by Dale Mayer
His mom sat with her knees to her chin, her arms snugged tight around her legs like a young child. She swayed gently on the chair, tears in her eyes.
"Mom?" Brandt approached and sat close beside her. Wrapping one arm around her, he gently rubbed her arms. "Are you okay?"
She nodded. "I will be. Just a little upset."
"Were you with him when he collapsed?" Brandt hugged her gently, concerned at the frailty of this feisty valiant woman. She came across as such a powerhouse, then when knocked off balance, she folded.
Giving her time to collect herself, Brandt stared at the other curiosity seekers. Many had started to wander away in search of something more exciting. Still others were waiting, hoping to hear what Maisy would say. Brandt didn't intend to have anyone overhear them.
"Come on. Let's go to your place." He led her through the thinning crowd to her suite. Once inside, he set her in her favorite chair then closed the door on the concerned well-wishers mingling outside. "She'll be fine folks. She's just a little upset."
Turning back to his mother, he added, "I'll make some tea, and you can tell me all about it."
Without waiting for an answer, Brandt put on the teakettle and returned to her side. "Now I need you to tell me what happened. Why are you so upset?"
She lifted her head to peer at him. Torment and guilt gleamed through.
"Did you have something to do with his collapse?" asked Brandt, confused.
"I don't know." Maisy's eyes welled. "The dogs came today, so everyone was in the meeting rooms enjoying their visit. Everyone talked about everything, but the colonel was center stage because of the ring the police are trying to find and what the colonel was trying to remember."
Maisy chewed her bottom lip and didn't continue.
"Then..." prompted Brandt.
"We walked to his apartment where I left him while I went for lunch. After lunch, I came home to lie down."
She glanced up at her son, her bottom lip starting to curl downward. "When I woke up, I called him, except there was no answer. So, I knocked on his door." She shifted uneasily. "He didn't answer so I used my key and that...that's when I found him."
Brandt raised his brow at the mention of his mother having keys to the colonel's apartment – but that was the least of his worries now. "So you feel guilty for falling asleep and leaving him?" he deduced.
"If I'd stayed with him, he wouldn't have been left to lie there unconscious for so long."
Brandt frowned. "How long is so long?" He'd received the impression that the injury was recent.
"Probably half an hour."
"Half an hour is nothing to feel guilty about." Brandt reached over and brushed his fingers over her cheek. "He probably fell just before you arrived."
Her eyes begged him to be right. She suddenly blurted out, "The thing is, I locked the door when I left, and it wasn't locked when I returned."
Brandt shook his head. "Didn't you say you used your key to get in?"
"Yes I did, only I didn't need to because it wasn't locked."
"So why did you use your key?"
"I took it out, expecting to use it, only I didn't need to," she said, exasperation adding life to her eyes and fire to her voice. "Pay attention, dear."
Right. At least she was returning to normal. Speaking of not normal, he had to call Sam. Surreptitiously, he checked his watch. The call would have to wait.
Ignoring the key for the moment, he asked his mother, "Why are you concerned about whether the door was locked or not?"
"I don't think he fell."
Brandt sat up straighter. "What? What do you think happened?" He studied her face. She didn't appear to be in shock. "You think he was attacked?"
Maisy nodded.
"Why would anyone do that?"
"He said he'd remembered the significance of the ring and wanted to think on it a bit, try to figure the pieces out first. Then I fell asleep and now he's injured."
"Even if he did remember, it's unlikely someone would have attacked him over it."
Maisy leaned toward him. "They would if they were involved."
"True. I doubt anyone here is involved. They aren't strong enough for one thing," he said grinning.
She sniffed, such a haughty sound that Brandt had to laugh.
"Not everyone is ancient you know. We all have families that come to visit, and several members of the staff are certainly young enough to have committed murder."
Brandt had to concede her point. Still...it was unlikely. "But how would anyone know what the Colonel was trying to remember?"
Maisy's cheeks flushed pink then paled to pure white. She didn't say anything. Curious, Brandt pushed. "Mom, how would anyone know?"
She straightened her legs out in front and studied her bright red toenails. "I may have had something to do with that."
Brandt pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. "You didn't set up a betting pool on it, did you?" He opened one eye to look at her carefully.
She reddened again. Guilt in pink. Damn.
"So in other words, everyone in the building knew and probably a dozen more besides. All because you wouldn't listen to me."
She opened her mouth as if to protest, then slowly closed it again. She nodded, her eyes full of remorse. "I didn't think it would be dangerous." She shrugged her shoulders in a dainty movement. "We just like to have fun here. You know that. So, we were all taking bets as to when the colonel would remember. There were some people who even bet that he'd never remember, given his age and all that." She sniffed in disgust at that suggestion. "He did remember though, and we were all cheering the winner of the pool. Then someone struck him down before he could tell us what he'd remembered. He said he was going to wait until he could talk to you first."
