by Dale Mayer
She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her tone was sharp, as if she wasn’t used to having anyone close or keeping watch.
“Yes, I do.”
And he realized sadly that, as he had tried to move on, she probably hadn’t. She had been well on her way, but, after the loss of her son, her world had come to a screeching halt. In a way he was jealous of her having a son. Someone to love like that—a connection with a blood relative. Of course, her loss was all that more terrible. He’d not found love in any way since. His stellar career had stalled out as he no longer closed his cases at the same rate without her help. Not that he cared about his career aspects as reflected on some spreadsheet. He’d always been quick to give her credit for all the assistance she’d given him, but the police department higher-ups had never wanted the media to know. They also had never paid her. As if giving her a paycheck for her services was an endorsement of her psychic gifts or something.
And that hadn’t helped his relationship with Queenie. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money for both of them, but there was never a ton of it, not when they were looking to buy a house, not when she was working full-time and not getting compensated. She was working for the dead or for the lost or for the missing. And she’d be the first one to do it for free. Her heart had been incredibly large.
But over time it had been harder for her. She kept saying something about needing defenses, finding ways to let go of all these people pulling on her, and she’d been working on it but definitely not fast enough. The real killing blow was when all the cops had turned on her when she’d given them the wrong information.
They’d been devastated and had needed a target.
That was when everything fell to pieces in their relationship. He himself hadn’t turned on her, but he had been so frustrated and angry that he was just as guilty because he’d snapped at her several times, asking how she hadn’t seen it. And, of course, the answer was, She hadn’t seen it because she hadn’t seen it. She could only tell him what she saw, and he understood that. But, in the heat of the moment, the frustration and grief had overwhelmed him.
After their breakup, his record of closing cases had dropped down to some pretty small numbers. And he realized that was what the other detectives dealt with on a regular basis. Because Kirk had had an inside line to somebody who had access to so much more information, he’d been stellar in the office. But, of course, the other guys had hated him for it.
He’d never once considered his success rate from their point of view. He had offered her assistance for their cases, but a lot of the guys didn’t want anything to do with her. If she did come up with something, she would talk to them quietly on the lowdown, knowing they didn’t want others to know. Every once in a while they’d get so frustrated they’d ask her. And often she had something that would send them off in a new direction, leading them to close the cases. But there was a lot of distrust. There was a lot of skepticism.
“You’re not saying anything,” she said. “So it was just words you didn’t mean?”
Startled, he looked back at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I asked you, in what way you thought I’d changed,” she repeated slowly, her gaze searching his as if trying to figure out where he’d been.
He didn’t know himself. He’d been caught up in a world still impacting his present day but was long gone.
“You’re calmer,” he said quietly. “Less driven.”
She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“It’s good. You were down to skin and bone, and so close to the wire. I was afraid you would snap at any time.”
“And of course I did,” she said bitterly. “I have been trying to not end up in the same condition again.” She acted as if she would say something else, and then pinched her lips shut.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She just stared at him.
But her face gave nothing away. He could sense the secrets inside, and that bothered him. He also knew he didn’t have any right to be bothered. When she’d sent him away, they’d gone their own directions. He’d lived his life; she’d lived hers. But he never forgot her, never forgot how she’d given her all to everything she did. Whether that was making love or closing cases, she dove in with both feet. It was all or nothing. She went after killers with the ferocity of a bulldog, and she wouldn’t let them go until she had them cornered and caught.
The thing was, because of her abilities, the criminals never understood how they got caught, how they slipped up, how the cops managed to nail them.
“I haven’t changed at all,” she said quietly. “Not really.” Then she thought about it and shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course I have. I’m not the same person.” She chuckled. “And that’s a good thing. I was a nervous wreck, constantly trying to overachieve, to gain acceptance. After a lot of hardship I finally came to the conclusion acceptance be damned. I am who I am, and, if that’s not enough, then you can get the hell out of my life.”
She said it with such conviction that he realized she really believed it. He wondered what it had taken for her to come to that point. And then her earlier words hit him. “What do you mean, acceptance?”
She waved her hand. “Don’t give me that. You know how hard it was for me to deal with the cops … the distrust, the disbelief, all the time. And yet, at the same time, all of them wanting answers. And I gave them everything. That first chance they got to turn on me, they did. Not only was I trying to find the victims and to help them but I was always looking for approval from them, from you, from myself. And, of course, I could never do enough,” she said sadly. “Because life still kicks you in the ass, and it’s up to you to get back up again and carry on, whether you like it or not.”
He winced. “You’ve had a rough few years.”
“Maybe a few …” she said, her stare bland. “But it’s for the best. You’ve had an easy few years,” she said. “At least that’s how you make it look.”
