Angel's Dance

by Heidi Angell

  “Shit!” Grant yelped. “Clear are you ok?” He looked down and saw she still had that glassy look in her eyes. He carefully shifted to a more comfortable position and sat waiting.

  Laura came tearing into the kitchen hearing the commotion. “What the hell!!” she started, but Grant put his hand up to silence her. She looked at Clear and the shock and fear filled her face. “Is she…?” Laura whispered.

  Grant felt for her pulse. It was racing, but solid. “I think she is… in a trance?” he ventured. “Don’t disturb her. This could be important.”

  “Christ,” Laura muttered, grabbing a dish towel and wiping up the milk around them. Grant couldn’t help thinking that even in this situation the woman was a fortress. Cleaning up the milk was the least important thing, in his mind. He watched Clear’s face looking for any signs of what was going on. It was completely slack. She almost looked like a catatonic. Suddenly Grant realized that she wasn’t breathing. He checked her pulse and it was becoming thready.

  “Damn,” he muttered.

  “What is it?” Laura asked, looking over as he got Clear into position to perform CPR. He expertly felt for the sternum and counted three fingers down then put his hands in position. Just as he was about to start pumping Clear sat straight up like a corpse rising from the grave. She was inhaling so hard and so fast that a horrible moaning sound echoed through the deathly silent kitchen. The sound was so horrific that Grant heard Laura drop something. He looked over to see her house phone in three pieces on the floor.

  “Clear….” Grant spoke to her, trying to get her to focus. Her eyes were flying wildly all around the room.

  “What in God’s name is going on?!” Laura snapped, fear breaking through her angry façade.

  “Clear, honey, look at me if you can hear me.” Grant patted her hand and watched carefully as she tried to focus on him.

  “Clear, I’m here.” Her eyes locked onto his face and the craziness seemed to pass. All at once she burst into tears.

  “What is it? Talk to me Clear” Grant said soothingly.

  “She’s dead,” Clear murmured.

  Laura fell to the ground and when Grant looked back it appeared she had fainted. His heart was clenching, but he had hope. He knew Clear’s reaction to human suffering and he knew it could be anybody. He held onto that desperate ray of hope. “Who is dead Clear?” She was sinking into her sadness and he pulled her chin up to look at him. “Clear sweetie, who is dead? Is it Kat?”

  Clear shook her head and he felt the sweet release of the vice on his heart, but someone was dead and he couldn’t lose focus. “Who is dead sweetheart? Do you remember who she was?” He knew that until she could get this out, she would not be able to stop crying.

  “The girl with Kat. Oh Grant, we have to hurry, or Kat will die too.”

  Grant still felt sick, but he had gotten Laura conscious and Clear calmed down and now he was waiting for his old partner Bryce. Bryce worked missing persons. He would know who this girl was. Clear was working hard at a sketch book and Laura was glowering at her. Poor Clear was never gonna get Laura’s respect. Despite Laura’s intense distrust in general, she had always despised people who claimed to be psychics. She thought that any con man who preyed on people in their weakest most vulnerable state deserved a special ring of hell just for them. If Grant believed in God, he would probably agree with her. Clear’s methods were extremely nerve-wracking and Grant could understand Laura’s fear and anger. He also knew from working with Clear in the past that no matter how bad it was for Laura and himself, Clear had it so much worse. He couldn’t be angry with her for scaring him when he knew she had just experienced the last few minutes of a young woman’s life. He couldn’t berate her for not thinking to clarify when her brain was still recovering from her body mimicking the other girl’s drowning.

  Grant was jerked from his thoughts by a knock at the door. He looked to Laura and she got up to answer it. He and his old partner weren’t exactly friends. Of course his ex-wife and ex-partner probably were. He shoved that thought from his mind as Bryce walked in.

