“What?” She seemed confused.
He was confused. “How did you do this?” Where he touched her, his fingers throbbed faintly.
“Don’t you know you’ve scratched yourself badly?” he said. Gently, he ran his hand along her arm. Last night he’d put his hands on hers to show her he was cold. As soon as he did it he wondered why he felt compelled to touch her, and why he didn’t pull back right then. Instead of letting go, he had held tighter and felt tingling, but nothing like what he experienced now.
The sensation quickly became intense, close to pain, like the heavy pulse of arousal when he was close to a climax.
“These must hurt you,” he said, and the huskiness in his voice was obvious, even to him.
The color of Marley’s eyes changed through shades of green, growing darker. He leaned closer, and he thought she moved nearer to him.
“They’re nothing,” she said, pulling away. She tugged her sleeves down, but her face had turned pale.
Gray took a deep, calming breath. “Did you clean them?” he asked.
As quickly as she’d paled, Marley’s face glowed red. He recalled that redheads blushed easily. She didn’t answer him and she probably wished he would forget what he had seen.
Could someone have deliberately hurt her? Women often denied abuse. He’d seen enough of that as a cop.
In one corner, a deep stone sink stood on metal legs. “Why don’t we wash those?” he said.
Marley sat quite still. “They’re all right. I don’t think the skin’s broken.”
He hopped to his feet and found the clean handkerchief he carried out of habit. There was only cold water. Sticking his head under the faucet sounded like a good idea, but he doubted Marley would be impressed. He soaked the cloth and returned to her. When she didn’t move, he took hold of her right wrist and dabbed the wounds.
No blood came off on the cloth. He repeated the process with the other wrist with the same result—no blood. Through his thin linen handkerchief he could feel the swollen welts.
“Thank you,” she said when he finally finished. “I’d forgot. I slipped in the courtyard.”
Gray didn’t believe her and he wanted a closer look at her arms. She wasn’t going to let that happen. He didn’t recall seeing the same type of marks before.
The dog whined and Marley patted her lap. Winnie jumped up. A grown man shouldn’t envy a dog, but Gray just might. Having Marley stroke him all over could be heaven.
He got an instant, erotic reflex.
“I’m considering trying to do remote drawing,” she said quietly. “They use it a lot in law enforcement.”
He wanted to know who “they” were, but kept his mouth shut, hoping she’d continue. No one he knew had ever used a psychic on a case—with or without remote drawing. That didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
The faraway expression on Marley’s features seemed to mean she’d as good as forgotten he was there.
Since last night his hands had warmed up, but the quivering he still felt along his tendons wasn’t normal. A prickling sensation, a shooting thrill, hit hard enough to wind him. Objects around him grew fuzzy at the edges. He wondered if he could be ill, but no, this wasn’t any illness, or not the kind most people thought of.
She was aware of him again, piercingly intent on his face. What was she thinking? He couldn’t unlock his gaze from hers. She stared inside him—or he felt she could? Did she know what he was thinking? An impulse to make his mind a blank didn’t work. Instead he got a vivid image of her holding up her arms, untouched arms. In his mind, she screamed and drew them back. There were the marks again.
He had no idea why he would imagine that.
“Talk to me more about Detective Archer,” she said. “You were going to.”
All he sensed now was that she wanted to change the subject.
“I think it was all about warning me off,” Gray said. “He knew I was at Scully’s last night. With you.”
She blinked slowly, like someone as tired as she obviously was. “Does that mean Danny called him? I didn’t believe him when he said he would.”
“I’m not sure. But someone did,” he said.
“Who?”
Nat hadn’t told him to keep quiet, but then discretion was taken for granted. But if he wanted something from her, he’d have to gain her confidence. Shared information could help.
“I hope you won’t say anything about this. It was a child who called. A boy who said the people he was with would make him suffer if I didn’t back off asking questions about…this case.”
Her study of him lasted seconds too long. “About Amber,” she said. “That’s what you almost said. Does the boy belong to Amber? Does she have a son? Was it him?”
She was telling him, not asking him. He was certain she already knew Amber had a kid. “Ask Nat,” he told her, and she nodded as if he had agreed with her “guesses.”
“I’ve got to go back there,” she said.
“Explain what you’re talking about.”
Marley looked past him and he swiveled around. The crowded workbench was the only thing between him and a wall.
“I have to be alone.”
“So you can try to see what you said you saw before?” he asked. “I don’t get any of it.”
“No.” Her eyes widened and he could have sworn she was listening closely for something. “I’ve never looked for them before. They come to me when they want to.”
“Who?” He wanted to go with her wherever she was going, and to hear what she heard.
Flickering overhead drew his attention to the ceiling. Green, glowing streaks wavered there. Blue mixed with the green and he couldn’t look away.
His cell phone vibrated in one of his pockets. Vaguely, he wondered how long ago that had started.
“Answer your phone,” Marley said.
“How—” Instinctively he knew it was best not to ask her how she knew his phone was vibrating. He pulled it out and answered. “Yes.” The readout showed the Caged Bird, a jazz club he liked a lot.
