by T. Jones
"What are you saying? We can't save everyone." Teri asked.
"But we're starting to figure out that there are real psychics in other places, probably everywhere. My Mom says there are several psychic men, right here in the Cities. Did anyone else know that?"
"This is most of us," Teri held her hands out, one near the table, one shoulder high. "This is your mother, Callie. She's always been ten steps ahead of everyone else."
"So fine, I can ask her to help. But wouldn't it be great, if we could connect with others like us? Let's say some asshole here in Minneapolis, planned to kill someone important, someone overseas, doesn't matter who. Maybe somebody in that country senses it, but not well enough to stop it. But maybe, if we were connected to them, it could be stopped."
"Lots of problems with that, Callie." Teri leaned forward. "First, we have to find them, then we have to form that connection somehow, and we have to keep the whole thing secret. If there are psychics everywhere, the governments of the world would never let us just help people. They would round us up, try and take advantage of our abilities. Have you ever seen the X-men?" Callie laughed.
"I want to be Storm! I'm just saying, we could start exploring the possibilities. I don't know how it would work, but it's something to think about. We know we're not the only ones, and I'm guessing there are people all over like us that want to make things better. I agree, we'd have to be really careful not to expose ourselves."
"How about we all think on that Callie, what about Jenny? You had an idea for her?" Deeann said.
"Teresa Blackburn told me a story once, about a busload of kids going off a cliff, and how the Sisters could save those kids, easily. My Mom asked me one time, what if one of those kids grew up to be a mass murderer? Good point, right?"
"I've heard the argument." Madeline nodded.
"The Sisters have changed a lot of lives in the last twenty-some years. Has anyone kept track of what became of those people? Are we sure we improved the outcomes, long range? Shouldn't we follow up, make sure we didn't screw-up Fate?"
"We can't be too cautious Callie, nothing will happen." Mary Rose leaned forward.
"I know Mary, and that's why you and I are a good balance. But, I think it would be good to keep track of the what happens down the road, kind of a history. And I think it should be someone objective, at least someone without abilities, like Jenny. She could keep a log of the people we help, even the little things the girls do on their own, maybe make inquiries, check on them after some time has passed. Saving people from earthquakes, that's a no brainer, but should we meddle in people's day to day lives? If we had a record of what the consequences are, maybe we'd know better when not to get involved. Fate has to have its way sometimes, right?"
"Any record like that would have to be kept secret of course, locked up, not accidentally downloaded." Deeann put in. "Jenny, are you up to it, do you have the time?"
"Plenty of time now, I quit my job up north and I'll be living here full time. I would probably put it on a separate laptop, one that isn't even connected to the internet. I'll figure out a way to cross reference variables so that eventually we could predict which actions have negative consequences. Of course, any mathematical algorithm would be negated by the human element, you can't put a number on human emotion." Callie nodded, laughing.
"I've always said, there's a lot going on under that red mop of yours."
***
"What the hell do you mean, you're off the case? You haven't found shit." Derrick Blackburn glared at Fatty Carson. Fatty shrugged nonchalantly.
"That's because there's nothing to find. That Rice lady is squeaky clean, and she hasn't said anything about being a psychic. Far as I can tell, you're the only one who thinks that. There's a transcript of all of her conversations over the last week and a half and some pictures of the people that came and went. Mostly all just State business. There was one call from the Fisher girl, reminding her about some meeting."
"Probably a Sisters meeting! You should have bugged that somehow."
"Christ, I'm not Houdini. They all seem like nice women, the Rice woman too. My professional opinion is that she had nothing to do with your mother's death. My personal opinion is that you need to move on with your life, maybe see a counselor about all this. Your retainer covered most of my expenses and time, I'll call it good, send you a breakdown. I deactivated the bugs, just so you know." Derrick leaned forward, starring into Fatty's eyes.
"Tell me Mr. Carson, is this all of it? Do you know more about this than you're telling me?"