“At least easier than I really deserved,” he admitted. “But I didn’t rock the boat. I didn’t go for very intense relationships. I did nothing but stay at my job and close the cases I could without your assistance. And I realized just how much you had given us over the years. I only closed one-tenth of the cases without you. And, of course, that’s what the other detectives were closing all the time. But we worked in teams a lot, so we had the numbers cracking down pretty good when you were there working with us.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “Honestly I missed you. I missed us. It’s not been the same since we broke up. I get that we’re different now. That you’ve been to hell and back, but I like what I see. And …” He took a deep breath, staring down into her midnight blue eyes, seeing the surprise, the shock and maybe some heat inside.
“I’d like to get to know you again.”
Chapter 12
Sunday Morning …
The next day Queenie woke to a cloudy sky. Memories of the previous afternoon visiting with Kirk over lunch filled her mind. It had been nice, pleasant. More than pleasant if she were honest. Almost like when they’d been dating. Even better now as they were both different people—older, wiser. Yet the connection was still there. A happy sigh escaped. It was nice.
As she lay here, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. She jerked back to see a spider on her bedspread. “Uh-oh, it’s you again,” she said, sneaking out from under the covers. “What do you want? Why couldn’t you have been a butterfly or something a lot easier to deal with? Why a spider?”
But as the spider sat on her blanket and stared at her, she looked a little closer, studying its body and realizing it looked very similar to the one from her amusement park tent. Could it be the same one? Surely not. She’d seen dozens the other morning. She glanced around nervously. “Where are the rest of your friends?”
It was one thing to dea
l with them when you saw them first, but having them come out of dark corners really got her.
She knew after her previous encounters she should be more used to them, but somehow they still unnerved her.
“Just stay there until I get back,” she whispered, walking backward to the bathroom. Inside she gave her teeth a good brushing before stepping out of her pajamas and into a hot shower.
As soon as she scrubbed down and shampooed her hair several times, she turned off the water and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel. She usually avoided looking in a mirror. For some reason, seeing her reflection, or maybe the lack of her reflection, bothered her. She knew it had something to do with her abilities. But the outline always looked blurred to her. She didn’t know what the hell anybody would say to that. She’d mentioned it once to the law enforcement mandatory doctor, more as a joke than anything. Dr. Hutchinson hadn’t taken it as a joke, and she’d apologized and then shut up. He’d monitored her mental health seasonally for all the years she’d been an advisor, and she’d seen him a couple times after that last case blew up, then once after Reese’s death.
At that point, she’d decided she was better off on her own. Not that the good doctor had done anything but try to help her, but, if she were honest, what she did was outside the parameters of his reality, and, therefore, any help he had to offer didn’t really apply.
What she wanted was to have a group of peers. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have a circle of people with abilities like hers, or similar to hers, to discuss the challenges? Because, damn, there were a lot of them.
She braided her hair, then headed back to the bedroom. Her gaze zinged to the bedspread, only to find the spider had disappeared.
She pulled on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and walked out to the kitchen. There she put on her habitual pot of coffee and booted up her laptop. While both were doing their jobs, she headed out on the balcony and took several deep breaths of the fresh air. It smelled like rain, but it felt like something else, darker, like some ugliness brewed on the horizon. She frowned and stood there for a moment, checking in with her senses to see if anything was coming to her, looking for her own vision. It was much harder to view her own world.
When she couldn’t pick up anything unusual, she stepped inside and poured herself a cup of coffee, then went to the table to check the laptop. Just about to sit down, she saw the spider on the kitchen table. She glared at it. “How the hell did you get out here?”
Of course it was a foolish question. As she walked to the sink, she saw the spider again. She glanced over at the table and groaned. “Now there are two of you? So where is the rest of your army?”
She filled a glass with water only to see a third spider. She stepped back against the fridge, her gaze going from one spider to the other to the other. “If you guys have a convention at my place, just let me know ahead of time, and I’ll happily vacate,” she called out in an effort at light humor.
Maybe you should look at why they’re there instead, Stefan said quietly, his voice resonating through her head.
“You’re just as freaky, dropping in like that,” she called out. Then remembering Stefan’s earlier instructions, she spoke through her mind connection with Stefan. Can you see them?
No, I’m not in your room. I’m just telecommuting with you.
Is there a whole group of you? I would really love to connect with other psychics.
Haven’t you before? Only curiosity could be heard in his tone.
She shook her head as she stepped lightly, getting closer to the coffeepot. Watching the nearest spider, she moved her hand forward until it lifted a leg at her. She bounced back. No, I haven’t been so lucky. Is there one who deals with spiders?
You’ve asked me that before. The answer is still no. I don’t know anybody who connects with spiders.
Too bad, she snapped. If somebody does out there, I’d really like to know why the spiders are haunting me. I see visions of the little boy, but nothing I can use. Two nights ago I touched several spiders to see if they had a message for me. She quickly explained the vision she saw. But there’s been nothing since. Only this morning I’m seeing them again.
How many do you see now? he asked curiously.
