by Sonia Singh
It made for great TV.
Coulter kept the twins from distracting Anjali. Furniture moved, writing appeared on the walls, temperatures dropped, but in the end the twins slipped through the gap.
Afterward, Dr. Madison opened a bottle of champagne and a bottle of sleeping pills and passed both around.
Scott went outside to phone Eddie and tell him the news and when he came back, Anjali was gone.
“She’s gone to get some sleep,” Coulter said. “She took one of the doctor’s pills.”
41
She lay on her back staring up at the ceiling.
It was almost two and Anjali was wide awake.
She flung back the covers and decided to see if Dr. Madison was awake and could give her a pill. She’d decided not to take the other one and returned it.
Stupid move.
She pulled on a thin cotton robe over her sleeveless nightgown and slipped out of the room.
Dr. Madison’s room was down the hall, and she quietly turned the knob, peeking inside. One of the small bedside lamps was on, and she could see by the soft glow that the woman was sleeping peacefully. Anjali decided to do a quick check for the pills.
The door opened behind her and Scott poked his head in. He didn’t seem surprised to see her. “I thought I heard you,” he said.
Heard her? She knew for a fact that she hadn’t made a bit of noise. “Did you have your ear pressed to the door or something?”
He entered the room, quietly shutting the door behind him. He was wearing a faded Stanford T-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. “Are you angry with me?
“No,” she said angrily.
“Yes you are and I want to know why.”
“Can we have this conversation somewhere else?”
“Why are you mad at me?”
“I’m not mad. Besides, why do you care? You went off with Jane. The two of you scampering across the lawn, arm in arm.”
“I’ve never scampered in my life and I’m not interested in Jane.” He moved closer to her. “I thought you had a thing for Coulter.”
“Everybody has a thing for Coulter.”
“Do you?”
“No, I don’t.”
Scott reached out and took her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. Behind them, Dr. Madison snorted and turned over in her sleep.
He slid his hands up until he was holding her by the soft part of her arms. “You know how I feel about you.”
“I don’t make a habit of reading your mind.”
He wrapped her in his arms. “You’ve done it before.”
Her arms slid around his waist, and she pressed her cheek against his chest. “I have not.”
“Well, I’ll tell you then. I like you, Anjali.”
“More than Nana Wilder?”
She could feel him smile. “Definitely more.”
His fingers stroked her cheek before sliding under her chin and tilting her face up. She closed her eyes, and his mouth was on hers.
His mouth was much warmer than his hands.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer. And his lips went from warm to hot and he deepened the kiss until he might as well have been sucking the air from her lungs.
He was sweet and gentle and so warm that all she wanted to do was crawl inside him.
Dr. Madison giggled in her sleep, and Anjali pulled away. “Scott.”
“Hmm?” He was kissing her neck.
“Dr. Madison?”
Instead of answering, he started kissing her again. It took every ounce of effort she had to tear her lips away. “We should go.” She wasn’t going to continue making out with Dr. Madison’s snoring nearby.
Scott eased open the door. She slid past him, took hold of his hand, and pulled him down the hallway and into her room.
The door was barely shut when he wrapped her in his arms, holding her so tightly, she felt the breath escape her lungs.
She reached up and kissed him hard. And then eased back and rubbed his bottom lip with her thumb. “Sorry, did that hurt?”
“I don’t know. Do it again.”
Smiling, she nuzzled her face against his shoulder. “I need to catch my breath.”
She could feel his lips against her hair as his hands slid inside her thin robe.
“I was jealous of Rhett Uglee,” he murmured in her ear as his hands continued their caress. “When you started seducing him.”
“I was not seducing him. I was pretending to be interested so his dead lady friend would show up.”
He laughed softly, and she slid her hands into his thick hair.
And then she kissed him hard.
She had her breath back.
And she didn’t want to waste it talking.
42
Relax, Anjali told herself, blinking in the bright lights the camera crew had set up. It’s a public access station. Not CNN.
Seated diagonally across from her in one of the parlor’s Windsor chairs, Coulter was more than relaxed. He was having the time of his life.
She watched as he smiled straight into the camera. “Actually, Diana, I didn’t realize I could move people with my mind until a cute but crazy lesbian attacked me with a gun.”
Diana Moss, the elegant blond features reporter for the local San Francisco morning show Wake Up San Francisco, kept her eyes trained on Coulter. “Well, you know what they say; a man’s greatest asset is his mind.”
Coulter’s lips curved in an easy smile. “And mine is bigger than most.”
Scott cleared his throat, straightened his tie, and leaned forward. “What Coulter means to say is that studies have shown that psychics, people with ESP, use a part of their brain that is closed to most. The ability is present in every human being; the reason why some can access it and the rest of us cannot is a mystery.”
Diana managed to move her gaze from Coulter to Scott. “I see.”
Anjali didn’t think she did.
“Now, guys, let’s talk tough.” Diana cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes in what Anjali thought was a bad imitation of Barbara Walters. “You’ve solved a number of cases. Your last case—the Booth House in Pacific Grove—will be airing on the SciFi Channel. The producers of the piece vouch for you. But for most of us, when we hear the word psychic, we think con artist.”
