Harmonized

by Mary Behre

  “No, not his eye color.” She shifted in the seriously uncomfortable chair, clutching the diary through her handbag. “There’s a vibrancy in his eyes. Most people see it. I just see it with color. If he were dead, the vibrancy wouldn’t be there. It would be like looking at a photo. All flat and no life. No color. It’s weird because his eyes were brighter an hour ago—”

  “But we are looking at a photo and I sure as hell don’t see anything in this picture but a blue-eyed baby and his batshit-crazy mother.”

  “She’s not crazy! ¡Madre de Dios!” Karma slapped one hand on the table in frustration.

  “You want to keep your temper under control.” Short cop pointed a finger at her that had her biting back her words. When she put her hands back in her lap and clutched her purse, he added, “What is it you want, Ms. De La Cruz?” He’d said her name like he had a bag of dog crap under his puglike nose. “What do you want from us?”

  “It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Her temper spiked again, but she reined it in. Exhaled a slow breath and added a softness to her voice that didn’t quite mask her accent. “I want you to find the baby.”

  For a moment they said nothing. The cops glanced at each other, their expressions as disbelieving as if she’d said she had a unicorn in her car. She needed to make them understand. These jerks had to help find Wesley, since Ziggy obviously had no intention of helping. Throwing caution to the bitter February wind she began, “There’s something you should know—”

  “When we find him, you expect to be compensated, right?” Short cop gave her a grin that was nothing short of wicked.

  “No! I—” Panic clawed at her. They not only didn’t believe her, they thought she was here for financial gain. “I don’t care about money. It’s the baby. He’s—”

  “Dead.” The mustache cop pumped a fist on the table. “Gwyn Bremer jumped off a bridge with her kid in her arms, in front of witnesses. You should have done your homework on the suspect before you danced in here with some cockamamie story about being friends and seeing auras. You have to be the worst psychic we’ve ever dealt with.”

  The short one laughed. “Yeah, you see auras but you suck at judging people.”

  His barb hit a little too close to the truth. Or what had been a truth long ago. Today, her vision and judgment were in perfect accord.

  The smug cops thought they were so funny. What they didn’t know was she saw their auras; the same color as when they’d sauntered into the room, looming like the Incredible Hulk of intimidation.

  Her belly jittered with nerves. They didn’t believe her. They didn’t want to believe her. Their suspicious, ant-size brains couldn’t comprehend someone like her being out for anything but money. She recognized the color of distrust, disbelief. Still, she had to try, for Wesley’s sake. For Gwyn’s.

  “Did you know Gwyn was afraid for her life?” The cops shifted back in their seats, and crossed their arms over their chests, like synchronized dancers. “It’s why I came to Tidewater last month. Gwyn had a problem with her birthing coach and needed me to fill in.”

  “What sort of problem?”

  “I don’t know. She never explained.”

  “Huh. So we have a jumper who, according to you, was afraid for her life.” Mustache cop glanced at his partner. “You hearing what I am?”

  “Yeah, Esmerelda here knows she’s missing out on money and coming up with a new story.” He pulled a face and nodded as if begrudgingly agreeing. “We could arrest her for filing a false police report. What do you think?”

  Her heart took a swan dive into her belly. The hostility in the room ratcheted up eighty percent.

  “No need for that. I’m going.” Karma was smart enough to know when to back down. José, her dickhead of a stepfather, had taught her that in spades back in Mexico. Rising to her feet, she tugged on her coat and shouldered her purse. “I can see I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

  “Don’t you want to tell us our fortunes before you go?”

  “Yeah, tell us about another case you can help out on? There are some missing dogs that need to be found. I’m sure I have a photo of some lost fidos around here somewhere.” The shorter one snorted.

  Karma inhaled through her nose and refused to let their jabs affect her. Much. “The only dogs whose auras I see are the human kind in this room.”

