by T. Jones
"Lamar, he'll like that. Maybe I'll come visit, sometime, bucket list, " She was dozing off. "Sorry, have to sleep more…"
It was noon when she came to again, ravenously hungry. Callie and Anna were both there. Something felt different, but she pushed it out of her mind. They both fussed over her, and helped her eat. She did her best to stay awake, but she wasn't able to fight the meds. She dreamt of pulling a little girl from a pile of ashes and woke up crying. It was dark outside and she was alone with Callie Fisher.
"I didn't save her, Callie. I didn't save anyone."
"But you did Danielle. Lamar called Eldon Campbell to tell him that you were in the hospital. He said Kendra called him, and she and Felicity went to their house the morning of the quake. You did it, Danielle. They're all safe. He said they were going to be staying with him permanently. They came through the quake fine."
"God, that is great. Where's Anna?"
"Having coffee with Lucy. That girl is a force of nature. When Lamar and I pulled up she was poking that guy that shot you with her foot, I thought she was going to shoot him again, just for good measure. Lamar had to take the gun away from her." Danielle managed a little chuckle.
"She got on my nerves at first, but she grows on you. I almost kissed her the other night."
"Yeah? Bad timing again?"
"I really want to try with Anna, after all these years of hoping. Besides, Lucy's a kid."
"Thought she likes older guys."
"That's what Lamar keeps hoping for." They laughed again. Danielle was quiet for a minute. "Can you feel it Callie?"
" It's probably the medication, it'll come back once you've healed up."
"What would I do, without my gift?"
"Same thing you've been doing, Dani. You have so many gifts, being psychic is just one of them. By the time you're able to come home, you'll have it back, just wait and see."
The next day, Lucy Mitchel brought her lap top in, and Danielle skyped with Kendra and Felicity Campbell. They had to tell her about Nigel, but reminded her that she had warned him, that he'd died doing what he believed in.
Anna stayed for a couple days, but by then Danielle was out of danger, and she sent her home. The station wanted her back on the air, so she went. Callie could see that things were strained between them. Love didn't always last a lifetime.
Callie refused to leave, and Lucy visited every day. It was a week before Danielle could travel, and she and Callie flew home together. They were both happy to be home, and Jennifer clung to them for as long as they would allow. She had Danielle's room ready, including a baby monitor, so she could call out if she needed something in the middle of the night.
But the Gift, Danielle's abilities, hadn't come back. She was still taking pain medication, less effective and addicting. All they could do was hope that was the cause.
***
"I am so glad you're home." Jenny murmured. Callie laughed at the redhead. They had made love, repeatedly.
"I could tell."
"What? I love you, I was just expressing my appreciation. What you did was amazing. You saved Danielle. She still got shot, but she wouldn't have lived if you hadn't been there."
"Lucy Mitchel was the one that saved her. She shot that drug dealer like it was nothing. I just got Lamar there. Without him, the ambulance never would've come in time, and she probably would have died."
"I need the whole story at some point, for the official record, but you're still my hero." Jenny giggled. Callie kissed her softly.
"If there's one thing I know Jenny, it's that you are the hero of our story. You're always so strong and full of love, you make me better and stronger too. It took me a while, I mean, I was a dick to you through most of school, but you are everything to me. Marry me? Right now."
"I already said I would, whenever you want." Jenny furrowed her brow as Callie took her hand.
"Humor me, please? Do you, Jenny Mconvil, take, Callie Fisher, to love, honor and all that other shit, forever, no matter how clueless and selfish I can be sometimes?" Jenny smiled.
"I do, always, in this life and the next one, I do."
"I'm serious, Jenny, promise me."
"I do Callie, nothing will ever come between us, I won't let it, I promise you, I swear it."
"And I take you, Jenny, this life and the next one, or a thousand more. We'll make it official one day, but I'm yours, and you're mine, from this moment on."
"I told you Callie, nothing will ever come between us, we're meant to be, it's Fate."
