by S M Stuart
“Omigod, he’s here,” I panted, my breath coming in ragged, fear-driven gasps.
“Who? What’s the matter Dez? Did you connect with someone?”
“It was his voice. I recognised it from my memories of the murders. The killer, Seth, and he knows I can hear him.” I couldn’t contain my sobs any longer and I clung to Seth until I managed to get my fear under control. “I don’t want to do it like this. There must be another way.” I sat and chewed my nails, rocking myself back and forth on the sofa while Seth gently rubbed my shoulders and mumbled soothing noises. Eventually the shock faded and I calmed down enough to sit back in Seth’s comforting arms. He kissed the top of my head as it rested against his chest.
“Don’t worry, Dez. I’m here. You’re safe with me,” he said.
“Yeah, I bet that’s what Nicole thought about Tomas,” I muttered.
“Who’s Nicole?”
“Oh! I don’t know … No, hang on. It’s the girl in Paris. Tomas was her fiancé.”
“You’ve never mentioned her name before and it wasn’t in the news report.”
“I know. It just came out of nowhere. I’m sure that was her name and that Simone, her PT, lives on the south side of the Seine in Paris, but that’s it.” Without a thought, I raised my hands and shoulders in a very French style shrug. I realised what I was doing and laughed self-consciously. But it gave me an idea. I reached into my bag to find my Comms kit. Ignoring Seth’s puzzled expression I keyed Aunt Jen’s number and hoped she was able to pick up.
“Hello, Dez, love. What can I do for you?”
“Hi, Aunt Jen. Are you really busy at the moment or could you spare some time for your favourite niece?”
“Always got time for my favourite niece,” she quipped back.
“Great. We’ll be round at yours in half an hour or so. See ya!”
“See you soon, love.”
As I stood up from the sofa, Seth looked at me with his brows pulled together in query, “Aren’t you Jen’s only niece?” he asked.
“Ye-es.”
“Well, you do realise that makes you her least favourite niece too, don’t you?” He laughed and pulled his arms over his head to defend himself from the cushion I was using as a missile. “I’m gonna ask your mum to remove all soft furnishings from the premises! Anyway, what are we going to Jen’s for?”
“Henri,” I replied. “Aunt Jen’s PT. He’s a Parisian too. Don’t know why I didn’t think of it sooner. Maybe he could track down Simone for us.”
Seth’s face registered his doubts.
“Dunno, Dez. Do you think we should get anyone else involved? We were trying to keep it to just us, weren’t we?”
I hesitated trying to work out how we were going to get any further on our own and coming up blank.
“Sorry, Seth. I can’t face opening up my head to that creep again. I’ve only just managed to get the connections quiet.” I rubbed my temples to relieve the pressure that had built up. “Jen and Henri will be discreet. You know we can count on them to be on our side.”
Seth smiled reluctantly and nodded, no doubt remembering the many times that Aunt Jen had played advocate for us when we’d been in trouble. Some of her expertise came from Henri himself – he was a senior magistrate in the French criminal court.
“Come on, then,” Seth said, grabbing my hands and manoeuvring me towards the door. “Let’s go see what Henri can do for us this time.”
***
Aunt Jen’s farm was a good half-hour walk from home. The afternoon was still warm and sunny and the stroll gave us chance to rekindle some of the romance from earlier. We held hands and swung our arms like little children skipping along on a school nature trail – the difference being that we got to stop every so often for a bit of canoodling, as my dad called it. The last opportunity was by the kissing-gate at the top of Jen’s drive and I was determined to make the most of it. The rhythmic squeaking of a neglected bicycle interrupted us.
“Whatcha doin’ here?”
“Playing I-Spy! What d’ya think, Baby Boy?” I snapped.
“Aw, get real,” wailed Jeremy. “I’m only a coupla years younger than you. I’ll be starting PT Prep this year.”
Seth and I winked at each other – as if that’s gonna make a difference!
“We’re just here to say ‘Hi’ to your mum,” Seth said. He tried to sooth the friction between Jeremy and me, probably remembering how awkward he’d felt at fourteen.