  She strode out of the room, her head held high. She didn’t look around for Ziggy, but hurried out of the station. She kept her pace brisk all the way to her car. When she climbed inside and slammed the door, all of her strength sapped from her. She didn’t have the energy to spend the five minutes it would take to convince the engine to turn over. And she seriously wasn’t in the mood to listen to it make a cadre of obscene noises before it chugged painfully to life. Instead, she pressed her head against the steering wheel and closed her eyes. Exhaustion swamped her. She’d hardly slept since Gwyn’s hospitalization. Sick with worry for the baby and for her friend, Karma gave herself a few minutes.

  It made her think of something her mother had always said: “Don’t stew the grief, Carmelita. Do something about it.”

  And do something about it she would, just as soon as she figured out what to do. Maybe she would need to go to her father. He had been a well-respected member of the police before he retired. If anyone could get the cops moving on Gwyn’s case, it was Daddy.

  Her stomach rolled over at the thought of facing him again. The last time she’d seen him had been the beginning of the end of her life in the United States. The bitter words she’d said to him that day still haunted her.

  Well, facing her father couldn’t be worse than seeing Ziggy again, could it?

  The cold disdain in Zig’s beautiful eyes cut her sharper than any Henckels knife. The idea of him finally being near her again and hating her did something she didn’t think was possible. It broke her heart all over again.

  It was ridiculous to be hurt after all this time but deep down she had always harbored a secret hope that when she saw Zig again, he’d still love her.

  What an idiot.

  And the disgust she’d seen on Zig’s face only stole away her will to face her father. If she couldn’t face Daddy or the rest of the family, where would that leave Gwyn and the baby?

  Well, she’d just have to suck it up.

  In a few minutes.

  “How am I going to find Wesley now?” she mumbled into the cold car.

  Chapter Three

  Zig changed out of his uniform in the locker room of the station. Dressed in his street clothes, he was ready to call it a night. Maybe he’d go to the bar and get a beer or go back to his place and watch some basketball. Anything to take his mind off seeing Karma again. God, he hated that being in her presence for fifteen minutes had eviscerated him. And he’d thought he’d gotten over her long ago.

  He was a freaking fool.

  The door to the locker room opened, jarring him from his thoughts. Reynolds and O’Dell strode in, laughing. The pair of idiots stopped in the doorway, seemingly oblivious to Zig’s attempt to exit. His shoulder ached. His good humor a thing of the distant past, he shifted the duffle on his right shoulder and stared at them. “Excuse me.”

  They ignored him. Or knowing them, they were ignoring him to try to make him say “sir.” He wouldn’t do it. Not this afternoon. He was done.

  “Did she really think she could con us?” Reynolds’s laughter, edged with bitterness, bounced off the walls. “Comes in to tell us about a case where we have the killer cold. And what was that bull about auras? Crazy bitch.”

  Zig tensed and reminded himself to keep his mouth shut. These two were his superiors. Still, he wasn’t going to stand there and listen to them dis Karma. He needed to check on her. Assuming she was still here. “Excuse me,” he said, louder than before.

  They continued ignoring him.

  “You know, I think she called
us dogs.”

  O’Dell’s words brought a silent smile to Zig’s lips and made standing there tolerable.

  “She rattled something off in Spanish at the end; I don’t know what she was babbling.”

  “Perros means dogs, doesn’t it?” O’Dell propped his hands on his hips. “She did call us dogs.”

  “Ah, now my feelings are real hurt. I don’t think I’m gonna see her no more.” Reynolds pulled a mock frown, then laughed. He clapped O’Dell on the shoulder and nudged him through the locker room door. “Come on, let’s go home. Tomorrow we’ll come back and work on a real case that isn’t already closed. One that actually needs solving.”

  Without ever acknowledging Zig, the pair headed toward the back of the locker room, presumably toward the backdoor exit. Their departure made him twice as happy to leave through the front, despite his truck being parked around back.

  Zig could tell himself that he took another route to avoid the asshole twins, but he knew himself too well. He had one reason only for going out the front door. Karma.

