by Amie Gibbons
“Good,” Collins said, taking my hand.
I opened my eyes and looked at his big strong hand dwarfing mine.
“How do I know you?” I asked as I followed him through the trees.
“You keep asking that and I swear we’ve never met.”
“Then what’s your name? Whatever you go by now, I mean. Cuz I’m pretty sure I know you. Why can’t I focus on your features? Like, I can’t hold onto them enough to describe you or place you.”
“I do that on purpose. I don’t want everyone I drop in on to know I can do this.”
“Do this often?”
He smirked again. “You need to focus on your serial killer and not me, the trail is fading.”
I sighed and focused on Truck.
The world blinked and we were on the side of a two-lane road. But this didn’t feel like it was through the wilds of Tennessee. It felt closer to the city than that.
The asphalt ran under our feet, rushin’ us down the road so fast I would’ve had whiplash if it were real. We stopped at a light, with houses lining the intersecting road and what looked like a mini mall down the street.
“Where is he?” I asked.
“You’re the psychic,” Collins said.
I tossed up my hands. “You’re the driver on this little expedition.”
“And you’re the navigator. Focus. I can feel your mind bouncing all over the place. It’s giving me a headache. I’m already in a shitty mood and you are making it worse.”
“Why are you in such a bad mood?”
“Same reason I need your help. Got someone I need to find. It’s taking longer than I thought.” He turned and grabbed my hand, pulling me close. “You need to learn how to focus. Your mind is bouncing more than girls on Spring Break videos.”
I squinted at him. “Not exactly the image I’d go with.”
“If you don’t focus, you’re wasting both our times, and I’ll be looking for something to make this worth my effort.”
He slid his hand up my side and I slapped it, backing away.
“Stop that!” I said.
His eyes danced. “Make me.”
“You… we have a killer to find. We don’t have time for this. And in case ya didn’t notice, I’m not exactly in the mood.”
“Then focus. Or I’m going to get bored.”
His eyes hardened and I backed away another few steps. “Stop scaring me and maybe I’ll be able to focus better.”
He smiled and it was cruel. “I haven’t begun to scare you. And I find fear can be quite motivating.”
I blinked and he was in front of me.
I bit down on the squeal and clenched my fists, starin’ him down.
“You want me to help you?” I asked. “You’re gonna back off and help me, and stop messing with me. You notice I can’t focus when I’m too busy paying attention to you, right?”
He sighed. “How long until your colleagues wake you?”
“Half an hour from when I went down, but I don’t know if the dream state started right away, or if time in here is the same as time out there. Do you?”
He shook his head. “It depends on the spell to put you under.”
“Wait, how did you know I was put under by a spell?”
“I can feel it. This isn’t a natural sleep. Tell me about your serial killer.”
“His name is JB Truck. He’s about six foot one, scrawny, brown hair-”
“No, no, no,” he said. “This isn’t a BOLO. Tell me about him. What does he do to his victims? How does he kill? Why does he kill? It will help you focus on him and maybe we can make this little mind meld worth something.”
“The media calls him the Puzzle Master. He would lock his victims up and put them through tests and make them do puzzles. He started videotaping them and putting those on the internet. Then he got cocky, got on tape with them. Did things… well, let’s just say these weren’t the kinds of things they’d be playin’ on primetime. HBO, maybe.”
“He raped them.”
“I… after seeing into his head, I’m not sure if it was rape, at least not always, or if he got them to where they actually wanted to. But it always ended the same way, the girl dead. And it wasn’t always just girls. He’s a little weird for a serial killer that way. Went after guys a few times, but never in that way.”
He nodded along, still so calm. “Why does he kill?”
“I… I’m not sure. He doesn’t feel crazy. I think he just likes to. You know how some people like to play video games or how they have weird sex things that just work for them even though others think it’s nuts? It’s like that. He just likes to put people through puzzles and kill them. I think he has sex for the same reason any guy does. Lots of times he picked up the girl in a bar, had sex with her first, from what we could tell, then locked her up.”
I froze.
“You!” I pointed at him. “When you were tryin’ to break into my head at my boyfriend’s last night, you were going through some of my memories. You said, no you thought, something about him killing Melissa too soon. What was that?”
He shook his head. “That was you thinking that. I was just observing.”
“Did you think, ‘Interesting,’ when we walked up?” I asked.
“Yes.” He shrugged. “It was. What serial killer do you know that feels like he has to kill someone at a specific time?”
“Could be something ritualistic,” I said. “But he doesn’t strike me as any kinda religious fanatic. He’s more… scientific than that. And, but no, he’s killed them in different ways and didn’t have anything ritualistic set up. I don’t know. Do you have anything to add?”
Collins made a sound but shook his head when I looked at him and circled a finger in the air. “Keep going.”
“He’s not doin’ any kind of revenge fantasy,” I said. “He doesn’t have a specific type besides young. It really is like he’s experimenting, seeing what people can do under pressure, or with different motivations. He left a way to get out in one of the rooms and was disappointed it took her so long to get out. He had a dog all ready to go to get her.”
