Lightning Strikes

by Theresa Parker

  I frowned as I put a spoonful into my mouth. Oh God, the ice felt good. I could feel the tissues in my mouth absorbing the cold liquid as the ice chips melted. Swallowing sucked. They’d given me something for the pain, but it still hurt badly.

  Shift change came and went. The new staff checked on me and then left me to continue to wait for the doctors and the test results.

  Around seven in the evening, a knock at my door woke me from my doze. Cavanaugh and Johnson walked in. They both looked very tired and rough around the edges. Cavanaugh came around and sat on the side of my bed, taking my hand. My parents, especially my mom, raised her eyebrows at this, but decided this was not the time to ask questions. Since the room was becoming overcrowded, my parents went off to the cafeteria. They invited Cassie and Kelli to join them, but neither wanted to miss the interaction between Cavanaugh and me.

  Johnson held off for as long as he could before he jumped my ass for taking matters into my own hands. Cavanaugh tried to take the blame himself. He told Johnson that it was because he shut me down that I felt I had to go on by myself. Johnson stopped him before he could say anything more.

  “Nice try, Cavanaugh,” he groused, “but she knows better than to pull this crap.”

  I nodded my head sadly in agreement. I did know better. I jeopardized the case and the kids, and almost got myself and Kelli killed. When I thought about how close Kelli and I came to dying, the tears started. Cavanaugh squeezed my hand.

  “You’re not crying, are you?” Johnson barked at me.

  “No,” I whispered as a tear rolled down my cheek.

  “Good because we don’t cry over our mistakes,” he started.

  “We learn from them,” I finished.

  “That’s my girl,” he said. He lifted my other hand and patted the back of it. “I’m sorry I put you into the position where you felt you had to go out on your own. Next time, come talk to me.”

  I nodded. Johnson stayed a few minutes more and, before he left, I asked him about doing something to reward Ricky.

  Johnson and Cavanaugh smiled brightly. “We’re already on that,” Johnson said. “The mayor’s office is giving him a ceremony and medal, and we took up a collection at the station. We’re getting him a video game console.”

  I smiled and nodded my head in approval. Johnson grouched about going back to the office and left us waiting for the doctor.

  “Can you guys give me a minute?” Cavanaugh asked Kelli and Cassie.

  Cassie waggled her eyebrows and Kelli smiled. As they reached the door, Kelli turned back.

  “You owe me one hundred bucks,” she said, looking meaningfully at Cavanaugh holding my hand and sitting at my bedside.

  When the door closed behind them, he turned back to me. He raised his hand and gently brushed his fingertips over my bruised cheek and then my bruised throat.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I hampered your use of your abilities. I’m sorry I pulled you off the case, and most of all, I’m sorry you got hurt.” He bent down and softly kissed my lips. “And if you do anything like this again, I’ll pull you over my knee and you won’t be able to sit for a week,” he concluded. He gave me a quick smacking kiss on my lips and walked out the door.

  I lay there contemplating Cavanaugh’s words and actions. The man still confused me.

  The door to my room swung open, and my parents walked in with a man and woman I had never seen before and behind them, Ricky. I smiled when I saw him. He looked tired but happy.

  “Guess who we found,” my dad said, smiling.

  Cassie and Kelli walked back in, and Kelli went over to Ricky and gave him a big hug.

  “Ricky wanted to make sure that you were all right,” his dad said

  “You should be very proud of him,” Kelli told them. “If it wasn’t for his help, we wouldn’t have been able to get free.”

  Ricky’s mom, holding him closely, let him go and he walked to my bedside. With my dad’s help, I scooted over to the edge and gave him a big hug. He looked upset when he saw my throat.

  “Thank you,” I whispered to him.

  “Does it hurt really badly?” he asked.

  “No, not so bad,” I told him.

  He produced a little stuffed bear from behind his back.

  “I got this for you,” he said shyly.

  Ricky’s mom got teary-eyed, and that set my mom off too. I took the bear from him and thanked him again.

  “When Rommy is feeling better,” my dad said, “we would like to invite you all to dinner.”

