by Hanna Noble
She nodded and stretched. “Sleep sounds like a good idea. I’m exhausted.”
Cole stood up and double-checked the locks on the doors and windows, and shut off some of the lights as Naomi waited for him at the foot of the stairs. He walked up behind her, trying not to notice how her hips swayed in her jeans, how her short cap of hair showcased her long neck. He yanked his brain away from that train of thought, suddenly worried that she could read his mind. Because that would go over so well—nothing helps build trust like knowing the person you were working with was thinking about her ass in a pair of jeans.
She paused at the door of her room and turned around to face him. “Thanks for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, amused all over again at the absurdity of their situation. “I’m right down the hall if you need anything.” He waited until she closed the door before heading down the hall into his own room, flicking on the bedside lamp.
He sat on the bed for a minute and sighed. It had really been one hell of a day. The hunch he’d had a few days ago had culminated with a woman now staying in his house. Not just any woman, but the very woman he had destroyed with a few careless words.
And yet, Naomi had decided to come back and help them. She’d agreed to use her abilities again despite the price she’d paid last time.
He considered that as he got up to brush his teeth. He didn’t know what to make of what happened during their dinner. How could she have possibly known about his grandmother’s chair? His skeptical mind turned the problem over and over searching for a solution that could be explained by logic and by science.
The real question wasn’t if it was possible or not, but whether he believed that Naomi was telling the truth. His instincts said she wasn’t lying. What would she have to gain by coming back to a city that had already destroyed her once? He wanted to believe her, his newfound open-mindedness a testament to that fact. But he wasn’t ready to take that leap yet.
Peeling off his shirt and pants, he padded back toward his bed, wondering what the next day would bring. Naomi’s vision linked an otherwise unremarkable homicide to a predator who could still be on the loose. There was a lot at stake here, not the least of which were his and Owen’s careers if the Chief found out what they were up to.
There was too much to lose if he screwed this up. He needed to keep a professional distance and a clear head. He had enjoyed Naomi’s company entirely too much tonight, especially when she had started to relax, the icy shield she’d used to keep him at a distance starting to thaw.
Still, it was clear in the flashes of sadness he’d seen in her eyes, the faraway look she’d get when recounting what she’d seen during her visions, that she was still hurting. She was only a witness in this investigation, he reminded himself. He should be interested in understanding her abilities for the sake of the case, not thinking about how he’d rather see those blue eyes light up with laughter instead of looking so lost. She was a puzzle that fascinated him, and he wouldn’t stop until he knew everything there was to know about her – strictly for professional reasons of course.
Liar.
Chapter Nine
Naomi woke up the next morning to the buzzing of her cell phone. Groggy, she answered without opening her eyes. “Hello?”
“Are you out of your mind?” Gabi’s incredulous voice blasted through the speaker, waking Naomi up instantly.
“What the hell is going on?” Michelle’s voice followed a second later.
“You guys—”
“‘I’ve moved my flight and I’m going back to Boston to work with Cole. There have been developments in the Phantom case. I’ll call you tomorrow, please don’t worry.’” Naomi flinched as Gabi read the text she’d sent both of them the night before. “Don’t worry? Of course, we’re worried. What the hell is going on? Why are you in Boston? When are you coming to San Diego? Why are you working with Cole?”
“Give a girl a chance to wake up,” Naomi groused, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She glanced at the clock; it was a little before eight. “You’re up early.”
“Damn straight, I got up at 5 a.m. so I would have ample time to yell at you.” Naomi could feel the worry underneath Gabi’s bluster.
“I’m sorry, everything happened so fast.”
“No kidding,” Michelle chided, before softening her tone. “What’s going on, Nay?”
Naomi filled them in on the events that had taken place.
“Oh my God, your Knowing came back.” Gabriella’s voice reflected her shock. “The Phantom is still out there?”
“Yes,” Naomi said, trying not to shudder. “I’ve come back to see what I can do.”
“And Cole?” Michelle asked, sounding troubled.
“He’s a part of this, so we have to work together.”
There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “You don’t sound upset about this development,” Gabi said finally.
It sucked to have best friends who was practically a mind-readers themselves. Naomi didn’t bother answering, felt her face heat up.
“You called that one, Gabi,” Michelle said. “Fine, you don’t have to say anything, but consider me in the loop. You’re not doing this alone this time.”
“Yes,” Gabi agreed. “I want you to be careful. You were finally moving forward with your life, I don’t want this case to drag you back down. You don’t owe Cole anything. It’s ok for you to get on the next flight over and leave this all behind.”
“You know I can’t do that.” Not when there was a possibility that she could take a monster off the streets.
“I guess not,” Gabi sighed. “It was worth a shot. You have to call me every day.”
“Don’t we already text every day?” Naomi smiled, feeling Gabi’s warm loyalty, Michelle’s protectiveness flow into her.
“Voice,” Gabi clarified. “I want to hear your voice to make sure you’re ok. ‘Chelle?”
“Don’t worry,” Michelle replied. “I’m on it. We’ll keep you updated, and I’ll look out for her from here.”
