Tuesday's Child (Book 1 of Psychic Visions, a paranormal romantic suspense)

by Dale Mayer

  6:55 pm

  Brandt couldn't believe it. The last time he'd seen her, she'd been caught in a heavy vision and experiencing huge blood loss. Now she was out there swimming in the middle of the damn lake. She'd have been better off relaxing and regaining her strength. He watched as she struggled the last few yards. She was worn out, but if he jumped in to help her, she'd be royally pissed. Go figure.

  He scowled at the dog at his feet. Even Moses knew better than to swim right now.

  Jesus. She needed a babysitter. She was as bad as his mother.

  Watching Sam swim closer, he realized he'd probably overreacted here. Swimming would help rebuild Sam's strength and endurance. Exercise had many benefits and as long as she didn't overdo it, then swimming was a good way to go.

  Somehow, that logic didn't matter because he was still pissed. Scary. He stopped suddenly, hands fisted on his hips. And all because he was worried – about her. He blew his breath out in a gust. Oh, God, this was getting bad.

  The balmy evening breeze wrinkled the water before smoothing it flat again.

  He frowned. The cabin was a long way from everything. Not only that, if she were to run into trouble, no one would know for days. Not until she didn't show at work. Damn it. His frown deepened.

  The bushes rustled behind him. Instinctively, he dropped and spun around.

  Deep yellow eyes glowed in the darkness.

  That damn watchdog.

  "Hello there, Soldier. How are you feeling? I see you're moving better." Keeping his voice even and calm, he kept a wary eye on the dog's reactions. He wasn't exactly growling. On the other hand, neither was he wagging his tail with joy.

  The two males glowered at each other. Both silent and watchful. Both waiting for the other to move. Brandt knew better than to break his gaze first. The alpha male was the one who held the gaze the longest. If he were ever going to get close to Sam, then the watchdog had to accept his presence.

  Splashes alerted him to Sam's approach. Keeping his eyes trained on the dog, he called out, "Are you okay, Sam?

  She coughed gently, then again a bit stronger. "I'm fine." Her voice was reedy and thin. "I'm just getting out now."

  Brandt stared at the dog, relieved. "You sound exhausted. You should never have gone for a swim. Or at least not for so long," he admonished.

  "Like I'm going to listen to you," she scoffed. "You're arguing with a dog."

  Brandt started. Indignantly, he said, "I am not."

  Sam brushed past him, a towel wrapped around her body, droplets of water flying off with every step. She deliberately walked between the two males. Both sets of eyes immediately switched to the distraction.

  Brandt swallowed. Her towel snuggled around her curves, shifting to accommodate the gentle movements as she walked. Water had soaked into the thin material, making it almost transparent. Brandt's imagination fired up. The towel hung loosely down the center of her spine. There were no straps on her shoulders.

  He swallowed.

  The towel cuddled her bottom, just barely covering the gentle curves. He couldn't see any sign of a bathing suit. The tantalizing thought both enraged and delighted him. Didn't she realize that anyone could have come down here?

  This lady was just asking for trouble.

  Yet, the thought of all that female flesh floating sensuously free in the cool water was a huge turn on. And gave him an intimate insight into her true character. Watching her walk ahead of him and not knowing whether or not she was nude, was an even bigger aphrodisiac.

  The bushes rattled again. Soldier, now in front of Sam, turned. His lip curled, his spine humped up and the hair on the back of his neck stood straight up.

  Samantha stopped.

  Brandt instinctively freed his gun, staying close to her as he peered into the woods. "What is it?" he whispered.

  Sam shrugged, her eyes searching the woods. "I can't tell." Her voice was low, balanced. "Soldier doesn't like it …and neither do I. Something doesn't feel...right."

  Brandt scanned the area for anything abnormal. He didn't know what she meant, but he couldn't help agreeing that all wasn't as it should be.

  Sam hurried to the cabin, running up the porch steps. Brandt followed at a slower pace, a wary eye searching around him. Soldier growled and lunged into the woods.

  "Soldier, no!" Sam watched and listened as the noises trailed off to the left. She turned to Brandt. "I'm going to get dressed then go after him."

  Brandt couldn't stop his eyes from following that perfectly formed backside, highlighted by damp circles in the towel as she climbed the stairs.

  With a shaky breath, he turned to search the twilight. The evening sun was setting, throwing long shadows across the yard. There was no sign of Soldier. Moses sat on the top stair staring off in the same direction. He wasn't growling, but his tail wasn't wagging either.

  Sam came running down the stairs still tucking her shirt inside the waistband of her old blue jeans. Over her arm was the inevitable oversized sweater. Her skin sported a blue tinge. She held a leash in her hand.

  "Damn it, you're cold. Stay inside and get warm. I'll go after him."

  Sam shook her head. "I'm going. He doesn't know you, and he won't come if you call." Turning around, she spied Moses at the edge of the bushes. "Moses, come here." Moses trotted forward obediently. Sam snapped the lead on. "Only one dog missing at a time, please. Let's go find Soldier."