  He shouldn’t do this. Hadn’t he just tried to dump her on Reynolds and O’Dell? Not really. They were never gonna believe her. No, right now, he was the only cop at the station with the ability to trust in Karma’s visions.

  Barely through the front door and Zig saw her car. The beat-up ancient Toyota Karma had driven in college. The freakishly ugly car she’d bought freshman year, painted herself, and dubbed the Purple Monster. That beast barely ran a decade ago, how she kept it going now, had to be nothing short of the grace of God.

  The gloomy afternoon had slipped into a morose, dark evening. The street lamp hummed to life beside the Monster, casting Karma’s silhouette in a depressing shadow. In the driver’s seat, head bowed, shoulders sagging, she appeared utterly defeated.

  His damned fool heart ached in sympathy. He was actually moving toward her before his brain had engaged. Once his gray matter kicked in, his strides shortened but didn’t stop. He needed the extra few seconds to think. Really think about getting involved with her again, especially on a case that Reynolds and O’Dell had already declared closed.

  She’d left him. She hadn’t come back for him. She’d only spoken to him because she had no one else.

  And yeah, maybe a part of his brain was in agreement with the need pulsing through his chest to comfort her. Her father was a respected, retired lieutenant from the Oceanfront division. After she’d taken off, he’d learned from one of her many cousins that she and dear old Dad had had a serious falling-out. Serious enough that she’d broken off contact with the entire McKinnon clan. Had they ever patched things up?

  If not, then she truly was alone.

  And needed him.

  The only way to know for sure was to ask.

  He rapped his knuckles twice on the driver’s-side window.

  Karma’s head snapped up so fast, she banged it against the headrest. She mumbled a curse then sighed.

  Trying not to laugh, Zig gestured for her to roll down the window.

  He shuffled from foot to foot, the cold seeping through his cheap canvas sneakers while she fought with her window. It lowered an inch. She continued to struggle with the crank until there was a distinctive snap.

  Seconds later, Karma held up half of a broken handle. Her beautiful eyes filled with chagrin, she tossed the handle into the backseat, and shoved open the car door.

  Rising like Aphrodite from a purple car, Karma faced him. “You’ve come to have a go at me now?” She spread her arms wide. “Go for it. I probably deserve it. Just know that I came to you and those jerks for help. Not for me but for a defenseless baby. But if you want to grind my nose into the pavement for old hurts, fine.”

  Karma jutted her chin out defiantly and shut her eyes, arms still spread as if expecting crucifixion. She shivered in her ridiculous excuse for a coat. The material was too flimsy and thin for a winter in Virginia. No doubt she’d put it on because it matched her shoes. Another old, familiar habit of hers that touched a space inside of him he’d hadn’t believed still existed.

  Zig dropped his bag to the ground and shucked off his leather coat. He started to slide it onto one of her arms when her eyes flew open.

  “What are you doing?” She tried to pull back, but was pinned between the open car door and him.

  “Putting a coat on you. You’re shivering.” He managed to get one sleeve on her and went to work on the other one when she dropped her arms.

  “I have a coat on.”

  “No, you have a jacket.” He continued to slip the coat on her. “This is a coat. It keeps you warm, even in the sleet.” When silence followed his statement, he searched for something else to say. “Unless you’ve put money into the Purple Monster, it probably still doesn’t have heat.”

  “It didn’t need a heater in Mexico. Why do you care if I’m cold?” Her words came out soft and heavily accented. It wasn’t anger tinging her tone, but sadness. And damn if that didn’t piss him off.

  He shouldn’t care if she was sad or angry.

  But he did. Not that he had to tell her.

  She looked adorable in his brown leather coat. Not that he’d tell her that either. It confused the hell out of him. Not because he hated her but because he didn’t. Why didn’t he hate her? Because he fucking wanted to. Instead, he was freezing his balls off because he’d lent her his coat.