Brandt sat back. It was too stupid not to be true. Now he had to wait until the colonel awoke. Which, given his advanced years, could be the case if he woke up.
"Right." Brandt stood up. "Let's go to the hospital and see how he's doing."
It was a quiet trip with both of them deep in thought. Once there, Maisy insisted on waiting in a chair beside the colonel in the Emergency room. He'd been stabilized, but there was no prognosis yet. Two hours later, there was no change. Still the colonel hadn’t woken.
A tall stooped man in green scrubs approached and offered his hand. "Detective Brandt."
"Hello, Doctor Sebastian. How are you?" Brandt watched the multiple frown lines smooth out into a real smile.
"I'm fine. Are you here officially?"
Brandt nodded toward his mother sitting, head bowed at the colonel's side. "We're here for a friend."
"Colonel Bates?"
"Yes, that's right. How is he?"
The doctor glanced at the apparently sleeping patient. "We're keeping him sedated at this time. He has a skull fracture. We'll keep a close watch on the bleeding and the swelling. If he makes it through the night, he should pull through. Given his age and health, well... It's hard to know how he's going to do. There's very little chance that he'll wake up before morning." The silent 'if at all' was very clear. The doctor nodded at him and left the room.
Brandt glanced over at Maisy who appeared to be lost in her own thoughts. "Did you hear that, Mom?"
She didn't answer.
Brandt walked over to crouch in front of her. "Mom, do you want to stay here for a while?
Maisy lifted her pain-filled gaze to stare directly at him. She couldn't speak.
Brandt's heart ached for her. "I'm sorry, Mom. But he's in good hands here. Why don't I leave you here for a bit and I'll come by in a couple of hours?"
She shifted her head in a miniscule imitation of a nod. "Find out who did this," she said, her voice thin and reedy.
Brandt frowned. She didn't sound very good. "Mom, I'll look into it, but that doesn't mean there is a 'who' to find."
Her gaze turned fierce. "This was no accident. Someone hit this dear old man over the head. Find him," she demanded. Then
her shoulders sagged as she stared at her friend. "Find him, Brandt."
Brandt stilled. His thoughts turning to the phone call he'd cut short. Maisy's words a mirror of Sam's.
Maisy walked over to the colonel, taking hold of his hand. "Leave. I'll be fine."
Brandt couldn't help but feel dismissed.
***
2:15 pm
Sam opened her eyes, surprised to find herself sitting inside her truck, still parked outside the grocery store. Almost an hour had passed. She felt better physically. Mentally, there was a sense of uneasiness that wouldn't listen to reason.
She wanted to be home where she felt safe. She started the truck, remembering that Brandt hadn't called her again. He'd probably been called out on yet another emergency.
Or she'd missed him? There were no messages on her phone. Disappointed, she sat for a few moments to get her bearing. Brandt had somehow taken up residence in her life, in her heart even. She shook her head, surprised as the speed her feelings had developed. Her hormones had gone into overdrive too. From dormant to wanting to jump his bones. She laughed lightly. As if. Just because she might be willing to go a little further didn't mean he was that interested.
She frowned. Odd to think that she could only know someone for such a short time and already be at this point. She didn't do one night stands. So what was different this time?
Trust.
As she mulled it over, she realized she trusted Brandt. Probably for the first time, she could honestly say she trusted a man. Love, now that was a different thing altogether. That she was interested was obvious. That she might go out of her comfort zone and have an affair – was also a possibility. But the permanent ever after thing, she didn't think would ever happen. It would take a very special man to accept her gifts... Then there was the teensy weensy problem of living with them.
Not every man would want to wake up to find her in the middle of a vision.
A family walked beside her in the parking lot, laughing noisily, their laughter shaking her out of her reverie.
Time to go home. Not sure of her reaction time, she drove slowly and carefully down the highway. Her mind twirled around the various tidbits, trying to find a solution. Surely, the killer had better targets than an old man.
The traffic light turned yellow. She slowed before coming to a complete stop at the red light.
A black truck pulled up beside her.
Sam glanced at it, then away, before zipping back again. Her heart jumped. She glanced around at the truck. She couldn't see the driver as the truck was on the left of her and much higher up. Her gut clenched at the sight. It was identical to the truck from a couple of days ago...
The opposite traffic moved sluggishly through the intersection. Sam stole another glance up at the truck. A man stared at her.
"Shit." She glanced away and back again – just to make sure. And swore again. That face! Surely it couldn't be? Was it really him? That one person she'd hoped to never see again.
