by Sheryl Lynn
“Hi,” he said. “You have kids.”
Joan nodded. Her fingers twisted in her hair. “Two boys.”
“What did you think of the investigation?”
Joan’s fingers stilled and her face lit up with a smile. “It was great! I didn’t expect it to be so, you know, professional.” She giggled. “I’m really glad they didn’t find ghosts. So what do we do now? I’ve never been to a psychic before.”
Buck shifted on the chair and looked off-camera. “Um.” He turned his attention back to Joan. “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to Joan? My name is Buck Walker. If you want to show yourself I can see you.”
Wait for it, Desi thought. She tapped her fingers against her upper arms.
On screen Buck raised his gaze and focused on a spot to the right of Joan. He smiled. “Hello,” he said. Joan whipped her head about so fast she almost fell off the chair. Buck asked, “Can you talk? I can hear you if you do.”
“Who’s here?” Joan whispered. Her eyes were huge and round.
“A lady.” He cocked his head, eyes narrowed. “I don’t think she can talk.”
Oh, boy, Desi thought. Here it comes.
Buck said, “She’s showing me…Breast cancer?”
Joan gasped and clapped her hands over her mouth. The camera picked up the glitter of tears. Pippin appeared briefly to hand Joan a box of tissues. Buck wasn’t looking at Joan at all, wasn’t reading her body language or looking to her for clues. Niggling doubts tickled Desi.
“That’s Olivia,” Joan said. She kept looking around, trying to see what Buck saw. “My mother-in-law. My ex’s mom. She stood by me and the boys when my ex took off. She got really sick and I moved in to take care of her. I miss her so much. She’s really here?”
Buck nodded. He was leaning back on the chair now, his shoulders relaxed and his smile easy. “Olivia, does Joan have to worry about any negative spirits in her house?” He jumped and laughed. “I will take that as a definite no.” He said to Joan, “I don’t think she likes your cousin scaring you.”
“How is she?” Joan asked. “Is she okay? Can you tell her the boys talk about her all the time?” Her voice was croaky and she was working on her fifth or sixth tissue.
“She’s good. Looks like a lovely lady. She’s watching out for you and the boys. Olivia, is there anything you want to tell Joan?” He leaned forward, eyes narrowed in concentration. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Olivia, I don’t get it. Is that a will? Oh! Okay. It’s life insurance.”
Joan noisily blew her nose. “No. I cleaned out her house. There isn’t any life insurance.”
“She’s saying there is.” He nodded. “She’s showing me an image of a man. Longish hair, skinny. Looks like he has a drug problem.”
Joan’s mouth fell open. “That’s Robert! My ex-husband. That crackhead got life insurance from his mom?” She clenched her fists. “He hasn’t paid a penny in child support. When the state goes after him he just quits whatever stupid job he has so they can’t garnish his wages. Damn it, Olivia, why didn’t you tell me he has money?”
Buck winced. “She’s really sorry.”
“So what do I do?”
Off-screen Pippin spoke. “There are some attorneys in town who do pro bono work for clients at the woman’s shelter. I’ll find one who’ll go after Robert. It won’t cost you anything.”
Buck said, “She’s showing me a calendar. What happens on March third?”
Joan began to cry again. She clutched the tissue box the way a troubled child held a toy. “My younger son’s birthday.”
Buck absently reached his left arm across his chest and patted his right shoulder. “She’ll be at the party.” Joan lost it completely. She bent over, sobbing wildly. Buck rubbed his face and looked as if he wanted to bolt. Then the video ended.
“Well?” Dallas asked. “What do you think, Desi?”
She blinked rapidly. A knot in her belly tightened her insides. She had to swallow several times before she felt she could speak in a normal tone. “That’s interesting. Not at all what I expected.” She turned to Buck. She didn’t need psychic power to see his nervousness. It seemed a little strange to her that he cared what she thought. “No offense, Buck, but I have to play devil’s advocate here.”
“None taken,” he said.
