“Sushi is fine,” Caleb said quietly. He gently touched a hand to the girl’s shoulder and next to Destin, Oz tensed. Destin could feel the other woman’s mama-bear instincts flaring but it was unneeded.
Monica looked up at Caleb with the sort of smile people usually saved for lifelong friends.
Yeah, he had that effect on people. He’d always had the ability to calm even the most jumpy of souls.
“Good.” She shot her mother another nervous glance and Oz smiled at her as well, but it didn’t seem to have the soothing effect that Caleb’s had had.
As the other two pushed inside, Destin loitered out there with Oz another moment. “You two don’t get along well.”
“We don’t get along at all,” Oz said, her voice grim. “But it doesn’t matter. We’re here about a job, right?”
“That’s why I’m here,” Destin said quietly. “But you’re here because your daughter was one of the victims… Oz, why didn’t you tell me?”
Oz flinched. A visible shudder wracked her body before she got her emotions under control. The emotions, though, they continued to twist and torment her and because Destin had yet to shield herself the way she needed to, she picked up on that uncomfortable little merry-go-round.
“You work best when you have no connection to the job you’re working, Destin, you know that,” Oz said, her voice cool and level.
And if Destin hadn’t just taken that little ride through Oz’s emotions, she might have bought it. As it was, her gut was twisting and turning, full of too much emotion, too much chaos.
Oz could play the unaffected bit all she wanted, but Destin didn’t know why she bothered.
Whether they were estranged or not, the girl inside that restaurant was Oz’s daughter. She was affected by this no matter what.
The past thirty minutes had been one long, awful headache.
Destin had tried to ask Monica questions.
Oz fielded them.
This is getting nowhere fast, Caleb thought moodily.
Sliding Destin a look, he caught her eye. A thousand words passed unspoken between them and Caleb shifted his attention back to Oz. “Oz, maybe you and I should go for a walk outside.”
“Not necessary,” she said, waving a hand.
Caleb looked over at the girl and saw that she had her attention almost completely on her hands. Her food was untouched and she’d drank an entire pot of tea. Running on too little sleep, too much nerve and all kinds of fear.
“Monica.”
She looked at him, her mouth pinched and tight, her eyes too dark in her face.
“You know what your mom does, right?”
She nodded, a short, jerky nod while she clenched her hands together in front of her, her fingers knotting and twisting over and over.
“You know what she does.”
Now some of the fear flickered and she looked up, the fear fading away until when she looked at them, her expression was clear and smooth as a doll’s. “I know. Lovely, honorable job…and she was never there for me. Never there for my dad.”
“Monica, I—”
She shook her head. “Enough, Mom. It’s old news. You saved so many, but you couldn’t save those closest to you. Not us, not your family…and not me.” Blowing out a breath, she passed a hand over her eyes and then glanced over at Oz. “Let me talk to your…agent. Whatever she is. You had her come here for a reason, we might as well get this done.” Then she curled her lip. “She’s wasting her time, though. Nobody has been able to find this bastard. She’s not going to be any different.”
“If that’s what you think, then you don’t know as much about what your mom does as you think,” Destin said quietly. As she leaned forward, she covered Monica’s nervous, pale hands with her own.
Caleb felt that familiar little hum when Destin reached out to connect with Monica.
Monica barely felt anything. It happened that way sometimes. Especially when the person had no psychic skill.
But Caleb felt that hum spread, rising to a steady roar in the back of his mind as the connection built.
“Oz.”
She lifted her head to stare at him, refusal glinting in her eyes.
Part of him wondered if it mattered, though. Destin wasn’t looking at her, and neither was Monica. The two women seemed intent on each other and neither of the other two mattered.
Oz clenched her jaw as she eased back from the table and rose to her feet. Her eyes slid past Monica’s head to rest on Destin’s face for a moment and then she looked at Caleb.
As she circled around the table, Caleb decided it was a good thing he no longer worked under her. She would have made the next few weeks, the next few months of his life difficult.
They were barely outside when Oz cut the silent routine. “I don’t need to be cut out from matters concerning my daughter,” she said, her voice icy.
“The problem is, you’re getting in the way.” Caleb shrugged and crossed his arms over his chest, staring in through the glass. It wasn’t as easy to follow out here and he had to keep a tenuous connection or Oz would figure it out—
“Can you still read her?”
Mentally, he cursed. He’d never told Oz about the weird connection he shared with Destin. But apparently, it didn’t matter. She’d figured it out on her own. With an easy shrug, he lied through his teeth. “It’s been a long time, Oz. We’re trying to find our groove again and it’s taking a while.”
The look in her eyes said she didn’t believe him.
Caleb didn’t care.
Destin was upset. He could feel it, although he wasn’t tuned in enough to figure out the cause.
Images more than anything. Darkness. The scrape of concrete against his back—residual memory from Monica.
A panicked cry and then hands covering her mouth, slamming her wrists down onto the pavement. Hurried, low voices. “What the fuck—she’s not out…” That voice… Monica knew that voice. And he sensed it as Destin thought, Gotta remember that…one of the other girls recognized a voice…
It was straining Destin’s control, though. Uncertain if he could make this connection without touching her, he reached out anyway and watched as some of the tension faded from her shoulders. Saw as she flicked him a quick glance when Monica bowed her head.
