by Hanna Noble
“What do you mean?” Naomi said, focusing on his face instead of the olive-colored skin that was now exposed at his throat, the deep baritone of his voice.
Focus, dummy!
“Some of the older gyms only keep footage for fourteen days, and they re-write over the drives,” Owen explained. Naomi turned to look at him, grateful for the distraction. “This gym was state of the art, and that included new digital security technology. They store the information in the cloud and have footage going back nearly three years.”
Cole pulled out a laptop computer from his bag and turned it on. “They’ve shared their data with us. I’ve asked for the thirty-day period surrounding Lily’s disappearance. Two weeks before she vanished and two weeks afterwards.”
He pulled up some files. Owen, Michelle, and Naomi pulled their chairs closer to his, and the four of them peered into the screen. They stared at a giant spreadsheet of columns filled with numbers. Naomi had no idea what she was looking at.
She exchanged a confused glance with Owen, who shrugged.
“Every member who signs up gets a number,” Cole explained, pointing to one of the columns. “Whenever they sign in or out or order something from the juice bar, they have to swipe their card, which creates a log of that activity.” He pulled out a piece of paper from the folder on the table in front of them. “This is Lily’s membership number. Now I can search for it in this database and track her movements.”
He clicked on a few buttons and the data in front of them was sorted by membership numbers. “See these numbers”—he indicated the column in front of him—“these are Lily’s movements and purchases.”
“There must be at least a hundred pages,” Owen said, looking at the document. “I can’t believe they can track all this stuff. It’s a little Big Brother to me.”
“Welcome to the age of zero privacy,” Naomi muttered. It felt odd seeing a person’s actions translated into data on a computer screen. “How does this help us? Don’t we already know she left the gym after her class?”
“Yes, but this will help us narrow down our search. I’ve sorted this information by date. So now we can see Lily’s movements on the night of her death. We know exactly what time she came in and what time she left.” He looked over at Owen and gestured for the box that he’d set on the table. “That way we don’t have to watch hours of security tape, we can just put in the hard drive with the right code and see the footage we need right away.”
Naomi nodded. “We can find the exact time she ordered a drink from the juice bar.” She looked at the box of DVDs now sitting in front of them. “Hand me a few of those. Let’s see if we can find the right one.”
“You catch on quick,” he said, with smile that had her stomach fluttering. She ignored it and passed a few of the discs to Michelle and Owen.
They spent the next few minutes searching through the DVD labels. “Got it,” Owen said, pulling out one disk. “This is labeled Juice Bar July 11, 7:00 p.m. shift.” He handed it to Cole to load into the laptop.
On the screen appeared several small windows, each of them showing the juice bar at a different angle. There wasn’t any sound. Naomi spotted Jerry with his goatee standing behind the bar. Another screen showed the doorway to the juice bar area, and the third showed the tables and chairs where clients could sit and chat.
The footage showed a steady stream of people coming in and out, ordering beverages and food, and gathering to hang out by the tables.
“It’s a busy place, gets a lot of traffic,” she said, keeping her eyes peeled for Lily.
“According to the spreadsheet, she ordered her drink at 8:45 p.m., after her class. She should be here any minute now,” Cole said, his eyes fixed to the screen.
“There.” Michelle pointed, and Cole hit the pause button. They all leaned in to get a closer look. “That’s her.”
Naomi nodded, recognizing the woman right away. Lily Martin was wearing yoga pants and a tank top. Her auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail, a few curls falling loose around her face. Naomi couldn’t help the shudder that passed through her body. Cole looked over at her. “Are you ok?”
“I’m fine,” she straightened her back. “It’s surreal to see her alive.” Especially since Naomi had seen her in her dreams. The girl in this video didn’t know what fate awaited her, that this juice and this workout would be her last. “Let’s keep watching.”