Her gut clenched. Her fingers flexed on the steering wheel. Trapped in traffic, panic clutched at her insides. Always, she felt so damned trapped. The cars ahead lurched forward. She punched the gas, made a quick right at the corner, whipping into a break in the traffic. She glanced in her rear-view mirror and couldn't see the truck. Oh God. Get a grip, Sam.
She checked to see if she were being followed. Theoretically, he shouldn't have been able to as the car behind her had moved up and taken her spot. Not wanting to take a chance, she turned several more corners and fed into the main road, where she could only hope she was miles behind the truck now.
Prying her right hand off the steering wheel, she wiped it on her jeans.
The trip couldn't end fast enough.
She hit a bad pothole, reminding her to pay attention. Still nervous, Sam found herself searching the surrounding countryside, afraid to find a boogeyman hiding in the trees. She still couldn't determine if it had been him. She'd thought so at the time, but now...?
Brandt hadn't called her back yet. She wanted to call again, yet hated to. He'd bolted so fast out of the house this morning, she wondered if he'd ever come back. It had been a lot for him to deal with last night.
But, she'd love the comfort of hearing his voice right now.
***
3:45 pm
Dillon straightened his charcoal tie to a perfect line. He liked to stay professional at all times, even mid-afternoon. One never knew when opportunity might knock.
He had plans, and he'd be damned if he'd let anyone get in the way. That included Brandt. Earlier, he'd seen Brandt bolt from the office. Very curious. Dillon wanted badly to know what was up, and whether it involved the little psychic chick.
After lunch, Dillon walked naturally into Brandt's office – Brandt's empty office. He grinned then wiped off the smile just in case anyone saw him and wondered. Better not to stir suspicions. Not that anyone would see him. Brandt's office was at the end of a long line of offices. Besides, the station was dead. Only a couple guys manned the phones and there would be the standard group hanging around the coffee machine, only Dillon wasn't planning on talking to them yet.
Even if someone saw him, he had a good excuse. He was looking for a specific file. It should be in Brandt's office. If he happened to find something at the same time, something that furthered Dillon's own career that would be good. If it helped him to put a finger on what made Brandt tick – even better. He didn't know if Brandt was going to be a problem or not, and he'd much rather be prepared just in case.
Quickly, he rounded the desk. The computer was still on. Perfect. He smirked and rubbed his hands in anticipation. Then he got to work.
***
4:15 pm
Brandt left Maisy visiting with the colonel. He quickly punched in Sam's number on his cell phone.
"Sam, let's go over that vision again."
It only took a couple of minutes, just enough for him to clear his head, connect the dots between the colonel's attack and Sam's vision. If he trusted Sam's abilities, then it followed that the colonel had been the old man she saw attacked. The only reasonable explanation for such an attack was if someone needed to silence the colonel – particularly when the attack was undertaken in complete daylight in a home full of people.
"Brandt?"
"Sorry honey, I'm here." Shaking his head, Brandt returned to the conversation and filled Sam in on why the room felt familiar. After giving her an update on the colonel's condition, Brandt headed to the station. Unfortunately, the incident was likely to be classed as an unfortunate accident until the colonel woke up. Without more information, Brandt had no reason to ask Kevin to open an investigation. A list of who had been at the center during that period was mandatory. Maisy was compiling hers and Nancy should have a partial list of visitors, repairmen, and staff.
Once back at the station, Brandt grabbed a mug, poured coffee and headed to the privacy of his office.
"Hey Brandt. Did you ever find out who gave that information to the station?" Adam called out from the common room.
Brandt didn't even turn around. "No, not yet."
He had one hand on his office doorknob before realizing it was already open. Frowning, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room looked the same. Brandt hated the suspicion coursing through him. He spun around to his desk. Where was his file on Samantha? It wasn't there. Right, he'd started locking it up in his desk. Pulling out his key ring, Brandt unlocked the drawer on the left.
There was the file as he'd left it. Opening it, he found the information on Sam lying on the top page and frowned. Had he left it there? Normally, he had those papers buried in the middle of the file. Uneasily, he replaced the material, taking care as to how he sequenced the information in the file.
Relocking the drawer, he searched around the office for anything out of place. It appeared to be the same. It didn't feel that way. His chair. He frowned. He'd rushed out of the office and couldn't remember how he'd left it. He didn't think he'd ha
ve pushed it in that far.
His monitor flashed for his login information. Brandt hesitated. His keyboard sat off center and further to the front than he normally had it. His hands didn't automatically rest on the keys properly.
Suspicion nudged the back of his mind. He had no way to know if someone had snooped through his office. His work wasn't exactly a secret. Logging on to his computer, Brandt quickly checked his files. Everything seemed normal. The knots in his spine eased, he rolled his shoulders, pushed his sleeves up, and started in on his emails. Communication was the mainstay of his network these days. However, he didn't share everything and made good use of security passwords to keep some information private.