“She’s in the ménage with Dick and the latest nag.” Jeremy gestured down the path then stood on the pedals to push his bike off in the opposite direction.
“You really shouldn’t be so harsh on him. Poor kid.” Seth nodded towards the dust cloud that Jeremy had created with his speedy exit.
“You’re calling that spawn of Satan a poor kid? He wouldn’t think twice about spiking your tea with laxative or sneaking itching powder into your underwear drawer!” My face burned with embarrassing memories – spending an entire Saturday evening a couple of years ago locked in Jen’s loo after Jeremy kindly made me a cup of herbal tea and, another time – wriggling throughout my French Oral, trying hard not to scratch my bum! I could see Seth found my embarrassment highly amusing although he was doing his best not to smile too broadly. I scowled at him to remind him he was supposed to be on my side and we set off down to the ménage.
“Hello,” I called as we reached the sturdy boundary fence. The horse that Jeremy had called a nag was a magnificent stallion, a rich chestnut colour, jet black mane and tail, long elegant legs and a big opinion of himself! He tossed his head around but couldn’t break Jen’s grip on the reins as she took him through his paces. Dick sat on the fence with a tense expression on his face.
“She always has to go for the most temperamental,” he sighed, as we climbed up to perch beside him. “One of these days she’s going to meet her match.”
I smiled. “Don’t worry, Dick. There isn’t a horse born yet that Aunt Jen can’t handle.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jen panted. “Give me a few more minutes to wear him out then we’ll head in for a drink. Jeremy will be pleased to see you, he’s getting bored being out here alone.” she added.
Seth snorted in amusement and almost lost his balance as I prodded him with my elbow. Dick looked puzzled but left us to it, he was more concerned about Jen keeping her seat.
In the coolness of Jen’s stone-floored kitchen we drank her home-made lemonade and nibbled some of Mum’s ginger biscuits. Seth’s blissful expression prompted me to think I would have to learn how to make them. Dick excused himself when he’d finished and went to feed the various animals that Jen had accumulated over the years. Maybe she’d told him we’d need some privacy or maybe he’d picked up on the tension, but I was grateful for his tact – usually Jen wanted to do the rounds and check on the livestock herself.
“So, what did you want to talk about? You’re not pregnant are you?” She looked at our linked hands and Seth quickly drew away. I grabbed his hand back again and glowered at my aunt.
“Why does everyone keep thinking that? No I am NOT pregnant.” I heard a snigger from the open window. “Bog off, Jeremy!” I yelled. The diminishing squeak of his bike assured me he’d taken the hint.
“Okay,” said Jen, gesturing for me to calm down. “Tell me, what is the problem?”
I tried to start at the beginning and work my way through but found myself back-tracking several times to explain what had been going on since my birthday. Seth helped out if I got too wound-up or if he felt I’d forgotten something and eventually I got to the point.
“Let me get this straight. You didn’t have an PT to start with and now you’re connected to every PT in the world. You can hear people’s conversations with their PT. You’re having memories of being murdered but you don’t know who it is that kills you. Elizabeth left clues in a journal on her Handi because it was her PT that committed the murders. And you want Henri to track down the PT of one of the murdered
girls so you can talk to her about … Nicole, was it?”
“Yeah, that’s about it. Can you help?” I asked.
“Does your father know about this, Seth?” Jen turned to him and he blushed, looking like a naughty child caught doing something he shouldn’t.
“He knows about the Handi,” he admitted. “But not about Dez’s memories.”
“And I can’t imagine Celeste being very happy about it?” Jen made the statement sound like a question.
“Mum and Dad have said we can have some time to figure out what Elizabeth’s Handi can tell us,” I answered, bringing it out of my bag as evidence that we were being genuine. Seth’s face clouded with uncertainty, he still wasn’t keen to involve Jen and Henri despite knowing that we needed help to get any further with Elizabeth’s riddles.
“Are you listening to Henri and me now?” Jen, like the others who’d heard about my ‘open mind’, seemed upset that I might be eavesdropping.
“No,” I said. “I’ve managed to shut the connections in a sort of mentally sound-proofed room – my personal padded cell – so that I can’t hear them as much. It’s only in particularly stressful situations that a voice might get louder and attract my attention.”
