mouth drop open in surprise. This statuesque beauty is Billy’s cop buddy? When I gather my wits, I say, “You know Billy?” I want to say my Billy but sense I would regret it.
She flashes a brilliant, gleaming white smile. “Of course I know Billy. Everybody in 3 Peaks knows Billy the Kid.”
I’m dying to ask, “Do you really know him? Like, in the Biblical sense?” Fortunately, my internal censor kicks in at precisely the right time. I’ll save that question for later. For Billy boy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The next day, Wednesday, I spend a great deal of time thinking about all the moving parts of my life and try to make sense of them. Dani and Destiny. The Rockwells. The bloody scene in Number Twelve. Larissa. Aida. The Krugers. Billy’s cop buddy, Candace. Uncle Paco’s love life. My nosy mother and the damn Spaniard who knocked her up. Myron’s fender. I think so long and hard I sense my brain is overheating. I look in the mirror to see if smoke is pouring out of my ears. I need help but don’t know where to turn. What to ask?
Then, I remember Billy’s comment about my fath—fath—um, Steve’s offer to help me out with the soul-reading issue. Billy’s precise words were, “He might be the only person in the world with that kind of knowledge.”
Like most people in a relationship, I want to be right. It’s an ego thing. But, my recent heavy-duty cerebral workout resulted in the following conclusion: Billy is right and I am—choke, choke—wrong. I need all the help I can get, especially since Kendra and I will be in the lion’s den, also known as the Rockwell house, tomorrow night.
So, considering all of the above, I locate the napkin upon which is scrawled the phone number of Estefan Delgado.
He picks up on the first ring. “Melanie?”
“Just checking to see if the offer still stands. You know, the lesson on soul reading.”
His voice rises in excitement. “Yes, yes, of course. Just tell me where and when.”
We decide on a neutral place. I don’t call Paco for a ride since I still haven’t filled him in on the bio father bit. Hopefully, he’s putting Roxy on a Greyhound bound for wherever the hell she came from. Instead, I take the city bus to a coffee shop in downtown 3 Peaks. Before I dash from my room, I impulsively grab the picture of Hope and me and tuck it into the pouch of my hoodie.
Steve is waiting for me. We collect our coffee drinks and head outside into the bright sunshine. A gentle breeze ruffles my hair as I follow Steve through the outdoor patio to a table well away from the crowd.
I’m acutely uncomfortable, not knowing how and where to begin, so I sip my latte and try to act like I don’t give a damn. Steve lowers his sunglasses and studies my face before slipping them back on.
“Did you call your mother about me?”
I am so not expecting this question. “Oh, God no,” I blurt. “She’s already worried about me. If she knew you were in town, she’d freak.”
“Why is she worried about you?”
I don’t know this man, much less trust him, so I shrug off his question. “Just mother-daughter stuff.”
He sighs and leans back in his chair.
I wait until a couple with a dog walk by. “I’m not here to talk about my mother. I’m here to learn about soul reading.”
The corners of Steve’s mouth lift in a broad smile. “Very good.”
“So, where do we begin?”
Steve taps his fingers on the tabletop and ponders my question. He removes his sunglasses and gazes into my eyes. “You might not like what I have to say. Are you ready to hear the truth?”
“Yes.”
“First of all, you must rid yourself of fear. It clouds your judgment and inhibits your ability to read souls. You must think of yourself as a clinician, a scientist looking for evidence upon which to base a conclusion. Your emotions are getting in your way.”
I feel heat rising in my cheeks. Who the hell is he to judge me? “Well, dammit,” I sputter. “Maybe there’s some stuff I’d rather not see and…”
He lifts a hand to stop me. “I asked if you were ready to hear the truth.”
Oh, yeah. That. I take a big breath and mutter, “Sorry. Please continue.”
He reaches across the table and takes my hand. I want to pull away but his touch feels warm and somehow right.
“Melanie,” he says. “The last thing I want is to hurt you. Like you, I was once afraid. I had no one to turn to. No one to guide me.”
Unable to speak, I nod.
He releases my hand and pulls a small spiral notebook from his shirt pocket. He slides it across the table. “I’ve written down everything I’ve learned in my lifetime. It’s yours to keep.”
I pick up the notebook and open it. The first page is titled, Elements of the Soul. Below the title, the following words are printed in block letters. EMOTIONS. ENERGY. PAST. PRESENT. FUTURE.
I turn the notebook and point at one of the words. “I totally get everything but future. How is that possible?”
Steve tilts his head to one side. “Do you not believe a person’s past and present is a predictor of future actions? Take yourself for example.”
I squirm in my chair. This is getting personal. I lift my gaze to his and, once again, see the shimmer of light dancing over water and something I hadn’t noticed before. A tiny dark cloud swirls through his soul, sporadically touching down on the surface of the water, dimming the light.
