“You did it again, did you?”
He saw her foot coming, but he couldn’t squeeze under the bed in time to prevent it from catching him in the leg.
He howled with pain and fear.
“Come out from under there! Come out now! If I have to get down there and drag you out, I’ll close you in the bathroom for the night! In the dark!”
She would anyway. She would anyway.
Was there anyplace he could hide? Was there anyplace she couldn’t find him?
Her hands hit the floor and her indistinguishable face appeared. The bad smell of her breath reached him.
“Okay, stinky boy, ” she drawled. “So that’s how it’s going to be, huh?”
She reached for him, and he shrieked in terror. “No!”
“No!” Shaine screamed the word and lunged up on her knees in the bed. The tangible horror of the dream cloaked her in overwhelming distress. She bent forward, pressing her face to the sheets and sobbed, “Oh, baby, honey, oh, Toby!”
Austin’s footsteps pounded up the stairs. “Shaine?”
In helpless frustration, she beat the mattress with a fist and screamed a curse.
Austin took her by the shoulders and pulled her up to face him. With one hand, he raked her hair back so he could look at her. Dimly she realized he’d turned on a light below, and in its muted glow, his features were full of concern. With his thumb, he brushed tears from her cheek.
“I can’t take any more,” she said in a hoarse and pleading voice. “I can’t take any more of these dreams.”
He pulled her against his chest. She resisted at first, and then gave in to his genuine warmth and caring. With gentle fingers, he stroked the tangles from her hair. Her head rested against the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his skin penetrated his T-shirt.
He maneuvered them so that his back rested against the headboard, and she lay partially in his lap. His hands continued their comforting caress of her hair, moving to her shoulders, and magically stroking her bare arm until the tension left her body.
It felt good to have his hands on her skin, in her hair. His rock-ribbed body gave her warmth and comfort and a sense of security she’d long been without.
The cotton beneath her cheek was damp from her tears, and the sensation reminded her of Toby’s wet sheets. Another sob escaped her, and she related the dream to Austin.
“You’re right,” he said after several minutes.
“What?” she asked, wiping tears from her lashes.
“These dreams aren’t getting us anywhere. You can’t see enough from Toby’s viewpoint to detect where he is. All the dreams do is torture you.”
“And what can we do about that?”
“We’re working on it. As soon as you’ve honed your skill, we’ll have you hold something of Toby’s. Maybe that will show you how he got where he is.”
“Do you think so?” She raised up enough to look at his face.
“I don’t know,” he replied, as honest as ever, and equally as unwilling to give her false hope. “There’s no given in any of this.”
She placed her head against his chest again.
“Until then,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ll sleep up here, too. When you start having a dream I’ll wake you.”
Sleep up here? Shaine pushed herself to a sitting position and sized up his serious expression.
“I’ll sleep on the floor. There’s plenty of room.”
There was at that, she couldn’t deny.
“I’ve already seen you in your jammies,” he said with a teasing note in his voice.
The thought of having him stay close was comforting. And if he could help her stop the dreams, she’d be grateful. At last she nodded. “Okay.”
“If you’re all right, I’ll go get a couple of things.”
“I’m all right.”
The light below went out. Minutes later, he returned with a sleeping bag and pillow. In the generous moonlight coming through the skylight, he spread the bag out in the expanse between the bed and the railing and settled in. Shaine lay down and watched him fold a pillow beneath his head.
She couldn’t remember anyone ever being as concerned about her as he’d been. Perhaps, in the beginning, he’d only resisted her pleas for help in order to protect her. He didn’t seem like a selfish man. Not at all. In fact, she’d never known anyone as caring. Her mother had loved her, in her own way, but she and Shaine’s grandparents had held her at arm’s length, always a little afraid of her. Her father’d been more concerned with his bowling average than his family.
Maggie had loved her, but her sister had been too involved with the unfolding drama of the string of men in her life to give Shaine much of her time or energy. There had been a couple of men she’d dated, but a connection had never developed. Perhaps the bond she felt with Austin was simply because of the miraculous way he’d opened her mind to her gift. Or because he truly understood her the way no one ever had before.
Maybe he didn’t feel the same connection she did.
She liked Tom Stempson a lot. And she didn’t believe he meant her any harm. But she was a subject to him. Someone to study and learn from.
Austin, on the other hand, didn’t need anything from her, so he had no ulterior motive beneath his concern. Shaine noted the direction her thoughts were taking and, recalling the kisses they’d shared, warned herself not to get caught up in needing him for anything other than to help her find Toby.
Her sister had been a prime example of a woman being unable to function without a man in her life. Shaine had told her time and again that she needed to look out for herself, that she didn’t need a man to make her complete.
Now here was Shaine. Thinking that Austin Allen made her feel complete for the first time in her life. How could she be falling into that same pit?
Forewarned is forearmed, she thought, and thanked her internal alarm system. She wasn’t going to read any more into this “connection” between them than was there. She needed his help. He empathized and was willing to work with her. They were alone in the mountains and physically attracted to one another. That was normal.
