by Heidi Angell
Mrs. Johnson looked into her eyes and drank it all in. She nodded “Thank you. Thank you so much!” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
Grant paced the living room watching Bryce watch Clear. He wasn’t sure why it irked him so much, but he wanted to get rid of Bryce as quickly as possible. He didn’t like him looking at Clear. He didn’t like him talking to Clear! He bit back the anger and hostility, reminding himself that Clear didn’t belong to him and she had been pretty straightforward that the only reason she was here was to help him find his daughter. He had absolutely no claim to her… except that one glorious night. The images surfaced once again and he had to push them back down. God, he needed a drink!
“So… she sure is a piece of work,” Bryce muttered.
Grant rolled his eyes, not wanting to talk about Clear with him.
“Mrs. Johnson seems to like her. Course she’s telling the batty old woman everything she wants to hear, based on no evidence. You better hope she is right because I’m the one who will have to come back here and kill this woman by telling her the truth.” There was bite in his words.
“Trust me, Clear is a professional,” Grant murmured. “She wouldn’t say it, if she didn’t have good reason to think it was the truth. Besides, you saw that room… this house. That girl was not a runaway.”
“All the evidence says she ran away. She was driven and impatient to be a professional dancer. She was headstrong. There was nothing to indicate she didn’t leave on her own!” Bryce insisted.
“You don’t see what Clear sees. I trust her.”
“You used to trust me too,” Bryce growled.
“This is different,” Grant sighed, running his hands through his hair.
“Why? Cause she is smoking hot? Never figured you for the type… but then I guess your wife did.”
Before Grant could stop himself he was across the room and had Bryce pinned to the wall with his arm tight across the other detective’s throat. “We used to be partners and you knew that part of my life, but you know nothing about my divorce. You do not have the right to say one word on it. Ever. Clear?” He had to physically force himself to let the man go. He straightened Bryce’s lapels still fighting the urge not to strangle him. “Don’t. Push. Me.” he ordered as he walked away, putting distance between them once again.
Clear opened the back door, eyes wide and nodded cautiously to Grant. She ushered Mrs. Johnson back into the house, her hand resting on the woman’s shoulder. “I think we have everything we need now, Mrs. Johnson. If you will send those other journals in to Detective Bryce, I would appreciate that. I assure you, I will keep you posted as soon as we know anything more concrete. Grant?” She nodded to the front door.
Grant nodded to Mrs. Johnson. “Thank you ma’am.” He followed Clear out standing by the front car door waiting for Bryce to wrap it up. He knew he shouldn’t have gone after the man. Bryce didn’t have to let them in at all. Besides, Grant was pretty sure he had somehow given Bryce satisfaction with that stunt, not scared the bejeezus out of the man. Too bad Bryce didn’t realize how badly it had scared Grant. He was losing control.
Clear bit her tongue standing at the car as she felt the waves of rage pour off of Grant. She knew talking to him now would do no good and would probably only feed the fire. Whatever was going on between these two was going to consume her if she wasn’t careful. This was the type of crap that made her hate cities!
“For someone who is not so good with people, you handled her pretty well.” Grant nodded toward Mrs. Johnson who was standing on the porch as Bryce walked down the walkway.
Clear shrugged. “I am very good with some people. Just not a lot of people all at once,” she muttered. As Bryce got closer she could feel the pressure in her head spike. “Grant,” she whispered.
He turned at the pain in her voice and immediately his rage melted away to concern. “Are you ok?” He stepped closer to her as if getting ready to catch her should she collapse.
“Another migraine.” She looked at him apologetically.
“We need to get to our hotel room,” Grant snapped to Bryce and climbed in back with Clear. She could feel Bryce looking at her with concern as he jumped in the front.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, even as he quickly started the car and pulled out. Clear hoped the hotel wasn’t far away.