“What about me?” I ask.
“Would you like to know what I see in your soul?”
Truth be told, I’ve always wondered what resides in my soul. When I look into the mirror, all I see is a pair of blue eyes looking back at me. I nod.
He smiles. “It’s quite unique. In fact, I’ve never seen another like it. You are the girl with the rainbow soul.”
Involuntarily, my lips curl up in an answering smile, as I picture a rainbow arcing across my soul. “No way.”
“Oh, yes,” he says. “It contains all seven colors present in a rainbow. Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet. But it’s not bow
shaped.” He strokes his chin and peers deeply into my eyes again. “Imagine hovering over the top of a rainbow. And it is illuminated from beneath. It glitters and glows with every color in the rainbow. That’s the first image I see.”
“There’s more?”
He nods. “Much more. I see a jagged black line bisecting the blue spectrum, indicating a major crisis in your life. Possibly, the death of your twin sister. Sometimes death, either in the past or near future, appears as a black line.”
His words tap into grief that sweeps over me like a tidal wave. My fingers close around the picture of Hope and me. If only I could feel her presence. Maybe then I’d be able to say goodbye. I take a shaky breath. “What else do you see?”
“The rainbow is surrounded by a blue background with crimson streaks. This tells me you are somewhat at odds with yourself. That particular shade of blue means you are intelligent, a seeker of truth and a logical thinker. The crimson streaks are the purest of red. They can be interpreted two ways. Red may indicate a certain liveliness, perhaps even friendliness, or…”
He hesitates as if searching for the right words. Maybe I don’t want to hear what’s coming next.
He clears his throat. “No offense, but I believe, in your case, the red indicates you have streaks of pent-up aggression at odds with your ability to use logic and reason. Of course, my opinion is somewhat influenced by the manner in which you introduced yourself last night.”
I try to make a joke out of it. “You mean when I slammed my shoulder into your belly?”
He doesn’t laugh. “Yes, Melanie. Exactly what I mean.”
I think about the recent events in my life, the anger and frustration boiling up inside me with no place to go. Pent up aggression? Damn straight.
“Okay,” I say, trying to sound intelligent and logical. Unaggressive. “Now that you’ve looked into my soul, what does my future holds?”
He doesn’t even pause for reflection. “I see you as an avenger. Someone who is willing to put herself in danger to right a wrong.”
I shrug and try to laugh it off. “Guess you can’t win ’em all.”
“Now, you’re lying,” he says.
Shocked, I say, “So now you have a truth-o-meter?”
“It’s easy to tell when someone’s lying.”
I’ve picked up on lies before, but usually from body language, not something I’d read in a soul. When a person lies, they avoid eye contact and turn their body or head away. The fake or forced smile is another clue. The idea I could actually see a person is lying intrigues me. I have to know more.
“Okay,” I admit. “It’s possible you were right about some things. Now, tell me how you can detect a lie.”
“When a person lies, a white-hot flash appears in his soul. It’s easy to miss. The best way I can describe it is to compare it to a camera flash. It sometimes appears as fluorescent pink or bright green. Since you’re so reluctant to hold eye contact, you’ve probably missed it.”
Now, I’m fascinated. “Show me.”
“Ask me some questions,” he says. “Some of my answers will be truthful. Some will be lies.”
Yes. All my life, I’ve had questions about my father. Now I have a chance to get answers, providing I can tell if and when he’s lying. I rip a blank page from the spiral notebook and borrow Steve’s pen.
Hmm, how does a lie detector work? I jot down five questions, take a big breath and let it out. I know it will be hard for me to maintain eye contact.
“Ready?” he says.
I look deeply into his soul and see the glimmer of light on moving water. The amorphous dark shape peeks out from one edge. “Is your name Estefan Delgado?”
“Yes.”
The dark shape touches down on the water and distracts me. I don’t see the flash he described, so I write true next to question one.
Steve says, “Repeat the question. And this time, don’t look away.”
“Is your name Estefan Delgado?”
“No.”
Faster than the blink of an eye, a white-hot flash flicks across his soul. I gasp in surprise. “I saw it. You’re lying.”
The corner of his mouth quirks up in a smile. “That’s it. No more help from me. Please continue.”
Since I’ve always wondered if I have siblings, I ask, “Do you have children with your wife in Spain?”
“Yes.”
Again the brief flash. I write lie after question number two. Apparently I’m an only child.
“Do you love your wife?”
Without hesitation, he says, “No, we’re divorced.”
No flash. Truthful answer.
“Do you still have feelings for my mother?”
“No,” he says again.
Lie.
I have one question left, but first I need a break. I drop my gaze and rub my eyes, trying to decide how to phrase the question.