  Clear was taken aback with Detective Bryce. She didn’t know why exactly, but there was just something about him. He seemed very… rough around the edges. He was very average in appearance, probably about five nine or five ten; not fat but certainly not thin. He had a little paunch over his belt. His hair was a mousey brown kept trimmed short, but even the short cut could not hide the fact that he was balding very rapidly. His skin was a bit sallow and there was a beard shadow that simply made him look grimy. His eyes were a bit narrow and a very non-descript hazel color. He walked straight up to Grant and as Grant rose to take the proffered hand Clear realized that by himself Detective Bryce was average, but next to Grant he became almost ugly. Although they appeared to be about the same age, the years had been much kinder to Grant.

  “Hey there boyo, been a time hasn’t it?” Bryce growled out in a voice made octaves deeper from too much coffee, cigarettes and boozing, Clear guessed. Sure enough nicotine stained his hand and teeth. His eyes were a bit bloodshot. Being a cop, coffee was just a sort of given.

  Grant shook his hand and even added in a squeeze to his arm. Both men were smiling friendly enough, but Clear had the distinct feeling of being caught between two bucks during mating season. Not the best place to be.

  “Good to see you, old friend.” Grant replied. He gestured to Clear. “This is my associate Clear Angel. She has come from Montana to give us a hand.”

  “And what? You think we can’t handle it on our own?” There was a glint of steel in Bryce’s eyes, but then he chuckled. “Never you mind it. And Miss… er. Or is it Mrs. Angel?” The man pushed his way on over and offered his hand. Clear took it gingerly.

  “I’m not married, if that is what you’re asking,” Clear replied, feeling a little sick at his cold clammy hand.

  “And what fine skills have you got, what’s got my old friend here dragging you halfway ‘cross the country to come play with us old dogs?”

  Clear looked at him a little bewildered. “I’m a behavioral analyst,” she offered, glancing at Grant.

  “She.. well, she mostly works as a consultant,” Grant added, offering a tight smiled to Clear.

  “Ho now, you know we ain’t got no budget for that,” Detective Bryce barked.

  “I am not here on your dime Detective. This is a favor. Grant saved my life a few months back.” Clear ducked her eyes.

  Those narrow eyes delved back and forth between the two, then glanced at Laura. “Turnabouts fair play!” He smiled and Clear resisted the urge to throw up. The man was definitely an astute detective, but he gave her the heebie jeebies.

  Grant redirected Bryce’s attention. “Listen, we wanted to see if you would know of a young girl who may have gone missing recently. She was a Goth and a ballerina.” He nodded to Clear, who showed Bryce the picture. She saw the flash of recognition across his face and then it immediately closed.

  “Friend or not, I can’t be talking about this sort of thing with you. I’ll do what I can to help you find your girl, you know that; but other cases are off limits.”

  Clear interrupted, “We have it on good authority that this young woman knew Kat. We are trying to find her to question her, but no one has seen her around lately.”

  “Good authority? What sort of good authority?” He eyeballed Clear and she turned to Grant.

  “The kind of authority that doesn’t like talking to police,” Grant replied mysteriously. Clear wasn’t sure exactly what he was implying, but Bryce apparently bought it.

  Bryce eyed him then harrumphed. “Well, good luck on that. You ain’t gonna find her. I’ve tore this city apart looking for her. She’s a runaway from Peoria. Shame too. Her parents are pretty well off. They pay for her to go on this traveling dance camp thing and in Chicago she up and disappears.” Bryce shook his head like it was a shame, but everything about it felt like false sincerity. Clear got the distinct impression he didn’t give a rat’s rear an
d this was his ‘condolences’ speech, slightly modified.

  “What makes you say she is a runaway?” Clear asked.

  “Eh, oh, well the troupe called her parents because her bags were gone. They thought there might have been an emergency and she had left without telling them. But she didn’t leave. None of the rail lines or bus workers remembered seeing her, no taxi drivers. She is probably still in the city. When was the last time your daughter saw her?”

  “A couple months back, maybe,” Clear answered, not sure this was correct, but really the best she could go on.