  I nodded my agreement. I would do anything for this kid, my hero. They stayed for just a bit longer, talking and laughing, trying to take our minds off the nightmare Kelli, Ricky and I had experienced. It was good to see his eyes bright with intelligence instead of the half-drugged look I was getting used to seeing. Of all the children, Ricky would probably be the one to come out of this nightmare with the knowledge that because he fought and didn’t give in to his captors, he won. The fact that he beat the monsters would go a long way to helping him recover from this ordeal.

  The doctor eventually came in with the test results. Nothing was so bad that a little time and rest wouldn’t fix. The hospital released me, and Cassie drove Kelli and me back to my place. Kelli volunteered to stay the night and take care of me. As soon as we got settled, Kelli grilled me about what Cavanaugh said at the hospital, and Pollini fell off the bookshelf.

  It was nice to have things back to normal.

  Author’s Note

  I took shameless liberty with the towns of Coarsegold and Oakhurst and the beautiful Millerton Lake. There are no mines as I have described. Both towns are lovely and the lake is just beautiful. If you are ever in the foothills of the San Joaquin Valley, I hope you stop to visit.

  TURN THE PAGE FOR A SNEAK PEAK AT THE NEW

  ANDROMEDA SPENCER NOVEL

  MELODY OF MURDER

  An Andromeda Spencer Novel, Book 2

  Available now on Amazon

  Chapter 1

  The traffic is heavy this morning. My eyes feel gritty and puffy. I didn’t get much sleep last night. It was because I kept hearing this stupid song. It would start out as light background music, get louder and louder, and then it would fade back again. This started about two this morning and finally stopped when I was having my first cup of morning coffee. My name is Andromeda Spencer, and I hear things, but not as often as I see things. These things usually are in spirit form—as in ghosts. The scientific community that studies people like me calls us “clairvoyants” or “mediums.” I also excel at remote viewing. That’s a fancy way of saying I can find missing items, people, and pets. I do a lot of work for the police.

  This wasn’t the way I had pictured what my life was going to be like. You see, I wasn’t born with these abilities. When I was almost sixteen years old, I was struck by lightning in a freak accident; when I awoke from a month-long coma, I became a human GPS. It’s not so bad now that I’m older. At twenty-seven, I’ve gained a great deal of control over my remote viewing abilities. I had a little trouble a couple of months ago while helping the police on a kidnapping. I found out the hard way that certain metals, such as iron, greatly affect my abilities. My new friend and fellow psychic, Pamela Murphy, suggested I use crystals; they allow me to be around large quantities of iron without it incapacitating me.

  I turned off onto Shaw Avenue and headed to my parents’ occult shop, Piercing the Veil. I manage the store and keep things running. My parents can’t run things on a day-to-day basis because they have a full-time job just taking care of Nana. Nana has dementia and no longer has the ability to make good decisions. That was evident when she tackled a religious missionary on her front lawn and tried to perform her own exorcism. Because of all the different medications the doctors have her on, you never know how she’s going to act. A couple of months ago she thought she was the Pope and threw ice-cold water on people to baptize them. She also said dinner blessings in Pig Latin. After that, it was
ballroom dancing. My sister, Cassandra, and I think most of the stuff she does is pretty funny, until Mom reminds us that one day we will be in their shoes, taking care of her and Dad.

  Cassandra and I play rock-paper-scissors to see who gets stuck taking care of them when they no longer can take care of themselves.

  Cassie is still ahead by two wins, and I still think she cheats.

  Another reason my parents can’t be counted on to run the shop every day is that they often give away the merchandise for free if someone can’t afford what they consider necessities. You see, Mom’s pagan and Dad’s an astrologer. Candles, incense, and essential oils are among the many things they consider necessities. At one point, they almost lost the shop because of this practice. With the help of my sister and the money I saved from working with the police, we were able to bring things back around. Now I’m a partner in the business.

