She looked out the window. “Yes, you did.”
He chuckled. The little smartass busted him. “You’re right, I did. Sorry.” When she didn’t say anything he looked over at her again. “I really am sorry. Please don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting,” she told the window. “I’m…wondering.”
“About?”
She turned and stared at him with a probing gaze. “Did you feel anything when you touched me at the diner?”
There was no way in hell he’d admit to the erotic connection that even now was ready to blow his dick through the roof of the car. Even if she’d enchanted him with those intelligent eyes, lush lips, soft curves, and the aroma of fresh baked cinnamon rolls on Sunday morning. What would be the point? He’d do his job and leave.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lied. “Let’s stick to your visions.”
Narrowing her eyes, she stared at him for a long moment, then waved her hand. “Fine, whatever. The first vision happened four nights ago.” She leaned into the leather passenger seat and closed her eyes. “I remember being agitated that day. Not for any particular reason, just edgy, bitchy. I came home from the diner and worked out.”
That perked his interest. No wonder she had such a hot body.
“When I finished, I felt better, but after I showered I couldn’t keep my eyes open, so I went to bed.” With her eyes still closed, she drew in a deep, shaky breath. “I fell asleep right away, which is unusual for me. I like to watch some TV before I go to bed or sometimes I lie there and think about what needs to be done the next day, you get the idea.”
He nodded and refrained from telling her to move along with her story. He didn’t want to imagine her lying in bed, maybe wearing a t-shirt and panties or nothing at all.
“It was a drugging sleep, like someone snuck cold medicine in my coffee...” She trailed off for a long moment.
“Okay and then what happened?”
When she didn’t answer, he glanced over, and nearly jerked the car toward the embankment. She stared at him, her eyes no longer sparkling blue, but lifeless pools of murky gray. They spoke of disillusionment and horror, and caused a sickening sense of dread to ripple through him.
“Celeste? Are you okay?” he asked, and locked his gaze on the road.
She remained silent so he chanced another glance, then did a quick double. Her face had grown disturbingly pale, beads of perspiration collected on her brow and upper lip. Either she was one hell of an actress or in a state of psychosis. He’d place his bet on the latter. Four years ago, he’d worked a case where a Bible-thumper had killed his entire family. His delusions and hallucinations had him believing his wife of twenty-two years and their three children were plotting against him with a satanic cult. Later, they’d learned he’d had a brain tumor, which doctors believed had caused the psychosis.
Not fully versed on the subject, and treading on unfamiliar ground, he pulled off the highway, then threw the car into PARK. As he reached for his cell phone to call the sheriff, she arched her back. Agony contorted her face as she released a scream that sent his skin crawling.
Dropping the phone, he moved to reach for her, but she slumped into the seat, her head lolling from side to side. “I ache all over. Everywhere.” She raised a shaky hand to her face, tenuously touching her cheek, then her eye. A sob tore loose. “My face, I could have taken his fists, but the knife...I hate him.” She gnashed her teeth. “I hate you,” she screamed over and over, then shuddered. “Oh no, he’s coming back. I’ve got to get away. Let go of me.” She pulled on the seatbelt, kicked and pivoted her body. Her knee connected with the glove box, then she went still.
Stunned, he weighed his options. He could try shaking her out of the hallucination, but she could cause injury to him or herself if she thought he was the one with the knife. He could also try hauling her out of the car, but he worried she’d run. With neither option feasible, he reached for his cell phone again. As he was about to hit the sheriff’s preprogrammed number, she began panting as if she’d just sprinted a forty-yard dash.
“I’m free,” she blurted, then the contorted smile shaping her mouth fell and her brows furrowed. “But there’s too many trees. I can’t figure out where to run, can’t tell which direction to go.” Sobbing, she clutched her stomach, and heaved in gulping breaths. “Oh God, shut up you sick fuck. Shut up.” Celeste pressed her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Rocking in the passenger seat she started mumbling. “Come out, come out wherever you are.”
