Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3

by Cassandra Chandler

  “I don’t know what’s going on. I wish I understood.” He held her tighter. “I’m scared, Jazz. I feel like I’m losing myself. Like he’s taking me over.”

  “That sounds like possession.”

  “How can he possess me if he’s gone? You said he can’t be haunting me.”

  “Rachel said he was cremated. Without physical remains, he should have been forced to cross over.” Jazz had learned that in her own studies, even before Rachel had told her. “I’m calling Rachel. Something’s not right.”

  She pulled her phone from her pocket. The signal strength was weak, but there. She hoped it would be enough. Finn rested his head on her shoulder as she dialed the number.

  Rachel answered after only a few rings.

  “Hello?”

  Jazz barely gave herself time to register relief that she had reached Rachel. It was too early to be reassured anyway. Who knew how long their signal would hold?

  “Are you absolutely sure that Michael is gone?” Jazz asked. A sharp bite of static hit her ear.

  Through the noise, Jazz could hear the hesitance in Rachel’s voice. “He was cremated.”

  “I know, but if he found a strong connection, could he possibly possess someone?”

  If Finn’s twin had the same power, maybe Michael’s personality had implanted itself in her. Jazz had seen documentaries about twins and their psychic links. Or even worse, maybe Michael had latched on to Siobhan’s psychic energy and was using it to stick around. Michael could be using their connection to get to Finn, to try to influence the corporeal world.

  Finn reached behind Jazz and flipped on a light switch. The room went from dark and creepy to bright and…gross. Jazz turned away from the sink. String crossed the room just above her head, filled with photographs hanging from clothespins. Was this a dark room?

  She forced herself to finish her thought as she glanced at the pictures. “Maybe someone with psychic abilities?”

  “Possession?” Rachel’s voice rose to a squeak.

  Jazz looked more closely at the pictures. Her heart pounded, her breath catching in her chest as full-on panic set in. The pictures hanging on the string were of Elsa and Rachel. Rachel through the windows of her mom’s tea room, taken with a telescopic lens. Elsa standing at the window of her loft, arms around Dante’s waist. He had bandages on his face.

  These were recent.

  “Oh God—”

  In a huge burst of static, the call went dead.

  “Jazz…” Finn was looking at the pictures, his eyes wide.

  “Yeah. I see them.”

  He reached up and plucked one of the pictures from the line.

  “Finn, don’t!”

  Her warning was too late. She waited for the change, for him to stiffen and pull away, to look at her with that condescending smile. His hand was shaking.

  Her chest was so tight, Jazz felt like she was going to pass out. She pulled herself together. Finn needed her, dammit. From the look of things, all of her friends did.

  Travis was stalking Elsa and Rachel. Maybe that was the real reason that Siobhan was messing with Finn. She wasn’t trying to get help for herself—she was trying to save Elsa and Rachel.

  “This… It’s her. I know it.” Finn’s eyes were perfectly, pristinely gray-blue. And full of tears.

  “Who?”

  “Siobhan. This is my sister.”

  Jazz looked at the photo. “That’s Rachel.”

  “No. No, this is Siobhan. I’m sure of it.”

  “It can’t be. Finn, that is Rachel.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Okay, we need to figure this out—back at the SUV. We need to call the police.”

  He nodded. Jazz let out a tiny breath. There was so much more at stake than she had imagined.

  “Put the picture back. We don’t want to tip off Travis that we were here.”

  She kept one arm around Finn’s waist as she twisted around to turn on the water in the sink and rinse it clean. She hoped it would dry before Travis came home. Finn kept staring at the picture in his hand.

  “Finn, put it back.”

  Slowly, he lifted his arms and placed it back on the line. He kept staring at the other photos.

  She had to get him out of there.

  “We’re going to figure this out,” she said. “If Travis has these, he probably has other trophies around. We let the police know, they search the place with a warrant, and they stop him before…”

  She couldn’t finish that thought. She had no idea what Travis had planned for Elsa and Rachel. Jazz couldn’t convince herself it was nothing. She turned off the water in the sink and flipped the light switch, then pulled Finn back into the living room.

  A quick survey of the room showed her they hadn’t disturbed anything else. She pulled the door to the bathroom shut, then headed for the front door. She kept her arm tight around Finn’s waist. He didn’t seem to want to leave.

  The sooner they were out of this house the better. They stumbled out the door and through the yard. Fennel brushed against them as they made their way back to the SUV. A lingering scent like licorice floated around them, cleansing her nose from the stifling bathroom.

  She opened the back door of the SUV and helped him sit down. He looked like he was in shock.

  “How can Rachel be my sister?” he asked.

  “She can’t. I’ve met both her parents. Your powers must be acting up again.”

  “No. Not this time. I’m sure of it.” He shook his head. “Is she adopted, maybe?”

  “Not that she’s ever told me. Then again, her mother is a lying, manipulative—”

  Wait… Her mother was a liar and a master manipulator.

  Jazz remembered what Tommy had said about Finn’s mom. The picture he painted was not rosy. It did, however, remind her of Lillian Montgomery.

