“I think your mind is trying to handle the distance,” she said. “You told me last night that when you located your targets, you overdid it. That it came on without you realizing you were putting yourself in jeopardy. I think these flashes are a way your mind is trying to protect itself from the effects of these long-distance visions.”
I finished my soup, and Cavanaugh took the tray from my lap and set it on the top of the dresser. Kelli gave me a look that said, What’s up with you and Cavanaugh? I just shrugged and shook my head, not knowing how to answer. Cavanaugh came back and reseated himself at my side once more.
“What about this guy you said you saw?” he asked me. “Can you give me a better description?”
A slight shudder ran through my body as my mind brought the image of the devil-man back into focus.
“I told you,” I said. “I could only see his eyes and those horrible ram’s horns clearly. The rest of his face was a blur.”
“I think, again, because of the distance,” Kelli said, “that instead of bringing this man’s image into focus, your mind is showing you a representation of him. I believe this, too, is a means for your mind to protect itself. Your locations are too far apart, and you can’t connect clearly to him without hurting yourself. Because your brain is used to seeing clear, concise projections of the people you are searching for, in this case, it is creating a symbolic representation of classic evil to replace what you are unable to focus on. Your brain is letting you know that even though you can’t see this guy clearly, he is the one behind the kidnappings.”
I nodded my head in agreement. I did feel that it was all about this man. However, I was confused about how I’d gotten the image of him in the first place. I had no picture to target him, and as far as I knew, none of the three kids looked at him when I connected to them. Were my abilities changing again, or was my mind, worn out with all the recent activity, substituting this image for the person I knew was behind the kidnappings but was unable to locate?
“What about the children, Rommy?” she asked. “Do you feel them still?”
I was positive they were okay. I didn’t know if the bodies I saw were a warning of what could happen or something that was inevitable. This bothered me a lot. If I was going to start having visions of the future, I didn’t want them to be set in stone. I wanted to be able to affect the outcome and change what I saw.
“I know the three I’m looking for are alive for sure,” I told them. “But the others I’m not so sure about. I would have to connect with my kids again to get information on the others.”
“Well, you can just forget about that,” Kelli said sternly. “No more pictures in your head tonight. You’re going to give yourself a brain bleed if you don’t stop and rest.”
Cavanaugh brought my attention back on him. “Tell me about the devil-guy’s tattoo,” he asked.
Kelli glared at him. “What part of she has to give her brain a rest didn’t you understand, Detective?”
“Look,” he said, frowning at her. “I have a feeling that these kids don’t have much time left. The more clues we get, the faster we can find them.”
“And you would do that at the expense of her health?” Kelli said heatedly. “I know you need to find those children. The guy who took them is a monster to rip them from their homes and families. However, you are putting her life in danger.”
“Kelli,” I interrupted.
“No, Rommy,” she said. “I’m not going to stand by and let him push you into hurting yourself, and if Johnson knew about this, he would be pissed. You know your limitations, and he needs to respect them, too.”
“I do respect her limits,” Cavanaugh said in earnest. “I don’t want her hurt any more than you do.”
Kelli got up and started pacing. “Then why are you asking her to describe this guy in detail? Why are you having her bring up the image in her mind? She connects with her targets by forming images in her mind. She just had a terrible trauma, and every time you ask her to provide a detail about what she saw in her dream, you’re taking a chance on her reconnecting.”
“I didn’t know that would happen!” Cavanaugh said vehemently. “I didn’t know she did that!”
“Stop,” I said. “Kelli, I didn’t tell him. He doesn’t know. Hell, even I don’t really know. Everything is different this time, you know that.”
Kelli started crying. There had been only two times in my life that I scared her this bad. One of those times was when I was struck by lightning and the other was five years ago when I pushed myself too far and put myself into another coma.
I was helping Johnson on what we thought was just a kidnapping. It was really a domestic violence case. Husband and wife divorced, and despite the proof the husband had that his ex-wife was an unfit mother, she was awarded custody of their three-year-old daughter. It was the judge’s fault. She was the type of person who thought that a man wasn’t capable of being a single parent. She also felt that because the wife’s family had money, she would be better able to take care of the child. According to records, the husband tried everything he could to appeal the judge’s decision, but he couldn’t stand leaving his daughter for any length of time with a mother who was so into herself and partying that, most times, she forgot she even had a daughter. So he took her. I really didn’t want Johnson to find her. When I focused on the little girl, she was happy to be with her father. She felt safe. So, I stalled and gave Johnson only bits and pieces. I know he knew what I was doing. I think he even agreed with me, but then we found out that the ex-wife paid a hit man to kill her ex-husband and her child.
The FBI caught word that a well-known assassin had traveled to our state. They tracked him to his meeting with the ex-wife. They discovered that her family had threatened to cut her off if she didn’t take care of her marital mess. They didn’t care how she did it. They apparently indicated to her that being a grieving widow and mother was more acceptable to them than a publicized custody battle.
