Twisted Whispers

by Sheri Lewis Wohl

  His gaze stayed on the women as they headed to the back of the lot and to where the truck sat still and dust covered. What they thought they could possibly glean from the hunk of metal, he couldn’t imagine. It was a stupid waste of time, and if the deputy possessed any experience at all, she’d know that. He’d never touched it. Not that he ever did. It wasn’t like he was stupid. He was smarter than the whole lot of them, and by now, they should be catching on. For a long time he’d performed his important work quietly and efficiently, and no one even came close to connecting him to any of it. They wouldn’t, either, because he was simply that good and always ten steps ahead.

  Today he would love to follow them behind the tall chain-link fence and watch their futile efforts to discover his identity. He wouldn’t. As much fun as it would undoubtedly be, it just wasn’t a good idea. Tempting, nonetheless, and he found himself inching closer to the gate. Maybe just a peek and he’d be on his way. What could a brief bit of intel hurt?

  Halfway across the parking lot, his eyes on the gate, he jumped when a hand on his shoulder stopped him. Involuntarily he stiffened and forced himself to be calm.

  “Hey, dude, haven’t seen your smiling face for a while.”

  It was a testament to his skills that he managed not to appear shocked. The fact he didn’t hear the person walk up behind him was more disconcerting than being spotted out here. It wasn’t like him to be so oblivious. He heard and saw everything all the time. Today he was so focused on the three women, he was in the zone and everything else around him was filtered out. He made a mental note to be more careful. No one else was going to catch him unaware again.

  “Back atcha, Cowboy.” The nickname was well earned, for this colleague always sported a pair of high-end cowboy boots, Wrangler jeans, and an array of belt buckles from rodeos all across the Pacific Northwest. Born and raised in Omak, a small town near the Canadian border in northeast Washington, Cowboy had spent all his formative years on horses, and that legacy stayed with him after he moved into the city. He’d been here for years now, but he still carried his Omak heritage like a badge. It granted him a certain amount of respect for being dedicated to his roots.

  “Yeah, true story. Don’t know if you heard, but I got loaned out to the feds. Just finished up that little project and am back home now. Quite the ride with the federal boys and we kicked some serious ass. Probably get my butt hauled into federal court to testify against the fuckers we busted.” He rolled his eyes. “Anything interesting in your wheelhouse these days?” He shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and appeared to be settling in for a lengthy chat.

  Oh, plenty interesting in his wheelhouse though he wasn’t about to share those details. Besides, if he knew Cowboy he wasn’t really interested in what was going on in his world. He really only wanted to boast about his foray into the world of federal law enforcement. Rather than share anything of substance, he shrugged and said, “Same old shit, different day.”

  Laughing, Cowboy smacked him on the shoulder. “I hear that, brother. Let’s grab a beer one of these days and talk about the good work we do keeping scum off the streets.”

  If he only knew how true that was in his case. “Count on it.” Thank God he wasn’t going into one of his lengthy shoot-the-shit sessions right now. Cowboy was famous for his nonstop ramble, and he didn’t have the time or inclination to join in today. It would be a long forever before he’d go out for a beer with him.

  When Cowboy decided he was done sharing for the day and walked off, so did he. As relieved as he was to get away clean, any chance at sliding into the impound lot unnoticed had just gone up in a fiery blaze. Good old Cowboy was waving to everyone he knew—and everyone else for that matter—as he headed toward the PSB. The risk of being seen was too great now. Cowboy talked a lot, and the chance he’d mention running into him was a sucker’s bet.

  His step was quick and sharp as he walked in the opposite direction from the lot. Pissed him off when someone derailed his plans. Sure, this was a spur-of-the-moment thing, but it didn’t matter. The idea came to him in a minute. From the moment he decided on his course of action, he was invested, and when Cowboy shot it all to hell he’d wanted nothing more than to put a bullet in his chest. It wasn’t that he disliked Cowboy. Actually, he liked him about as much as he did anybody, even if he didn’t want to sit around some bar drinking beer with him. Cowboy still embodied the Wild West sort of approach to getting things done, and he admired that about him. The always-by-the-rules bunch—which was most of them—got on his nerves. The guys who knew the difference between good and bad and then did what it took to eliminate the bad were the ones he could relate to. That was Cowboy.

  That was him.

  *

  Fear washed over her like a tidal wave of rancid water. The day turned black, the clouds overhead threatening to burst forth in torrential rain. She was no longer in the truck. Instead, she was standing next to the tall chain-link fence surrounding the dangerous equipment at the transfer station or, in the words of her search-and-rescue friends, the PLS…point last seen.

  The truck was parked in the gravel lot. The waning daylight had caused the automatic headlights to come on, and they now cast shafts of lights to laser toward the thick pine trees in the distance. The driver’s side door was open, and standing next to it, bending into the truck, was Alida. She appeared to be working on an electronic tablet of some kind, her attention focused on the task she was trying to complete. Whatever she was working on, it held her attention.

  The sound of an approaching vehicle broke her concentration. Alida set the tablet on the seat of the truck and turned to look at the crew-cab pickup truck bumping down the road with an expression of interest on her face. That quickly changed as the truck drove closer. Even in the waning light the unhappiness shadowing her face was crystal clear. She was not pleased to see that truck.