  “Hmm… yeah, after she jumped ship. I figured she was still in the city. Well, her parents can hope after she gets whatever out of her system she might come home.”

  Clear frowned, trying not to cry again. She knew that girl was not going to be coming home. She glanced at Grant pleadingly.

  “Um.. you think there is a chance that we could go with you to talk to her parents?” Grant shot off.

  “What for? I told ya, she was with your girl after she baled on them. She hasn’t had no contact with them. How you figure they could help?”

  “Maybe she knew someone in the city. They may not even realize they know something that could help lead us to her.”

  Bryce shook his head. “Man, I done played all your little head games with them. They got nothing. Had never been here, didn’t know no one here. There is nothing.”

  “Yes… but you didn’t have a behavioral analyst look into it,” Clear pointed out, hoping it sounded more true than it felt.

  “She has ways of getting information that are… almost magical,” Grant added.

  The man smirked and Clear felt even more uncomfortable. She had the distinct impression the man’s mind was somewhere in or very near the gutter!

  “What the hell. Why not.? They put a call in earlier this week. Won’t hurt to drop in and give ‘em the word, would it?”

  Chapter Seven

  They had been on the road for two hours and Clear was ready to scream! The Detective was driving at an unusually fast rate that honestly terrified her. He seemed determined that he had to out-do Grant in every way and always had a snide remark to anything Clear had to say. As the sign for Peoria flashed by, Clear breathed a mental sigh of relief. She and Grant had made arrangements to stay overnight and would catch the bus back when she was done probing.

  Clear chuckled at Grant’s surprise about her being a behavioral analyst, and his creative little lie. She would have to pocket it away for another day. Detective Bryce didn’t seem to quite believe it. Fortunately, if he pushed, she did have a degree on hand. She was fairly sure that this whole trip was simply his opportunity to dig and see what was happening with Grant… and perhaps how long he planned to stay this time. The thought sort of unsettled her.

  She had never thought to ask Grant why he had left Chicago to come to Montana. There was a story here and she could sense it in every relationship she encountered from his old life. It was a bad story too; more than just a simple divorce and a need for a change of scenery. Grant was running from something.

  She shoved the thought from her mind, opening up to the sprawling little town coming into view. Along the river there were several factories and plants, but to her right there were parks and some fields. Soon neighborhoods came into view and Clear noticed that the homes were modest, but well-kept. The feelings from the town were less overwhelming than Chicago as well. Life was simpler here, cleaner.

  Tapping on the glass between the front seat, Clear motioned for them to roll down the window. She resented the fact that she was placed in the back of the police car like a common criminal, but had not complained, because she certainly didn’t want to ride up front by herself with the detective. She actually appreciated the bit of privacy the glass had provided. The Bryce rolled down the window for her and she inhaled the breeze. A lot could be told about a town from the way it smelled. Despite the factories, the breeze had a damp mossy smell. It was invigorating.

  Clear leaned back into the seat letting the sun hit her directly and letting the breeze wash over her. She closed her eyes and could feel herself beginning to relax for the first time in days. The peace in this town was surprising, given its size. She almost, almost, felt as if she were back home. Pondering this, Clear sat up to see more.

  The highway was coming into the metro area and Detective Bryce took an exit. The neighborhood was a little nicer than the ones she had previously seen. The yards were a fraction larger, the cars a little newer. As they passed a high school, Clear noted the sprawling sports fields full of teenagers. As was bound to happen when Clear was anywhere near teenagers; her hormones began to rage, making all of her feelings a little more acute. She contemplated Detective Bryce and decided that she really didn’t like him. She didn’t know what his beef was, but she couldn’t imagine that Grant could do anything to deserve the intense feelings Detective Bryce had for him. Thinking of Grant set her off on another tangent and she had to mentally slap herself and remind herself that the teenagers were to blame for these feelings. She tried to block it out as much as possible and hoped that the girl’s parents didn’t live too close by.