"Well, I did find some pictures." Fatty had no intention of telling him that, it just slipped out. Derrick continued looking at him, expectantly. After a moment Fatty reached into his pocket and slid his cellphone across the desk to the younger man. "I think they kind of tell their own tale."
Derrick opened the pictures and scrolled through them, as Fatty sat silent, looking out the window, then sent them quickly to his own phone. He slid the phone back to Fatty. "Thank you, Mr. Carson, you can go now."
Fatty left the small office in the Blackburn home that Derrick had taken over, left North Oaks and drove back into Minneapolis. It was all very confusing. Why he had turned the pictures over to the kid? Deeann wouldn't be happy, but he needed to tell someone. He drove back to the spot where he had met Deeann, half a block from the renovated building where the three girls lived. He got out of his car and leaned against it, enjoying the cool night air. He had a crushing headache, maybe when it stopped hurting, he would screw up his nerve and knock on the door, tell his story.
He fumbled for a cigarette, lit it, and took a long drag. He had quit so many times, he'd lost count. It had been weeks, but a few puffs would calm his nerves. He took a deep drag, then flipped the butt into the street, time to quit again. He thought he heard a slight noise, and had started to turn, when an arm snaked around his neck, a hand grasped his right wrist and yanked it up behind his back, pulling hard enough to make him stand on his tiptoes. He inhaled quickly, instinctual panic, then relaxed. He knew who it was. He could smell her perfume, feel her large breasts resting against his back as she leaned close to his ear. She relaxed her grip a little when he didn't struggle, and hissed in his ear.
"I'm kind of getting tired of you watching us! Is this you being kinky, or are you here for some other reason. Either way, not a good idea. If you want the use of this arm for the next month or so, you need to explain yourself, right now."
"Fatty Carson, at your service, Danielle. You can let me go, I was just standing here for a bit, I was on my way to talk to you." She hesitated, pulled a bit harder on his wrist. "Look, I'm not armed. I couldn't outrun you, and I've seen you boxing at the gym, so I'm not going to try that either. I really came to talk to you and Callie, to tell you about Derrick Blackburn."
"Alright. Just don't try anything." She let go of his arm and gave him a not too gentle shove toward the loft. "Is that who you're working for?"
"Was. I have to show Callie what I showed him. Can we just go in and talk?"
Callie and Jenny were in the kitchen when Danielle came in, walking carefully behind Fatty Carson. They looked at each other, then at the slight, awkward looking older man. Danielle shoved him down on the couch. "Okay, so talk. What's your deal, and what do you have to do with Derrick Blackburn?" He looked over at the other two girls.
"Fatty Carson, I'm a licensed private investigator." Jenny's eyes flew open. She walked to the refrigerator, pulled out a cold beer, then handed it to Fatty. Danielle glared at her.
"What? You're thirsty, aren't you Mr. Carson?" Jenny asked. Fatty opened the beer.
"Matter of fact, my throats a little raw." He gave Danielle an unfriendly look. Jenny glared back at Danielle.
"I hope she didn't hurt you. Deeann told me all kinds of wonderful things about you. Have you been spying on us Mr. Carson?" Fatty winced visibly.
"Oh shit, does Dee know?" Danielle was tiring of the banter.
"Listen, I'm not as good natured as Je
nny here. Tell me, right now, why the hell you're spying on us and Madeline, or so help me I'm going to break that arm you're drinking my beer with."
Fatty confessed his part, even the fact that he had bugged Madeline's office. "But today, I made up my mind to quit, because of Dee, us getting along so well. I wasn't going to show him the pictures, honest, but then he asked me if there was anything else, and I just gave them to him, like I didn't have a mind of my own. Here, I hope this isn't awkward for Madeline, I don't know if you knew she had these." He handed his phone to Callie, who flipped through the pictures quickly with Jennifer looking over her shoulder. Callie handed the phone back.
"No big surprises there."
"Tells me she's your mother, and that blond-haired guy is your Dad." Fatty said flatly. "Anybody saw them would think the same thing. Derrick Blackburn seemed pretty interested. I just thought you should know, that's why I came."