  The man didn’t even have a chance to get out of the truck before she was moving like an angry cat. Alida marched to the driver’s side door of the black, late-model half-ton and smacked the window with the palm of her right hand. The window whirred down and she leaned in, tension clear in her rigid stance.

  “You can’t keep showing up,” she snapped. “This has got to stop.”

  “I can go wherever I please and I will.” The man’s voice was calm and without a ghost of emotion present. “You don’t have anything to say about it.”

  Alida’s voice was nowhere near calm. Emotion rang through the night air like the bells from the church tower. “It’s over. Why can’t you accept that?” Frustration seemed to bring her words to a chilling high note.

  “It’s over when I say it’s over.” Again the icy calm.

  “God damn it,” Alida nearly screamed. “I can’t keep doing this with you. What can I say to get it through your thick head? I made a mistake, a huge fucking mistake, and God help me, I won’t make it again. We are over!” Her knuckles were white where they gripped the open window frame.

  His hand reached up to cover Alida’s where it rested on the driver’s side doorframe. “That’s where you’re wrong, beautiful. This magic between you and me was never a mistake. It was destiny, and that’s why it will never be over. We are meant for each other. Always have been, and nothing you can say or do will change it.”

  “Go away,” she said in a voice choked with raw emotion. “Go away. Go away. Go away.” She turned her back on him and started toward her truck again.

  “Never.” His single word was as quiet as hers were loud.

  The driver’s door of his truck flew open so fast it startled Alida, who tripped backward and went down hard on her behind. Pain covered her face and tears welled up in her eyes. The man came out of the truck, a blur of motion. He grabbed her by the back of her shirt, pulled her up, and put an arm around her neck as if he intended to choke her. Her feet kicked and her hands clawed at the arm around her neck. Alida fought like a tiger to free herself. It didn’t work. His grip never appeared to loosen as he held her ag
ainst his body and backed toward his truck. The heels of her boots dug into the gravel, leaving trenches as he pulled her along. What seemed like an hour later and was more than likely only a minute or two, her body went slack, her head lolling to the side until it rested against his arm.

  As though she weighed nothing, he continued to drag her until he reached the back door of his truck. He opened the door and shoved her into the crew-cab seat. For a moment he stood still and stared at her sprawled across the seat, and then he slammed the door. The fact that her truck was wide open and all her things were still inside didn’t appear to concern him. Without even glancing at her vehicle, he climbed into the driver’s seat of his own, turned it around, and drove toward the highway. The whole thing happened in the space of a few minutes. One second he was there and Alida was alive. The next he was gone and so was Alida.

  Never once during the entire interlude did she glimpse his face.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Thea’s heart pounded so hard she thought it might literally come out of her chest. Instinct pushed her to grab Katie’s hand. She was compelled to hold on to something…someone, and the fact it was Katie was not unpleasant. What surprised her was the silent acceptance of her gesture because she fully expected Katie to pull away. After all, they were standing in full daylight and in the middle of the sheriff’s department’s vehicle-impound lot. One of her coworkers or her boss could be here. Or one of the public watchdogs who were constantly waiting around to catch a public servant doing something so egregious it would make great material for a viral video. Katie most likely wouldn’t want a single one of them to see her holding hands with a woman.

  Well, anyone for that matter. Public displays of affection were undoubtedly frowned on during working hours, particularly on work premises. Or at least she supposed they were. This was different though. She couldn’t control her reaction. It had just happened in what felt like a completely natural way.

  And that’s what made it really weird. Not only was open affection way outside of her comfort zone, but so was reaching out for comfort from someone else. Well, someone besides Alida, that is. Her entire life Alida had been her one and only sounding board. Alida, always the open and free-spirited one, had been consistently able to express her feelings in a healthy way. Or, perhaps in the case of the affair she’d apparently been involved in, in unhealthy ways too.

  Not so for Thea. She might be Alida’s twin in looks but definitely not in temperament. In that respect they were worlds apart. Thea was as insular as Alida was open, and not just because she was a lesbian. Even if she were straight, she’d react the same way. She simply wasn’t comfortable depending on others or openly showing emotion. Her art was as open as she got when it came to expressing herself publicly, and as far as she was concerned, that was plenty open enough.

  For the first time she decided to take Alida’s lead in the vulnerability department. The ghostly pale cast to Lorna’s skin as she sat as still as stone behind the wheel of the truck made her want to scream. If she hadn’t seen the rhythmic rise and fall of Lorna’s chest, she would have probably raced in to drag her out of the cab. Something unspoken told her to leave Lorna be, and so as hard as it was, that’s what she did.

  Katie must have sensed much the same thing. Instead of taking offense at Thea’s desperate reaction, she squeezed her hand and said quietly, “Give her a few minutes.”

  “Look at her face,” Thea said worriedly, and hated how her voice trembled. “I don’t like how white she is.”

  “She is pretty pale but let’s give her a minute or two. As much as I hate to admit this, she might actually be picking something up.”