“What did he do for a living?” Collins asked.
I snorted. “Psychiatrist.”
“Of course, he was.”
The world moved. Houses, road and trees whirled around us, making me dizzy.
It ground to a halt with walls settling around us.
I looked around. We were in what looked like a bath products shop. Mountains of lotions, candles, body wash, and bubble bath dotted the store, with barely enough room to move between them, and the same lined the shelves around the sides.
It was dark, just the night lights from outside the store shining through the metal gate guarding it.
“I know this place,” I said. “It’s the bath store at Opry Mills.”
“What?” Collins asked.
“At the mall, north east of Nashville.”
“Anything special about it?”
I shook my head. “It’s just the same as any other bath products place across America.”
A scratching noise made me jump and I turned just in time to see something flash behind the closed door in the back behind the counter.
“Or not,” I said, going for the door.
I opened it and walked through.
It was probably a storage or back room at some point but now it was another shop. Much smaller than the one in front, but same idea. It was well lit and had bottles, boxes and satchels on shelves all around.
“It’s a secret magic shop,” I said, walking around a display of leather bags.
“Those are gris-gris,” Collins said. “They block psychic powers.”
“I know,” I said. “My boyfriend has one so I don’t go seeing things I don’t want to be seeing while we’re together.”
“Your boyfriend knows about magic?” he asked, picking up a mason jar of something green.
“Yeah, he’s a…” I pressed my lips together. Maybe giving the angry mind j
umper information about me and mine wasn’t the best idea. “Pretty open minded.”
He shot me a look and raised an eyebrow as he put the jar down. “That’s not what you were going to say.”
“With all these gris-gris here, how are we seeing it?”
He smirked but said, “They aren’t activated.”
“Oh, duh. That makes sense. How do you activate them?”
The store flickered.
“Focus,” Collins said. “I can feel the gris-gris this man has. It’s working against us. If you don’t focus, the picture will slip away.”
“Right.” I took a deep breath and the store solidified again. “So he’s here? I’m not seein’ him.”
“I think he was here earlier. We are lagging behind because of the gris-gris.”
“How do we see where he is now?” I asked. “Or at least when he was here before?”
“You really are new at this,” Collins said.
“We’ve already covered this. Why?”
He shook his head. “My God, didn’t others in your family teach you how to do any of this?”
“No one in my family is psychic, or magic at all, far as we know.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Nope.”
“Parents, grandparents, aunts, uncles, no one? It’s rare, but somebody in your line had to have it.”
“Um, one could’ve, I guess. I mean, my grandparents are all dead. My parents had me kinda late in life.”
“Okay, crash course. The gris-gris is protecting him from us. We can push past it, but it’s going to require a lot of energy, and tremendous focus.”
“Tell me what to do,” I said.
He smirked and swept his eyes over me. “Well, if we’re going there. Lay on the counter and take off your top.”
My mouth fell open. “Well I never!”
“Had a good fuck?” He paused and stared at me, tilting his head to the side. “No, you have. I can tell. And you do like being dominated, like the guy to tell you what to do. Which fits because I like to dominate and could use a pick me up. Lay on the counter and take off your top. I want to come on those ripe, perky breasts.”
“Stop that!” I pressed my hands to my cheeks, positive they were bright red.
“You’re right, now I’m getting distracted.” He grinned, looking down, tongue flicking out to trace his top lip.
“What?” I looked down. “What the!”
I was in my old red and gold cheerleader uniform. The swinging skirt was way shorter with my wider hips and my boobs were tryin’ to escape, but it still kinda fit.
“Please tell me you still own that outfit,” he said.
“Now who’s not focusin’?” I said, keeping my eyes planted firmly on his north half cuz his south was obviously interested.
“Oh, I’m focusing.”
He marched forward, fixing his eyes on mine, and buried his hand in my hair, pulling my head back and making me gasp.
He licked his full lips and I squinted.
“Seriously?” he asked. “I can tell normally you’d be wet and ready for me, but nothing.”
“I’m numb,” I said, squinting harder.
I could almost make his features stay.
He had thick cupid’s bow lips, even fuller than Grant’s, and the gold eyes he had as a snake. His hair was spiked up with gel and looked weird, maybe dyed?
He wasn’t tall for a guy, but he had broad shoulders and was thick with muscles.
And something else was pretty thick too as it pressed into the swath of stomach my uniform left bare.
“I’ve had a terrible day, actually, a terrible month,” he said in a low voice. “You sure you don’t want to make me feel better?”
I pushed against his chest and it was like pushing a wall.
“No,” I said, meeting his eyes again. “Because you know who else is having a terrible day? The guy Truck killed for his car. Actually, he’s dead, he’s in Heaven and probably hearin’ the welcoming speech. His family is having a pretty bad day though. And the next person he grabs? That one’s going to be having a really bad month being locked up, tested, raped and murdered.”
He rolled his eyes and let my hair go.