“You don’t have to worry so much,” Naomi shook her head. “I’ll be fine. And if at any point I’m not, I’ll get on the first flight out.”
After promising them both that she’d call them back later, Naomi sat up, still fighting the grogginess that accompanied taking a double dose of sleeping pills last night. Her plan had worked; she’d slept through the night. She smiled, relieved.
She’d been so on edge, terrified she’d have another nightmare while Cole was down the hall. Feeling like her head was stuffed with cotton was a small price to pay for some peace of mind.
Doubling the dose seemed to have been an effective shield against the nightmares; maybe it would hold out against the stronger aspects of her knowing, too? She thought about it while she brushed her teeth and hair. Should she take another pill? She wasn’t ready to have a full-blown vision, to jump back into the head of someone so twisted. Slipping on a pair of leggings and a green cable sweater, she made the bed, and then picked up the prescription bottle.
She took out a pill and snapped it in two, taking one half and wrapping the other in a tissue that she slid into the front pocket of her sweater. She’d experiment, she decided, with how the pills affected her Knowing. She’d see how her impressions manifested, and then, if she felt up for it, she would stop taking the pills and open herself up to a full vision. For now, she wanted to pretend that she had some control over her instincts, that her mind wouldn’t be hijacked by a passing emotional ripple.
She made her way downstairs, finding Cole in the living room with a mug of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other. He was sprawled across the couch, a relaxed look on his face, wearing a pair of worn jeans that were frayed at the ends and a faded Harvard University sweatshirt. Naomi had the craziest urge to lie down on the couch next to him and burrow into his warmth, to go back to sleep and not have to think about murder and death. Don’t even think about it. Get this job done so you can move to San Diego w
ith peace of mind.
He looked up as she made her way past him to the kitchen.
“Morning.” His voice was still rough from sleep, and the sound sent a shiver of awareness down her spine.
“Good morning,” she replied, hoping he didn’t notice the huskiness of her reply. Get it together, she ordered herself. She was about to pour herself a cup of coffee, but hesitated. Would the caffeine counteract the pill? She couldn’t risk it. Sighing wistfully, she poured herself a glass of orange juice instead. Walking over to the living room, she eased herself into the big comfy reading chair that sat next to his grandmother’s armchair.
“How’d you sleep?” he asked, offering her sections of the paper. She selected the travel section and leaned back, eyeing his coffee with envy. She was surprised to see that he was reading the food section.
“I slept fine,” she said. Any night where she didn’t wake up thinking her hands were drenched in the blood of an innocent woman was a win for her these days. “I would have thought you were more a sports and current news reader,” she said, tilting her head to get a better look at the mouthwatering picture of a strawberry shortcake that graced the cover of the section he was reading. “That looks amazing.”
He grinned. “Sports and current news? I refuse to be that one-dimensional.” He glanced at the picture of the cake on the cover. “I like to cook. Do you like strawberry shortcake?”
She nodded, practically drooling. “It’s one of my favorites.” She would have never guessed that Cole, with his intense and brooding personality, would spend time puttering around the kitchen. She realized she didn’t really know very much about him, outside of his detective persona.
“Owen is on his way over,” he told her, folding the paper and putting it beside him. “We’re both off today so it’ll be a good time to start taking a look at those case file notes.”
She nodded, and felt her Knowing stir. An impression jumped into her head of Owen standing inside a bagel shop, debating what kind of bagels to bring over. It was fuzzy, muted by the medication, making Naomi feel more confident that her plan to buffer her abilities was working.
How nice would it be to get only these types of impressions? What if her gift could be used to help her make better decisions about breakfast? She smiled as she entertained that lovely vision of reality.
“What is it?” Cole looked at her, curious.
“Whole grain bagel, with peanut butter,” she said, instead of replying to him directly. Might as well get him used to being around someone like her. Despite his open-mindedness, she could still feel his resistance and skepticism. She wouldn’t change his worldview overnight, so maybe the easiest way was to keep sharing how her abilities helped shape her own outlook.
“Whole grain bagel, with peanut butter?” he repeated, looking confused.
“You got it.” She got to her feet and walked over to the kitchen to grab a banana. As she was slicing it up, Cole’s phone started to ring. She could hear him on the phone with Owen. He turned from where he was sitting on the couch to stare at her, repeating the order she’d given him a few seconds before.
“That was Owen,” he said after he hung up, and then smiled at her, sheepish. “I guess you already knew that.”
“I hope he gets here soon, I’m hungry.” She smiled at him, all innocence.
“Neat trick.”
“I like to think so.” She carried the plate over to the dining room and sat down. “Proper carb intake is a very high paranormal priority,” she told him with a straight face.
He snorted, as he refilled his mug of coffee and then joined her, armed with the paper. “I can’t believe I’ve been deprived of all your smart-ass comments for the past eight months,” he said, taking a sip.
“Don’t worry, Detective. I’ve been saving them for you.”
It felt nice to have company around. Being able to laugh and joke seemed like a precious gift, a reprieve from the darkness that had surrounded her for so long. They had a grim task ahead, but she wanted to extend this tentative truce that existed between them.