The eerie melody made his gut coil. The heartburn he’d thought he’d taken care of earlier returned. “Celeste, you have to—”
She groaned and clasped her shoulder. Pain and confusion twisting her face, making her almost unrecognizable to the women he’d met at the diner. She darted her eyes around the front seat. “I...I fell into a, I don’t know what it is, but it’s metal. Cold. Big. Like a combine or...Shit, he’s coming. I can’t move fast enough, he’s right behind me. Gaining. Almost there, almost...”
She gasped. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, as she raised a trembling hand to the back of her head.
“He split my head open, the skin’s torn. So much blood.” She looked down at her hand, then grunted. Her head shot back, and she arched her neck. “Let go,” she wailed. “Oh God, why didn’t I cut it, I should have listened to Judy and cut my damn hair.” She swung her head from side to side, blocking her face with her wrist, as if warding off imaginary fists. “Make him stop. God, please make him stop.”
His stomach tightened, his concern intensified. He grabbed the cell phone, but it slipped from his sweaty hand and landed on the floorboard in the back seat. As he reached for it, his eyes locked on the notes Roy had given him before they’d left the Sheriff’s Department. While he was convinced she was experiencing some sort of psychosis-induced hallucination, a small part of him wondered if maybe this was a psychic trance. Although skeptical, he decided he’d take a chance. He didn’t want to miss out on catching the man who’d killed four women, even if he held no belief in the supernatural.
“Who’s after you?” he asked gently, and while he wanted to hold her, erase the pain and horror from her beautiful face, he fisted his hands instead, worried touching her might pull her from whatever was happening to her. “Can you see his face?”
“No, no, no,” she cried. “He has on a ski mask. Oh God, he stinks.” She wrinkled her nose and gagged.
He frowned. “Stinks?”
“Like bleach. I can’t take anymore,” she sobbed. “The smelly bastard...I need air. Fresh air. I need to smell my Mama’s prized gardenias and my Daddy’s Old Spice. I can’t breathe. I can’t...” Her mouth gaped open as she gasped and clutched her stomach. Face ghostly pale, eyes wide, her body jerked up, once, twice before she released a gurgled moan.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as her eyes rolled back. “So much blood,” she murmured, her lips barely moving. “My poor parents, I should have listened to them. I should have stayed home. I should never have left. I’m so sorry Mama. Why didn’t I listen?”
“Shhh, it’s okay, Celeste,” he soothed.
Her sobs ended. She blinked, then parted her lips. A long sigh escaping as she closed her eyes. “I can’t feel my body anymore. Red. So much red.”
“Blood?” he prodded.
She shook her head and smiled. Not the shy grin she’d flashed him at the diner, or the beautiful dimpled smile she’d laid on Roy. Without mirth, without life, she thinned her lips. “No. Teeny, tiny balls of red. I’m swimming in them. They’re everywhere, my nose, mouth. It’s getting dark, they’re fading...fading...”
Her breathing grew alarmingly shallow and her body went slack.
Panicking, and no longer caring about how she’d react if he drew her from the hallucination, he grabbed her shoulders and gave her a hard shake. When she didn’t respond, he placed his ear to her mouth. Christ, she wasn’t breathing. “Celeste,” he shouted, and jerked her body ag
ain. “Wake up, damn it.”
She gasped and panted, clawed at him, punched her fists against his chest and arms.
“Stop, it’s me. John. Calm down, you’re okay.”
She blinked several times, her eyes changing from gray to blue, as she released a sob and wrapped her arms around his neck. Aftershocks of fear trembled though her body. Wanting to ease her fear and give her comfort, he embraced her and cradled her against his chest. Inhaling her sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent, he wished like hell he could hold her under different circumstances, even if he knew he’d be in for trouble.
A minute passed. She composed herself, then scooted toward the passenger door. She wiped at her tear-stained face with the back of her hand. “You wouldn’t happen to have a tissue in this car, would you?”
