Angel's Dance

by Heidi Angell

  After several more moments he replied through clenched teeth. “And when exactly was I supposed to tell you that I had a daughter? During the case while we were tracking down a madman? Or when I found you lying in a puddle of blood? Maybe when I shot the guy who was trying to kill you?” There was a long pause. He ground his teeth and took a deep breath. “Sorry, it just didn’t come up.”

  Clear thought ‘It could have if you had called’. Then she slapped herself mentally. She took a deep breath. “Was there another ‘it’ you wanted to talk about?” she asked, carefully keeping the bite out of her voice.

  Grant eyed her warily. “I was thinking of the ‘it’ that had you almost hypothermic in the shower, ‘it’.”

  Clear glanced out the window. Funny how that was not even remotely on her mind anymore. She shrugged. “I had a vision. I got caught up in it. Nothing more to talk about.” She sniffled as unbidden tears pricked her eyes.

  “Well, it wasn’t nothing,” Grant insisted. “You were obviously upset. I don’t… well..” he bit off what he was saying and Clear glanced at him. There was a softening around his eyes, despite the fact that his lips were clamped shut.

  “I’m sorry if it upset you. You’ve got a lot on your plate right now,” Clear responded, immediately needing him to feel better.

  He gave her a half smile. “For what it is worth… I don’t like to see you sad… or upset… or.. hurt,” he seemed to struggle with the last part.

  Clear gave him a sardonic grin. “Nothing you can do to stop that.” She wrapped her arms around herself. “It is just a part of who I am.” Yet she couldn’t help thinking that he hurt her a lot by not calling. Of course, he couldn’t see that, so she supposed it didn’t really count then!

  “But it might help to talk about it,” Grant offered again. “Talking can sometimes help chase the demons away.”

  Clear scoffed, “Says the expert on not much to say!”

  They sat quietly in the car for a few moments. It was an awkward quiet. Finally Clear sighed and told him what had happened. He sat patiently and quietly, nodding at the appropriate moments. When she was done, she realized that it did feel much better to tell someone about it. He sat quietly digesting what she had told him.

  “And there was nothing… to tell you who or where she was?” he finally asked.

  She shook her head. She decided not to mention that if he had left her alone for just a minute longer she might have been able to get more. She also might not have. No point in bringing that up.

  “I can see how that would be… difficult,” Grant muttered, his brows furrowed in deep thought. “And this sort of stuff happens to you pretty much all the time?”

  “Well… not all the time,” Clear amended. “This is actually the first time I nearly died from exposure in a room!” She felt better, as he smirked at her snarky comment. “A lot less often when there aren’t so many people around. When there are a lot of people it is much worse because I get everything, not just what is happening, but what people are thinking about happening, what people are remembering already happened, what people are dreaming… it’s not usually all so graphic or traumatic… but there is so much of it that… well, it gets… I don’t know….”

  “Overwhelming?” Grant suggested.

  Clear sighed, “That doesn’t really give it scope, but… I can’t really think of a better word to describe it, so yeah.”

  They had been sitting silently for several minutes. Grant was still very shaken up. He was not good at emotions, and in the course of an hour he had felt panic at finding Clear missing, terror at how blue she had been in the shower, frantic at trying to warm her, lustful as he touched her skin and felt it warm under his hands, embarrassed when she obviously didn’t want him to, angry when she would not talk to him, sad for her obvious pain, awkward by her discomfort of sharing with him. How could two people who had shared something so beautiful together only months before, now not even be able to talk to one another?

  “How bad does it get?” Grant asked, forcing a casual tone.

  Clear shrugged. “I don’t know now that Anne and I have been working on blocking it, I might be ok. We hadn’t really put it in practice in any real-world scenarios yet.” She picked at a cuticle. Grant watched her for a moment thinking how vulnerable and tense she looked. How could he put her through this? He hadn’t really considered how bad this could be for her.