Cole looked at her for a moment longer, and then resumed the tape. They watched in silence as the scene unfolded in front of them. Lily walked up to the bar. Jerry’s face lit up with a smile, and they chatted while he prepared her juice. Another man joined them at the bar, and Lily turned to him in greeting, her profile showing up on the camera.
“They seem to be flirting,” Naomi said. Lily was smiling and laughing, her face animated. They watched as she nodded at something he said, and the two grabbed their drinks and moved away from the bar, leaving a crestfallen Jerry behind.
“Look at his face,” Michelle pointed. “He looks devastated.”
“They sat down,” Owen said, spotting the couple in the third screen, showing the eating area. “She seems to be having a pretty good time.”
Naomi saw Lily and the man she was with chatting up a storm for twenty minutes. They left the gym together. Cole stopped the tape and looked at Naomi.
“You were right about her having met someone,” he said. “Let’s see if we can figure out who that guy is. I’ll look up who made a juice bar purchase at the same time as Lily.” He switched over to the spreadsheet and started pressing more buttons. “Here is it,” he said. “Member number 44567.”
Owen stood up. “I’ll call the gym and get the name.” The gym had only provided the membership numbers to protect the privacy of the clients who weren’t being investigated. He already had the phone to his ear as he walked down the hallway.
Michelle checked her watch. “I have to be back in the lab in an hour. I’m going to check in with my research partner,” she said following Owen, leaving Naomi alone with Cole.
“You seem to know your way around a spreadsheet,” she commented, trying to ignore the fact that they were once again alone, sitting at the dining room table. This time there was even less room between them. When had tables become such hot zones for sexual tension?
“Once upon a time, I thought I would be a businessman,” he said, looking over at her. “I took a semester of business administration before switching out to criminology.”
“I didn’t know you went to college,” she said. “You seemed so well suited to being a cop that I assumed you went directly into the academy.”
Cole shrugged. “It’s not a big deal,” he said, and Naomi was surprised to see him turning red. “I like learning about stuff.”
“Me, too, I loved being in school,” she said, and was pleased to see his smile. “I studied history and then switched to classic English literature.”
“From real old stories to made-up old stories?”
“Something like that,” she said, amused.
They both looked up when Owen came back into the room. “I’ve got a name,” he said, sitting back down. “David Roberts. I’ve already called the station asking them to run it, to see if anything comes up. It will take a little while.”
Naomi cleared her throat. “What about Jerry?” She hated herself for asking the question but needed to know that the man who had longed after Lily had not been the one who had done her harm. But, more often than not, violence against a woman was perpetrated by someone the victim knew.
She shuddered at the thought, true as it was. Surely, she would have picked up on that, wouldn’t she? She had touched the man’s hand, and all she had felt was the bittersweet tinge of a missed opportunity. “Tell me he has an alibi.”
Cole checked the spreadsheet again. He had a list of the employees’ numbers so it didn’t take him long to track down Jerry. “It says here he was on the late shift. The gym is open twenty-four hours, so he didn’t leave until
around 2 a.m. By that time ...”
Naomi felt a sigh of relief move through her. “By that time, it was already too late, so he couldn’t have done it. I’m glad to hear it.” She looked over at him. “What do we do now?”
Cole exchanged glances with Owen, as if considering something. “We could go to Lily’s apartment,” he suggested, watching for Naomi’s reaction. “CSI finished with their first pass, but it’s still sectioned off. We should have the report in a few days. They’ll have to come back if they need to follow up on anything, but as long as we’re careful not to disturb the crime scene, we should be fine.”
Naomi stared, not knowing what to say. She’d been happy in the safe bubble of Cole’s house, but visiting the place where Lily had lived and died was another story.
“We don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Owen said, and Naomi knew they would never force her.
“Do what?” Michelle asked from the door, tilting her head in question.
“Go to Lily Martin’s house,” Naomi replied, her mind racing.
Wasn’t this why she’d come here? She wanted to prove that her abilities had been right, and to help catch whoever had killed Lily. She couldn’t hide forever.