“She has bad migraines,” Grant murmured, rubbing Clear’s back between her shoulders. She leaned into the movement and he put pressure on the back of her neck immediately the pain withdrew and she could breathe again. She knew it was only temporary and if he took the pressure away the migraine would explode in force. She fumbled around in her bag for her medication and swallowed it dry-mouth.
“It’ll be ok,” Grant murmured gently as he carefully rubbed the back of her neck. She squeezed her eyes shut against the auras and focused on her breathing. After only a few minutes she felt the car stop and Grant moved.
“Here, the reservation is in my name. A suite. Hurry, please.” The concern in his voice made Clear’s eyes water. She could not remember being so cared for. Not since before her parents had died. Despite the pain and agony in her brain, she felt more at peace because of it. A moment later the door was opening and Grant was urging her carefully out the door. The bright light of the fluorescent overhead lights almost ruined her, but Grant deftly guided her to the room unlocking the door for her. As soon as she was in she ran to the bathroom, kicking the door closed and hoping the walls were thick. She blindly stumbled to the toilet barely getting the lid up and falling to her knees in time. As she purged, the violent waves ripped through her brain making the nausea even more intense, creating a vicious cycle. After what felt like forever, her body began to settle and she clung to the seat with trembling arms. The acid burned her throat, but she was too weak to even sit back, let alone get to the sink. She fumbled for the handle to flush and then waited to recover.
A moment later the door opened. She was mortified, but the light stayed off. Something cool touched her hand and she took it carefully. A bottle of water. Before she could even thank him, Grant was gone. She removed the lid and with the first swig rinsed her mouth, spitting into the toilet, then flushed again and leaned back finding the edge of the tub. Sliding down until the cool ceramic rested against the base of her neck, she focused on breathing deeply as the sweat coating her body cooled and left her feeling clammy.
Cautiously she rose, waiting for the pounding behind her eyes. It did not come. She moved slowly and carefully to the door and opened it. The little extra light from the window did not stab her eyeballs and she took that as a good sign. She looked around, but there was no sign of Grant. He must have left after getting her the bottle of water, to give her privacy.
She moved slowly to the bed and crawled in, pulling the blankets carefully around her. Her arms and legs felt like jelly and her neck was stiff and sore. She consciously unlocked her jaws forcing herself to breathe through her mouth and release the pressure on her jaw. Although she was pretty sure the migraine had pased, she was too weak and exhausted from the experience to move. The air whooshing through her lungs was soothing and at the same time the only labor she could accomplish. Her eyelids grew heavy and began steadily closing to the rhythm of her heartbeat. After a few beats they were too heavy to lift. Then it became too hard to focus on listening to her heartbeat. Before she knew it she had slipped into blissful rest.
Chapter Nine
As Clear opened her eyes, there was a momentary sense of loss and confusion. She did not know where she was. The room was not familiar at all. As the cobwebs were swept away, relief flooded her. Of course she did not remember this room; she had barely seen it because of the migraine. ‘Another one. Crap!!’
She sat up quickly, looking for Grant, but there was no sign of him. Her neck muscles screamed from the tension and she slowly rolled her head, stretching the tender muscles and tendons. She reached over and flipped on the bedside light, looking for a clock. Based on the little bit
of light outside, she was guessing it was either early morning or late evening. She slipped out of bed and realized that she was still dressed. Her clothes were a rumpled mess and she could only imagine what the rest of her looked like. Looking around the room, she was hoping that Grant had slipped her suit case in. No sign of it. The sour grimy taste in her mouth would not quit, so she slowly ventured a peek through the door. The rest of the hotel room was empty, as far as she could tell. The TV was off and the one side table light only cast shadows through the room.
“Hello?” She called timidly. She could not imagine that Grant would have just abandoned her here all alone with nothing. She flipped a switch nearby and sighed with relief when she realized her bags were by the front door. Snatching them up, she hauled both bags into the bedroom and pulled out her toothbrush and toothpaste.
