CHAPTER NINE
MERISSA FOUND CARSON hard going as a houseguest. He never said a word. He nodded as he passed them when he got up in the morning, but he was constantly out and about on the property. He checked out all the rooms. There was an attic, too, but Merissa assured him that it was only a crawlspace and a ladder would be required to access it. They didn’t even have a ladder.
The second day he was there, Merissa got up the nerve to ask him if he wanted coffee when he started out the door.
He paused, glanced at her wary expression and retraced his steps. He was much taller than she was, about Dalton’s height. But he was much more somber and uptight.
“It’s okay if you don’t,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to offer. I mean, you don’t eat meals with us or... We wouldn’t mind, you know, there’s always extra food...”
He liked her shyness. It was unusual. Well, Cash Grier’s vicious little secretary was shy when she wasn’t verbally assaulting him. He hated the memory of her. He hated having hurt her...
Merissa swallowed, because he looked suddenly angry. She had a terror of angry men, learned at a very early age from her father.
Carson saw it and forcibly relaxed his expression. “I appreciate the offer of food, but I have meals at the Kirk ranch, so that I can keep Dalton up-to-date.” He smiled. “He really has a case on you.”
She smiled back, and her whole face lit up. “I sort of have a case on him, too,” she confessed. “He’s...very special.”
“He feels the same about you.” He hesitated. “I would like coffee.”
She beamed. “I just made a fresh pot. It’s rather strong,” she said hesitantly.
“I like coffee that needs to be cut with a knife,” he told her.
She was amazed at the difference it made when he smiled. He was an odd sort of man, reclusive and introverted. But she sensed tragedy about him. Great tragedy.
Her eyes became that odd opaque shade that indicated she was seeing things far away and back in time. She poured his coffee and put it in front of him. She sat down with her own. Her expression was troubled.
He was quick. He knew about her special gifts. “You know things about me,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” she confessed.
“And not gleaned from any conventional source.”
“That’s also true.” She looked at him with true compassion. “I’m so sorry, for what happened to you.”
His face hardened for a moment and then suddenly relaxed. He stared into the black coffee. “I’ve never spoken of it,” he replied quietly. “My parents are both dead, and I had no siblings. I have a cousin or two spread around in the Lakota and Northern Cheyenne reservations. Nobody close. Not anymore.”
“Losing the child was the worst of it,” she said in a soft monotone, her eyes far away. “She lied to you.” Her face tautened. “But it wasn’t your fault,” she said suddenly, staring right into his shocked eyes. “He was drinking...”
He drew in a sharp breath.
“You didn’t know,” she said, nodding. “You should check the police report. It was why he wrecked the car. He didn’t mean to kill her, or himself.”
“I chased them,” he gritted.
“Of course you did. You were young and in love, and she’d hurt you. It’s not a good thing, but it’s a human thing. It was a mistake. But you’re still punishing yourself for it. What sort of life is that?” she asked gently.
He bit his lower lip, almost hard enough to draw blood.
“I know. You don’t speak of such matters to anyone. But I’m...not like other people,” she faltered. She swallowed. “I know things. I see things. I’m outside, looking in. I don’t belong to this world, except in a disassociated fashion. I’m an outcast. Like you,” she added with a sad smile.
He looked at her with his true face, the one he never let show. It was vulnerable and still and sad. “Her cousin told me the child was mine. She was seven months pregnant, but she didn’t want me. She wanted him. He beat her, abused her...treated her like dirt. It didn’t matter. She wouldn’t leave him. I couldn’t make her see sense. He came to her house and saw me, and ordered her into the car. He jerked her in, with no consideration for her condition, and sped off. I thought...he was going to hurt her. She had my child inside her. I chased them, trying to save her.” His eyes closed. “He hit the side of the bridge. It was made of wood and the car went through it. They dropped into the river, far below. They found the bodies downstream the next day.”
“I’m so sorry,” she told him, and meant it. “It destroyed your life.”
“Yes,” he said tautly. “I decided that variety was better than commitment.” He looked world-weary. “But it’s not. At the end of the day, I’m still alone.”
“We’re all alone, inside ourselves,” she said, her voice quiet and soft. “I’ve lived that way, too. Well, not with the variety thing.” She laughed. “My mother and I are people of faith. We don’t walk in step with the modern world.”
He cocked his head and studied her. Innocence. It was as clear as day. It reminded him of Carlie’s face, as guileless as a child’s. He remembered what he’d said to Carlie and it shamed him all over again.
Merissa frowned. “There was an attack,” she said in a monotone. “With a knife. She tried to save him...”
“She? Who?”
“She works for a man in a uniform,” she said. She blinked. “I’m sorry, I can’t see any more than that. But there are secrets, deadly secrets. She doesn’t even know some of them. Her father...” She cleared her throat. “It went away.”
He knew who she was seeing. Carlie. He remembered the odd fit of her T-shirt at the shoulder and her fear of his knife. He remembered what she’d told them about her father being attacked with a knife. Maybe she’d gotten in front of him, been cut. And he’d said he liked his women prettier and more physically perfect! He almost groaned.