The connection between them deepened and some of that misery she was feeling, he pulled it into himself, watched as a bit more strain faded from her eyes.
Everything else around him faded, burning away into white noise. Oz said something and he knew he replied, figured it was probably a logical answer because she didn’t keep yapping at him. But he had no idea what she’d asked. What he’d said.
Just Destin, as she relived a girl’s attack.
He felt the pain as powerful hands threatened to crush fragile bones. Felt his rage tear through him only to all but drown under the onslaught of fear.
Laughter cut through the strange spell that gripped him, piercing the silence, but never quite penetrating it. That part of his mind that still functioned, kept him upright, kept him from drooling or walking out in traffic, made a mental note that the place was getting crowded. People flowing into the restaurant. None of them mattered.
Just Destin. Just her.
And through their connection, he felt Destin stiffen.
Chapter Twelve
It hit too hard.
Monica had remembered far more than she realized, buried under a thin, tough shield that had gotten her through the awful days, the horrible nights. Destin kept that thin shield in place, determined not to damage it. If that was how Monica needed to get through this, more power to her.
But now the images were dancing through Destin’s mind.
A face…
That security guard.
It had been him.
Destin didn’t know how, didn’t know why she couldn’t get a read on him, but he was involved.
And…
Her mind fought to lock on the next face.
It was
hard, though, because Monica was rebelling, resisting the connection even as Destin fought to keep it. Resisting, because Monica knew the boy. Those memories were hidden, muzzy by drugs and fear and denial… Denial because she knew him. Knew him. Liked him. Trusted him.
And that made it so much harder. So even though some part of her knew, she tucked that knowledge deep inside her and hid it away.
I’m sorry…you have to let me see him…
“Monica, hey! Now what is this…they know I like when you sit in my section…”
And that fragile shield shattered. Monica’s breath hitched, and caught.
With her shields low, Destin was completely exposed. Not just to Monica’s memories…but his.
Stupid cunt. You always got to fucking ignore me. You twitch your little ass and think I don’t see, but I do. Now I’m going to show you—
Hot, hungry need. The desire to control. The hurt. Laughter…memories of a man watching this girl. Even here…
Here, in this place where she claimed to feel safe.
Slowly, Destin looked up and focused.
He had a nice face.
That was all she could think.
He had a nice face.
And he stood there next to Monica, smiling down at her like he had every right to do so. Like he hadn’t been one of the two men to grab her, throw her down and rape her.
Monica looked a little dazed and Destin realized she hadn’t done as good a job as she’d hoped, keeping her connection apart from the girl. With a confused look on her face, Monica looked up at the guy next to the table and some of the fear, some of the memories she tried to hide from started to break free. “Hey, Cory…ah, I didn’t know you were working today.” And her voice trembled.
“I’m…” He eyed her oddly and his words trailed off as Destin rose.
His lids flickered and she felt his alarm spike. He felt so smug, secure in the knowledge that Monica might not have been completely out of it when they raped her, but she didn’t remember it…he got off it on still. Destin could feel all of that and it infuriated her.
Now he worried.
Something he saw in Monica’s eyes worried him.
But the look on Destin’s face worried him even more.
Damn, she thought sourly. I need to work on that.
He turned to walk away. Destin glanced toward the front of the restaurant and her gut clenched in icy warning.
Oz had seen it. All of it.
And this kid had no chance of keeping Oz out of his head.
The woman at the door would kill him, Destin realized.
Let her…some quiet voice whispered.
A million thoughts seemed to hurtle through her mind.
She could stay there, blind and ignorant of what would come.
It would maybe even be justice.
Maybe.
No, it wouldn’t.
Because there was more to this than just this boy. And her best chance of seeing it through was going to be through him. That all died if Oz got a hold of him.
Nausea and pain churned inside her as she realized she had a chance to do penance here. In a painful, awful way.
Five years ago, because she’d rushed things, a girl had died. Destin’s job had been to save her, and hopefully find justice, closure for the other girls who had been hurt by him.
Now she had another monster in front of her. She could let him walk to his death, and it would be sweet. Or she could move now…and let all his other victims maybe have a chance at finding justice as well.
She fell in place behind him.
Halfway to the door, he started to run.
They hit the door and he made Oz in a second, spinning away from her before she could catch him. Caleb tore off down the road after him, but when Oz went to do the same, Destin caught her boss and slammed her against the nearby brick wall.
“No,” she snapped, glaring into Oz’s pale eyes. “No. You can’t do this.”
Oz bucked against her and Destin applied more pressure. But they were of a similar height and weight, too closely matched when it came to hand-to-hand. They ended up on the ground, surrounded by a bunch of slack-jawed onlookers. They didn’t stay quiet for long and in the back of her mind, Destin knew she’d be horrified in a few minutes.
“Destin, get the fuck off,” Oz snarled, her voice caught between a sob and a moan.
“No.” She grunted as Oz caught her in the gut.