“Fine.” He pointed at me. “But when we meet in person, I’m taking you for a ride.”
“Don’t threaten me.”
“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise of a good time.”
“I’m taken.”
He shrugged. “You will be.”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “I don’t know how much time I have left, and you’re wastin’ it.”
“I don’t have anything on the guy to focus on him and try to push past the gris-gris, and you don’t have the focus to do it. We’re not going to get any closer to him in here. Maybe with a few hours to push you, but since that’s not going to happen, I say we spend the rest of the time doing something productive. You’ll focus better after a little relaxation. And I know I will.”
“Once I wake up, I can tell them to put me back down again,” I said. “If we need hours to do this, then we’ll take hours. Start pushin’ me, and stop pushin’ your luck.”
He licked his lips. “I’d love to push you.”
I threw my hands up. “I give up. You are impossible. How can you be so… this, when there’s a serial killer loose? He could grab anyone. He could get your sister or daughter or friend.”
“I don’t have any of those right now.”
“Why does it not surprise me that you don’t have friends? Fine, think of someone you loved, and think about the people who’ll mourn when they lose their loved one.”
He stared at me, ice cold.
Then disappeared.
“Come on!” I threw my hands up and looked around.
Okay, I could do this. Just had to focus.
I closed my eyes, painting Truck in my mind, imagining his voice, the creepy way he could go from charming and normal to cold and psychotic in one second flat.
Don’t know how long I stayed like that.
I opened my eyes to Grant’s torso towerin’ over me and him craning his neck down.
“Welcome back,” Grant said.
I sat up and pinched myself.
“Ow! Okay, I’m awake,” I said.
“What happened?” Grant asked.
The guys were gone, probably doing something useful.
I told Grant about the shop hidden behind the bath products place and the stuff Collins said.
The relevant stuff, anyway.
Grant rested his hand on my forehead. “You’re burning up.”
“I think fighting the gris-gris is taking more outta me than normal visions,” I said.
Grant kept his hand on my face and I grinned at him. He was really close.
He smelled good.
Like home.
My eyes fluttered and worry flashed through Grant’s eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Just tired.” I shook my head and he dropped his hand and helped me to my feet.
“Opry Mills?” Grant asked.
I nodded and he pulled out his phone.
I just leaned against the wall, listening as Grant barked orders.
Jet and Dan came back and I waved at them, giving them the quick version. Grant hung up when I was about halfway through and I picked up the pace.
“Alright, gimme the booze,” I said when I was done, holding out my empty cup.
“Ryder, if you’re smashed, you’re not going to be much good,” Grant said.
But he handed me the bottle.
I poured a healthy dose into my cup and downed it.
“I know, sir. But I’m not going to be much good without the extra help. That gris-gris is strong.”
“So are you.” Grant handed me a bottle of Gatorade. “Hydrate. You can have more alcohol after we hit the mall.”
“Awwww, shopping and booze, you’re the best dad ever.” I snorted and cracked open the bottle, downing some Gat
orade as we hopped outta the van.
He gave me a hard look. “You’re cut off.”
I snorted liquid and wiped my nose as it stung my sinuses.
“The firecrackers brought cannons.” I giggled.
“Shit.” Grant shook his head. “She’s gone.”
“I’m here, General. I swear.” I shook the fuzzies out of my head.
“She’s shit-faced,” Dan laughed.
“No.” I frowned at the Dans. “You two are shit faces. You.” I pointed to the first Dan, and then at his fuzzier cousin. “And the second you.”
“How much has she had to drink?” a voice drawled behind us.
I grinned and ran for Andy.
“Hi!”
I flung myself into his arms and he caught me with a grunt. I hugged him close as I could, burying my face in his neck and suckin’ in his scent. He was sweet and spicy all at once.
“You do smell good,” I said. “You can’t blame Carla for wanting to eat you.”
He chuckled as he walked back to the guys with me bobbing in front of him, the tips of my shoes skimming the ground.
“I believe this belongs to you.” He handed me over to Grant.
Grant scooped me up in those big arms, careful of my skirt so it didn’t fly up. I curled my arms around his neck and rested my head on his shoulder as he cradled me into his chest like a child.
He sat on the ground with me in his lap and pushed the loose short hairs off my forehead.
“You okay, girl?” Jet squatted in front of us, making his knees stick out.
“You’re a flamingo.” I flipped him a thumbs up and a shining smile. “Why aren’t you pink?”
“She’s done for,” Dan said from somewhere above me.
No, I was not.
I turned my head up and glared at him. “Give me Trucclll.... ugh... Truck’s stuff. And I’ll show ya who’s done for. Mall, we have to go from there.”
“We are waiting for Carla to get back,” Jet said.
“I still need to do my job. Fork it.” I held out my arms to Jet.
He glanced past me at Grant, mouthing something.
“She wants Truck’s stuff to get a vision,” Grant said.
Jet nodded, grabbed the bag of stuff from the van and handed it over.
I shuffled through the clothes and books but didn’t get anything.