"That's so sweet." Jenny rolled her eyes at Danielle. "I mean it's sweet that Madeline was keeping track of Callie all those years, but what Fatty did was sweet too. You finished that whole beer, Mr. Carson? Would you like another?"
"No more beer! Thank you, Mr. Carson for showing us this. Do you know what you're going to do right now?" Danielle glowered at him. "You're going to go straight over to Deeann's house and tell her everything, the truth, and hope she doesn't kick your sorry ass to the curb. Got it?" Fatty got up nodding, walking backwards to the door. Jenny waved.
"It was great to meet you Fatty, don't be a stranger!
Chapter Nine
Anna Hendricks sat in the waiting room, flipping through a magazine from two years previous. Didn't matter, she wasn't really reading it anyway. She was back at the office of Madeline Rice on the pretext of needing a follow up interview. The legal aid had called and confirmed that the Ethics lawyer was willing to see her. Anna liked the older woman, but their first interview had been cut short, just when it was getting good. They had talked business, Madeline's involvement in the trading case, which amounted to a lot of no comments. That was to be expected, since the trial was still pending. But just before being interrupted by a pressing call from the Lieutenant Governor, Madeline had mentioned Danielle. She seemed to know her quite well, and Anna was curious.
She'd been rude to her ex, that day in the lobby, and had regretted it immediately. But she had spent a long time building the walls that kept her from going through that kind of heartbreak again, the same walls that kept her from falling in love, even now. A chance meeting, less than a full minute in a hallway, couldn't change what had happened those long years ago.
She had lost touch with Danielle after the funeral, not that she would have called, or taken her call. But there was something comforting in knowing where she lived, just off the fifteenth green, two fairways over from her parents' place. It left the possibility open, just in case the day came when Anna worked up the courage to knock on her front door. But then her Grandmother passed away too, and Danielle sold the house and moved into the city. That was the story Anna got from the members of the club. She looked for her on Facebook occasionally, when she was feeling especially lonely, but never found her and didn't pursue it further. She had stayed in her parents' basement far longer than was normal, or healthy. Her Dad still advised her, whether she wanted him to, or not.
She graduated from college with a finance degree, got a job at a bank, like she had planned. But the money wasn't great, and finding her own place didn't seem very important, since she'd be living alone. She did get to counsel people on their investments, as part of her job. One of her clients was in television, an anchor on the local news. He talked her into making a promo tape, took her under his wing, and pitched the idea of having a financial segment to the station owners. It took a while, there was more to it than just smiling at the camera. Part of it was learning to chase stories, be a journalist, like today.
But the money was good, and she had finally bought her own place. A big, beautiful, empty, place. She had dated a few girls after Danielle, then gave up anything serious and worked on her career. Men asked her out, women too, but she avoided any real dating. There were the occasional hookups, career women like herself, women she could trust to be discreet. She was always careful to keep it strictly physical, mutual satisfaction, no lingering kisses, or sleepovers. She told herself that she would wait, that someday, someone magical would walk into her life again. Then Danielle had done just that. Her musings were interrupted when Madeline pulled the door open and invited her in.
They talked briefly about the Marsh case again, and as before Madeline shut her down. It didn't matter, she was eager to ask about Danielle, but didn't know how to start the conversation. Madeline Rice, as if she knew, asked the right question.
"I take it you know my friend Danielle. I don't mean to pry, but I noticed you two talking the other day. Seemed like you maybe share some history?"
"Yes, we have a lot of history. There was a time I thought we would be married someday. Of course, at the time it wasn't legal, but I would have waited." That was too much information, Anna! The Ethics lawyer smiled across the table at her.
"So, you're married now, or in a relationship?"
"No. Honestly, I don't think I ever got over her. I've been waiting for that spark again."
"Sounds magical, dear. Why did it end?" Anna leaned forward, eagerly.