Three. And then she caught herself. Unless there’s a fourth one still on my bed. I don’t know if it’s one of these guys or not.
But you had more before? Interesting.
She walked to her laptop, grabbed it with her free hand and strode into the living room. She searched the area, looking for a spider, but there didn’t appear to be any. Yeah, that about sums it up. The other night there were dozens of them. I don’t understand why they are here or what they want. That they might have been sent by someone is another curious possibility because I can’t for the life of me understand why. She sank down in her chair, placed the coffee on the floor beside her and opened up her laptop. I need a spider specialist.
I don’t know one, but I did come for a specific reason.
Yeah? What’s that? She sifted through her emails, not seeing anything of interest, though there were a couple about the website. Eagerly she went to click on one.
I need your help.
She froze. What do you mean, my help?
Remember the patient you sent to Dr. Maddy?
Yeah, of course. Do you have a progress report? She bounced to her feet and paced her living room. Because that would be freaking awesome if she could help.
Well then, be prepared to be awesomized, Stefan said humorously. She did, indeed, see him. And that’s one of the reason’s I’m contacting you. She found something … odd. There was a pause, as if he were collecting his thoughts.
She brightened. Is it a good odd? Is there anything she can do for him?
What did you see when you saw his little girl?
I’m not sure I saw anything. I did get the answer to their question, but it was basically that they needed to see Dr. Maddy.
Dr. Maddy thinks he’s being poisoned.
She gasped in horror. Oh, my God! Will he be okay?
It depends whether we can find out who’s poisoning him.
Queenie frowned. Usually there’s a certain amount of energy when I see murderous intent like that, but I’d normally have to have a connection to him, like touching him.
True. I would normally see that too. But I’m not seeing it in this case. Neither is Dr. Maddy.
So other people see it the same way I do?
I don’t know. We all see things differently. And then some people have the ability to mask what they are doing.
But, if it’s evil energy, then I generally see something.
Right, that’s what I was thinking too. So how is somebody poisoning him if it’s not done on purpose?
Chances are it’s accidental, she said cautiously. As in, giving him something they think is good for him, but it’s hurting him instead. Or maybe eating food that’s doing it? Other than that, no clue.
We haven’t found anything either. He paused. So back to the spiders. Do you have anything you can give to the police to find the little boy?
The first time I saw the spider, I thought I heard a little boy crying for his mommy. This time the boy was scared as someone approached, but he was okay in the vision. What came afterward, I can’t say as the vision stopped there. Honestly I don’t know that I want to see. I can’t handle anything bad happening to little kids.
Stefan was quiet. Are you sure you heard and saw this? His voice was very gentle.
She nodded and choked back the tears ever threatening to fill her eyes at the thought of that little boy. Yes, I’m certain. But I didn’t recognize the voice. I’m not crazy, she said firmly. And I’m not thinking it was my son or anything else like that, but obviously any cases involving terrified little boys will trigger a strong response from me. Too strong if the truth be told. What could she do to help him?
Back when you helped the police, were there any cases with missing children?
Lots, she sa
id bluntly.
One that would be close to that age, maybe a baby back then?
She frowned and cast her mind back to the multitudes of cases she’d worked on. I don’t think there were any that weren’t solved, she said slowly. I mean, it’s possible. We certainly had enough, and I know I didn’t work on all of them by any means.
No, but for you to have heard that voice, you’d think there would need to be a connection.
But what kind of a connection? she asked. I don’t remember having had physical contact with this boy, although my abilities are changing, and I don’t always need to touch.
It might not need to be that at all. It could be a boy that you, at one time, held his hand. Maybe he was kidnapped afterward.
She made a startled sound. If you’re talking about a boy from one of the cases I knew of or worked on, that could involve any number of possibilities.
Exactly, Stefan said. How are you doing with the reframing?
She shook her head. I haven’t had much time to practice. Things at the amusement park blew up. It’s dominated my thoughts. Although Stefan was silent, she almost heard him hum. Are you reading my thoughts?
Your energy, he said calmly, as if unaware or uncaring that he might be intruding. And I’m not intruding. If you don’t cloak your thoughts, they’re open for anyone to read.
Is that how that asshole is watching me, or stepping into my world, seeing what I’m doing?
No, Stefan said slowly. That has to be something else.
Why?
Because you have a unique defense system that I’m not even sure you’re aware of.
I didn’t think I had much of any defense system, she cried out. Isn’t that why David could get closer to me? I always struggled to get rid of all these memories and the people crying out to me.
Explain.
She was coming to realize that direct curtness was just Stefan’s way. It wasn’t an order but not exactly a request. It was somewhere in between yet given in a way he knew she would answer. When I do readings for people, it’s like I’m collecting bits and pieces of them, she said, slowly trying to formulate what the problem was. So, when I wake up in the middle of the night, it’s often the messages I gave them that are running through my mind.