Bernie Bois answered and his message was short, and sweet to Gray’s ears. “Thanks,” he said. “I’ll be around later.”
Marley gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. “You feel good,” she said to him. “It’s making you smile.”
“Remember Pipes Dupuis?” he asked.
She frowned. “Oh, of course. She’s the other missing singer.”
“Not anymore,” he told her. “She sings at the Caged Bird and she just showed up there.”
14
Just as with Scully’s, Marley didn’t recall seeing the Caged Bird before. She didn’t care much for either place.
In the center of the club there was an oversize gilded cage suspended five or so feet from the floor by a thick pole threaded, top to bottom, through its middle. Marley could only think of one purpose for the contraption.
“This is a guy place,” she said. “Women dance in there.”
“What makes you think that?” Gray asked.
She stood on tiptoe to get a slightly better look at the cage, then took in the rest of the Caged Bird. A fresh thought amused her. “You mean men pole-dance in that thing, and that one over there?” The gilded showcase had a twin on the far side of a circular bar in the middle of a room resembling a large padded cell. Padded with quilted parrots, their once brilliant colors faded by dust and years.
“Men?” Gray screwed up his eyes to peer at her as if she was manic.
“Might be cool,” she said. “I’ve never seen pole dancing so I’m curious.”
“You want to see men pole dancing?”
She let it go. “If you thumped the wall, you’d choke on the dust,” Marley said, pinching her nose. “And it stinks of beer.”
“That is the aroma of a fine drinking and jazz establishment, ma’am.” Gray arched his brows and grinned. “This is a great old club. And I like it here, so watch it.”
Marley was more intent on watching him, on watching h
is face to be precise. She had studied it from every angle since he showed up at the shop. There was no sign of a scar that she could find.
In her workroom she had come close to telling him about her most recent journey. The interruption from this place was a good thing since she wasn’t sure who to trust yet.
She had a hunch that he was one of the white hats, the man a woman could trust. Not finding an evil-looking white scar running from cheek to jowl and bisecting his mouth on the way didn’t hurt her new faith in hunches.
“There’s no one here,” she told him.
“So there isn’t,” he said.
“Why are we here then?” Her heart gave a big thump. “It feels creepy. This kind of place doesn’t open in the middle of the day.”
“Baby, in N’awlins you can find this kind of club open any time of day.”
“Baby?” He had to be kidding. “Are you playing some game with me, or just passing the time?”
He slid his hands into his pockets. “I didn’t invite you to come, Marley. Like you say, the place is empty, but I’m patient so I’ll wait for the guy who said Pipes Dupuis was here.”
Gray had not invited her, but he did wait while she went back to her flat and dressed. His tone stung. “I’m not here because I can’t live without your company,” she said shortly. “Just like you, I need leads and I’m hoping to get some here.” She stopped herself from voicing the panicky way in which she felt time running out.
“Okay,” he said. His smile softened her annoyance. “Sorry.”
Hot as it was, she’d put on a black T-shirt with tight, long sleeves. She didn’t want him grilling her about the frightening marks on her wrists again. He’d noticed them before she had.
“Aren’t you hot in that shirt?” he said.
Marley gritted her teeth. One more time, her thoughts and what he said appeared related.
“Black wasn’t the best choice,” she admitted of the shirt.
“It suits you.”
That was not anything she expected him to say, but it brought a flush of pleasure. She swallowed and made a visual journey to the ceiling with the nearest brass pole.
He hummed.
Marley felt him studying her. He made her aware of her body. And aware that Gray enjoyed what he saw.
“Listen,” she said. “Every minute that passes makes me more scared for Liza and Amber. I really want Pipes to show here. She could know something useful.”
“I hope she does,” Gray said. Muscles in his jaw tensed. “I’m thinking Bernie, the manager, contacted the police to tell them she’s alive and kicking. Maybe they already came and picked her up. They’ll have questions for her.”
“If she knows something it could make all the difference,” she said. “For both of us.”
He gave her a speculative look.
“The front doors of this place are wide-open,” Marley said. “But the lights aren’t really on, are they? Or is it always gloomy like this?”
Gray raised a brow. “You don’t like a lot of light, remember?”
“In my own space,” she told him. She caught hold of his arm. “Are you taking any of this seriously? I thought all you wanted was to find Liza and Amber, but—”
“You can’t know how badly I want that,” he said, cutting her off. “But it isn’t all I want.”
The corners of his eyes crinkled. A flinch? Or a wince? Then he smiled faintly and she wasn’t sure, but he had a lot on his mind and he wasn’t in a hurry to share it with her.
“I get it,” she said, although she didn’t really. “This is supposed to be a one-way street. I put myself on the line and tell you whatever I can. You give me nothing in return. Forget it. I’ve got problems of my own to solve.”
“I don’t want you to put yourself on the line.” The smile was gone as if it had never touched his lips. “We’re both on edge. If Pipes isn’t here, she’s probably with the police. We’ll give her a few more minutes, then move on. Either we’ll take another shot at comparing what I know and what you think you do, or we won’t. I’m game but it’s up to you.”
“What you know and what I think I know?”