When I heard this, I just about killed myself to get Johnson and the Feds to the father and daughter before the assassin did. I had gotten to know both of them through my visions of the little girl. By the time it was all over and the little girl and her father were safe, I was at the hospital, bleeding from my eyes, ears, and nose. I lapsed into a coma. The doctors didn’t know what to do for me. The bleeding stopped, but they couldn’t even tell where it had come from, and I still didn’t wake up. It was a week later when I opened my eyes. After that, Kelli was on me like glue, making sure I ate, that I got enough rest, and that the police and Feds left me alone.
I climbed out of bed and hugged Kelli. She sobbed onto my shoulder. When we broke apart, we were both crying.
“I can’t watch you go through that again,” she sobbed. “I can’t lose you.”
I hugged her tight again, trying to let her know with my actions that she would never lose me, and that we would always be best friends forever.
“I promise you,” I told her, “that it will never be like that again.”
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” Cavanaugh blustered, uncomfortable with all the female bonding. “Now that I know what’s going on, I’ll make sure this doesn’t happen again.”
Well, bless Cavanaugh’s caveman attitude, I thought. Neither one of them really understood. I can’t always control it. It’s not something I can turn on and off like a faucet. Sometimes I just dwell on things. My mind keeps going back to it, time and time again. They can’t stop it; hell, even I can’t stop it and I’ve tried. But I’m not going to tell them. They don’t need to know.
We all stared at each other for what seemed like a long time, Kelli and Cavanaugh both thinking that they could save me from my visions. It was a touching moment—or it would have been a touching moment if Pollini hadn’t decided to jump up onto the dresser to investigate the bowl of soup. I guess the smell of clam chowder was too tempting for him. Too bad he had to have an episode of narcolepsy; his aim was very bad or very good, de
pending on how you looked at it. He landed on the handle of the spoon, which was protruding from the bowl. That spoon had one last bite that I hadn’t finished.
Kelli and I watched in fascination as creamy chunks of clam and potato flew through the air. A particularly large chunk of potato, along with a good-sized piece of chewy clam, hit Cavanaugh square between the eyes. He stood there in stunned silence with an almost comical look of surprise on his face as the creamy white blob of chowder slid down the bridge of his nose. He looked at Pollini’s inert form (also speckled with clams and bits of potato) and then to me. My lips twitched, and next to me I could hear Kelli make a choking, snorting sound. Cavanaugh lowered his head, shaking it slowly as he reached up and scraped off the blob that was now slowly making its way down his cheek. He managed to get the bit of clam, but the chunk of potato dropped onto his T-shirt and left a white trail down his chest. He caught it just before it hit the floor.
Kelli and I did a pretty good job of not laughing, but then we looked at each other. That was all it took to have us braying like donkeys. We laughed so hard that we could barely stand. Leaning against each other for support, we watched Cavanaugh cross over to Pollini, pick him up, and, without so much as a word, slowly walk into the bathroom. Kelli and I managed to crawl onto the bed, both of us wiping the tears of laughter that ran down our cheeks. Every time we got control of ourselves, we would look at each other and start laughing all over again. Finally we were able to tone it down to intermittent giggles and long sighs. Cavanaugh came back into the room with Pollini draped over his arm. They were both clean of any chowder residue. He laid Pollini on the bed next to Kelli and scooped me up, placing me back on my pillow at the head of the bed. With both hands on either side of my head, he leaned down nose-to-nose with me.
“You and your cat are a menace,” he told me, chuckling. “I’m going to leave before anything else happens to me. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Okay,” I giggled.
He smiled as he straightened, and with a pat on Kelli’s head, he left. We listened to his progress through the house and out the front door.
“Wow,” Kelli said to the ceiling as she lay flat on her back. “Yummy and a sense of humor.”
“Yep,” I said. “So far he seems to have all the bells and whistles.”
“All right,” she said, rolling to her side and supporting her head with her hand, “you want to tell me what’s going on with you two? You like him, don’t you?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“You like him a lot?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“So, what’s the problem?” she said.
I sighed and rolled onto my side so I could face her. I reached out and pulled Pollini’s limp form to cuddle against me. Stroking his soft, thick fur, I thought about my answer.
“You see what he looks like, Kelli,” I told her. “He’s probably got women crawling all over him.”
“Excuses,” she scoffed. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. How many times do I have to tell you, you are gorgeous? Guys stop and stare at you everywhere you go, but you have this ice princess thing going, and they’re too chicken to approach you. Why do you think you only get one date a year? I’ll tell you why—it’s because it takes a guy that long to work up the nerve to ask you out.”
“Yeah well, wanting to sleep with me doesn’t mean they want a relationship,” I reminded her. “Look at what happened with Michael.”
“Ah yes, Detective Michael Patterson,” Kelli said with disgust. “What a piece of shit!”
I met Detective Michael Patterson two years ago. Like Cavanaugh, he was a new addition to Johnson’s division and although he was not as good-looking as Cavanaugh, the way he carried himself and his old-world manners made him attractive to me. Johnson partnered us up for a missing teenager case, which took all of two days for me to find her safe at her boyfriend’s house. Michael and I flirted those two days, and when the case was closed, he asked me out. He took me to a nice restaurant. He opened the car door for me and held my chair at our table. A girl couldn’t ask for a more attentive date. And romantic? He held my hand, stared deep into my eyes, and told me all of the things I wanted to hear. He didn’t pressure me with sex. When I thought back on that time, I knew I should have listened to my instincts. My gut kept telling me something was just not right with this guy. He was too good to be true. So, I ignored those feelings.