  “What?”

  “Your dad said your mom left for a lawyer.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Rachel’s dad is a lawyer. Tommy said your mom warned him not to try to find them. What if they moved and changed her name?”

  “How could we all wind up in Summer Park?”

  “Summer Park is a magnet for psychics. I’m friends with the owner of the local metaphysical bookstore. There’s a huge population of them here.”

  “It still seems like too much of a coincidence.”

  “Maybe it isn’t a coincidence. Maybe it’s Fate.”

  She was starting to wonder.

  “I don’t know. If Rachel is Siobhan, that means my powers aren’t off the rails because of being haunted. I’m back to square one solving that problem.”

  “I don’t think so. When exactly did your powers go out of control?”

  “It was the day Michael died. No, the day before.”

  “The day Rachel was abducted. You started dreaming about what Rachel experienced that night—as it was happening. Twins often have a psychic link. With both of your heightened powers, maybe the trauma of it activated a connection and it sort of went haywire.”

  “That’s a hell of a lot better than being haunted or possessed.” Finn shook his head. “Do you really think it could be her?”

  Jazz looked at his pale blue eyes, remembering again how similar they were to Rachel’s. But it was more than that. They were both tall and had similar athletic builds, like Tommy. Straight noses, strong features… How could she have not seen it before?

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. She was so relieved, almost giddy. Finn’s sister wasn’t dead after all. And she was Rachel.

  “Yeah,” Jazz said. “I think so.”

  “Damn,” he said. Then he laughed too. “I have to tell Dad. I mean, I’ll check with him on the details first, but he has to know about this.”

  He jumped up and pulled
his phone from his pocket. He looked at the screen, then he started walking around waving it in the air.

  “There has to be a signal around here somewhere.”

  Jazz couldn’t stop smiling. This was the best news she’d heard in a long time. Tommy would be so happy. Even Rachel would be glad to know that she actually had a decent family. It was perfect.

  Except something wasn’t right. Rachel’s trauma might have Finn’s powers out of whack, but that didn’t explain how Michael’s memories were strong enough to take him over. From what Finn said, Michael’s memories were potent, but they shouldn’t be enough to change his appearance…

  Could they?

  “Let’s drive somewhere that has a signal,” he said. “We need to call Dad and let the cops know to—”

  He gave a sharp cry. Jazz heard creaking and a loud crack from the other side of the SUV. She bolted around to see Finn hanging upside down, his body slowly rotating in the air.

  “Finn!”

  She ran to him, grabbing his sides to stop his movement. A rope was caught around his ankle. He had stepped in some kind of snare. It looked like it had been set up to pull him against the tree. He must have hit it hard to make such a loud noise. He was out cold.

  “Shit! Finn…”

  His chest was still moving. He was breathing. She had to get him down. Maybe there was something in the SUV that could help. She turned back to it, vaguely registering Travis standing right behind her, his arm seeming to fly toward her face. She felt a brief moment of pain. Her vision filled with blinding lights and then went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Wake up. Wake. Up.

  Finn’s head was pounding. He blinked his eyes and looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. His shoulders ached. He couldn’t move his arms. Pain lanced through his wrists as rough rope bit into his skin. He was tied to a chair.

  A moment of panic shot through him. He had dreamt something too close to this over and over again. He had to calm himself down. Assess his situation, his surroundings. Directly across from him, Jazz was tied to a chair too. Her head was bowed forward, her dark hair obscuring her face.

  More panic, but longer than a moment. She wasn’t moving.

  “Jazz!”

  Finn tugged against the ropes, tried to hop his chair closer. The floor of the place was sand. He couldn’t get enough purchase to move.

  “You pathetic fool.”

  He jerked his head to the side, trying to find the voice. The world spun around him and he felt nauseated. He closed his eyes till the feeling passed.

  “I can’t believe you let him catch you. I only left you alone for a few minutes.”

  Finn looked around more slowly. They were in some kind of shed, the dark wood pitted from time and exposure to the elements. The door was open, giving Finn a view of the swamp outside. And it was actual swamp.

  The water line was only a few dozen feet from where they sat. If a gator decided it wanted a snack, it could walk right in.

  He looked around the room some more. Gators became the least of his worries.

  Tables lined the walls of the shed. They were covered in a mix of pelts, hunks of wood in vaguely animal-like shapes, and tools. Sharp, jagged tools. Some of them he recognized as being for woodworking. The rest he could only imagine were for carving…other things. It looked like they were in a torture chamber.

  He pulled against the ropes again.

  “You disappoint me.”

  Where the hell was that coming from? The guy’s voice sounded like it was right in Finn’s ear. Even closer.

  He looked around the place again. It must be Travis’s taxidermy studio. He and Jazz were the only ones there. Finn craned his neck around to try to look over his shoulder.

  Two forms lurked in the shadows.

  Shit.

  They were small, but in his current state, there was nothing he could do to protect himself or Jazz. If only he was free. He could take them—

  “What kind of private investigator were you?” The voice was thick with mockery.