Shaine rolled to her back, so she wouldn’t be tempted to watch him all night, and studied the starlit sky through the panes above. This isolated log house with its flickering fires and panoramic view of the heavens and mountains was a lovers’ paradise. And Austin, whom she’d originally imagined to be an aging recluse, was one of the sexiest men she’d ever run across. The combination could mean trouble for her.
She’d better remember that.
He woke her twice during the night, and she marveled at how he could detect her dreams.
“I’m a light sleeper,” he explained over coffee and toast the next morning. “That’s why I like it up here away from people and traffic.”
“There are other reasons you moved here, too,” she said as a question.
He looked into his steaming mug. “I’ve lived fairly secluded my entire life,” he said. “Growing up, I spent most of my time at the institute. I was accepted there. Revered almost. And even though they pried and prodded, I was more comfortable with them than with outsiders.
“My mother and I spent a lot of time traveling, staying in motels, assisting detectives. The researchers back at the institute were like my family, and though I was glad to get back each time, the constant expectations wore me down.”
Shaine imagined the life he spoke of, remembered him saying how difficult school was, too. It was a wonder he’d turned out the compassionate man he had.
“I didn’t even have to tap into the money my mom had socked away. Tom found me all kinds of endowments and scholarships, and I wanted to study computers. I loved the learning part of college, but I hated the idea of all those people in the dorms, so I lived off campus.”
“What about after college?” she asked.
“I worked for a company in Chicago for a while, another in Minneapolis, always keeping a low profile,
but always being sought out. I decided then that I would never be happy in a city, so I built this place and have worked on my own ever since.”
Shaine studied his tanned features. “When did you stop—touching things?”
He contemplated her question and leaned back in his chair. “Do you have any idea of the number of things a person touches unthinkingly?”
She shook her head.
“I had to learn that early,” he said. “I had to shape the ability in such a way that I could deliberately not read objects I touched. Block the perceptions out. I had to use it for crime detection, but I didn’t want to see things from the objects I had to touch everyday. It’s a curse to know things about people that you don’t want to know—that you should never have to know. And worse is knowing about people...the way they think. So I gave it an on-off switch in my head. By the time I was twenty I’d turned it off permanently.”
She thought of him using the tongs on the ballet slipper, but didn’t mention it. “And you’re happy here?”
“Yeah.”
She believed him. He seemed content in his home and with his work. But didn’t he get lonely? “Don’t you miss people?”
“I never knew a person I wouldn’t rather get away from than stick around,” he replied with a shrug.
“What about companionship?”
He raised his dark brows. “Have you forgotten Daisy? She’s never caused me a moment’s grief—well at least not after she stopped chewing my shoes to shreds. And she doesn’t have an errant thought in her canine head.” Grinning, he placed his dishes in the sink.
“That’s not what I meant.”
He dried his hands. “I know. Are you ready to work?”
Her heart faltered, but she firmed her resolve. “I’m ready.”
“Shall we sit in there?” He indicated the living room with a nod, and she agreed, leading the way.
After disappearing into his office, he returned with another file folder and envelope, the sight of which prompted nervousness.
“Relax, Shaine.”
She took a deep breath and blew it out slowly, settling comfortably on the cushions and drying her hands on her denim thighs.
“I read through the file this morning,” he said, and picked up the tongs still lying on the table.
From the envelope, he produced a black watch. Shaine’s hand trembled a little as she reached for it. She held it in her palm and placed her other hand over the top. The glass face felt warm against her skin.
Closing her eyes, she blanked out everything except the warmth of the watch and the shine of silver that flashed in her mind’s eye.
“Where are you?” Austin asked.
She shook her head.
“What do you see?”
“I—I don’t see anything. I know there’s a boy. I know he’s dead. The number seven came tome.” This was unlike the day before, unlike the distinct pictures and scenes she’d seen.
“Use your reference points.”
“This isn’t the same as last time. I’m not getting anything to draw me in.”
“Give it a little time.”
She did. Seven came to her again. “There’s a divorce,” she said after a minute. “That’s all. I just don’t have anything.”
“Here.”
She opened her eyes to see he held the open envelope out for her. She dropped the watch in. “That’s okay,” he said. “You did get something.”
“What?”
He opened the folder. “Eleven-year-old boy. Stabbed seven times.”
“Do they have a killer?”
“No.”
Disappointed, she leaned back against the cushions.
“That’s perfectly okay,” he said. “You can’t get a perfect connection every time.”
“Did you ever not get anything?”
“Once in a while. Want to try another one?”
“Yes.”
He brought another file and handed her the envelope this time. She glanced in and tipped it to slide the locket into her hand. The instant the piece of gold jewelry hit her palm, a jolt like electricity shot through her.
She gasped and closed her ice-cold fingers around the necklace for fear she’d drop it.
Shaine didn’t know if her eyes were open or closed. It didn’t matter. She’d found someone.