When Owen arrived, they’d have to get to work, but for right now, she wanted to make smart-ass remarks and read the travel section about faraway places she one day hoped to visit. She was in the middle of a piece about an up-and-coming chef in Barcelona when she heard a noise outside.
The knock on the door had her putting the paper aside as Cole went to let Owen in.
The big man entered the dining room, his cheeks red from the cold, but his brown eyes twinkling with good humor.
“I have weathered the icy hellscape outside and come bearing food,” Owen announced, as he set the two large paper bags he carried on the table. Soon, they were munching on bagels and fruit salad.
“How are you?” Owen asked between big bites of his blueberry bagel. It always amazed Naomi how much food he could pack away.
“I’m good, well rested.” She glanced over at Cole, not quite ready to dive into work yet. “I had a call from your sister this morning,” she told Owen. “She was not impressed that you were keeping secrets. She knows what’s up.”
Owen grimaced. “I’m going to get yelled at later, aren’t I?”
“Yup,” Naomi nodded. “She wants to be more involved.”
“Ok, we’ll sort it out.” Owen said. “What did I miss?”
“Nothing much,” Naomi broke off a piece of a multi-grain bagel. “We reminisced about our first meeting.”
“Is that when he called you a lying sociopath?” Owen asked, without missing a beat.
“Lying sociopathic fraud,” Naomi corrected.
Owen snapped his fingers. “That’s it.”
“Thanks a lot, partner,” Cole muttered. “Glad to see you have my back.”
Owen laughed. “Not one of your finest moments, Cole.”
Naomi was amused at Cole’s scowl.
“So we’ve established.”
She decided to cut him some slack. “It’s all in the past,” she said, as they cleaned up and settled around the dining room table. Naomi looked at the stack of files now sitting between them. “I guess we’re ready to get started,” she said, the humor of the morning’s banter fading away.
Naomi tried to calm her racing heartbeat. She was fidgeting, couldn’t get comfortable in her seat. Relax, she told herself. The medication would protect her. This would be the first time in eight months she was opening herself up to the knowing, looking for more detail then the impressions she received on a day-to-day basis. She felt Cole’s gaze, but was thankful he didn’t comment. Those cop eyes missed nothing, and she knew he had noted her unease.
Owen picked up one of the case files, and Naomi ignored the knot in her stomach. “This is Lily Martin’s file,” he said, taking out some papers and laying them on the table. There were a few photographs of Lily, the missing person report, and some of their notes.
Naomi couldn’t make herself touch the papers. Now that this moment had arrived, her hands were frozen, weighted down on the table, incapable of moving. “Can you go over it again? From the beginning?” she asked Owen, hoping to distract them into talking for a few minutes, to give her some time to regain her courage.
“Sure.” Owen picked up his notes. “A few days ago, a jogger spotted a suitcase washed up by the waterfront. He thought it seemed suspicious. He called the police and a patrol unit was sent to investigate. They found a young woman inside. Cause of death was asphyxiation.” He picked up the missing person report next. “We cross-referenced missing person reports of people matching her description and narrowed it down to a few. Lily Martin’s mother identified her on Friday. Despite the decomposition.”
Naomi hated to think of Lily alone in the water all those months.
“It’s a standard homicide,” Cole added, pulling her attention back to him. “When I arrived on scene there was something about the whole thing that seemed overly familiar. It wasn’t until I spotted the billboard with the tiara that I realized why.”
She
nodded, understanding. Her vision. It was their only link between Lily and the Phantom. They were the only ones who thought this crime was anything more than a regular murder, if a murder could be regular.
They were both watching her expectantly. “What do you want me to do?” They were waiting for her to see something, do something. She didn’t know if she could. She was terrified of what the Knowing would show her, terrified to open that part of herself up again. “Last time the visions came to me on their own.”
“Take a look at the documents,” Owen said, leaning back into his chair. They both appeared to be patient, but Naomi could feel the anticipation in the room. Once again, all eyes were on her.
She looked at the papers and pictures on the table, torn. She wanted to pick them up. She didn’t want to pick them up. She folded her hands in front of her, pretending to study the documents, pretending to be thinking about the case, instead of convincing herself not to run back upstairs and hide in her bed.
What if she saw something? What if she didn’t? She didn’t know which would be worse. What if she disappointed them? Misled them again? Leather armchairs and bagels for breakfast were psychic parlor tricks that paled in comparison to murder. Nothing could compare with being thrown out of your own body and waking up inside someone else’s head. She was afraid, she realized. Afraid of letting the Knowing show her the dark images she’d need to see to help solve this case.
A warm hand on her own.
The touch was so unexpected that it halted her frantic thoughts, had her looking up at Cole, stunned. He’d moved to her side of the table, was sitting in the chair beside her. His hand felt so warm against her cold skin that when he moved back to give her some space she wished he’d kept the contact a little longer. She was learning that it was very hard to be around Cole and not feel safe.
“Naomi.” His voice broke through her thoughts. “Take as much time as you need. We’re right here.”
She nodded, and tried to center herself. She opened her mind, enough to test the waters. Her movements tentative, she reached for the papers in front of her, choosing Lily’s picture from the missing person report. She looked at the woman’s smiling face and waited, tense.