  Fortunately it did not appear that they did. After another ten minutes, detective Bryce opened the window between them. “Hey, you hungry? There’s this great little place up ahead and I figured we could have lunch before you gotta do what you do.”

  Clear couldn’t deny that she was indeed hungry, but the thought of spending any more time with this creep really bothered her. She shrugged and the guy grinned at her.

  “Believe you me, you have never had a burger like the burgers they got here!”

  Five minutes later they pulled into a mom and pop shop. It was actually fairly large and obviously well-attended. Clear suspected Detective Bryce’s assessment was probably correct. They had to wait several minutes for a table.

  Scooting into the booth, Clear glanced to Grant, pleading him to sit with her. He moved in quickly beside her.

  “So, what’s your thing?” Detective Bryce said.

  Clear looked at him blankly.

  Grant glowered.

  “Look I ain’t no boy genius, but this…” he waved his hand at the two of them. “Whatever this is… this is not just a professional relationship.” He arched an eyebrow at the two of them. “I didn’t want to say nothin’ in front of Laura, but I am a bit curious, see?”

  Clear glowered at him as well. “Excuse me?”

  “Aww, come on now. A girl like you?” He looked her up and down appraisingly and she tried hard not to shiver. “You don’t run off with a guy to play the hero for nothing.”

  “It is not for nothing. His daughter is missing. He asked for my help. Why wouldn’t I help?”

  He shrugged. “Why would you is my question.”

  Clear rolled her eyes wondering if he was dense. “Are you telling me that you think I must be getting something out of this?”

  “No one does something for nothing, is all I’m sayin’.” The man once again shrugged.

  “Right, and saving a girl’s life is nothing?” Clear growled. “I mean, don’t you do it every day?” she added, hoping to sound a little more tactful than he was.

  “Yeah, sure… and I get paid.”

  “Are you telling me that you wouldn’t do it, if you didn’t get paid?” Clear gasped.

  “Ehh…” He wiggled his hand in the so-so gesture. “I’d be getting something out of it one way or ‘tother for sure. Which leads me back to my original question. What are you getting’ out of it?” He gave Grant a wicked smirk.

  “Back off Bryce. She isn’t like you,” Grant growled.

  “Sure thing, there’s nothing goin’ on here. She is just a really good Samaritan,” he said in a very sarcastic tone.

  Grant started to rise. “Watch it…”

  Clear placed a hand on his arm and he went back to his seat. She could feel the anger and even violence radiating off Grant and it scared her a little. There was defini
tely more going on here than there seemed.

  “Yeah, yeah and that was nothin’ neither…” Bryce scoffed, his shrewd eyes catching the gesture.

  “Look I don’t know what your deal is, but you are a very sad, very angry little man. I am sorry that you think the whole world has an angle and that people don’t help other people out of the kindness of their hearts,” Clear replied heatedly. “Maybe that’s the cold city building up around your cold heart, but where I come from people do things for other people. They do things for people they don’t like and for people they don’t know. I was taught to help when I could, even without immediate rewards or benefit. Yeah, maybe a few years from now I will be in a situation where I need Grant’s help and then I will benefit from this act of kindness, but that is not why I am doing this. I am doing this because that is how I was raised,” Clear glowered, realizing that her outburst was more angry than it deserved and wondering if she was feeding off of Grant’s hostility for this man. She pulled herself together and tapped Grant’s arm.

  “If you two will excuse me, I have completely lost my appetite!” she snapped. Grant moved to let her out. “I will wait outside where the company is far more pleasant than you two!” with that, she stalked out the door.

  Grant sat moodily, thinking over what Clear had said. He was painfully aware of Bryce analyzing him from across the table and he tried to not let any of his thoughts show.

  “She sure is a spit fire. You got a thing for the handfuls, don’tcha?”

  Grant simply glowered at him. “There is nothing between Clear and I.”

  “I stand by what I said,” Bryce smirked as he bit into a fry. “There may not be now, but you at least want something more.” He waggled his eyebrows and Grant tried not to groan.