  I pulled into the shop’s parking lot. My parents lucked out and bought this building back in the early 1980s for next to nothing. It sits smack dab on the corner of one of the busiest intersections of town. Yawning, I shuffled into the building. My mom greeted me when I walked in. I mumbled to her as I passed into the back office to stow my jacket and purse.

  “Rommy,” she asked with concern. “Are you okay?”

  Letting loose with another jaw-cracking yawn, I headed to the front counter to open the register. The shop smelled of sweet herbs, oils, and incense. It usually soothes me and reminds me of my parents’ house, but this morning it just made me even sleepier.

  “I’m all right,” I told her. “I didn’t get very much sleep last night.”

  The bell over the door chimed as Cassie walked into the shop. She looked a little worse for wear. Her heavily lined eyes were smudged, and her blush and lipstick had worn off.

  Cassie is beautiful. She looks remarkably like Katie Holmes when the actress played in the movie Disturbing Behavior. She even has her nose pierced with a small diamond. The only difference is that Cassie is taller and dresses better than the character. She manages a bar called The Dark in the trendy Tower District area. It’s a combination of elegance and Goth. Think of a very dark Victorian setting, but not steam punk. With her superior managing and marketing skills she took a dilapidated business and turned it into the hottest spot in the city, much to the surprise and delight of the owners. They were so grateful that in a few years, when they retire, they will sell her the business.

  “Morning,” she said, setting a bag of doughnuts and a cardboard drink carrier on the counter. She passed out coffee from the carrier and pulled the doughnuts out of the bag. “Where’s Dad?” she asked.

  “Oh, he’s in the office,” Mom told her. “I have readings today and your dad has several natal charts to do. I think he’s working on the monthly newsletter this morning.”

  Cassie bit into her doughnut and wiped her hands on a napkin.

  “So what’s up with you this morning?” she asked me. “You working a new case for Johnson?”

  As I said before, I work pretty regularly for the City of Fresno’s Police Department. Back when I was seventeen and Captain Johnson was a detective, he talked me into helping him on some of his cases when I inadvertently involved myself in a missing-child situation he was investigating. It worked out well for the both of us. He got help on his unsolved cases and I got money. If it weren’t for Johnson and the considerable fees I rake in from working with the police, I would have a hard time making ends meet because, while my parents’ shop makes a good profit, there’s not enough coming in to provide for two households.

  Cassie plopped herself onto the stool behind the counter and kicked off her neck-breaking high heels with a sigh and a wiggle of her toes. Sipping her coffee, she looked expectantly at me.

  “No, I’m not on a case right now,” I told her. “I just couldn’t get any sleep last night.”

  “Do tell,” she said, leaning forward with a leer.

  “It’s not like that, you perv,” I told her with a laugh. “I just kept hearing this stupid song. Mom has it on vinyl. I think it’s called “Afternoon Delight”.”

  Mom laughed and clapped her hands.

  “I love that song!” she exclaimed. “It’s by The Starland Vocal Band. Oh,” she sighed. “That song brings back such memories.” She sang:

  Gonna find my baby,

  Gonna hold her tight,

  Gonna grab some afternoon delight.

  Dad came out of the office right on time to pick up the next line of the song.

  My motto’s always been, when it’s right, it’s right,

  Why wait until the middle of a cold dark night.

  He sang, grabbing Mom and giving her a twirl. Together they continued:

  When everything’s a little clearer in the light of day, and you know the night is always gonna be there anyway-aay

  Sky rockets in flight, afternoon delight, aa-afternoon delight .

  “Oh God,” I moaned. “No more!”

  I rested my cheek on the cool, glass countertop and squeezed my eyes closed. I couldn’t stand listening to another minute of that song. I turned so my forehead was resting on the counter and gave it couple of thumps to the glass.

  Maybe if I knock myself out, I thought. It was either that or start screaming and never stop.

  “Hey, you two crazy kids,” Cassie called out. “You should probably stop before your firstborn gives herself permanent brain damage…or more damage than she already has.”

  I turned my head, laying my cheek against the glass again, and glared at my sister for her “brain damage” comment. My dad walked up behind me and rubbed my back.

