Gypsy Hunted: a psychic paranormal book with a touch of romance (The Gypsy Medium Series 1)

by Andrea Drew

  He nodded. “Actually, I can come back in a minute with a laptop. I can lend you my personal one for a couple of days. I think you need it more than I do.” His mouth turned up slightly. At that moment, I wondered if there was an understanding, a mutual attraction, but damn it, I’d made that mistake before. I was far too old to make a fool of myself again, although who the hell was I to worry about foolishness? I had a shaved, stapled head and controlling my own saliva had proved a distinct challenge.

  “I’ll be back.” He stepped over to the door, where he paused to look at me before leaving.

  What was he not telling me, and why not?

  The hour grew late and I knew it was time to go to sleep, but I struggled with insomnia, so it might not happen for hours yet. My questions remained unanswered. Did Connor feel the attraction that I did? Would he find the killer? Was the young woman still alive? What was Connor hiding from me, and why?

  I wrestled with sleep for what felt like an eternity before it finally claimed me.

  *****

  5

  Renee sat on the edge of the chair, inhaling the smell of whiteboard markers and exercise books. She loved the stillness and quiet before the bell rang. She opened the drawer, and there was the locket. She froze, swallowing hard, feeling heat in her ears and cheeks. That damn David had put it back. She’d left it under his desk earlier that morning, thinking she’d solved the problem. Looking around to confirm no one else was there, she shuffled her feet. As the door opened behind her, she realized her classmates were starting to trickle in. She moved her head to within inches of the desktop, strands of hair falling forward. Renee wrinkled her forehead, doodling on the paper in the middle of her desk.

  They were assigned tables of eight, and over the last few months, she had gotten to know a few of her companions. As the students sat down, she could feel David’s eyes on her, burning holes in her skin. She put a wall of energy up, wishing him out of existence.

  Mr. Ganner strode in, arms swinging, as the bell rang. His voice boomed through the room.

  “Well, good morning, class of 7G,” he rumbled, a smile slicing his long, lined face. He was strict, but Renee remembered his kindness, how he'd helped her after class with quiet talks, listening to her awkward description of life since Dad had moved out, his brown eyes registering her awkwardness and pain, unable to put any of it into words.

  “Now let’s start with homework. Who wrote their essay? I’m sure you did, Janie.” The classroom went from silence to an irritating scrape of drawers as they tugged out their exercise books.

  “What’s wrong with you, David?” Jenny rolled her eyes with a hard smile.

  Renee couldn’t help herself. “He’s upset because I saw the locket he left hidden in my desk. The one he stole from his sister. The one I don’t want anymore.” She scowled until her jaw hurt, the beginnings of a headache with a tight band across her forehead.

  Mr. Ganner was speaking again. “Right, that’s enough. You can sort that out later. For now, let’s start with Gareth. Would you like to read your essay out to the class?”

  Gareth began his hesitant and robotic reading aloud and Renee focused quietly on her own essay, shutting David out of existence. She suffered through the remaining hour and a half until the recess bell rang. Renee joined the mass of students shoving their books away before racing towards the bottleneck of the door. As she shuffled her way through the throng of children to the playground, the chill air washed over her. She pushed out a breath, watching warm white circles rise in the icy air.

  Renee stood with one foot propped against the wall. Jenny strode over and stood directly in front of her.

  “What was that about with David?” Her round eyes scanned Renee’s face. Her brown hair was so silky it hung in perfect sheets. Renee remembered a recent jealous look at Jenny’s beautiful hair. Renee admired Jenny’s looks even if she annoyed her at times.

  “Oh, he walked me home from school one day. I was never sure about him. He asked me over to his place last week, and his Mum and sister weren’t home. It was a bit weird. Then he gave me some jewelry, which didn’t feel right, especially after I found out he stole it from his sister’s room. He’s been nasty to me ever since,” she said, picking at her nails.

  “Oh…” said Jenny. Her mouth was pinched so tightly, she seemed to be in pain. Renee was getting a bit tired of Jenny, the social inquisitor, interfering in friendships, trying to fix things. “Why don’t I go and talk to him for you?”