"My father had her investigated, he had pictures of her with another woman, and it tore my heart out. She claimed it was part of her job, helping people somehow. I was young and so in love, but I felt betrayed. I thought I was going to die, literally, for a good deal of time, I wanted to."
"What did she say about it? I've known Danielle for a long time, and that doesn't sound like something she would do. Was there more it?"
"I was too hurt and angry to listen, honestly. She kept saying she was helping people, but that she couldn't explain it. My father said the pictures spoke for themselves, and I started to believe him."
"It's human nature, sometimes, to think the worst, especially when we're trying to protect the people we love. But here you are, how many years later? It was obvious you were dying to talk about her, kind of makes me think you should be talking to her, instead of me. Maybe do some listening, too."
"I don't know if she will talk to me. She asked if we could talk the other day and I was horrible to her, I shut her out."
"You won't know, if you don't try Anna. I think she needs to talk as badly as you do, I think she's a little broken too."
***
Lucinda Mitchel bent over her chair, peering at her computer screen. She pushed her glasses back in place, then grew frustrated and pulled them off, looking closer at the readout. As a rule, she kept her hair pulled into a tight ponytail; it stayed out of her face, and didn't interfere with her glasses, but the binder had snapped. She would have to remember to take plenty along when she went to Jamaica.
She was excited to go, a chance to get away from the research center, and do some actual field work, set up equipment on her own. She wasn't sure how it had come about, but a private donor had offered funds. She was to go with their guy, set up her equipment, and if things looked ominous, help him warn the local population.
But earthquakes weren't very predictable, even with all the science they had at their disposal. Soon, in geological terms might translate to a hundred years, depending on the fault, and sending large populations into a panic never played out well. But the foreshocks were becoming more frequent and the fault was overdue for correction, so it was worth a closer look.
The professor had made it seem like he was doing her a huge favor, but she knew the reality. He didn't want to leave the comfort of his little office, and traipse around in the bush. That, and the fact that he was hoping she would be extremely grateful. He could have arranged a geological expedition to the moon for her, and it still wasn't going to happen. She'd always dated older men, but there was a limit.
She had been engaged, her senior year in college,
but grad school was a priority, not her fiancé. He didn't want a wife that might suddenly fly across the globe just because the needle of a seismograph moved half an inch, and she didn't want anyone who would try to stop her. So, for now at least, it was all about the work. The phone on her desk lit up, her extension.
"Hello, Lucy Mitchell, Seismological Center."
"Hello Lucy, my name is Danielle Ogren, it's my understanding that we will be partnering for your trip to Jamaica. I'm with the group that's sponsoring your work there." Lucinda frowned, she'd expected a man, hopefully one who could carry a heavy pack.
"Yes, what was the name of your group again?" Danielle pulled something out of thin air.
"SSW, certainly you've heard of us?"
"No, really not." She squinted at her keyboard, typed in the acronym.
"We're a pretty lowkey geological group, so don't bother Googling it." Lucinda smiled and sat back. The woman was quick, and apparently could hear well.
"You understand that this will require going into the mountains, walking long distances with some pretty heavy equipment."
"What, you want a big strong man, to carry you when you get tired?" The irritation was evident, and Lucy frowned. Good job, blow the deal before it even happens! She tried again.
"I'm sorry, I certainly didn't mean to offend you. It's just that the equipment isn't light, I work pretty hard at staying fit, just so I can lug it around. I'm sure we can manage." She heard a chuckle.
"We'll manage Lucy, I'm five eleven in my socks, I bench two-forty, and I can run five-minute miles all damn day, so don't worry about me keeping up!" Wow, good start Lucy, great people skills. She back tracked.
"I'm really not as stupid as I sound, Miss Ogren, I just have a horrible time communicating with people." Another dumb thing to say! "I mean, if the readings look bad, I'll be able to explain that to the officials in charge of that parish, it's just that I'm a science nerd, and I'm always thinking when I should be talking, or talking without thinking, kind of like now. But I can explain it to them. I'm very good at my job, really." She finished lamely.