  Finn’s neck hurt, but he kept looking. The figures didn’t move. They were holding too still. Mannequins. They were female mannequins. More specifically, they looked like the frames sitting on the tables. The ones Travis must use for…

  Oh shit!

  He turned back to Jazz, his breath coming so fast he was almost hyperventilating.

  “Yes,” the voice practically purred. “Frames for my little mad elf’s workshop. I see you can imagine what he plans to do with them.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Tsk. It’s just the two of us in here. I’d rather keep our conversation private. Besides, you don’t want Travis to hear, do you? Once he knows you’re awake, he’ll come back inside.”

  Finn looked at the open doorway. Yeah, he didn’t want Travis coming back. Not until Finn had figured a way out of this and could kick the sick bastard’s ass.

  “So violent. You need to learn control. There’s so much that you’re capable of. You didn’t even scratch the surface of your powers.”

  Finn closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

  “Who are you?” he thought.

  “Better. Much better. But too little, too late.”

  The light dimmed as Travis stepped into the shed. He was wearing a faded gray and white checkered shirt, jeans, and heavy boots. He glanced at Finn and did a double-take.

  “He thought you’d still be sleeping. He didn’t know I’d be here to prod you awake.”

  Finn ignored the voice. “Travis. It’s Travis, right?”

  Travis’s mouth tightened into a line, his lips disappearing almost completely. The guy was a rail. His cheekbones stuck out on his face, his thin arms were corded with muscle and sinew—no fat to soften him anywhere.

  He walked behind Jazz and checked her ropes. She stirred. Finn’s heart was pounding. He had to get her out of there. Travis headed toward him, stepping behind Finn’s chair.

  If Finn could reach him—touch his skin—he would push him to let them go. He didn’t give a shit about the consequences. He just wanted Jazz safe.

  “Do you think it’s that simple? That you can turn on that power like a switch, without studying it, practicing it?”

  Travis checked the ropes, pulling on them tight enough to make Finn wince. He reached for Travis—tried to anyway. His hands didn’t respond.

  “That is how it’s done. Finesse. Slip in between the cracks so they don’t even know you’re the one in control. Learn how they think so they can’t tell which voice in their mind is their own.”

  Shit! Travis walked to one of the tables. Finn had to think of another way to reach him.

  “What is it that you want?” Finn asked.

  “He wants to be like me,” the voice whispered.

  “Shut up!”

  Finn’s stomach seemed to drop through his body, carried away with a feeling of déjà vu. This conversation wasn’t new. It had been going on since yesterday at least. Intrusive thoughts that Finn believed were his own, even though they weren’t like him at all.

  He’d thought Michael’s memories were affecting him—getting under his skin—until Jazz shared her theory in the darkroom that Michael was the one haunting him. That somehow his spirit was still hanging around. Hanging around Finn.

  Maybe he had used Finn’s bond with Rachel or used the connection Finn made when he read objects. Either way, Michael was back. And he was in Finn’s head. Under his skin.

  The voice in his head laughed. “‘Under your skin’ is going to have a very literal meaning for you soon.”

  Travis turned from the table, a long thin blade in his hand. A skinning knife.

  Shit!

  Finn drew out the word in his mind. He couldn’t help it. That panic from earlier was back in
full force.

  “Come on, man,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”

  “He wants to do it. Don’t you see? He’s trying to live up to the standard I set—to prove he’s as good as me. It’s pathetic, really.”

  “Travis, please. This isn’t you. I saw the kid you were before Michael started messing with your head. Don’t let him turn you into this.”

  “Oh, please. I’ve been sculpting his mind for decades. Do you think you can undo my work with platitudes? When I came to live here, he was a plump little thing just approaching manhood. Disillusioned with the world, but still open-minded enough for me to squeeze in. I would pick at him till he attacked me, then set his mother against him as well. They were excellent practice for learning to control others. You, though. You have so much raw power. Power you never bothered to use.”

  Dammit. Finn almost felt bad for Travis. The guy’s hand was shaking. He really didn’t want to do this. Michael had fucked with his head so bad.

  “I can help you,” Finn said.

  “No you can’t,” the voice said. “You can’t help anyone. Not yourself. Not Ms. Zhou.”

  Finn was trying to figure a way out of this, but coming up empty. The sand kept him from getting enough purchase to shift his chair. Travis was right there with them, armed and absolutely dangerous. Jazz was unconscious, at his mercy.

  “Please,” Finn said. “I’m begging you. Let her go.”

  Travis was staring at the knife in his hands. He was working up his nerve. Finn had to reach him quickly.

  “As if he would ever let either of you go. You both know about what he’s done. He’s too much of a coward to go to prison. He’d rather kill you.”

  “Of everybody in this room, I think you’re the one he’d most like to kill.”

  Wait… That just might work.

  “Travis, I know Michael hurt you. Made your life hell. I know you hate him and you want to prove that you’re better than him.”

  Travis finally spoke, his voice rusty as if he seldom used it. “You don’t know a damned thing.”