It was amazing how the simple act of brushing your teeth could make you feel so much cleaner, despite the wrinkled clothes and old sweat. Turning on the TV, Clear realized it was 6:30 p.m. That meant she had been out for… three or four hours? She decided Grant must be getting something to eat and at the thought her stomach grumbled loudly. As desperately as she wanted a shower, it would be awkward if Grant and Bryce came back together, so Clear opted for a light clean up.
After combing through her hair and washing her face, she decided to heck with it and jumped in for a quick shower. After the good scrub, she felt so much more alive and was actually feeling a little bit happy. Throwing on some casual clothes, she stepped out of the bathroom.
Grant was sitting on the couch and had a to-go box on the table. Better yet, no Detective Bryce. Clear couldn’t stop the squeal. “You brought me food!!” she yelped, moving quickly to the table.
Grant nodded, a faint smile on his lips. “I figured after skipping out on lunch and… everything, you would probably be hungry.”
She dove in, savoring the chicken fingers and nibbling on the still-warm fries. Glancing over, she caught his smile. “What?” she asked, feeling self-conscious. Surreptitiously she glanced down to see if she had spilled anything.
He shook his head. “It’s just good to see a woman who likes to eat.”
She eyed him curiously and wondered if part of her good mood was the overwhelming sense of calm and… almost… happiness coming from him. Was his emotional placidity part of the reason for her improvement? But her hunger was more important than analyzing this new feeling. She dove back into the food.
Grant watched Clear eating and tried to suppress the smile. He couldn’t help how he felt about her, though. Despite all the trouble with having to work with Bryce again, despite having to deal with his ex-wife again, despite the constant worry for his daughter, there was something comforting in knowing that Clear was here with him. To come back to the room and hear her humming in the bathroom, obviously feeling so much better, made him feel better. He sighed inwardly, knowing how badly it was going to hurt to lose her again. But he decided that despite everything that was wrong in his world at the moment, and despite the knowledge of the pain he would feel when she would shut him out again; he had to have something and this was it.
“You seem to be feeling better,” he acknowledged.
Clear nodded, mouth full of food.
“That’s good.” He picked up the remote and turned the TV on as a distraction, but casually watched her from the corner of his eye. She grabbed her food box and came to sit next to him. He changed the channel to the news. Seeing the pain in her face as they talked about a fire that was tearing through the industrial district, he changed the channel looking for something light and happy. He found The Care Bears and stopped, chuckling lightly. “Kat used to love the Care Bears.” He watched a few minutes longer, then went back to the guide.
“I liked them too,” Clear smiled, nodding. So he left it on the Care Bears. It felt a little silly, two grown people watching a children’s cartoon. But the warm memories were too enticing. He wasn’t really watching it anyway, just enjoying the fond memories. He could see that Clear was enjoying it, though and that made it all the better. Even though in many ways she was still just a kid, that was part of the appeal. The thought made him feel a little ashamed. He shrugged it off. He wasn’t going to push for a relationship with her. Whatever her reason for not talking to him for the last severa months was her business, but he didn’t necessarily disagree with her. He knew he wasn’t good for her, even if she made him feel so much better. It wasn’t enough.
She startled him from his thoughts. “So, what happened after I…um…” she started to ask.
Grant waved it off, noting she was obviously uncomfortable about her migraines. “Bryce had to get back to Chicago. I told him we would stick around a couple of days and see what we could find out from others. He gave me a list of associates, including the address to her local dance studio.” He looked at her, to see what she thought.
“I definitely am interested in going there. I feel like that is… somehow… a major connection for them.”
“Did you get anything else today? I mean anything I should know about?” He felt awkward asking her to reveal things about her gift, which was stupid, since she had been so forthcoming in the past. It just didn’t feel normal. It also felt extremely personal. But this was why she was here. To not use her gift would be stupid.
She shrugged noncommittally. “I got a lot… I’m just not sure what it all means. I mean, psychologically this girl does not fit the stereotype for a runaway. There was no abuse in the family, no signs of mental disruption. She was popular and well-liked. She fit in….” She paused at Grant’s quizzical look.