  “No!” Foot bouncing Renee fiddled with her necklace. “Don’t go and talk to him. I’ll just ignore him and he’ll leave me alone.”

  Jenny had already left. Why did she have to keep sticking her nose in?

  She rubbed her arms feeling the cold, and looked around the playground. Her gaze darted to various groups around the yard before deciding on a couple of friends who were talking in the corner, thinking she might invite them to walk around a bit. Here was Jenny, back already, out of breath and eyes shining, obviously keen to pass on some juicy morsel.

  “I talked to him. He says he’s upset that you’re going out with someone else.”

  Renee shook her head. “Well, that’s funny. I don’t remember going out with anyone else, but obviously, he does. If he believes that kind of thing…well…that suits me just fine, because he’s a weirdo anyway.”

  “What do you mean, he’s a weirdo?”

  “Would you invite a boy back to your place when you knew your Mum and Dad weren’t home? And then go through your sister's room and find something to steal to give to your new boyfriend?” Renee wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to be his girlfriend, anyway. He was giving her the creeps. Jenny’s tale explained why he’d been picking on her lately though.

  “I guess not.” Jenny chewed on her lip. She slowly drifted into one of the many knots of children scattered across the playground.

  Renee spent the rest of the day pretending she couldn’t feel David’s looks, which alternated between scowls and curious adoration. She was glad of the distraction of geography, mainly maps and rain followed by spelling and corrections to take her through to the end of the day.

  She said a silent thank you as the final bell rang and she queued up at the classroom door.

  Today she was glad that home wasn't far. She slotted on her backpack and pushed through the exit. She quickened her footsteps. David used a similar route, and she didn’t want him to come running to catch up.

  She wondered why bad things kept happening, one after the other. First Dad had moved out, and then Gypsy was attacked. Now David had started picking on her because of his stupid personality. Her instinct told her that he could be needy and desperate, even if she hadn’t fully articulated it—it was simply a cloud of knowing.

  Her shoulders tightened as a car slowed behind her. Turning her head, she saw a young guy leering at her through the window of his black van, his blond head a mass of curls and his face was dirty. The car slowed down again and heart pounding even further, Renee shoved her hands under her armpits.

  “Hello, gorgeous.” His smile was hard and dangerous, his eyes cold.

  She felt her leg muscles tightening, ready to run.

  “Don’t be scared, your aunt sent me, you know Gypsy? Get in.” The car had almost stopped, and over its purring engine, his voice was low and rumbling, sending a race of prickles up her back.

  “Go away! I’ll scream…” Her voice sounded shrill and distant.

  “Aw, come on, don’t be like that.” His snort became uncontrolled laughter. Hitching her bag higher, she ran with no destination in mind, her breath ragged, as she sped past houses.

  She heard him calling in the distance, “Tell Gypsy I said hi, okay?” Then the engine revved as he overtook her, blaring the horn in a long loud blast. She stopped on the corner, gasping for air, legs wobbly. As the thump in her chest slowed from a pounding to a soft beat, she realized she was just a few houses away from home. Renee sagged against the wall, whispering a thank you. Her t
houghts were jumbled, and she walked quickly, counting the seconds before she got home.

  She arrived home out of breath, and took a turn into the driveway. Renee stopped to compose herself. Then she unlocked the front door and dumped her school bag on the floor. She threw herself into the closest chair, staring at the wall. The house was hushed and she wished desperately for Leah to get home from work early.

  She closed her eyes and fell into an armchair, head down. After a few seconds, she clomped upstairs to her room and threw herself onto the bed with a whimper. The familiar feel of her bed comforted her as she wrapped the covers around her body, the cocoon offering safety and security. She’d escaped and her terror had subsided.

  She heard the downstairs door bang closed.

  Throwing off the covering, she sat bolt upright, ran out to the landing, and jumped down the stairs, taking them two at a time.

  “Mum? Mum!”

  She sprinted for the kitchen.

  Empty table, empty chairs, and no signs of life.

  “Hello? Mum?”

  She rushed to the dining room, searching in a wide arc.