“I have to do this—”
“And go to jail? How does that help anything?”
Another low, pained sound. Closer to tears this time than anything else, Destin thought. Too close to tears.
“Back up!” Caleb shouted, his voice deep and booming, the authority in it carrying. He might as well have been shouting, “FBI! Freeze!”
At the sound of Caleb’s voice, some of the tension in Destin mounted, climbed. Had the boy gotten away?
Oz’s struggles renewed with a frenzy. Her elbow caught Destin in the cheek and as tears flooded her vision, Oz managed to get away.
Dashing the tears from her eyes, Destin shoved herself to her feet and looked around. They had a crowd, a huge one, but most of them had backed away from Caleb.
And Oz, it seemed.
Probably because Oz had her gun.
Shit.
“This,” Destin muttered, “is a clusterfuck.”
Oz’s hand shook as she stared at the boy Caleb had with him. With one hand gripping the kid’s neck, Caleb had the other hanging ready at his side.
Destin wasn’t fooled by that empty hand. He was holding back because of who he was, where he was. He still carried a badge and it mattered to him.
“Don’t, Oz,” Caleb said quietly. “The cops can sort this out. It’s why they are here.”
She laughed, a jagged, harsh sound. “And they’ve done such a beautiful job of it, haven’t they?”
“Oz…” Destin reached up and touched her boss’s shoulder. “This isn’t your way. You don’t want to do this. Not in front of your daughter. Not like this.”
“My…” She licked her lips and glanced around.
Monica took one shaky step forward. She darted a glance to the boy and that friendly, affable look was gone from his face. She flinched and went white, jerking her gaze back to Oz. “Mom…”
It was, Destin realized, about the only thing that would have gotten through to the woman.
Oz swallowed, the sound audible in the tense silence.
Then, slowly, she nodded and tucked her weapon away. “Have you called the cops?”
The kid in Caleb’s grasp jerked hard. “You can’t fucking call the cops. You can’t…”
Destin walked over to him and leaned in, dropping her voice low as she murmured, “We can. We will. We’re going to. And unless you want your dreams haunted every night for the rest of your life, you’re going to confess what you did, kid. Otherwise…”
She dropped her shields and shoved all the fear she carried inside him, watched as he sagged, screaming and crying, to the ground.
After a few seconds, she knelt beside him. “Do you understand?”
Chapter Thirteen
“Think it will work?”
They watched as the police led him away.
His name was Cory Larson and up until only an hour ago, Monica had thought he was her friend. He’d been the one she called to take her home, because she felt safe with him. They’d been study partners off and on for almost a year. They flirted with each other. She ate lunch and chatted with him all the time.
He’d been the one she called when she had nightmares. Because she trusted him.
And he’d been the one who paid some son-of-a-bitchin’ rent-a-cop to arrange her rape.
When Destin didn’t answer, Caleb bumped her shoulder with his and asked her a second time.
“Will what work?” she asked, frowning.
“What you did, telling him that shit to get him to talk.”
Destin gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I
think he’s going to have nightmares anyway. Emotions and the subconscious are a fucked-up thing, Durand, don’t you know that? I went ahead and planted the seeds. Now he has to live with them. But he already gave the police the name of his partner that night. It’s enough to put weight on that one. Hopefully he’ll sing.” Then she shrugged. “If not…?”
They both sighed. If not, there was nothing else they could do. And if it didn’t work, she suspected Oz would find a way to get her own sort of justice. For Cory’s sake, he might be better off hoping he had his day in court. Jail would be kinder than anything Oz might do to him.
The crowd had finally dissipated.
Off to the side, Monica stood with her mother. Oz had her in awkward embrace and the two of them looked like they were trying to talk.
“You realize how much trouble she could have gotten the two of us in,” Caleb said quietly.
Destin nodded. “Yes.”
He skimmed a hand up her back, kept his touch light. And he was relieved when she didn’t back away. Instead she turned toward him and closed the distance between them, reaching up to touch his cheek. “I know what could have happened…and you stood more to lose than I did,” she said, stroking a thumb over his lip. “You need to let Jones know, in case this comes back to bite you.”
“Yeah.” He’d worry about that later. He had other things to worry about now.
Even as he was turning that over in his head and trying to figure it out, Destin said, “You know, I can’t blame her, not really. I like to think I would have been more careful, more in control…but if I had a way to track down somebody who’d assaulted my daughter, I’d have probably been all over that.”
Caleb said nothing. Because he understood as well.
Her gaze flicked his way, and once again, all those words passed between them. Unspoken, but understood.
Her throat worked as she swallowed and then she turned away. “You really think there are things there, don’t you?”
Curving a hand over her nape, he tried to figure out the right way to answer that. Was there a right way? A wrong way? “Do you know how you felt when you looked at the kid and just knew what the answer was? It’s the same way, Destin. The very same way. If you’d look, I think you’d see it. But you’re not ready to go there. You might never be. And that’s fine.” Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to her nape. “But I can understand what she did, because who knows…if I could have found who hurt you, I don’t know what lines I might have crossed.”
The Unwanted (A Novella of the FBI Psychics) Page 10