She ticked a finger. “First, every single thing you said is a public record. Names, birth and death certificates, addresses. The life insurance could be a lucky guess. That a mother would name her son beneficiary is a no-brainer. Ditto for deadbeat fathers.”
Dallas made a disgusted noise, but Buck said, “Fair enough.”
Dallas kicked her chair. “Hold on, Ms. Skeptic. You better see what we caught on the thermal.”
Chapter Five
Desi watched with interest while Dallas cued the videos so the black-and-white video of the psychic reading showed on one screen and the thermal image showed on the other. Prickling with curious excitement, Desi suspected that Ringo had told the truth when he said this would rock her world. Little did he know it wouldn’t take much to do that right now.
“There’s no volume on the thermal, so I’m syncing it with the DVR. Ready?” Dallas tapped the keyboard.
The thermal image was bright with colors depicting temperatures on a scale. Buck and Joan were yellow outlines that turned orange then red at their cores. Behind them the air was blue and green. It looked like other thermal images Desi had seen. After Buck asked, “Is there anyone here who’d like to talk to Joan? My name is Buck Walker. If you want to show yourself I can see you,” a dark spot formed slowly next to Joan.
Desi looked at the regular video. Nothing on that screen had changed.
The thermal image changed rapidly. The yellow outline around Buck turned hot pink and began to pulsate. A thick finger of pure white light swelled, reaching toward Joan. The images strobed with pink, purple and fluorescent orange lights. It looked like a 1960s psychedelic music video. Then Buck’s voice said, “Hello. Can you talk? I can hear you if you do.” The colors settled. On Joan’s left side stood a dark red figure surrounded by white light.
Desi stared open-mouthed. She reminded herself to breathe.
While Buck and Joan talked, the apparition took on a feminine shape. Its heat signature was steady—unlike Buck’s and Joan’s, which shifted and had patches of blue and purple where their clothing blocked heat. When Buck asked about negative spirits the apparition flared white, and Buck reacted. As they talked about the life insurance the apparition began to grow pale and the white outline thinned. It soon lost its human shape, turning bloblike. It floated toward Buck. A finger of pale orange light stretched from the apparition and suddenly brightened. When Joan said, “My younger son’s birthday,” the distinct shape of a hand patted Buck on the shoulder. His hand moved to his shoulder and appeared to pat the ghostly hand. The apparition shrank and lost heat until it disappeared.
Dallas typed a few commands and the video images disappeared from the screens.
“Before you say anything, Desi,” Dallas said, “I’ve been on the phone all day long with the thermal camera manufacturer. They’ve got no explanation for the freaky light show. We shot a couple hours of footage, trying to re-create what happened. We couldn’t get it to do that again.”
Desi felt like somebody had dumped a bucket of Ping-Pong balls inside her skull. She kept forgetting to breathe. Dallas and Ringo loved practical jokes, but when it came to paranormal research they didn’t kid around. Even so, she suddenly understood how people with paranoid delusions felt. The crushing sense that everybody knew what she didn’t, couldn’t know. The sickening, humiliating fear that everyone was laughing at her, or plotting her destruction. Her scalp tightened until her face ached.
Buck touched her hand. She jumped to her feet, knocking her chair backward.
“I—I need some air,” she stuttered, and rushed from the room. She stumbled to the front door, jerked it open and rushed outside into the cold night.
&
nbsp; DESI STOOD beneath the lowered sky, the blanket of clouds turned yellow by city lights. She lifted her face and closed her eyes as fitful snowflakes touched her skin. Cold seeped through her jeans, stinging her thighs. Her head finally stopped spinning.
Crazy connections turned her brain into a funhouse where nothing was what it seemed. A coffee can spilling by itself—a man telling a woman he’d never met before that her mother-in-law’s ghost was standing in the room. Her television turning on by itself—a red shape no human eye could see. Papers all over the floor, a blown cell phone…Did that twerp at the phone store actually accuse her of dropping it in water?