  There was her mother, her body sagging in the chair.

  “Mum? Mum? Mum!”

  “What? Oh, sorry, Renee. Yes, I’m here.”

  “Something’s happened.”

  Leah’s head jerked up. “What do you mean, something’s happened?”

  “A man followed me home from school, told me to get in the car, and he said he knew Gypsy.”

  “What? When, just now? Oh, my God.” Leah was up in one swift motion, reaching for her daughter.

  “I’m all right. It just scared me a bit, that’s all.” She reached out to Leah for comfort, and let out a quiet moan, grasping her mother’s waist. She wanted to tell her everything, but wasn’t sure where to start.

  “I was shaking, but I’m all right now. I love you, Mum. I’m so glad to be home.” Her speech was muffled by Leah’s spontaneous squeeze, and they stood swaying for a moment. “Jesus, I can’t believe this. Wait until I talk to Gypsy. We’re going to have to report this.”

  “Sounds good,” Leah agreed.

  Renee buried her face into her mother’s chest, enjoying the comfort while it lasted.

  Renee would check on Gyp and tell her about what happened. Gyp owed her big time, at least two movie visits and a long session of shopping. Once her aunt was better, she’d be making sure all benefits were paid in full.

  *****

  After leaving the laptop on her bedside table, Connor snuck out from the room, leaving a snoring Gypsy behind. He’d found a packet of six piles of post-it notes in the car and left them on her table. What a god-awful shock that was when he saw her after surgery. Of course, he’d visited victims in hospitals before, but this was different. He felt the nausea take hold, muscles cramping and his temperature rising. He wanted to hold her and promise that he could make it all go away and that he wouldn’t let anyone else hurt her. This was different from the one-night stands. He knew they could be friends, if given the time. He wanted to know her. Gypsy listened when he talked, and looked at him in a way that he thought revealed interest. The split with Jill had brought some finality to what he knew was a performance, an exercise in routine. They had been actors in a play with the roles set years ago, true intimacy was a thing of the past.

  If what he suspected was true, his life and career was about to change, his love life for the better, and his career down the toilet. He sighed, hoping he was simply being overly dramatic.

  After the shock of seeing Gypsy injured, Connor had begun to wonder about the man that knocked her over. His build, the timbre of his voice, the van, and the registration details of the vehicle seemed to be pointing in one direction. A direction he didn’t want to think about. He muttered to himself as he headed for the car, hands clenching into fists.

  “Won’t let it happen,” mumbled Connor.

  Scenes from years past came back to him. Pets were found at home killed and left in a gruesome display, questions about serious incidents at school, and the assault on his niece, Christie, which she had been so damn tight lipped about.

  It couldn’t be, though; there were some things he knew Aaron wasn’t capable of. Connor would confirm it soon enough. He was driving now, heading toward Clifton Hill, where cafes and bars spilled out onto the street with tables, chairs, and umbrellas jostling for position. Hipsters and hippies wearing the latest green hair, rainbow berets, or designer shoes were the common denominator here. Most of them were deep in conversation but still aware of seeing and being seen, flicking glances over their shoulders at regular intervals.

  Jaw set, he focused on driving, his movements precise. He turned into a side street, and then pulled into a narrow lane before his tiny home. Scraping his car through this street was a nightmare, particularly as built-in garages were few and far between, and parking spaces rare.

  The usual musty smell greeted him as he opened the front door. When he’d split with Jill, his mind was not fully on the task of finding somewhere to live. He’d viewed this empty unit, its unloved air with orange worn carpet and grey kitchen benches barely registering. He’d taken it and moved in his sparse belongings with little time or attention on making it a home.

  He threw his keys and briefcase on the dining table, heading to the kitchen to see if there was anything in the refrigerator worth eating. His brows pulled down at the contents: shriveled carrots, a six-pack of beer that he’d bought months before, dried up cheese, curled ham, and a couple of yogurts. He chose yogurt, spooning it into his mouth mechanically.

  He looked out through the inky kitchen windows. All was dark and quiet in the endless blackness of the late hour.