Anjali sensed a slight stiffening in Coulter at the last word.
“I don’t blame you,” Scott replied. “Most psychics are frauds.”
“And how do we know that you aren’t one of them?” Diana argued.
“Because,” Coulter drawled, “we can prove it. You first, Angel.”
Diana looked down at her cards. “Anjali Kumar? Now, you’re empathic, right? You can read people’s thoughts, their emotions?”
Anjali looked down at her hands. “Right.”
Diana smiled challengingly. “Can you tell me what I’m thinking?”
Anjali looked up and focused on her.
How is this supposed to make me look like a serious journalist? Next thing you know I’ll be interviewing Bigfoot.
Anjali’s smile was cool. “I don’t think you can get Bigfoot. I hear he’s doing Conan.”
Diana’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my…I was just thinking that! I was! Now wait…what else am I thinking?”
Anjali took a moment and then gazed at her in disbelief. “Your favorite movie is Showgirls?”
Diana sat back in the chair and waved her notes like a fan. “Wow!”
“Ah…we’re still rolling,” the cameraman said after a few moments.
Diana sat up. “Right.” She turned to Scott. “Now what exactly is your gift?”
Scott looked annoyed. “I don’t have one.”
“Too bad.” Diana’s gaze moved from Scott to Anjali. “Do any of you see dead people?
Anjali almost raised her hand. “I can’t see them but I can communicate with them.”
Coulter grinned. “She’s like some cosmic umbilical cord to the spirit world.”
/> Anjali thought about putting that catchphrase on a business card.
Diana’s eyes widened. “Do you…are you talking to the dead right now? Because my uncle Joseph passed away unexpectedly and his estate is in probate hell and—”
“No,” Anjali said quickly. “It doesn’t work like that, at least not for me. I can’t speak for other psychics, of course, but dead people don’t come knocking. Their spirits are usually tied to a place.”
“I see. Is there a way for us to know if those we care about are at peace? If they miss us?”
“I don’t know,” Anjali said. And that was the honest truth. Just because she was psychic didn’t mean she was privy to any sort of privileged information like, say, Moses or Mohammed. She didn’t know if there was a heaven or a hell, a nirvana or a celestial Playboy Mansion filled with large-breasted virgins.
Diana and the cameramen were all looking at her, disappointment etched into their faces. She tried to think of something upbeat. “Listen, none of you needs a psychic to tell you how a departed loved one feels. Only you can know that. Look in your heart. If someone special in your life has passed on and you miss them, it stands to reason that they miss you too.”
Diana smiled. “I’ve never heard it expressed quite like that. I like your point. Although I doubt some of the celebrity psychics would agree.”
“I could care less.”
Diana looked at her thoughtfully. “Okay, I can’t resist. I have to ask. Recently, a very well-known psychic was on a talk show and she said the End of Days is near. She predicted the Apocalypse. Your thoughts?”
Anjali shook her head in disgust. “This is why psychics get a bad name. Apparently, we can predict global catastrophes but can’t tell you if it’s going to rain next Monday.”
Diana laughed. “I have wondered about that.”
Anjali sat forward. “I believe there are certain things in life we are not meant to know the answers to. Is there a God? How was the universe created? How old is Dick Clark? And when is the world going to end?”
Scott winked at her and she sat back, smiling.
“I understand,” Diana said. She turned to Coulter and smiled. “Now Mr. Marshall, if you don’t mind? How about a little show?”
Coulter rubbed his hands. “Right. And I thought I was just gonna sit here and look pretty.” His eyes moved around the room, then came to rest on the chair Diana was sitting in.
It began to move.
Diana was clueless until the cameraman gasped. By the time she looked down, her chair had risen four inches. She cried out. “Oh my God!”
“Coulter.” Scott pointed to the floor, indicating he should cease and desist.
Slowly the chair lowered until it was touching the ground. There was a moment of hushed silence, and then Diana and the cameraman began clapping.
It wasn’t exactly the thunderous applause of Madison Square Garden, but Anjali could tell Coulter was pleased. He jumped out of his chair and bowed.
At the very least, she thought, Coulter was good for ratings.
43
A month had passed since the Booth House case.
The Sci Fi Channel special was set to air in two days but early buzz, Dr. Madison’s word of mouth, and Eddie’s gruntwork had assured that the firm’s phone was on a steady ring. Not just cases—big and small—but interviews with national and foreign publications.
Scott and Eddie were in the den having a drink when Eddie picked up the remote and turned the TV on, flipping channels until he stopped on Crossing Over with John Edward.
“Why do you watch this?” Scott demanded.
Eddie grinned. “He makes me laugh.”
“People tune in to see this guy, then turn around and act skeptical over our Wake Up San Francisco appearance,” Scott said. “It’s frustrating.”
“Blame it on Hollywood,” Eddie said. “We’ve seen Spider-Man swing through Manhattan on a web. Keanu Reeves contort his body and dodge bullets, a nuclear explosion taking out Baltimore, so when we see people moving things with their mind, we think it’s all special effects.”