He put a hand over hers on his arm. “I didn’t mean it that way.”
Marley caught a breath. His eyes really were the color of whiskey and right now all they were seeing was her. Gray’s lips parted. He pulled air in slowly through his nose and kept on looking at her.
“I had a dream early this morning so I traveled back.” The words tumbled out. “It was about something that happened to me a couple of weeks ago. I got a message in a dream. I didn’t want to travel to that place where I saw Liza and Amber again. I had to. That’s what the message was about.”
“Do you always believe dreams?”
“No.” She couldn’t help being defensive. “But this was different.”
“So you did whatever you say you do and went—wherever.” His fingers curled around hers, crushing them together. He pressed them against his arm.
“I went,” she agreed.
A current flowed between them, from hand to hand, and from his arm to her hand. Not a tremor. An exchange of energy.
“What did you see?” he asked very quietly.
“A woman lying on her face.” Without knowing why, she wanted him to believe her. “She was on top of a lot of silk pillows.”
“Was it in that other place again? With the cold storage room.”
He startled her. “Cold storage room? I don’t know for sure if that’s what I saw the other times. There was a room with cold fog.”
His features were hard, completely stark, except for his eyes. Gray’s eyes were vividly alive and filled with questions.
“Couldn’t that have been a cold storage room?” he asked. “A place for keeping things…cold?”
She shivered involuntarily. “I didn’t see it this time.”
“You mean you went to a different place and saw a woman? Was it Amber or Liza?”
“It seemed…I think I went to the same place and it looked different. Or maybe the light was different. I don’t know who she was—she was sleeping.”
Gray’s grip tightened. “You’re sure she was sleeping?”
Marley wasn’t sure, couldn’t be. “I hope she was.”
He looked away. “Did your arms get hurt while you were…traveling?”
For an instant she was back there, her skin connecting to that foul, spined thing.
“What is it?” Gray said.
“Stop it,” she said and startled herself by giving him a push. He stood fast, but she staggered. “I don’t like it here. And I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”
“You’re not going to have a choice,” he said, his voice even and firm. “We’re going to be together. I feel it.”
Flight was her first impulse. Her second was to put a little distance between them and hold her ground. “You sound strange,” she told him. “Do you know that?”
“Nothing strange about me,” he said, the easy smile tipping up his mouth again. “Although I could be a bit punchy.”
Intuition made her almost certain Gray was either a psychic, or becoming one. And if he was turning into a psychic she thought it was happening because he was around her. Similar cases were documented, but she hadn’t encountered one before.
Another overhead light came on, this one behind a small dais where empty mike stands, an upright piano and two high stools kept company.
A door opened in a parrot-padded wall and a woman came through with a tall man behind her.
“Is this them?” Marley whispered.
When Gray didn’t answer, she glanced at him and realized he hadn’t moved, or turned toward the light. He still stared at her as if he would find the answer to anything that bugged him if he only studied her long enough.
“Gray Fisher!” the tall, thin man hollered. The thick walls muffled his voice. “Here we are.”
“No kidding,” Marley murmured.
“Careful what you say.” Gra
y had snapped to life and he gave her a warning nod. “Pipes is a jumpy one.”
I’m getting to be jumpy myself. “Gotcha,” she said. “You can rely on me.”
“Hey, Bernie,” Gray said. “Is that you, Pipes?”
The woman said something but Marley didn’t hear what.
“We were just attendin’ to some business in the office,” Bernie said. “I want this songbird of ours back at work. When she isn’t here, we don’t do so well.”
Blonde and nicely made, Pipes hung her head and the shiny, straight hair fell forward to conceal her face.
Bernie chuckled. “She’s still a shy one,” he said. His accent was Cajun, softly rounded on the edges and impossible not to like. “Best voice in N’awlins, this one.” He said this to Marley.
“I hope I get to hear you sing,” Marley said to Pipes.
“Uh-huh.” Shaking her hair back, Pipes set her head on one side and looked out from long bangs. “The show’s not till nine.”
A pretty, dark-eyed woman, she had an emptiness about her. Marley wondered if she could be high on something—which wouldn’t be so unusual.
“Good to see you,” Gray said. “You haven’t forgotten we’ve got a date for an interview, have you?”
Pipes shook her head.
“You were reported missing,” he persisted. “How did that happen?”
She drew up her shoulders. “They don’t listen. The band. I said I was goin’ to be gone awhile. Went to visit the folks a few days.”
“Are you in the band?” Marley asked Bernie politely.
“Nah,” he said. “I’m the manager around here.”
“Has someone let the police know you’re okay?” Gray asked.
Pipes’s eyes got bigger. “I don’t know.”
In other words, she hadn’t done it herself.
“How come you didn’t call them as soon as you saw yourself on the news?” Gray said.
“I don’t watch the news,” Pipes said. “Bernie said they thought I was gone.”
“I’ll give the police a call for you,” Gray said.
“Why?” Pipes said. “I’m back now.”
“There are people out looking for you,” Gray said. He gave Marley an uncomfortably long sideways look—like he was trying to send her a message.
Out of Body Page 12