I lift my eyes to his. “Why did you try to find me?”
He hesitates, just for a moment. “It’s difficult to explain.”
I blow out a disgusted breath. “What kind of an answer is that?”
“A truthful one. Did you see the flash?”
“Well, no. But it’s still not an answer.” I continue to stare into his eyes.
“I’ve been living a lie for many years. Not wanting to cause my parents pain, I’ve stayed in a loveless marriage. My father died two years ago. My mother passed last month. Maybe I’m feeling my own mortality. Maybe I want to meet my only child and make amends for my neglect.”
Well, damn. The man is telling the truth. I’m not sure how to answer, so I swallow the lump in my throat and hand him his pen. I want to learn more, but my emotions are getting the best of me. So I do what I always do when I’m in this kind of situation…split. I rise from my chair. “Thanks for the lesson. And the notebook.”
“Good luck, Melanie,” he says. “Maybe we can meet again and you can tell me what you see in my soul.”
Surprised, I can’t help but smile. “Guess I’m the only one in the world who can tell you the truth.”
He hands me his business card. One side is in Spanish, the other in English. The name of his company is CyberSecure and includes his contact information.
Before I leave, I show him the picture of Hope and me. He studies it carefully, strokes his index finger across the glass, kisses it and hands it back to me. “Thank you. You are both beautiful.”
I tuck the picture back into my pouch and nod my farewell.
He says, “Until next time, mi hija.”
As I walk to the bus stop, I realize Senor Estefan Delgado, that damn Spaniard, just called me his daughter. I’m not sure how it makes me feel. Only time will tell.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Paco delivers me to Kendra’s house at four p.m. Thursday. I’m already dressed in the requisite black pants and white shirt. Kendra said she would need a couple of hours to fix me, which I assume means, perfect my disguise before our shift starts at six. Paco drives into their cul-de-sac slowly, taking care to avoid a pack of little kids tooling up and down the street on their Big Wheels.
When I hop off the bike, Paco says, “Need me to pick you up?”
I kiss his bristly cheek. “Kendra will drop me off. How’s it going with Roxy?”
He shakes his shaggy head. “Work in progress. I’ll keep you posted.”
I interpret this as: last night Paco got lucky and he’s rethinking his need to rid himself of Roxy. Oh, Connie, Queen of Motel Maids, where are you when I need you? Stay out of it, Mel.
Paco points at a Harley tucked in next to the garage. “Looks like lover boy is here.”
He no sooner utters the words than the front door opens, filled by none other than Billy the Kid. At the risk of sounding like a sappy romance novel, my heart beats a little faster. Sappy or not, I bid Paco farewell and fly into Billy’s open arms. I hear Paco roar with laughter as he turns his bike around and pulls out of the driveway.
I snuggle into Billy’s b
ody, and it feels so good I want to drag him into Kendra’s house, lock him in the bedroom and rip his clothes off. Guess I’ve missed him.
“Minnie Mouse,” he murmurs into my hair. “How ya doing?”
“Okay,” I whisper into his neck. “What about you?”
I push away and check out his expression. He’s a bit pale but the fire in his soul now looks like banked coals. “How’s the counseling going?”
“Pretty good. Got another session tonight.”
“How late?” Hope blooms in my chest.
“Not sure. I’ll drop by if I can.”
“I really, really hope you can.”
He cups my face in his palms and brushes his lips across mine. “Me too.”
Officer Candace Talbot pushes her way into my mind. I so want to ask Billy about her, but pinch my lips together to keep the words from spilling out. Before I can break my vow of silence, Kendra turns up. She’s in her waiter’s garb and sporting a massive amount of black hair pulled back into a gigantic bun. Good God, if that thing falls off, the earth will move. Am I willing to put myself in Kendra’s hands? What choice do I have?
“Hi, girlfriend. Ready for a makeover?”
Billy and I grin at each other. He leans close and whispers, “Go for naughty nurse.”
“Don’t think a naughty nurse will cut it for catering a party. How do you feel about sexy waitress?”
He presses his lower body against me and I know exactly how he feels.
“Hold that thought.” I pat his cheek and follow Kendra into the house. Billy trails behind.
Craig is on the floor pushing toy trucks around with Aaron. The baby is sitting in a contraption hung from the doorjamb. When he sees Billy, he crows with delight, pushes off the floor and begins to bounce, his chubby little legs working like pistons.
“Hey, Mel,” Craig calls. “What do you think of my new wife? Shall I keep her?”
“Sure, if you like big buns.”
Craig’s and Billy’s laughter follow us out of the living room. Kendra leads me upstairs to the master bedroom and waves me into a chair in front of a small dressing table. It’s piled high with cosmetics, several pairs of glasses and a platinum blond wig.
Affliction Page 15