  Brandt scoffed. "Moses won't find him, and Soldier won't come if you call either."

  She shot him a dirty look before walking past him into early the night.

  "Soldier," Sam called from the doorway, looking around. But the wooded darkness had swallowed him completely. They left the porch and headed across the lawn.

  Howls and screams split the air, followed by a couple of quiet spits. Sam ran forward and stopped. A heavy crashing through the woods could be heard for a moment before dying off in the distance.

  "Jesus," she whispered, her hand at her throat. Her heart smashed in her chest. "Brandt, were those human screams and gunshots?"

  "Maybe. You stay here with Moses. I'm going to check it out." Brandt pulled out his gun and raced into the woods. The trees stood thick together. He headed in the direction of the shots. The silence blanketed everything, except his own passage. Leaves and twigs crushed beneath his feet. The wind started. Branches swished sending whispers through the night. Brandt moved quickly through the area. Nothing. He circled around to Sam.

  "Any sign?" she called out to him.

  "No. Whoever or whatever it was is gone." A few feet from the porch stairs, Brandt stopped and looked around again.

  Ignoring Brandt's protests, Sam took a couple of steps into the darkness. "Soldier?"

  Brandt came to stand beside her. "Can you see him?"

  "No, but he has to be here?" She spun to the left. "Wait, what was that?"

  A small whine sounded several hundred feet away.

  "Soldier? Soldier! Come here, boy."

  Twigs broke and the brush rustled with movement. Darkness had descended quickly. Sam backed up a couple of steps. "Soldier, come here, boy."

  Peering through the darkness, she thought she saw something move. "Soldier," she whispered, "Is that you."

  Soldier limped toward her.

  Sam ran and put her arms around him in a quick hug. She coaxed him forward. "Come on boy. Time to go home."

  "Is he hurt?" Brandt surveyed the large animal. The damn thing had to weigh at least a-hundred-twenty pounds. Uninjured and cooperative, he might be able to move him…injured and cranky – no way.

  "I don't know." Sam gently ran her hands over the dog's limbs, ignoring the warning growls. "Come on Soldier, let's get you inside."

  Once on the porch, they could see fresh blood on his side.

  "Damn it, Soldier." Sam checked his wound, accidentally touching a sore spot. Soldier spun around, his lip curled, an ungodly howl erupting from his throat.

  Brandt trained his gun on the injured animal. "Sam,
get back." The evening stilled. "Don't touch him. He's dangerous like this."

  Soldier turned slowly toward Brandt, then his spine arched, and the howl turned menacing.

  Sam shuffled behind Brandt. Soldier had eyes only for Brandt.

  She said in a quiet calm voice, "Brandt, I think it's the gun – put it away."

  "Are you nuts? He could attack."

  "It's the gun that's upsetting him. It's easy to check my theory. Just put the gun away."

  Brandt snorted. "I've seen too many aggressive animals to do that." He kept his eyes on the dog, sparing a quick glance at Sam.

  "Let's just try it – please."

  He stared at the dog for a long moment, then slowly lowered the firearm and slipped it behind. Out of sight but not away.

  The dog watched every movement. The growling lessened ever so slightly.

  "I wonder." A sudden impulse rolled around inside. Using hand signals, he ordered the dog to sit. Soldier howled.

  Brandt repeated the command.

  Soldier howled louder.

  Brandt made the command sharper, harder.

  Silence.

  Then in a shuffling movement, Soldier slowly lowered his haunches.

  Brandt shook his head then gave the command to heel. Wanting the dog to walk at his side was safer than having Sam try to coax him up to the house.

  This time, Soldier obeyed on the first go around, the movement slow and awkward, but he did it.

  "Brandt?"

  "He's been well-trained. I don't know to what extent though. There are some commands I can try. From the look of him, I'm almost ready to suggest he's been a police dog in his past."

  "Really?" Sam stared from one to the other. "Do you really think so?"

  "I think he's a trained guard dog and chances are good his training was more formal. It's possible he didn't work out and never finished the training."

  Once at the cabin, the slow moving party made it inside. Brandt ordered the dog to lie down. Soldier, small growls from deep in his throat, grudgingly obeyed.

  Sam quickly checked out Soldier's wounds again. Brandt and Soldier glared at each other.

  "It's not too bad. Looks like he ripped a stitch or two and he's limping. That could just be his old injuries with the unexpected chase in the woods." Sam gave the dog a quick hug. "Poor boy."

  Brandt snorted. "Why's that?"

  "The vet thought he'd been abused. As far as Soldier's concerned, it's people who aren't to be trusted." Sam paused for a moment, sniffed the air, bent closer to Soldier's back then raised her head. "Did someone just shoot my dog?"

  ***

  7:18 pm

  Brandt sat on the porch steps, speaking with his mother.

  Sam studied him for a long moment, waiting for his call to end, before walking out to join him. "I just poured you a cup of tea." Sam handed the cup to Brandt. "How are the colonel and your mother?"