The storm door squeaked and Buck stepped onto the porch. “Are you all right?” He looked behind him, and closed the door. “If it’s any consolation, that freaks me out, too.”
As little as a week ago she’d have yelled at him and Dallas about concocting an elaborate hoax. She blinked away a snowflake that settled on her eyelashes. The cold had reached below her skin and she shivered. “You,” she said with a snarl. “How did you know where I live?”
He eyed her warily.
“My neighbor saw you. I know you were there. How do you know when to call me? How do you even know it’s me on the phone? How did you know where I shop? Or that I’d be at the antique store or that my sister was at Chico’s? How come every time I talk to you or see you or even think about you my house goes crazy? You blew up my damned cell phone! How did you do that?”
He stepped off the porch, pulling off his coat, and draped it around her shoulders. The leather bomber jacket carried his heat and felt too good to refuse. The snow was coming down heavier, though it was far too cold for it to be wet. It pattered against her hair. She ducked her head and the scent of masculine leather and spice rose from the coat.
He rubbed the back of his head. Icy snowflakes glittered like diamonds on his dark hair. “I’m not doing anything.”
“Then what the hell is going on? I’ve had to change more lightbulbs in the past few weeks than in the entire time I’ve lived in my house. I take a shower and I swear to God I hear somebody muttering at me. I go down in the basement and the door slams behind me. Something wiped everything off my desk. I had paper everywhere!” Her voice was getting squeaky and it horrified her, but she couldn’t stop. “I’m getting scared of my own house. I am not scared of anything, but now I’m sleeping with the light on.” She jammed a finger against his chest. It was like poking a piece of wood. “It’s you! You’re doing it. How am I supposed to deal with this?”
She started to poke him again, but he caught her hand.
“Tell me this is a joke,” she said. “Tell me when I walk inside everybody will laugh. Ha ha, got one over on Desi. Tell me!”
He clasped her hand against his chest. His sweatshirt was cold, but she felt the heat of his skin beneath it. She blinked rapidly until she grasped a sliver of reason and could calm down a little. He stared into her eyes and saw black, liquid, soothing pools. He placed his other hand over hers, enveloping it with warmth. His gaze remained steady, hypnotic, until finally calm flowed through her body, erasing the chill in her bones and relaxing her muscles.
She dragged in a deep breath, then another. She could feel her pulse in her ears.
“It’s not a joke,” he said.
Hope withered, disappearing like a snowflake against warm skin. This was real. How it was real, how it could possibly, under any circumstances, be real, she did not know. But it was. She pulled her hand away from Buck’s. As soon as the contact broke she missed his touch.
The front door opened and Pippin peered out. “Hey, guys, is everything okay?”
Desi’s world hadn’t merely rocked. It had turned upside down and inside out. She felt like one of those goofy kids she’d known in college who were always slouching around asking Big Questions: What is the meaning of life? Do we really exist? How do we know anything?
How did she know anything?
She shrugged off Buck’s coat and handed it back to him.
“Come inside, Desi,” Pippin said. “It’s freezing out here.”
Embarrassment over what she’d said to Buck replaced the fear. There had to be a reasonable, logical, scientific explanation for what was happening in her house, as well as what she’d seen on the thermal camera video. She had to figure it out. She had to or else concede that Sasquatch, the Loch Ness monster and UFOs might be real, too.
She and Buck returned to the apartment, where Dallas and Ringo now sat at the conference table eating chips with dip. Both men eyed her with apprehension. She plastered a big smile on her face. “It’s official, guys. I have been spooked.”
Pippin gave her a one-armed hug that only served to deepen Desi’s embarrassment. She shoved her anxiety into a mental closet and slammed the door.
Dallas zeroed in on Desi. “How do we go about debunking this?”
She looked at Buck. If he’d looked the least bit smug, or showed a trace of calculating gleam as he mulled over how he could make money off his talent, she would walk out for good. He wore a sheepish smile and appeared to find a spot on the table worthy of study.
“You got me. I don’t have a clue how to explain it.”