Callie drifted into sleep, finally, there were no more doubts.
Chapter Twenty-One
Doctor Wendell Swenson eyed his patient. Nice kid really, just a little confused when he first came in. He'd made remarkable progress. If he were honest, he really enjoyed their therapy sessions, he always felt so relaxed afterwards. He had told the father three to six months, that was in his notes, although he couldn't remember saying it. But here it was, three weeks later, and the Blackburn kid was doing very well. He couldn't think of any reason to not release the boy to his father's custody as soon as the court order allowed him to.
Derrick Blackburn looked straight into the psychiatrist's eyes, nodding encouragement as he talked about an early release date.
"You said my progress has been wonderful, Dr. Swenson. The drugs seem to be doing their job, isn't that right?"
"Yes Derrick, the drugs do seem to be doing their job. You've made wonderful progress."
"The earliest I could be released to my father would be the end of the month." Dr. Swenson nodded.
"Yes, that's right. The court order stated a minimum of supervised care for thirty days."
"Then I should be able to go home after thirty days, right Dr. Swenson?"
"You should be able to go home after thirty days, Derrick. Your progress has been wonderful."
"I think you should start the paperwork, Dr. Swenson. I will tell my father the good news."
"Tell your father the good news, Derrick, I'm starting the paperwork right away."
It was remarkable, Derrick thought, how easily controlled the good doctor was. Perhaps it was the fact that his job was to listen closely, that made the suggestions take so easily. He'd been sure none of the medication stayed down. Making himself vomit was unpleasant, but damned if he was going to let them poison him, possibly rob him of his abilities. Once he was free, he could figure out what to do about the Rice woman. Bottom line, she had to pay, and thanks to Fatty Carson's efforts, he had an idea of how to make it happen.
***
Jon Eklund stared out the window of his office, looking north, as he often did these days. Callie. That was the name Filipe had announced proudly to him one evening when he got home from work. The boy's Gifts were impressive, better than his father's it seemed. If he said it was Callie, then it probably was.
But he could feel her too, closer it seemed. He knew from his studies, that proximity helped strengthen the psychic connections. The closer the individual, through geography, blood, or accident of circumstance, the stronger the connection seemed to be. And he could feel her, involved in some struggle, though not the one he and Filipe had envisioned, the time when they would be her only hope. It was coming soon. They just needed to figure out where. Perhaps if they found her early enough, they could stop whatever problems were coming. The League cautioned against such things as interfering with the will of God, but he didn't believe that.
He and Madeline had many conversations about changing what they knew might come, and they had agreed that it could be done. It seemed flawed and fatalistic to think that God would allow them glimpses into the future if it couldn't be changed. She had been a wonderful girl, and after they parted he was sure that he had made a mistake, not pursuing her further. But he was young, and permanence wasn't in his vocabulary yet. He had loved her, that much he knew. Then he'd met Rosalind, the year he graduated from college, and he was sure it would last forever. But the cancer had other plans, it had taken her three ye
ars ago.
He saw her in his son, and it made him wonder about the girl, Callie. Would she have her mother's ears? He laughed aloud, thinking about it. Madeline had been a pretty woman, and very gifted. She was alive, he was sure he would have known if she were gone as well. Perhaps, he thought suddenly, they didn't need to depend on their psychic abilities alone. Presuming Filipe was right, his daughter's name was Callie, and her mother's name was Madeline, maybe that was enough.
A quick Goggle search found nothing promising, no way to locate people by first name only, and what if either had married, then the last name would be different? But he hadn't gotten where he was by giving up easily. He made a call to an agency the company had used before to research brokers that worked for other companies. The exchange market could occasionally be cutthroat, and sometimes it was necessary to find dirt on the competition. He wasn't proud of it, but he was glad he had the contact.
The private detective came to his office just before quitting time. He was a heavy set swarthy man who labored to breath and sweat profusely. But Jon knew he was an expert when it came to finding information about people, perhaps he could locate the two women.