It wasn’t my fault the damned thing had gone haywire. Why did my family and friends automatically think I was listening in on their own thoughts when I had millions of conversations vying for headroom?
Jen picked up on the weariness in my voice,
“Sorry, love. I got a bit fazed by it all. No doubt that’s an understatement for how you feel, eh?”
I managed a wry smile and nodded.
Yeah, the mother of all understatements, I’d say.
CHAPTER 35
Ellingham: 5 August 2110
Why am I complicating things like this?
“Hang on. I don’t need to listen in to your thoughts, Jen. Just ask Henri if he’s available to talk privately and I’ll Comms him.” I saw the look of relief cross her face before she managed to get it under control.
“Why are the simplest solutions always the hardest to find?” Jen laughed, trying to cover her reaction.
I shrugged half-heartedly. I suspected that everything I’d been going through had clouded my judgement, making normal options seem too easy. Things needed to be sorted out soon though – I was exhausted from the constant changes and mental onslaughts. Sensing my mood, Seth squeezed my hand and gave me a reassuring kiss on my cheek.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go count chickens and give Jen some privacy.”
“Only those that are hatched,” Jen twisted the ancient saying to lighten the atmosphere. The joke was bad enough to do the trick – I followed Seth outside, shaking my head and groaning at the pun.
We found Dick surrounded by noisily clucking fowl as he threw the feed to the ground for them. I’ve never been a big fan of chickens but Jen and Dick kept them looking sleek and healthy, some of them looked quite beautiful with their russet feathers shining in the late afternoon sun. Suddenly the chickens scattered, some running in the odd rolling motion that seems so unbalanced, others tried to fly away but could only manage such short distances that they looked as though they were riding pogo-sticks. The source of the commotion came to a standstill in the middle of the yard.
“Did ya leave any biscuits for me, Seth?” Jeremy pointed at the stray crumbs still clinging to Seth’s shirt. I would’ve been annoyed but Seth just laughed, swiped away the crumbs and assured Jeremy that there were still plenty of Aunt Celeste’s gingers in the tin.
“Dez,” Jen called from the kitchen door. “Henri is in a meeting but he said he’ll call you as soon as he’s free.”
“Fine. Thanks Jen.”
“Why d’ya wanna talk to Frenchie?” Jeremy was going through a rude stage of belittling all those that didn’t fit with his idea of perfect – so – everyone but himself, of course!
“Jeremy, behave,” sighed his mother. “Dez just needs some first-hand anecdotes for an Academy project.” She winked at me. “Let me know how you get on with it, wont’ you, Dez?”
“Sure. Thanks for the help, Jen.” I smiled at her, grateful for her discretion. “See you later then.”
“Thanks for the lemonade and cookies. Bye,” added Seth.
A chorus of “Bye,” “Cheerio,” “Whatever!” followed us out of the farmyard.
“Don’t fret, he’ll grow up one day,” said Seth when I cringed at Jeremy’s parting shot.
“He’s such a spoilt brat. I can’t understand Aunt Jen letting him get away with it all the time.” I spotted a grin creasing Seth’s cheeks and halted mid-rant. “Okay, okay. Who am I to talk? Is that why you’re struggling to keep your face straight?”
“Well, you have to admit Dez, it does seem to be a family trait. Your dad spoils you rotten too.” And before I could respond, he pulled me into a hug, pinning my arms by my side and kissing away my indignation. When he felt me relax he released me. “Better now?” he asked.
“Don’t push it Wallis,” I warned, but I took his hand and we set off back to his house to wait for Henri’s call.
We didn’t have to wait long. As Seth opened the front door my Comms kit buzzed and I had to root around in my bag to find it. Why do things disappear even in the smallest of handbags?
“Bonjour, Henri!” I chimed, mangling the rs in my attempt to sound fluent.
“Good day to you too, Desirée,” he crooned in accented English. His voice is so silky smooth, so sexy, so French! He’s the one person I really don’t mind using my full name, he makes it sound sophisticated and chic. “Jennifer tells me you and the gorgeous Seth need my ‘elp. What can I do for you, cherie?”