He nodded and opened the glove box, and offered her the napkins he’d found when he’d first checked the rental.
“Thanks,” she said, drying her face, then blowing her nose. “God, I’m so embarrassed. I’ve been so tired lately. I must have dozed off and had another nightmare.” She frowned. “Although I don’t remember dreaming.” Crumpling the napkin in her hand, she frowned and looked out the window. “Are we here?”
“Not quite.”
The color that had returned to her cheeks began to fade. “Then where are we?”
“Based on the mile marker, about a mile from the dump site.”
She glanced to where he’d nodded, a frown furrowing her forehead. “What happened to me?”
“What do you remember?”
Twining a curl around her finger, she shook her head. “I was telling you about my first vision, and then something about cold medicine, but that makes no sense.”
“You’d mentioned the stuff just before you...” He trailed off, not wanting to admit what he’d seen, what he didn’t understand. “Before you seemed to become another person.”
She released a nervous chuckle, and shook her head. “C’mon, what are you talking about? I’m not a medium.” Staring out the window, she pursed her lips. “At least I don’t think I am.” She sighed. “Who knows, lately I can’t seem to control it.”
“How so?”
“The nightmares, for one. Usually if I don’t want to dream about something, I simply will it. The same goes if I’m trying to get a reading.”
“Like?”
“Like, if you lost your wedding ring, I’d think about it over and over again before I’d fall asleep, then hope I have the dream necessary to find it.” She momentarily drifted her eyes to his left hand, where no ring existed, and likely never would. Love and marriage came with trust, and after Renee, trust wasn’t something easily earned.
“What else has changed? I mean as far as your abilities.”
“Abilities,” she mimicked, lowering her voice and exaggerating the pronunciation with a few bobs of her head. “I hate the way you say that word. I mean, I get it. You don’t believe in me. You’re not the first and won’t be the last. Trust me, I’m used to it.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’ve grown thick skinned, and have learned to ignore the snide remarks and whispers behind my back. Most people around town don’t have a problem with me, but there are some, like you, who can’t comprehend my capacity to envision events. That the human mind holds more power than any neurologist, even those with a bazillion degrees gracing their walls, could even begin to comprehend.”
He stared ahead, the sting of her words bothering him. He didn’t like being grouped with the nonbelievers, even if he was one. As much as she’d sloughed off those people, the way she frowned while twisting a curl around her finger had him thinking she wasn’t as thick skinned as she’d like him to believe.
Shrugging, she dropped her hand in her lap and looked out the window again. “Anyway, back to my abilities,” she said, stressing the word with the same mocking, sarcastic tone. “I’ve never been prone to sleepwalking, yet I’ve been waking up in different parts of my house after my nightmares. And, um, there was what happened at the diner today. With you.”
“Static shock,” he said, quicker than he’d meant.
Arching a brow, she let a smile play across her lips. “If you say so.” She waved her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk about the diner incident.”
“It’s not that.” He ran both hands through his hair. “This isn’t about whether or not I believe in you or what happened at the diner. Damn it, didn’t you hear me? You seemed to have become another person.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he asked, “Have you heard of psychosis? Where a person—”
“Has unreal beliefs, hallucinations and delusions, which could be caused by drugs, alcohol, brain tumors, epilepsy...shall I continue?”
“This isn’t a joke.”
“Who’s joking? Look, John, I’ve never been checked by a neurologist or psychiatrist, but I can tell you I’m perfectly healthy. What I have is normal in my family. My mom had the gift, so did her mother, and her mother and, well, you get the idea.”
He wiped a hand down his face. “I can only imagine what your family reunions are like.”
“You need to have family around for those,” she said, her tone turning somber. “And rather than pick apart my family tree, why don’t you tell me what I’d said instead of looking as if you’d just eaten liver and onions.”
A smile touched his lips. God, he hated liver and onions. “Tell me you don’t serve that crap.”
“I don’t.” She returned the smile. “But I do need you to tell me what happened. It could be important to our case.”