I should have paid attention when he didn’t give me his phone number, but insisted on calling me instead. He said it was because he was so hard to reach, and that he didn’t want me to feel neglected if I would get his voice mail every time I called. We went out on another date, and he was just as attentive, but this time, he raised his romantic moves up a notch. He ran his hand down my back as we waited for our table, played with my fingers while we waited for our food to arrive, and kissed me at my door after he drove me home. He was good, but something seemed to be missing. Again, I ignored my gut.
It was on our third date that I found out what he was really like. Kelli invited us to a party, where some of the guests were acquainted with Michael. He promptly left me standing there by myself so he could greet a fellow detective he said he saw across the room. I knew a few people, so I chatted awhile, waiting for his return. Wondering what was taking so long, I wandered around, looking for him. I found him in a back bedroom with his hand up the skirt of a blonde in a low-cut black dress. He looked up and saw me, but just went back to what he was doing. I closed the door quietly and went back to the house’s main rooms. I didn’t know what else to do. My feelings were hurt, and I was mad. He misrepresented himself to me. I was tired of being alone and I thought we could have a relationship, but I wasn’t as angry or hurt as I should have been. I didn’t want to cry, yell, or confront him, I just wanted to leave and never see him again. Kelli had yet to arrive at the party, and I was just thinking that I should call a cab, when Michael emerged from the hallway, tucking his shirt back into his pants. Gaining my side, he reached out to take my hand. I jerked my hands behind my back and glared at him, not wanting him to touch me. I knew where his hands had been, and I did not want those cooties on me.
“What’s wrong, Rommy?” he asked with false concern.
I looked at him in astonishment. Did he really think that I would overlook what just happened? I couldn’t believe he was pretending as though he didn’t leave me standing here, at a party we’d just arrived at, so he could have sex with another woman.
“You’re kidding, right?” I asked him heatedly. “Did you think I would just ignore that?”
He stepped closer to me with a glint in his eye. “That was none of your business,” he said. “You shouldn’t have come looking for me.”
I was stunned by his response. Was this guy serious? Did he think he was all that, that I would just pretend I didn’t see him with that other woman? Oh hell no!
“You owe me,” he said.
“Owe you?” I said, taken aback. “Owe you what? Do you think buying me a couple of steak dinners means I’m somehow indebted to you? Think again, pal. I don’t owe you anything!”
I was about to really go off on him when Kelli came up and slung her arm around my neck.
“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late,” she smiled. She held her hand out to Michael. “Hi, you must be Michael; it’s nice to meet you.”
I grabbed her hand and yanked it away before Michael could touch her.
“No, it’s not,” I said hotly. I pulled Kelli around and headed for the door.
“I’m not through with you, Andromeda,” he said, his tone menacing.
Kelli, not having a clue to what was going on, knowing only that I was hurt and angry, whirled back to face him. “Oh yes, you are,” she said fiercely. “If you value your job, you had better back off.”
He had the nerve to laugh and look amused by her threat. I pulled her out the door and told her everything that happened at the party as she drove us back to my house.
“That rat bast
ard!” she fumed. “Thank God you stopped me from touching his hand. I did not want some random slut’s cooties on me!”
I laughed at her. See, great minds do think alike. Michael never called me again, but I heard through friends at the department that he started a smear campaign against me. I guess he didn’t realize how many friends I had made there over the years, and when Johnson found out what he was saying about me—well, let’s just say he made it very uncomfortable for Michael to stay with the department. The last I heard, he got a transfer to the bay area because no other police force in the valley would take him.
Kelli looked at me a long time. “I don’t think Cavanaugh is anything like Michael,” she told me. “If you can overlook the alpha behavior, I think he’s a good guy.”
Kelli had excellent instincts about people. She was especially adept at knowing when they lied. I trusted her judgment, but I wasn’t ready to let go of my suspicions yet.
“Well nothing’s going to happen as long as we are working this case together,” I told her. “Maybe when it’s over, we’ll see.”
Kelli snorted. “I get the distinct feeling something is already happening between the two of you,” she said. “You can lie to yourself, girlie, but you can’t lie to me.”
I gave her a beady-eyed look, and she laughed at me.
“Okay,” she said, knowing any further discussion on the subject was pointless for now. “I’ve got to get going. No doubt Grant is still going over Pamela’s test results from today. Lord, that man needs a keeper. I bet he hasn’t even eaten dinner yet.” She looked at the clock and saw it was just before midnight. “You good here? Do you need me to stay?”
I shook my head and threw back the covers. “No, I’m good,” I told her. “I think I’ll just get some sleep.”
“All righty then,” she said climbing to her feet. “I’ll just pull Grant out of his academic obsession, feed him, and put him to bed.”
“How are the tests going with Pamela?” I asked as we walked down the stairs and into the kitchen so Kelli could retrieve her purse.
Lightning Strikes Page 9