There was a strong chance she’d pick up impressions, even a vision, considering that she already felt connected to Lily and to the killer. If she was ever going to leave for San Diego with a clear conscious, she would have to face these fears, risk opening herself up to more horrors in order to see the truth.
“Naomi?” Cole’s voice was soft, questioning. She realized she still hadn’t said anything. She felt her face heating up.
“Forget I mentioned it,” he said. “It was a dumb idea.”
“No,” she said quickly. “It’s ok, I’ll go.”
“Wait,” Michelle furrowed her brow, worried. “I’ll cancel my lab. I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’ll be completely fine,” Naomi tried to sound reassuring, tried not to betray her uncertainty. “We don’t need three people to come with me. Cole and Owen are more than enough. I’ll be ok.”
“Are you sure?”
Naomi nodded. “Yes. Go to your lab. I’ll call you later.”
Michelle looked over at her brother. “Owen.” An unspoken message passed between them.
Owen nodded. “Don’t worry, we won’t let anything happen to her.”
Sliding her arms into her coat, Michelle turned to face her. “If anything happens you call me.” She paused. “If nothing happens, call me. Hell, just call me, ok?”
“I will,” Naomi promised. “Now go, you’re going to be late.”
“Be safe, Nay.”
Accepting Michelle’s fierce hug, letting the love she felt from her friend give her strength, Naomi turned to face Cole. “Give me few minutes to change.”
Not giving him time to reply, she raced upstairs and put on a black knit turtleneck and a pair of jeans. She paused in front of the nightstand, then opened the drawer and pulled out her sleeping pills. She stared at the bottle, unsure of what to do.
She could feel Owen and Cole’s eagerness to catch a break, to find the clue that would help them narrow their search for Lily’s killer. She wanted to give them that, but the thought of it made her shake. She wasn’t ready to have a full vision yet, not to mention to have one in front of Cole and Owen.
If they thought her impressions were spooky, her visions would throw them completely. She felt like a selfish coward, too scared to see the truth and too worried about what people thought to use her abilities to help someone.
Her fingers clenched around the bottle. She was weak, she admitted, feeling a pang of deep sadness. Too weak to bear the curse of these abilities, too afraid of being seen as a freak, or worse, a fraud. She took a whole pill before she headed back downstairs.
They were waiting for her in the hallway. Cole searched her face, his grey eyes watchful. She avoided his gaze and walked out, climbing into the backseat of his dark blue SUV, with Owen driving and Cole sitting in the passenger seat. As they pulled out Cole turned to face her.
“If at any time you want to leave or stop, just say the words.” He was serious, all their earlier teasing gone. “Ok?”
Naomi nodded.
“Good.” He nodded. “We’ll be right there with you, the entire time.”
He turned back around and missed her wince.
Right there with her? She felt her stomach drop. She didn’t know if that was supposed to make her feel better or worse.
Chapter Fifteen
As he reached in his pocket for the key to Lily Martin’s apartment, Cole felt his heart hammering. Naomi was supposed to be the psychic, but he could feel her tension increase with each passing moment.
She was silent behind him, her gaze fixed on the floor, wearing the protective booties and gloves that would ensure they left the crime scene undisturbed. Maybe it was because she was flanked by Owen, but she seemed small, standing in a hallway of green wooden doors, all identical except for the splash of bright yellow police tape stretched across one of them.
He paused before opening the door. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he said, trying to catch her gaze, to get a glimpse of what she was thinking. When she wouldn’t look up, he glanced at Owen, unsure of what to do.
Owen reached a hand to touch her shoulder. “Say the word, and we’ll turn around and go back to the car. We can try this another time.”
“It’s ok.” Naomi looked at him, her expression hooded. “Let’s go in.”
Cole opened the door and moved the tape aside, allowing Naomi and Owen to enter. The one-bedroom apartment was cheerfully decorated and clean, not counting the accumulation of dust from the past eight months.