"Tell me everything you know, Jon. Sorry we couldn't do this on the phone, but I find sometimes when I talk face to face with a client, things come to light that wouldn't otherwise. You're trying to find a woman, correct?"
"This is strictly confidential Peter, understood?" Peter nodded. "When I was just out of high school, I worked on a cruise ship for a few months. That would have been ninety-six, I think, September until maybe the end of February, just five months I guess, then I started college. Anyway, I met a girl. The boat had some problems and we ported in Florida for two weeks. We got along well. Long story short, I believe I have a daughter with this woman, and I need to find her."
"Her mother doesn't know how to find her, or she won't tell you?"
"I don't exactly know who her mother is." He smiled as the swarthy detective cocked his head. "We were together for ten days, and we never exchanged last names. I know, it sounds stupid, but it was part of the game. We wanted it to be this crazy, romantic fling that we could just look back on and remember when we grew old, you know?"
"Ah, and then she became pregnant and is blackmailing you, no?"
"No, not at all. I never heard from her again." Peter cocked his head again.
"You have had no contact? So, it is the daughter who wants your money?"
"No Peter, no one is after my money. They don't know where I am, that's the problem."
"Senhor Eklund, if you have had no contact, with either of them, how do you know of this daughter that you say you have?"
"I can't tell you that, Peter. You're just going to have to take my word for it." The man scratched his head and picked up his pen.
"Alright, what do you know?"
"Three things, Peter. I only know three things. The woman's name is Madeline, my daughter's name is Callie, and they live in the United States. Oh, and it is cold where they live. Madeline talked about a lot of snow. And in the winter, they drive automobiles on the ice, I remember that!"
"See, already you know more than you thought you did. Anything else, anything at all?"
"Lakes, lots and lots of lakes."
"To drive on, right?"
"I know, it sounded like foolishness to me, but she told me stories about it."
"I don't know for sure, but there can not be that many states where they do such things. Madeline and Callie, right? I will get on it right away."
"I'm sorry I cannot share how I know about the girl, but trust me, I am sure."
"This is why you hire me Senhor Eklund, I am a good detective, and I am discrete."
***
Fatty Carson was nothing, if not discrete. He had been on a lot of divorce cases when discretion was the first priority. Discretion, it seemed would be even more important, working for the Sisters. No having a few too many, and bragging in the bar that your girlfriend could see the future, that was a no brainer. Of course, no one would believe you anyway, and you might get tossed in the psych ward, but again, discretion.
They had watched the devastation in Jamaica, from the comfort of Deeann's king sized bed. Fatty knew that sometimes things were just coincidence, but that was a hell of a big one. He had no choice but to believe that there was something to it. And, if it were real, it was a pretty cool thing to be a part of, after all. The group certainly seemed to try to stay on the right side of things. He heard the story of how the Amazon woman, Danielle, had been shot trying to save a little girl. That showed character. And Deeann had explained about the Marsh kid, how he was staying clean and just trying to help the Clark woman with her drug problem, and how Callie was trying to let go of what he'd done in the past. That part wasn't clear, but Deeann wouldn't tell him the whole story. Not a big deal, everybody had secrets. Secrets were what paid his bills.
Jennifer, Callie Fisher's girlfriend, was a sweetheart. She had been nice from their first meeting, not all serious like Danielle. His arm still hurt a little when he moved it the wrong way. Deeann said that once she healed up, he would work with Danielle sometimes, so he would have to get on her good side.
Jenny had been keeping him busy, checking out people the group had helped in the past. The idea was to be sure they hadn't inadvertently saved the life of someone who went on to become a mass murderer. Sometimes she had him talking to the women in the group, picking their brains for tidbits of information that might be important later. It certainly wasn't hard work, and they were an interesting bunch. He wondered if it wasn't just busy work, a way for Deeann to keep him around.