  He took two steps back. “Does it matter why I care?”

  “Yes.” There it was in her eyes: that look of trust and freaking hope. “I thought I was all drama to you.”

  “You are all about the drama.” He instantly regretted his quip when she sucked in a breath. Reaching for her hand, he said, “But generally psychics have that around them in spades, so it’s only fair it spills out sometimes.”

  Karma pulled away and crossed her arms over her chest. Her gaze bore into him, assessing, analyzing.

  It was a look that had him doubting his decision to check on her. She appeared almost calculating. Something in his gut jolted. Could she really be here for some nefarious reason?

  “Will you come with me?” she asked after several intense moments.

  “Where?”

  “I want you to see Gwyn for yourself. It will convince you that I’m right and that Wesley is still alive. I didn’t get very far with the cops inside.” She muttered something under her breath in Spanish then added in English, “They were too busy mocking me to hear what I had to say.”

  “I take it the journal didn’t convince them?”

  She bit her lower lip. “I didn’t show it to them. After what you said, I didn’t want to risk getting into trouble for how I came by it. But if you come with me now, I’ll show it to you. Maybe between that and seeing Gwyn for yourself, you’ll believe I’m right. Will you come? Trust me to show you the truth.”

  Zig stared into her warm, hopeful eyes for a long time. God, it would be so easy to fall for her again. They’d hardly spoken a civil word to each other earlier, yet he came running out here to check on her after he’d heard the assholes inside joking about her.

  And hell, he was still half aroused seeing her in his coat. Only the chilly February sleet cooled his skin.

  Zig doubted seeing a jumper in a coma would convince him of anything. But the hope lighting her eyes had him nodding. He wasn’t sure if he was humoring her or using her request as an excuse to stay with her a little longer.

  God, he was so screwed up. He didn’t know what the hell he wanted. But if there was any chance that the baby was alive, he had to help.

  “All right, two conditions.” He pointed at her car. “I drive. That thing wasn’t safe a decade ago. There’s no way I’m riding in that in this weather.”

  She rolled her eyes at him, but nodded. “Deal. What’s the other condition?”

  “Show me what’s in the diary before we get there.”


  “And you’ll come see Gwyn?” Relief lit Karma’s eyes. “You’ll trust me?”

  “Sure, I’ll come.”

  Trust her again? Never gonna happen.

  ***

  “What’s in the diary?” Zig asked in that smooth, sexy tone of his. Crazy that just hearing his voice in person again could rev Karma’s engine.

  “Lots,” she said as Zig merged into traffic and headed toward the highway.

  Karma had twenty minutes to explain her theory before they pulled into the hospital parking lot. She hoped twenty minutes was long enough.

  Taking the journal from her purse, she opened it to an entry from six weeks earlier. “Before I read what’s in the diary, you need a background on Gwyn, since you clearly don’t remember her from school.”

  Zig grunted, shrugged casually. “Go for it.”

  “Gwyn is a single mom. Her mother is very religious. Very, very religious. The moment she learned Gwyn was pregnant and unmarried, she disowned her. I’m talking old school, turn-your-back-on-someone dead-to-me disowned.”

  “That must have been hard for her.” Zig stopped for a red light. “You realize you’re giving me a possible motive for her to kill herself and the baby, right?”

  Frustration bled through Karma. “Just wait and hear the whole story before you make up your mind.”

  He shrugged and then turned the truck onto the highway.

  “Anyway, Gwyn and I had been in touch. She mentioned she was doing well, despite being alone. She said she liked her new apartment. Her job as a computer programmer meant she could work from home while she got ready for the baby. Her biggest complaint was that she was lonely.”

  “Again, motive.” His words were tinged with sympathy.

  “People don’t murder children because they’re lonely.” Karma hissed a breath between her teeth.

  “Karma, people kill themselves every day because they feel alone.” Zig must have seen the impatience leaching out of her because he added, “Tell me why this wasn’t a suicide attempt.”