  “What’s wrong, punkin’?” he asked, looking at my mom with concern.

  “She said she heard that song all night long,” Mom said.

  My dad continued rubbing my back.

  “I hate it when that happens,” he sympathized. “I went through my whole junior year of college with that campfire song ‘Kum Ba Ya’ stuck in my head.” He gave a little shudder.

  “It’s not stuck in my head,” I said, lifting my head off the countertop. I grimaced. “Well, it is now, but it was like I was hearing it with my ears. I have been hearing it for a little over a week now, off and on, but last night was the worst.”

  “Do you think it’s a spirit trying to make contact?” my mom asked.

  I shook my head.

  “No,” I told her. “They always just walk up and start talking to me. I’ve never had one try to get my attention with music.”

  “Well this might be something new,” Cassie piped in. “At least it’s not interpretative dance.” She laughed at the look of horror on my face.

  Oh, God! I thought to myself. If the ghosts I am always crossing paths with started something like that, I would have to gouge my eyes out. It’s bad enough that I have to hear them whining about this and that.

  “Rommy, maybe you should take the day off,” my dad said.

  “No,” I sighed, propping my chin on my hand. I was determined to not let this new weirdness take over my life.

  “Well,” my mom said. “if you change your mind, lovey, let us know. Nana doesn’t have any appointments today, so we are free to stay all day if you need us.”

  “Speak of the devil,” my dad mumbled as Nana walked out of the office, towing a stuffed German Shepherd on a leash. He skirted around her and made a beeline back into the office, saying something about having so much work to do.

  “Good morning, girls,” Nana said. She pulled on the leash until the stuffed dog rolled up to her side. She patted it on the head. “Stay, Rufus!” she said. She made her way behind the counter, giving me, and then Cassie, a hug.

  I eyed the dog warily as Nana helped herself to a doughnut. The dog, I assumed, was once someone’s pet. However, the taxidermist must have been Dr. Frankenstein in a former life.

  Its eyes were sort of bulged out, as if something squeezed its middle too tight. His mouth was open in a horrifying doggy grin with his tongue hanging
a bit out and to the left side. His back legs were in a permanent squat, and his front paws were turned toward each other in pigeon-toed fashion. His legs were stiff, and small casters were attached to all four paws, allowing him to be rolled around. His fur was patched in various places with fur from some unidentified animal. He was the freakiest thing I had ever seen. Cassie and I just stood there staring with our mouths hanging open.

  “Oh girls,” Nana exclaimed, wandering back to Frankenpup and picking up his leash again, “you haven’t met Rufus. Why don’t you come give him a pat so you can get to know each other?”

  I took a horrified step back and ran into Cassie, who promptly shoved me forward toward Rufus. I turned and grabbed her arm, swinging her in front of me. My mom rolled her eyes as Cassie and I got into a girly slapping fight, laughing at each other.

  “Girls, girls! Don’t worry, he’s just a big puppy. Yes, you are…yes, you are,” Nana crooned, leaning down to the dog.

  “If she kisses him, I’m gonna barf,” Cassie whispered in my ear.

  I was thinking more of bleaching my eyeballs, but I had to agree with her; this was something neither one of us wanted to see.

  “Anyhoo,” Nana said, straightening up without kissing Rufus….thank God! “With a little training, he’s going to be an excellent guard dog and an excellent addition to the family. So come over here and give him some love.”

  Mom cleared her throat and looked meaningfully at us, and that got us shuffling forward.

  The doctors have always told my parents that it’s best to go along with Nana’s delusions, provided they aren’t hurting her or anyone else. They claim that by not humoring Nana’s harmless behavior, we could actually agitate her and possibly cause a violent outburst.

  As we both reached out to touch Rufus, Nana used the leash to jerk him forward.

  “Heel!” she snapped, scaring the crap out of the both of us and making us jump. Cassie even squeaked.

  I gathered up my nerves and reached out again, giving Rufus a couple of quick pats with my fingertips. I was quite proud of containing the hysterical giggles that tried to force themselves up from my chest.