  Unbidden, their experiences six months ago came to his mind. Her bathed in blood. Her throwing herself from his truck into the road, bouncing and rolling at 35 mph. The wildness in her eyes after “seeing” Rebecca’s abduction. No, he did know how hard this was going to be. He was just more worried about Kat. He had not considered the complications it could present, though. Clear’s ability was hard enough to interpret with only one psycho tormenting her. He used to work the crimes unit in Chicago. He knew how many psychos there were in Chicago.

  His hopes of finding Kat with Clear’s help began to dwindle.

  Chapter Five

  They pulled into Chicago in the mid afternoon. Clear was curled up asleep and Grant didn’t bother waking her. He pulled out his cell phone and called his ex-wife.

  “Laura, its Grant.”

  “Where are you?” she snapped.

  “Just got in. I should be… at your house in about 30 minutes.” Grant gritted his teeth. He had almost said home. “Any word?” He knew the answer before she spoke. She would have called if there were.

  “No. The police have already gone through everything and I’m just trying to clean up after them.” She sighed exasperatedly. “There is printing powder everywhere.”

  “Anything unusual?”

  “How should I know? They didn’t say anything. What took you so long?”

  “I… I had to take care of some things. I have a friend with me who is going to try to help.” Grant gritted his teeth yet again. How would he ever explain a psychic to Laura? He certainly didn’t want to do it over the phone.

  “A cop from Montana?” Laura sounded surprised.

  “Um, no. A consultant, really.”

  “Oh.” He could hear the questions in her voice.

  “Anyway, wanted to let you know we are here. We’ll be there soon.”

  “Alright. See you soon.” With that she hung up on him. He put the phone away and looked at Clear sleeping soundly. He really did have a way with making women hate him. If only he could figure out why. He suddenly felt very lonely.

  Clear awoke as the car came to a halt. She looked out the window at a steel, cold, grey sky. Groaning, she stretched and saw buildings all around. Some were so tall that she could not see the roofs.

  “Hey sleepy head. Welcome to Chicago.” Grant waved his hand half-heartedly. “How was your nap?”

  Clear glanced in the mirror under the visor and quickly unwound her ponytail, combing through it with her fingers, she put it back up. “Fine I guess. My neck has a wicked crick in it.” She rubbed the knot, knowing it was from the way her head had rested because of her ponytail.

  “Well, we’ll check into a nice hotel after we go to my daughter’s house. Gotta check in with the ex and… well… maybe see what you can see?”

  Clear glanced at him surreptitiously. “That’s why I’m here,” she nodded nonchalantly. Despite reinforcing her mental walls, she could hear and feel peoples’ thoughts around her. It was simply faint whispers, murmurs, emotions as thin and as transparent as the wind, but already her head was feeling a bit too crowded. She rubbed her temples gently, focusing on breathing and trying to ignore the energy around her.

  “You ok?” Grant asked with a note of worry in his voice.

  “Sure,” Clear muttered. She was very nervous about meeting his ex. Grant never really spoke about her or what had happened to cause them to split, but Clear had found out on their first meeting that he still held deep feelings for her. A mental image of some shapely petite woman throwing herself into Grant’s arms when they walked in made Clear groan inwardly. She n
eeded to get over this! She needed to stamp down these stupid feelings for Grant and just focus on the task at hand. Help him find his daughter. After that she figured he owed her a long “talk” about what happened before, so at least she could get closure.

  Grant pulled into a six story apartment building. Clear looked around. The place was probably once a very nice complex, but the lower class neighborhoods to the North were encroaching and there were signs of poor management and upkeep that indicated that it wasn’t as nice as it had once been.

  They walked into the building and a sign on the elevator indicated that it was out of order. Grant swore under his breath. Clear glanced at him. “What floor?” she asked, not particularly concerned.