He realized that she was looking at him and sighed. “Where do you get this?”
She rolled her eyes. “I am a genius!” she snapped. “What, you think because of the whole psychic thing, that is all there is to me?” She shook her head in agitation. “What exactly do you think I was doing in Seattle?”
“Uh… I thought you were trying to live in the city,” he muttered, realizing that he had never bothered to look into what she was doing in Seattle.
“I was getting my Doctorate, in psychology.”
“Whoa”…. So much for her being just a kid.
“Psychology… so this isn’t just a bluff then?”
Clear shook her head. “No, if anyone looks into me they will not find ‘Crazy chick who thinks she is psychic’. They will find that I have all the credentials to be a profiler. No problem.” She looked at him pensively. “What were you going to do when your stupid friend looked into me?”
Grant shrugged. “I knew he wouldn’t. Bryce is…. Well, he’s a cop, not a detective. He likes the simplest answers, even if they don’t always make sense. He never would have bothered to check you out.”
Clear shook her head. “I don’t think you know Bryce as well as you think you do… He’s probably checking me out as we speak.”
Grant thought for a few minutes, before broaching it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, but asked anyway. “Do you… I mean… is there… anything I should know… about Bryce?” He felt stupid asking it and knew he was opening himself up to having to explain some things to Clear.
Her eyes were half-lidded, almost as if she didn’t want him to read her. He found it… very seductive, for some reason… the mystery, maybe?
“I don’t know what happened between you two, but it must have been bad. The hostility and… rage… it’s ridiculous. Worse than between you and your wife. But there are no specific memories linked to it for either one of you… either that or you are both suppressing it so deeply...” she shrugged lightly. “But I do know your wife is in the middle of it and I also know that he likes antagonizing you. It makes him feel powerful, when he has felt very powerless for a while.” She used two fingers to rub her forehead gently and Grant was reminded of all the migraines she had been having.
“How is the head?” he asked softly.
She shrugged.
“I.. I don’t remember you having it so bad… befor
e. Any reason?”
“About 10,0000,” she chuckled. “Back home, I know everyone’s thoughts and brain patterns. I can tune them out for the most part. Plus, I am far enough away from anyone that it is easier to tune out. But here…” her eyes became a little haunted. “Here, everything is so overwhelming. It’s like being in an amphitheatre with all 10,000 people screaming at me all at once. All talking about different things, all speaking unexpectedly and… well, it takes time to tune all that out.”
“And I’m making it harder, aren’t I?” Suddenly realizing that everything he was feeling, every fluctuation in temper and feeling of anger was hitting her as hard as him, but she didn’t understand it. He did. She didn’t know how to deal with it. He suddenly felt guilty, even as she tried not to show it, he knew he was absolutely right. Then he got sick with the thought that if she felt everything he felt, she must know how he felt about her… and every time he thought about her must feel like a physical assault. Oh God.
Clear was very confused about what had happened. One minute they were sitting back, peaceful, the tension of the last several days together gone. Then they were talking about the case and the conversation had drifted. Now all she could feel was repulsion coming from him. She shook her head, fighting back the tears.
“I know I am a freak, so let’s just ignore that,” she muttered.
“I… I don’t like that this is hurting you,” Grant said somberly. There was more in his voice, but she couldn’t hear anything beyond the repulsion he was feeling. She jumped up off the couch and staggered back three steps. “I will be fine, if you can just TRY to keep your emotions in check!” she growled. “I… I think we need to go to the dance studio tomorrow. I am not feeling well right now, so I think I will go to bed.” She stumbled past him, ignoring the abashed look he gave her and closing the door between them. As soon as the door was closed, the tears she had locked up began pouring from her eyes as if a great flood gate had been released. She jammed her hand over her mouth smothering the sobs threatening to give her away.