“You have...a remarkable gift,” he managed after a minute.
“A gift and a curse,” she replied. “I hate most of the things I see. It’s what saved Dalton, though,” she told him. “I told him that he was under threat because of something he didn’t remember. He had no idea.”
He nodded. “His assailant would probably have killed him if you hadn’t given him the warning.” He hesitated. “What do you see, in my future, if you don’t mind my asking?”
She studied him for a long time. Her eyes took on the opaque look once more. “Your past will mar your future,” she said quietly. “It makes a wall, between you and something you want. Something you’re afraid to want.”
He frowned. “Do you know what it is, exactly?”
She drew in a breath. “Sorry. It doesn’t work that way. It’s like I can see the pattern of things, but not the substance. Sort of like seeing the skeleton, with no flesh on it.”
He smiled. “Well, I guess I’d better lie about my past when whatever it is presents itself,” he said with a twist of his lips.
“Lying is never a good idea,” she pointed out. “Even when it’s painful, the truth is the best path.”
“Perhaps,” he said. He finished his coffee and got to his feet. “Thank you,” he said solemnly.
“For what?” she asked.
He smiled. “For being a good listener.”
She smiled back. “I might add that I never speak of personal matters to people who aren’t involved with them. I won’t tell anyone what I know about you.” She pursed her lips. “Not even the crocodile thing, overseas.”
“That wasn’t really me. It was Rourke. I just assisted.”
“Why did Rourke feed a man to a crocodile?” she asked curiously.
His face went taut. “The man in question tortured a young woman—a personal friend of Rourke’s who’s a photojournalist. He used a knif
e on her. She’ll carry the scars forever, unless she decides to have plastic surgery. Right now, she won’t talk about it. She calls them badges of courage.”
“What a brave young woman,” Merissa said.
“Very brave. Rourke’s known her since she was a child. He hates her most of the time, God knows why. But he went berserk when she was kidnapped.”
“Yes. I saw her,” she replied. “I told Rourke what I saw.”
He raised both eyebrows.
She just smiled.
He shook his head. He got the idea. She didn’t talk about her readings.
“I’ll get back to work. Sing out if you need me,” he said.
“I will. Thanks,” she added gently. “For taking care of us.”
“I’m just working the perimeter.” He laughed. “I don’t think you’re really in any danger, either of you. I think he’s just pulling Dalton’s strings, making him dance.” His eyes went cold. “He’s a piece of work, this guy, whoever he is.”
“I wish we knew why he’s targeting Dalton,” Merissa said worriedly.
“No idea?” he asked her.
She shook her head. “I can’t see things that closely. In this case, I wish I could!”
He nodded. He left her to her thoughts.
* * *
LATER IN THE day, Merissa had a phone call. “Tough luck. About your father, I mean,” a voice with a thick Cockney accident said.
“Who is this?” she demanded, but she knew. It was obvious. “Why did you send him here?” she added.
“If your boyfriend had stayed away, your father might have solved a problem for me.”
“What problem?” She was looking out the window, wishing Carson would come in.
“I don’t want you telling Dalton anything else. I don’t want you warning him, Witch Woman,” he added in a cold, merciless voice.
“You can’t stop me unless you kill me,” she said angrily.
“I don’t have to threaten you. There’s always mommy.”
Her heart stopped. Clara had driven into town to shop. “What have you done to her?” she exclaimed, terrified.
“Relax. She’s safe. At least, for today.” He paused. “I want you to stop reading Kirk’s future. You tell him anything else, about me, about the past, and your mother will pay for it, do you understand me?”
She swallowed hard. “Yes.”
“I’ll know. Your boy Rourke may have removed all the bugs, but I have a couple he won’t find.”
“There’s someone else,” she told him in the monotone she employed when she was reading someone, when she touched some nebulous force that supplied her with intelligence that came from God knew where. “Someone who knows all about you. You think he’s dead, but he’s not, he’s...” She shut up quickly. “Even if you kill Dalton, the other man will tell. Men are looking for him right now.”
“Which men? Where?” he demanded.
She blinked. “I don’t know,” she said. Her voice was racked with pain. “It’s not like reading a book or watching a movie. I just get feelings, impressions.” She hesitated. “You should go away right now, while there’s time,” she said huskily. “I can see your future. If you were a friend, and I was reading for you, I wouldn’t even tell you, it’s so horrible...”
“That’s just pathetic,” he spat. “You think I believe all that hoodoo? It’s just made up things!”
“If you truly believe that, then why do you want me to stop telling Dalton things?” she asked reasonably.
There was a pause. Carson walked in and she gestured at the phone frantically, hoping he’d understand.
He was quick. He went into her office.
“I don’t believe it,” the man on the phone said angrily.
“Neither does Dalton,” she assured him.
“Sure. But you warned him I was after him,” he replied. “You knew.”
“Yes, I knew, but I don’t know why and neither does Dalton! What do you want?”
There was a pause, as if she’d surprised him with the sincerity in her tone.