  Thea turned to look at Katie, who kept her eyes focused on the cab of the truck and Lorna’s pale face. Katie didn’t let go of her hand, and neither did she move to interrupt whatever was happening with Lorna.

  As Thea turned her gaze away from Katie and back to the truck, she saw intense concentration on Lorna’s face. Whatever was going on in Lorna’s head, it was more powerful and having far more of an effect on her friend than what she’d seen before out at the transfer station. A wave of guilt ripped through her heart because she was the one who’d asked—begged—Lorna to come help. Now she wasn’t so sure it was a good idea.

  “I don’t like what this is doing to her.”

  Katie shook her head slightly. “I think she’s okay. She’s pale, but her breathing is stable.”

  Thea’s heart was pounding and her own breathing neared panic level. “It’s not good enough, and it’s not right to let this happen to her. I know I asked her to do it, but I’m changing my mind really fast. We’ve got to get her out of there.”

  Katie squeezed her hand again and turned to look at her. “Thea, I didn’t believe your friend was anything but a nut job until we took her to that parking area. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone besides you but I started to believe then that she might have something special. Right now, I’m all on board. She’s not a fake, and trust me, that’s something I’ve never said before and probably never will again.”

  Thea took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping she could keep the panic at bay. That Katie finally believed in Lorna helped a ton. “No, she’s never been a fake at anything, and she’s always had my back no matter what. She would never lie to me, and if she says she can see things we can’t, I believe her one hundred percent.”

  “Then let her have it now. Let’s give her a chance to do what she does.”

  Even though she believed in Lorna, Thea didn’t like what this was doing to her. She also couldn’t really argue Katie’s point. She nodded and they both turned back to watch Lorna.

  In the few seconds their attention was turned away from her, something changed. Her eyes were open now, and she was running her hands through her hair. Color was beginning to return to her cheeks and her lips were pressed together in a thin line. She turned to look at them and then said matter-of-factly, “Well, that was fucked up.”

  *

  Lorna wouldn’t say anything until the three of them were back in Katie’s office. Even then it was as if she searched hard for the right words, and Katie had a terrible feeling she understood why. What she suspected Lorna saw in those fugue-like minutes behind the wheel of Alida’s truck probably wasn’t anything definitive, but it might very well confirm what Katie was afraid of: Alida was dead. She sensed Lorna hesitated to share because she wanted to be very careful what she said to Thea.

  In the end, Lorna put it all out there, and though her words were thoughtful, they were equally honest. It was clear to Katie that the two of them were on the same wavelength. To Thea’s credit, she took what Lorna offered with calm acceptance and didn’t dwell on the more frightening aspects of the vision. Neither did she or Lorna, and all three of them avoided the word dead, focusing instead on what they could do to find Alida and bring her home.

  Lorna’s vision didn’t yield a ton of concrete information, yet it did give Katie a couple of things to work with she didn’t have before. After Lorna finished filling them in on her experience in the truck, they talked for another twenty minutes or so before she sent Lorna and Thea back home. Even considering using a psychic was outside her standard operating procedures, and going beyond what they already did was out of the question. From here, she’d take what Lorna gave her and use good old-fashioned techniques to roll with it. As soon as they left, she immediately started on a new line of investigation.

  Two things Lorna said gave her a touch of hope. One was the description of the pickup. A black, late-model Ford, crew cab with a diamond-plate toolbox mounted in the rear. The second was a partial plate. Lorna explained that as it was driving away, she was able to see a Washington plate reading A85. A complete license plate number would have been gold, except she wasn’t able to get the rest. Still, three numbers was three more than she had an hour ago, and she could work with that.

  Katie was just reaching to pick up the phone when Vince plopped down in the chair next to her des
k. “What’s up?”

  Big surprise. Leaning back in her chair, Katie studied him as she took the opportunity to push away the irritation his presence brought on. She wanted to believe he possessed the potential to be an okay guy. If only she could get past his annoying façade. It grated on her and now was no exception. She had a lot of work to do and his presence just got in the way.

  “Still treading water on the Alida Canwell case.” She hedged, not wanting to get into a lengthy conversation about what she was following up on right now or why. Vince was an expert at offering unsolicited advice on how to work a case. How he’d react to her use of a psychic was not something she felt like getting into today.

  He shook his head and his eyes darkened. “Too bad. This one bothers me, Carlisle. Something isn’t right, and the longer it goes on the easier it’ll be for this to get away from us. Can’t let that happen.”

  She stared at him. Us? Since when was there an us? Did he think she was too inept to work the case herself and needed his help? It took supreme effort not to let him know he was pissing her off. He just needed to leave her alone and let her handle this her way. “I realize that, Vince. I’m turning over every stone and looking at everyone who knew her. I want to find this woman, and I want to find the bastard who did this to her.”

  He nodded slowly while pulling on his lower lip with his teeth. “Yeah, I know you do. I’m not sure what has me twitchy on this one. Why don’t you tell me what you’ve got so far?”

  She tapped her fingers on her desk, trying to figure out how to make it short and sweet. If she didn’t give him something, he’d hang here for hours. Chad wasn’t far off the mark when he called Vince her unofficial partner.