“But what about Anjali and mind reading?”
“That’s easy,” Eddie said. “No one will ever believe it’s possible until it happens to them.”
“So Anjali has to read the mind of every person in the United States?”
“Pretty much.”
The front door opened and closed with a bang. Quick footsteps came down the hall and Anjali entered the room. Scott stood up feeling the same jolt of pleasure he always did when he saw her. She was wearing a lacy brown skirt and a silky multicolored sleeveless top.
“Hey guys,” she said with a smile and hugged Scott.
“So how’d it go?” he asked.
Anjali’s parents were in town and she’d shown them the Sci Fi special advance copy.
“They were impressed,” she said. “I think my dad’s finally coming around. Then again, he’s on blood pressure medicine and needs to remain calm.”
Scott laughed and sat back down. Anjali curled up next to him. “Where’s Coulter?”
“Getting ready for his date,” Scott said. “How’s your sister doing?”
“Well, Vijay found out about her secret crush on Coulter and they’re in marital counseling. But let’s talk about something else.” She smiled at Eddie. “What are you up to on this lovely Saturday night?”
“You know the owner of that shop in Union Square—the Psychic Tea Leaf? Well, I asked her out to dinner and she accepted.”
“So Eddie got his groove back,” Coulter said walking into the room.
“You look great,” Anjali said. “You should wear black more often.”
Scott decided he’d take Coulter apartment hunting tomorrow.
“Do we have any pizza left, Wilder?”
“I think you finished it.”
“Damn, I’m starving.” Coulter flopped down in the recliner, running his hands through his shower-damp hair.
“Don’t you have dinner plans?” Anjali asked. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.”
“Impossible.”
“I hear you’re going out with the lovely reporter Diana Moss,” Eddie said.
“We’re going to some fancy restaurant for dinner and then to a party at Robin Williams’s house.”
“I want all the details,” Anjali said. Coulter lifted his brow, and she quickly clarified, “I mean about the party!”
Coulter sat back and folded his arms across his flat stomach. “Don’t worry, Angel, I’ll give you all the details.”
Anjali giggled.
Scott looked at her and she quickly cleared her throat.
Eddie grinned at Scott. “So you guys staying in?”
Anjali entwined her fingers with Scott’s.
“Yes,” he said.
Unfortunately, after a quick but very thorough kiss on the sofa, Scott put Anjali to work. She’d worn the silky camisole that gathered under the bust for nothing.
She was in the office staring at the computer screen. Spectral Digest magazine wanted a five-hundred-word essay from her on the pros and cons of being a telepath.
Pro, she wrote, knowing the punch line of a joke before it’s even told.
Con, I feel dead people.
Scott set a glass of red wine for her on the desk and read what was on the screen. She could hear the amusement in his voice. “I’m not sure that’s the angle they’re going for.”
“I have writer’s block.”
“I can help you with that.”
She swiveled in her chair and stood up, resting her hands on his chest, her voice seductive. “You can?”
“I’ll write up some points and you can fit them into the article.”
She frowned. Sometimes Scott was too literal. She picked up the wineglass and took a big sip. She was going to take another when he took the glass from her hand and laid it back on the desk. His hands gently cupped her face. “Or we could talk about work later,” he said.
That
was the thing about Scott, he was a fast learner.
She was distracted for the next fifteen minutes or so, what with Scott pressing her up against the desk, one hand under her blouse, the other moving up her bare leg, pushing up her skirt. So she didn’t feel the presence at first.
But then the goose bumps came.
An icy finger traced down her spine and she was cold.
Scott pulled back and rubbed her arms. “You’re freezing.”
“Something’s here,” she whispered.
His hands tightened just as all the lights turned off, plunging them into darkness.
Slow, shuffling footsteps sounded down the hall.
“Do you hear that?” she asked. “Footsteps?”
“I don’t hear anything,” he said. “Let me get the flashlight.”
Anjali held onto him. “Stay here. It’s outside the door.”
He kept one arm around her and with the other dug in one of the desk drawers. He pulled out a flashlight and switched it on. The light jumped from corner to corner. “I don’t see anything,” he whispered.
“I do.”
A man stood in the doorway dressed in a military uniform. A dead man. He was young, probably in his early twenties when he died.
Anjali felt light-headed. She was going to faint.
Scott pulled her against him. “Take a deep breath. I’m here.”
She grabbed on to his shirt with both hands and tried to focus. So she’d never had a ghost actively seek her out before. No need to treat it any differently. Same rules applied.
“I’m going to throw up,” she said.
“Don’t look at it,” Scott said. “Look at me. Tell me what’s happening.”
“He’s standing in the doorway. He is…or was, a soldier.” She couldn’t help it. She had to look back. The ghost of the young man stared back at her with an expression so sad and defeated she felt her fear leave her.
Well most of it anyway.
She let go of Scott and took a step toward the door. What do you want? she asked. Why are you here?
He spoke and though she saw his lips move, it was as if his voice was inside her head. You must stop it.
“Stop what?” she said aloud. Scott looked from the doorway back to her.