  “Fifth.” Grant led her around to the stairs and they began to climb. Taking the stairs felt good after being cramped in a car for almost two whole days. Clear took deep breaths and could feel the pent up energy and nerves being released through the process. Grant was not fairing as well. By the third floor he had slowed considerably. She glanced over and made sure he was alright, but despite him slowing down he seemed to be handling it. She had never thought of Grant as in bad shape, but she had never seen him take particular care of himself either. What with the drinking and TV dinners, she imagined he probably did not have much of a workout routine going either.

  The stairs took a turn and in the turn Clear brushed against the railings and images flashed through her mind, throwing her off-balance. She tumbled into Grant and they nearly fell down the stairs before he planted his leg preventing it. For a moment Clear was still off-balance, but was painfully aware that he had caught her about the waist and his hand was dangerously close to her breast, while the other rested on her hip. She pulled back a little flustered.

  “Uh.. Are you ok?” Grant asked, only sounding a bit out of breath.

  Clear glared at the offending stair rail, trying to process what she had seen and felt without touching the stupid thing again. It had been lustful thoughts of a very pretty young girl. Thoughts had by a very ugly old man. She tried to mentally shake the oogy feelings her own body responded with and tried to focus on the images.

  “Did you?.. oh.” Grant went quiet, watching her.

  She didn’t want to see those images again, but she had been so surprised by it that she couldn’t process anything. She slowly moved forward and put just a finger on the railing and the image popped into stark relief. The old man was coming up the stairs when the pretty young blond, no more than 16 years old, was coming down. It was a narrow stairway, but they could have passed with barely touching. The dirty old goat feigned an inability to maneuver around the girl and even copped a feel as she passed. She seemed oblivious to it, but he was vilely aroused.

  Clear pulled back. “Kat isn’t a blond, right?”

  “Um, no?”

  “Ughh…” she continued up the stairs as if nothing had happened.

  “Well, what happened?” Grant growled, obviously hating being left in the dark.

  “Not sure of its relevance, if any. There is a dirty old man living in this building. Let’s just leave it at that.” Clear finally made it to the fifth floor, with Grant right behind her. She waited and let him go first.

  He approached a door on the left and knocked. A petite brunette answered the door, but for a moment Clear thought they must have had the wrong place, because this woman did not look in the least bit distressed. She also did not throw herself into Grant’s arms. Instead she glanced over Grant’s shoulder and gave Clear a cold appraising look then turned on her heel, leaving the front door open.

  “Good to see you too, Laura,” Grant murmured and held the door open for Clear. Clear entered the home and was amazed by how light, cheery and… well, girly the place was. All the furniture was in pastels and chocolate browns. There were paintings of ballerinas in the foyer followed by photos of Kat through the years in various ballerina costumes. The living room had surprisingly high ceilings and floor to ceiling glass windows and French doors leading onto a good-sized balcony. The kitchen was to the left and had the most modern appliances. They all were of burnished steel. The cabinets were a light wood, with butterfly handles. The backsplash had a vineyard pattern covered with purple butterflies. Clear just could not imagine Grant ever living here.

  “So…” Laura turned abruptly standing in the middle of the living room and once again glaring at Clear. “This must be your consultant friend.” If words could shoot daggers, Laura’s certainly did. The hostility coming from her was potent. Clear could tell that even Grant could feel it. Clear stepped forward tentatively.

  “Hello… I’m Clear Angel,” she tried very hard not to stammer or shrink under that withering gaze. She reached out a hand, but Laura blatantly ignored it. “I… uh..” she glanced at Grant, really not sure what to do.

  “Stop being such a bitch,” Grant muttered tersely.

  Clear’s eyes went wide. She had heard Grant swear pretty often, but he had never spoke so coldly or cruelly to anyone in her presence. Ever. Clear pulled her hand back and quickly asked if she could use the restroom. Laura pointed sharply down the hall. “On the left,” Laura spit out.

  Something about her presence had the whole room on edge. Clear got the distinct impression that Grant may not have told Laura about her. She quickly bolted for the bathroom and intended to stay there long enough to give Grant a chance to talk to Laura and maybe smooth things over.