“Want to watch it again?”
Anxiety scratched at the mental door. “Maybe later. What are you going to do with it, Dallas?” She eased onto a chair. Buck was watching her and she didn’t need to be a psychic to know it.
Dallas played a tattoo on the table. He ate a few chips, crunching loudly. “The reading didn’t take place in a controlled environment. We tried, but there were too many outside influences like the sun and electricity and the fact that I just got the thermal camera and I’m not experienced with all its quirks.”
Ringo added, “Like you said, Desi, there’s no way to prove Joan’s not a ringer or Buck didn’t do a background check beforehand.”
“And,” added Buck, “As you said, life insurance could be a lucky guess.”
Desi looked at him. When he smiled she felt the same soothing warmth she’d felt when he held her hand.
“We’ve got plenty of time to go over it,” Dallas said. “This is one piece of evidence we can never post on the Web site, even in the members-only section, and we can’t share it with other groups. This can’t get out.”
“Why?” Desi asked.
“It’s me,” Buck said, with an apologetic note.
Ringo said, “Even if we blur his features and don’t use his name, somebody will figure it out. His identity will be all over the Internet.” Ringo loosed a hearty laugh. “He’ll have to go into the Witness Protection Program to get away from all his fans.”
Desi believed it. Her sister, Gwen, would be first in line.
“A bigger problem is my job,” Buck said. “If defense attorneys find out CSPD has a psychic on the force they’ll reopen every case where I’ve testified in court.”
Every so-called psychic Desi had run across was an attention junkie. She couldn’t turn on the television without finding a program about the paranormal. Psychics vied for the chance to appear on talk shows and documentaries. Some psychics had their own TV or radio shows. What if people with genuine abilities were like Buck? Everyday people trying to live normal lives. People who didn’t want fame, fortune or a cadre of groupies.
Dallas said, “I’m taking the camera to an expert to be checked out. I might take it to two. Plus I’m taking the videos to Professor Moreno over at the university. He can help us figure out a way to run controlled experiments.”
“We need to be cautious,” Pippin said. “I’m on the fence about demonic activity, but I don’t think it’s something we should mess with. We have to make sure we aren’t summoning evil. Right, Buck? You mentioned negative entities. What did you call them?”
“Dark Presences. I think they’re the Shadow People other people see.” He shifted uncomfortably. “Or maybe they are demons. I don’t know. They’re different.”
If his shaky voice was any indication, Desi
figured those Dark Presences scared the hell out of him. She felt a clutch of fear. No way could a Dark Presence follow her home, no matter what kind of stupid invitation she offered. She wondered about the little boy they’d “talked” to in the Moore house, wondered if her house was his new playground. After what she’d seen this evening, anything seemed possible.
SHOULDERS BACK, determined, Desi walked into her house. As she’d been leaving Rampart headquarters Buck had invited her to Starbucks for coffee. She didn’t need psychic ability to know he wanted to talk about the activity in her house. She’d declined. She could handle this problem on her own.
She hung up her coat and put down her purse. Spike greeted her and she patted his back. “Any ghosties, big boy?” He wandered into the kitchen, grumbling about the state of his food dish. She fed him.
In the middle of the living room Desi put her hands on her hips. “Okay,” she said. “Your name is Jonathon, right? All right, honey, we need to talk. This is my house. I bought it with my money. Every single thing in this house is mine and I don’t appreciate you messing with my stuff.”
Even alone, with nobody around to hear, except the cat, she felt like an idiot.
“I’m really sorry you died and got stuck in that old house with nobody to play with. I didn’t mean to ask you to come to my place. It was a mistake. If you want to find your family and friends, you have to leave. Go toward the light. Everybody you ever knew is over there. I bet you were a nice kid, but I don’t want you here. I don’t want a roommate. You are trespassing. So get out of here. No hard feelings, but you have to go away.”
She waited for lightbulbs to blow or the television to turn on or for the sound of footsteps on the second floor.