Chapter 9
She saw the motel room as clearly as she’d seen Austin walk toward her with the files. A faded orange print spread draped the double bed. The stale smell of cigarettes hung in the air.
A hot plate, a cooler and a coffeemaker testified that this wasn’t a one-or two-night stay.
“She’s in a motel room. She’s been there for some time. A couple of months maybe. There’s a folded apron on the little table, the kind they give employees at fast-food restaurants.”
“What color?”
“Dark green. The bathroom light is on. It—it smells like...”
“Like what?”
“Hair dye. She just dyed her hair.”
“What color?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you her?”
“Yeah. But I can’t see me—her. Her feet hurt. She stands a lot at her job.”
“Is she afraid?”
“No.”
“What else? What else is in the room?”
“He’s not there right now, but a guy’s staying there with her. His shoes are by the door. The TV’s on.”
“What’s on?”
“She’s flicking channels, a soap opera, a game show, ‘Barney...’”
“Who?”
“‘Barney.’ I’ll tell you later.”
“What else?”
“A movie. I’ve seen it before.... It’s...oh, it’s one of those bandit movies with Burt Reynolds. There’s the news. WMBB, channel 13.”
“Perfect, baby,” he said. “What’s on the news? Did they say the date?”
“No. She flicked passed it.” Shaine stayed with the vision until nothing more unfolded.
She let it go and turned to Austin. He’d unthinkingly called her “baby.” The endearment made her wish it hadn’t been a slip.
“She wasn’t afraid?” he asked. “There was no one with her?”
“No.”
He rubbed his neck. “Maybe if we try it again later. Or tomorrow.”
“Why, what did you want me to see?”
“What happened to her. Who killed her. What else?”
“No one killed her. She’s not dead.”
“How can you say that? How can you sound so sure?”
“I don’t know. I knew that boy was dead, didn’t I? And I knew the girl yesterday was dead. This woman is not dead. She’s in that motel room.”
In agitation, he jumped up and stood in front of the fireplace, a frown gracing his otherwise handsome features.
Shaine slipped the locket back into the envelope.
After a long, pensive silence, Austin disappeared into his office and returned, jabbing numbers into his portable phone. “Ken, Allen here. You know the number. Call me.”
He sat across from her.
“Who’d you call?”
“My detective friend.”
“What for?”
He pointed the rubbery antenna to the folder on the table. “Look at that.”
She hesitated.
He urged her with a flick of his hand. “Go ahead. There aren’t any crime scene photos or anything.”
She picked up the folder, opened it and glanced through the file. “Gloria McCullough, thirty-eight, reported missing July 4, suspected foul play. She had told police on June 12 that she thought she was being stalked.”
“There’s no body yet. Maybe they’ll find it somewhere around that motel.”
The phone rang. He clicked it on. “Allen here. Yeah. The McCullough case. Check on a motel where WMBB, channel 13, is aired.”
“Orange flowered bedspreads,” Shaine interjected.
Austin repeated her description to th
e man on the phone. “And she was working at a fast-food place where the employees wear dark green aprons.... No, that’s it.... Do that. Yeah.”
He hung up. “He’ll get back to me.”
Shaine gave the room a restless once-over without really seeing anything. “How long do you think it will take?”
He shrugged. “Might be later today. Might not”
Dreading the wait, she got up and moved to the window. “There’s a moose out there.”
With a skeptical expression, he joined her. “That’s an elk.”
“Oh.” He didn’t touch her, but his body radiated warmth. He had a musky outdoorsy smell all his own. She wished she could turn and fold herself against him. From experience she knew how comforting his arms were and how arousing his kisses could be. From her dream she knew he would set her on fire and do everything within his power to see that she enjoyed him dousing the flames.
If she closed her eyes, she could feel his flesh against hers. See the passion in his eyes as he took her breasts in his hands. Taste ecstasy on his lips and his skin.
“Don’t see a lot of elk near your inn?”
His words contrasted with her thoughts. Regretfully opening her eyes, she shook her head and watched the animal strut through the foliage at the edge of the clearing.
“Tell me about it.”
His voice so close behind her was a distraction. “The inn?”
“Yeah. You’ve done enough work for one day. Aren’t you tired?”
“A little. Not exhausted like after the other visions.”
“Hmm. Well, we can’t just sit and wait for Ken to call.”
The elk disappeared behind Austin’s log garage. “Aren’t you going to run?”
“No. I’ll wait with you,” he said near her ear.
A shudder passed through her body, and she prayed he hadn’t detected it. She was almost ashamed at how easily he affected her. She certainly didn’t want to succumb to her desires for a man she’d barely met. That was something Maggie would have done. “I have a thought.”
“What’s that?”
“We could set up your aquarium.” She turned, surprised to find him looking at her rather than out the window, and hoped he’d be willing to go along with the idea. She didn’t want to think about the call they waited for, neither did she want him to see how he affected her.
The Truth About Toby Page 10