It had a shabby chic quality to it that spoke of Lily’s desire to create a home for herself, despite a limited budget. An old black couch sat in one corner of the room, bracketed by two small side tables. Two wooden bookshelves, nearly bursting with paperback novels, knickknacks, and picture frames leaned against the back wall of the room. The place felt lived in, cozy.
He stepped back into the tiny kitchen, giving Naomi some room. “Feel free to look around,” he said. He’d been here several times with Owen as they’d worked with CSI to collect evidence and had gotten a good idea of the vibrant woman Lily had been.
Naomi took a few hesitant steps into the living room, walking toward the bookcases. Cole watched as she looked over the picture frames. She turned to observe the living room, and went still, not moving. He looked at Owen, who shrugged his shoulders. Neither one of them was sure how exactly this would work, what would happen when she was in a place where one of the victims had lived and died. If her theory about energy was right, he was pretty sure they’d walked into an area with a high concentration.
With a start, he realized this was her first crime scene. The last time they’d worked together she had brought them information. They had never taken her to any locations. He watched her now, worried. At the first sign of trouble, he was getting her the hell out of there.
Naomi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He wondered what she was sensing. This was a bad idea, he thought, regretting bringing her here. They needed her help, but he hated that they were asking her to open herself up to this ugliness.
He didn’t know where this protective urge had come from, but he felt a strange need to keep her safe. Maybe it was the way she had clenched her fists before they’d entered, but had gone in anyway. She was still in the middle of the room, motionless, her eyes closed.
She looked like she would crumble at the faintest touch, though he knew that wasn’t the case. Underneath the faint tremors he could see shaking her frame was a spine made of pure steel. She kept surprising him with her courage, with her willingness to face uncomfortable situations. She was the type of woman who would stand beside you, no matter what came your way. The unbidden thought jumped into his mind, and for the first time Cole found himself not shying away from the idea of pursuing some
thing with Naomi for real, once this story was behind them.
His thoughts were interrupted when she opened her eyes and turned around. “I need to go into the bedroom,” she said, her voice quiet. “Alone.”
Cole and Owen exchanged uneasy glances. It was clear that Owen was fighting the same protective instincts. Now that they were here, it didn’t seem like the best idea to have her walking into the heart of darkness where a young woman had lost her life.
“Naomi,” Owen began, taking a step forward. He stopped when she held up her hand.
“Your energy is distracting me. I need some space to be able to get a clear read.” Her voice was calm, belying the anxiety he knew she was feeling. He studied her face; she seemed almost resigned somehow, as though she knew what she was about to face was inevitable.
Shit. It was stupid of him, but he hadn’t fully thought about the practical and logistical implications of how Naomi would get her information and what she might pick up from a space like this. She was already walking toward the bedroom, and Cole took a step forward to follow, only to be pulled back by Owen.
“Leave her be,” his partner said. “She needs to do this on her own terms. We’ve asked enough of her tonight.”
Cole knew Owen was right. He could only stand there, feeling helpless, as she disappeared from view in the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. He huffed out a breath. “I don’t like this. I know it was my idea, but damn it, I don’t like this at all.”
“Me neither. And it wasn’t only your idea, it was our idea, so whatever happens we’re going to share the blame equally.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better right now,” Cole muttered, straining to hear any sounds from the silent bedroom. He scowled at his watch. The seconds seemed to be passing with excruciating slowness. She’d only been in there for a few minutes, but it already felt like hours.
“Does that mean you’re a believer now?” Owen murmured, his gaze fixed on the closed bedroom door.
“I can’t say I believe in psychics in general, but Naomi has been pretty convincing,” Cole said, checking his watch again. One more minute had passed. “She doesn’t want publicity, and she’s got nothing to gain from pretending to do what she does.” A fact he’d wished he’d clued into eight months sooner.