“Our case,” he muttered. Not for long, he hoped. A call to Ian should have her out of this situation. Chances were he wasn’t aware of exactly what Roy was up to...or was he?
A horn blared. He checked the rearview mirror and caught the sheriff climbing out of his cruiser.
She gripped his arm. “Don’t tell Roy until you tell me. I don’t want him worrying. He has enough on his mind.”
No way would he say anything to Roy about any of this. Hell, at this point, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. “Trust me. My lips are sealed.” He rolled down the window. “Roy, how’d it go with the reporter?”
The sheriff rested his arms against the roof of the rental and leaned into the window. He flicked his wary gaze from Celeste, then to him. “Fine, for now. Got rid of him with another promise of an exclusive.” He jerked his chin. “Everything okay?”
“I thought I was going to puke,” Celeste said before John could answer.
The sheriff’s eyes softened with concern. “Honey, you don’t have to go to the dump site. No one’s forcing you.”
“No, I’ll go. It’s just nerves, that’s all.”
He tapped the roof of the sedan. “Okay then, daylight’s wasting. We’re just a few minutes out. Lloyd called and said Dan’s just arrived, so let’s do this.”
“I’ll follow you,” John said, then closed the window.
“Why do you two keep calling it a dump site, rather than a crime scene?” she asked.
“A crime scene is where the crime had taken place. The bodies we’d found were placed there after the fact.”
“Gotcha,” she said, and looked back out the window.
When Roy pulled his cruiser ahead of them, he turned to her. “Maybe what happened could be your mind’s way of coping or maybe protesting going to the dump site.”
“Doubtful, but I’d know better if I knew exactly what had happened while I was under.”
He shifted the car into DRIVE, then eased onto the highway. “Under?”
“You know, like a trance. I’m assuming that’s what happened, but until you tell me—”
“Exactly what happened,” he finished for her and nodded. “Not right now. I’m still trying to digest it myself. Besides, we’re here.” He slowed the car, then eased off the highway, parking the sedan behind Roy’s cruiser.
He turned off the ignition, and clutched the keys in his palm. “We do need to talk a
bout this,” he assured her with a deep sigh. “Just not right now, okay?”
“But later?” she asked, her eyes hopeful, pleading.
“Later.” He moved his hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear and stroke the softness. Realizing he’d momentarily lost his mind, he quickly opened his door, rounded the front end, then opened the passenger door. After she climbed out of the car, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
She drew in a deep breath, her gaze moving along the tree line, and likely to the yellow police tape. Paling, she nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”
“Let’s go then.”
“Wait. No bodies, right?”
“No bodies.” He eyed her pale skin, the alarm widening her eyes. “Celeste,” he said, and moved closer. “If at any time you want to leave, just let me know, and we’re out of here.”
“You’ve got my back, then?” A bit of sarcasm, mingled with apprehension, and maybe a need of reassurance, filled her voice.
“Yeah, I’ve got your back.”
She offered him a nervous half-smile. “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
He wasn’t, but kept his mouth shut and led her to where Roy stood with Dan Malvern.
“Hey, Dan,” she said, then leveled the deputy with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear about your day.”
Dan adjusted his mirrored sunglasses, then ran a finger along the brim of his hat. “All part of the job.”
“And Miranda? How’s she doing?”
“Havin’ a good day, thank the Lord.”
“Glad to hear.”
“Are we done? I’d like to get things moving before we lose daylight,” John said, not bothering to hide his impatience, especially after the joy ride in his rental. He looked to the sheriff, who nodded.
Roy offered Celeste his arm. “C’mon, honey, let’s see if being here jogs anything.”
As they moved down the embankment, despite what had happened in the sedan, he couldn’t keep his eyes from diverting to her ass, until they broke through the thicket. Neon yellow redirected his attention, and he once again took in the dump site. The area appeared serene, peaceful, and nothing like the earlier makeshift graveyard.
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 68