He had started having coffee with the redhead most mornings, because her girlfriend was in Jamaica, and he had to get his list of assignments anyway. Thursday morning was cold for September, and he threw a coat on as he walked up to the front door of the Loft. He knocked, then looked over his shoulder when he heard an engine start. A dark colored van with tinted windows made a u turn in the street and sped away. Fatty had time to notice that there was no sign of dew on the windows, it had not been there overnight. Probably innocent, but he was paid to notice things like that.
A pretty brunette opened the door, and Fatty immediately recognized her from the evening news. She brushed past him without a word, unhappy about something.
Jenny Mconvil saw him and ran to the door.
"They're home Fatty! Danielle and Callie got in late last night. I didn't get any sleep." She blushed suddenly. "I mean, we were busy setting things up for Danielle, come see her."
Danielle sat on the couch in a housecoat, not looking too bad considering she'd had two bullets removed from her chest ten days before. Fatty chatted with her, then when the opportunity arose, motioned to Callie. She followed him out the front door.
"I saw a van when I got here, looked like they were watching the place, just thought you should know. Can you read their brains or something?" Callie smiled at him.
"Doesn't work like that Mr. Carson. But we have you now, I'll bet you can find out what's going on with them. Thank you for keeping Jen company, she said you've had coffee with her every morning this week. First time you noticed the van?"
"Yeah, first time, but I might have just missed it before. Jenny makes great coffee."
"Let's keep this to ourselves for now, okay? I don't want her worrying. Maybe say something to Deeann. I'm not telling Danielle, she would want to go kick their ass, and I don't think she's ready for that."
"Maybe I'll keep an eye on the place for a few days. I don't like the idea of some creep watching you girls when you're here alone."
"That's a little ironic, but, thank you. It would be great if you can figure out who it is, hopefully before next weekend. Jenny and I are going back home to watch my parents' hardware store, so they can go to Alaska. I'll probably split my time between there and the Sisters anyway. I don't want to leave Danielle alone, but she might stay over at Anna's so there'll be no one to watch the place."
Fatty drove back to Deeann Long's house. He practically lived there, he thought, could just as well give up his lease. Deeann was on the phone in her office so Fatty poured some coffee and sat in the kitchen waiting for her.
"Day off?" She asked when she came out.
"Jennifer is too wound up about Callie and Danielle being back to worry about what the Sisters did five years ago."
"Good for her. That's going to be a valuable record someday, but it'll wait. That was Bess Fisher on the phone."
"Sisters' business?"
"She's leaving for a couple of weeks, and she's worried about Derrick Blackburn. She says she thinks he's still going to try something."
"Isn't he locked up, getting his screws reset?"
"Interesting way to put it, but Bess is worried. Can you do some checking on him? But don't get too close, he's got some gifts of his own."
"I figured that out when I worked for him. He's supposed to be under lock and key for quite a while, the last I heard. I might have a talk with the Marsh kid. His old man is tied up with Blackburn, he might know something, off the record."
"Better for Derrick if we keep Bess Fisher away from it, trust me. Bess doesn't get involved very often, but when she does, shit happens."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Madeline Rice slid the bottom drawer of her desk open and pulled out the two notebooks that lay in the bottom. She was aware that Fatty Carson had found them and she had started locking the desk after his visit. It hadn't pleased her, but now that he was involved with Deeann, she didn't see any point in pursuing the matter. Derrick Blackburn had been the instigator, he was the continuing danger.
He had made it clear that he thought she was the one who allowed the death of his mother on that dark highway. He considered it murder, and she wasn't about to tell him who had really intervened, preventing the rest of the group from realizing Teresa's fate. But was it murder? If you knew of an impending death, and did nothing to prevent it, was that murder? Doctors were bound by the law to try to save a life whenever they could, but there were no such laws for psychics. They were bound only by their sense of guilt, the guilt that she knew was eating away at Bess Fisher.