  As soon as the bathroom door closed, Laura leapt into attack mode. “How dare you bring your… your… strumpet into my home… when our daughter.. when…”

  Grant came back strong and unyielding. “How dare I bring someone who can help me find our daughter? Get off your high horse and stop jumping to conclusions about things you know nothing about. There is nothing going on between Clear and I. She is.. was a colleague on my last case and she was very helpful…”

  “Oh, I’ll bet!” Laura rolled her eyes.

  “Laura I need you to treat her with respect. She didn’t have to come here.”

  “Then why did she?!” Laura yelled.

  Grant grabbed her by the arm and dragged her out onto the balcony. “Good Lord, woman! What is wrong with you? Clear has a unique ability to see the connections behind things. What she does is not strictly professional… but it can… it will help us get Kat back. I had to beg her to come here. Don’t make this difficult for her.” Grant realized he was still holding onto Laura’s arm and quickly released it.

  “Then don’t lie to me about your relationship,” Laura growled, rubbing her arm.

  “I am not lying. We are not dating, we are not seeing each other. We had a bad experience the last time we worked together. She was kidnapped by the man we were pursuing and he almost killed her. I killed him in front of her.” Grant rubbed his face, completely and totally spent. “Please Laura. Clear and I.. well.. we have a hard time as it is, being together. Don’t make this harder on her when she only came here to help.” Grant glowered out onto the small courtyard below. “It was hard enough to get her to agree to come here. Don’t drive away my only hope of finding our child.”

  Laura eyed Grant noting the haggard look around his eyes, the slump to his shoulders. “You don’t think the police can help?”

  Grant closed his eyes. “Maybe… but our window of opportunity has closed. Evidence is disappearing for us every second. You were married to me long enough. You know the statistics.” He turned on his heel and started to walk back into the house. Laura grabbed his arm.

  “And how is that child going to help?” she scoffed.

  Grant shook his head. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, but it doesn’t matter if you believe. I have seen what she can do.”

  Comprehension dawned across her face and her lovely features twisted in disgust. “Oh God. Grant, tell me she doesn’t claim to be a psychic!” The complete ridicule in her voice bit into Grant more than anything he could imagine.

  He was trying to think of the best retort when they both
were startled by a cool calm voice. “I don’t claim to be anything,” Clear announced. They both whipped about and stared at her in surprise. She was standing in the middle of the living room with her hands on her hips. “Shame on you, Grant, for not telling her I was coming,” Clear snapped.

  Fabulous, now the two women who probably hated, at the very least despised, him most in the world were on the same side. This should be fun.

  Chapter Six

  Clear had this intensely itchy feeling all over her body. She could not explain what it was, but it was strongest in Kat’s room. She carefully looked through everything of Kat’s, touching as she went, trying to get something. For the thousandth time she tried to block out Grant and Laura yelling at each other in the living room. Of course Grant didn’t tell Laura about her. That was Grant for you. Clear stopped and stared at her reflection in Kat’s vanity mirror. She could only see her eyes, for the mirror was covered in pictures and notes. Her eyes were telling her that she was an idiot! She wasn’t sure that they were wrong.

  She looked at each of the photos. There were a lot with three girls, Kat usually in the middle. There were several class photos, with more than a few good-looking boys. There were sticky notes with reminders. Test 10/4 Algebra, what looked to be a locker combination, Sticky Fingers Friday, 7:30. There were a variety of notes from friends. You Rock! Party Hearty, XOXO with a lipstick print. The notes were all in different hand writing. Clear sighed. Obviously Kat was quite popular. She envied that. Each picture and note had different memories or images attached to them. All seemed very happy and fun.

  Clear moved on to a bookshelf in the corner. The shelf was overflowing with books everything from Wuthering Heights to Clive Cussler novels. Where books weren’t stacked, there were knick knacks. A glass ballerina, concert ticket stubs, a hockey puck, Movie ticket stubs, glass ballerina slippers, a brick paper weight with her name engraved.