  Connor remembered that he should check his gun, and his head snapped up. Connor raced to his bedroom and knelt, barely registering the covers in disarray, the pillow on the floor, or the sheet peeling off the mattress as he foraged underneath. He dragged the box out, horrified that the lock had been broken and was hanging lopsided. Yet, the gun was in the box. He let out a breath and sagged against the bed. He stared at his palms. Who would have broken the lock and left the gun behind?

  Did he leave it unlocked like that? That wasn’t like him, but there’d been a lot on his mind since Aaron stopped replying to his messages and calls.

  If anyone knew where Aaron was, Tiran would. Pushing himself up, Connor reached for the phone in his back pocket and dialed.

  “Tiran?”

  “Connor? What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry to call so late, but I’m looking for Aaron. Is he there?”

  “No.”

  Picking at flaky bits of paint on a picture, he waited for her to go on.

  “I don’t know where he is.” Her monotone registered loud and clear, jarring him out of his distracted state. “We had a bust up Saturday and I haven’t seen him since. Hopefully he’s at a mate's place and won’t be back ‘til he’s cooled down. Probably not for a while if my black eye is anything to go by. I need time to calm down myself.”

  “A black eye? I’ll be right over.”

  “Hang on, Connor.” He hung up, collected his keys, and rushing out the door, he ran for the car to head to Tiran and Aaron’s place.

  On the way, thoughts rolled through his mind and he felt the sweat forming on his upper lip. He focused on his hands gripping the steering wheel. Could he have prevented this? Somehow, he had failed his nephew. He’d done everything he could to support him, or thought he had, but unlike his sister, Christie, Aaron had never really moved on from his father’s death and his mother's plunge into alcoholism. If only Aaron had come to Connor. Aaron had gone through a phase where he dabbled in drugs for a few months, but he thought he’d moved past that.

  Pulling into the driveway of the beige, cement sheet house, Connor saw that Tiran had left the porch light on for him. She was opening the front door as he stopped the car at the end of the driveway. He shifted in his seat as he saw the door open, the light shining acro
ss the porch steps.

  “Tiran.”

  “Connor, come in. It’s a bit of a mess.” She gestured with a dismissive sweep of the arm. The lounge room was large enough, furnished with a brown velvet couch and plastic toys strewn across the grey carpet, and bright multi-colored baby rug with mirrors and plastic rings sewn in. Their home looked lived in, but nothing shocking, considering there was a ten month old in the house.

  “What’s going on? You’ve got a black eye?” He felt a thickness in his throat.

  “Yeah.” Connor could see the side of her face, purple and swollen in the shadows. Tiran was holding her face at a strange angle and she touched its tender contours. “This was a one off. You know that, right? He’s not like that. Well, not usually anyway. This is the first time.” She sank into the chair opposite him. She was less animated than usual and he watched her sagging form in the chair, barely moving.

  “I know that, Tiran. He’s a good guy, just a lot going on with work and a new baby. It can take a while to find your way.”

  “He hasn’t been himself. I don’t know…maybe more paranoid than usual. He asked me who the other bloke was, as if I have time with a ten month old baby!” Tiran stood up, ran her hands through her hair, and then pulled the belt in her dirty white dressing gown tighter.

  She looked at Connor, the skin around her eyes pinched with sleep deprivation. Connor realized how lucky his nephew was. He had a woman who loved him, supported him, and did a great job caring for their baby boy.

  “Bailey asleep?” asked Connor, standing up. “Mind if I look in on him?”

  “Yeah, c-come through,” she stuttered, rubbing the back of her neck. They padded through to the boy’s bedroom, where a child’s lamp cast a dim light across the cot. The word “Bailey” was spelled out in blue letters across the wall along with pictures of Tigger and Winnie the Pooh. The cot and drawers were of a freshly varnished dark timber with a matching changing table. Connor and Tiran gazed into the cot and there he was, blond, soft, and beautiful, cherub-like in sleep. Connor tenderly ran his hand over the boy’s head, letting out his breath slowly, and then let the back of his fingers rest against Bailey’s velvety cheek.