“Firstly, dear Henri you can stop flirting with the gorgeous Seth – he’s mine!”
“Oh, ‘ow could you do this to me, cherie? I no longer ‘ave the reason to come to England. I am desolate.” I could visualise him dramatically stroking his forehead with the back of his hand and I was tempted to switch to holo-vid to check it out. “Stop teasing her Henri. Just get on with it.” Oops – I didn’t mean to overhear Aunt Jen. I launched into my explanation of the last few weeks to distract myself from the connection, finishing with my request for Henri to track down Simone.
After a short silence Henri replied, “Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t even consider this but I suppose these are ‘ardly normal circumstances. I may be able to access the coroner’s reports for Nicole and Tomas and see if their PTs were identified. If so, I shall approach Simone myself to see if she is willing to talk to you.”
“Thank you so much, Henri. You’re a star.” I felt the lump of anxiety soften in my chest – at last we might be getting somewhere.
“Au revoir.” He chuckled at my gushing gratitude. “We’ll speak again soon.”
“Bye, Henri and thanks again.” I put my headset back into my titchy bag.
“It’s nearly six, Dad’ll be home soon. What do you fancy for tea?” Seth asked.
“Do you ever think of anything other than food?”
“Not if I can help it,” he laughed as he rooted through the fridge to see what was on offer.
Henri’s call had filled me with nervous energy and I couldn’t keep still. I hovered around the kitchen getting in Seth’s way until he lost patience and handed me a packet of radishes, telling me to top and tail them while he prepared a green salad.
“Now that’s what I like to see – co-operation in the kitchen,” said Samuel on his arrival home. He smiled at our domestic tableau and the realisation that this could be our future came as a bit of a surprise. I was so distracted, in fact, that I managed to top my finger instead of the damned radish! After quite a few scrapes and bruises over the years I’m usually fine with the sight of blood. I turned to the sink and doused the end of my finger with cold water, but the bleeding didn’t ease up. The next thing I knew I was on the floor. Seth was holding up my legs and Samuel was patting a cool, damp cloth on my forehead. My first random thought was, Glad I�
��m wearing jeans! Then Ouch! as Samuel pressed a cloth firmly onto the injured finger. It bloody well hurt! I also felt sore on my shoulder, Must have hit it on the way down.
“All right, love,” Samuel said when he noticed I’d opened my eyes. “Take it easy, now. We’ll drive you down to the clinic for them to check you over, eh?”
Before I could protest, Seth had me in his arms and we were heading to the car. For the second time in a week I was admitted to the Ellingham clinic emergency department. I shuddered at the feeling of déjà vu and glanced around nervously looking for that awful nurse, sure that she’d be lingering with the dopey juice at the ready. A cute male nurse stuck the tip of my finger down with medical grade nano-glue that stung like hell. When I winced at his friendly pat on my shoulder he sent me for a full scan to check that I hadn’t done any further damage during my less-than-graceful faint.
After a few more prods and tests I was discharged. Nurse Bridges joked about staying away from sharp implements as he handed over a set of instructions on wound-care and a single-dose tube of the glue for home treatment in the unlikely event of the cut splitting again. Instinctively showing a possessive streak, Seth wrapped his arm tightly around my shoulder. I gritted my teeth when the developing bruise protested – I didn’t want to spoil his macho-moment.
Samuel insisted on taking me straight home to put my parents’ minds at ease. He’d called them from the clinic to say what had happened and to assure them that it wasn’t serious.
Mum was waiting at the front door,
“Oh, thank you. Thank you so much Samuel,” she gushed.
“Don’t mention it,” he replied, looking very embarrassed by Mum’s fussing. “We’ll let you get on,” he added and turned to leave but Mum grabbed his arm.
“No. Please come in. Don’t rush home.” Mum guided us all into the lounge and started piling up cushions until they looked like a squishy Leaning Tower of Pisa.
“Here you go, love,” she said as she deposited the pile on my lap. “Prop your arm up on there to keep the blood flow light.” This was an unexpected reaction, especially after the restrained welcome home the previous week! But we do seem to be getting on better these days, I thought, Best make the most of it in case it doesn’t last.