  He glanced at her in surprise. "No change."

  "So can we talk then?" At his confused look, she added, "Deputy Brooker. Remember?"

  "What? Oh, right. He's here. As I told you earlier, your Deputy Brooker came to see me today."

  "Oh, God." Sam sat down – hard. She didn't need to look in a mirror to know that all the color had leached from her face.

  "He's been in town for a couple of days already." Brandt sat opposite her. "I know it's easy to jump to conclusions, but we don't know any more than that yet."

  It was too much. Sam had hoped to hide her history, hoped that past events wouldn't have to be dragged into her future. "Damn it."

  "Keep in mind, he doesn't know where you live."

  Hope unfurled deep inside then she remembered what had just happened. She searched his face. "You're dreaming," she scoffed. "He was probably the one doing the shooting out there tonight." She added, "I have no illusions. He'd kill me any time he had a chance."

  Brandt studied her face.

  She stared calmly back. If there was one thing he needed to believe, it was that Brooker was slime, dangerous slime.

  "Alright, I can see you believe that. He said you stole something from his family. Information of some kind? Any idea what that's all about?" Brandt's supportive gaze gave her strength.

  She laughed, a broken sound that made him wince. "I didn't steal anything. Don't you see? The information he thinks I have is what I picked up from him. My psychic abilities told me a lot. That's what he's afraid of. That I know too much." Pain knotted at the base of her spine, shooting up through her temple. She shivered. "And he's right. I do."

  Brandt mulled this over.

  She stared blindly out the dark window. "Remember my car accident?"

  "The one where you were injured or the one where you saw Louise Enderby die?"

  "No, the first one – where I almost died. That was him. He caused my accident – he tried to kill me."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  8 pm

  Sam bent her head.

  Brandt stared at the delicate tendrils of hair curled around her neck. The rest hung in long locks down to her waist. Really? He mentally drew up the deputy's countenance and conceded that, yeah, just maybe it was possible. That guy had an agenda. One that had nothing to do with his supposed visit to Brandt's station.

  Staring at her bent head, he needed to ask, at least once. "Are you sure?"

  Lifting her head, Sam stared straight at him. Her eyes shone with tears. "I don't have any proof if that's what you mean. But I saw him."

  "You saw him?" Brandt leaned forward, to search her face. "Are you sure?"

  Sam got up and walked to where she could stare out the window, her hair dangling down her back. "After the crash, I couldn't move. The flames had just started to reach the windshield. The seatbelt buckle had locked, my leg was broken, and my collarbone had been dislocated."

  She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the cool glass. Tremors started at the base of her spine and moved up. "He walked up while I was wrestling with the straps." She paused, her breath coming out in shaky gusts. "I pounded on the window and screamed for help. He laughed at me." Sam swallowed. "There I was in total panic, thinking that help had arrived and he..." she turned to face Brandt, "And he pulled out his gun and pointed it at me through the window.

  Brandt swore. Then swore again. "Bastard."

  "That he is." She stared at him, a tiny smile on her face. "Thanks for believing me. That helps a lot."

  He snorted. "So what happened? Did he actually shoot you?"

  Sam shook her head. "No, or I wouldn't be here. He just walked away. As he drove off, another man – a retired firefighter – arrived. He shattered the glass on the driver's door, unlocked it, cut my seatbelt strap, and dragged me free." She walked over to Brandt and sat down again. "So yeah, to answer your question – I am sure."

  He watched her shorts ride higher on her thighs, wishing she'd sit closer. His senses were awash in 'what ifs.' With a shudder, he stared off in the distance. Clearing his throat, he asked, "Did you tell anyone?"

  "No." She snorted. "Who would I tell? He was the police."

  Right. Brandt groaned and leaned back. "God. What a mess." He ran his fingers through his hair. "The bottom line is that this asshole is here now, and he's searching for you."

  "Right. Hence my question – did bullets score Soldier's shoulder?"

  "Christ." He stared at her, seeing past the old fears and tough memories. She was a fighter, but against a stacked deck, she'd run – until now. There'd be no running now. She wasn't alone any more.

  "Let me make some phone calls, see if we've got anything on him yet. One of my team is running his background."

  Sam frowned.

  "That means we can track him down and have another talk with him. Adam did confirm that Brooker drives a 2004 Dodge truck – a black one."

  She shuddered. "So it could have been him on the highway." After a moment of contemplation, she shrugged. "Not that it matters, he's not going to admit to anything. Why would he? You'd need p
roof, like bullets or casing from tonight to match to his gun."

  "True, but if you recognized his black truck..." he said, waiting and watching for her comprehension to kick in. Her eyes opened wide as understanding filtered in.

  She frowned. "Yes, only how would he know what vehicle I'm driving?"

  "The same way we can find out about his truck, run your name through DMV to find out what vehicle is registered under your name." He glanced at her truck outside the window. That thing should have been deep-sixed a long time ago. Surely, it wouldn't pass a safety inspection?