“Well?” she persisted. “You’re targeting a man for something that he doesn’t even know,” she said angrily. “It’s the other man you’d better worry about. He knows you...”
This time there was an intake of breath. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he said to himself. “I know who you’re talking about. Thanks, kid. I’ll take care of that little problem right away!”
He hung up.
Merissa stared at the phone with horror. She’d sent him out to kill a man by telling him about his future. She didn’t know who the man was, she couldn’t warn him. Whoever it was, he was going to die because of her!
Carson came in, hesitating.
She looked at him with horror as she hung up the phone.
“I’ve got a trace on the call,” he told her. “What did he say?”
“I told him that he had another man to worry about instead of Dalton, a man who knew him and would tell what he knew. I don’t know who it is, but he’ll die because of me!” she moaned. “I’ve killed him!”
Carson moved closer. “You haven’t,” he assured her. His black eyes narrowed. “Did he threaten you?”
“He threatened my mother,” she said miserably. “He says if I tell Dalton anything else he’ll know it. He says Rourke didn’t find all the bugs...”
He held up a hand and motioned her outside.
“Yes, Rourke did,” he said deliberately. “The man lied to you. He can’t hear what’s going on in here. It’s perfectly safe to talk.”
“You’re sure?” she replied, playing along.
“Positive. Come here a minute, I want you to look at something.”
She followed him off the porch and out into the yard.
“I’ll get Rourke over here to do another sweep,” Carson assured her.
“But what about the man...?”
“We’ll try to find him,” Carson said. “I’ll make some phone calls. It’s not your fault. You were trying to save your mother.”
She looked world-weary. “I’m so tired of all this,” she said. “Will it ever end?”
“Yes, it will. I promise you, it will.”
She smiled sadly. She wasn’t convinced.
* * *
CLARA CAME HOME and Merissa spoke to her in the yard, telling her what had happened in her absence.
“Maybe we should move in with the Kirks,” Clara said worriedly.
“It’s Christmas day after tomorrow,” Merissa said softly. “I don’t want to impose on their family that way. We’re going to be all right,” Merissa promised. “I know it’s scary, but I trust Carson. He’s a good man.”
“He’s a very odd man.” Clara laughed. “But if you trust him, I will, too.” She hugged the younger woman. “My poor baby. It’s been such a traumatic few weeks. We should look forward to spring. I mean, we always get good times after bad ones. Don’t we?”
Merissa nodded. She sighed. “I hope so.”
“We won’t say anything in the house that concerns Dalton or spies or bugs or anything else,” Clara assured her. She was somber then. “People in town are talking about Bill’s death,” she said. “We’re going to be the subject of gossip again. And what do we do about his funeral, sweetie?” she added.
“Will it be up to us to bury him, or does his girlfriend want to take care of the arrangements? Could we ask Sheriff Banks to call her?”
“I think we might,” Clara replied. “That terrible man, to send him back here and subject us to the horror all over again.” She closed her eyes. “He killed Bill.”
“I may have helped him kill someone else,” Merissa said with anguish, and explained.
“Perhaps if I tried to help you with a reading of my o
wn,” Clara pondered.
“Would you?” Merissa asked. “You’re better at some things than I am. It might help. Whatever you find out, we could tell Dalton.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid the sheriff thinks we wear pointy hats and dance naked around bonfires in the deep woods.”
“He’s a nice man,” Clara responded. “He’s just very normal. The paranormal has no place in his life.”
“That’s like most people.”
“Oh, I ran into Dr. Harrison,” Clara said. “He asked about your headaches.”
“They’re better,” Merissa replied. “I do wish they’d go away, though,” she grumbled as they went into the kitchen. “I just got a refill on my prescription medicine yesterday and stuck it in my bedside table. I don’t know what I’d do without those capsules.”
“At least you have something that works now. Carson said he’s driving over to see Dalton.” She pursed her lips. “Might you like to go with him?” she teased.
Merissa’s face lit up. “Might I? I’ll get my coat!”
She went to the front door. “Carson, can I go, too?” she called.
He threw up a hand and motioned her to the car he was driving.
“I’ll just be a minute!”
She grabbed her coat, kissed her mother and ran out to the car. Carson opened the door for her, smiling at her surprise.
“My mother had excellent manners,” he explained as they drove to the Kirk ranch. “She taught me courtesy.”
“It’s very nice in a man,” she said.
“Works wonders with women,” he quipped.
She stared at him quietly. “Women will be your downfall,” she said. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to pipe up like that.” She flushed.
“No offense taken,” he replied. He glanced at her. “What do you mean, though?”
“Your past will affect your future,” she repeated what she’d told him once.
“You mean I’m going to meet some innocent little thing who’ll think I’m a rake and avoid me because of it?” He laughed.
It wasn’t really funny, what she’d seen in her vision. But it was perhaps better not to tell him all of it. “Something like that, I’m afraid,” she said instead. However, it was going to be much more serious than he ever realized. He didn’t seem to think of his wild lifestyle as a problem. It would become his worst one.
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