“Don’t we all?” he snorts.
I lean back in my seat.
“Yeah, I guess.”
“If you’re for real—doesn’t it get, I don’t know—weird or something? I mean, knowing things all the time, or whatever. How does it work, anyway?”
I open my mouth to respond, but Esther leans forward and points to a house.
“That one’s mine,” she says.
“Yup. Been here before,” Blake says, winking over his shoulder as he maneuvers to Esther’s driveway.
For a moment, none of us move. We sorta sit in the knowing we’re out of harm’s way and we did a good thing tonight. Behind us, the puppy yips.
“What are you going to name her?” I ask.
“Him. It’s a him, remember?” Esther says.
I bite my lip and make a face.
“Oh, right. Him.”
“I don’t know yet. I was thinking maybe Fluffy. Or Spot,” she says.
“Way to get creative, kid,” I chuckle.
Before we have time to open our car doors, Lacy throws open the front door and races down the steps of their small two-story rambler. Ted follows close behind.
Without hesitation, Esther opens the back door of the Range Rover and drops into their open arms. Fluffy, or Spot, or whatever she’s gonna call the dog, because you know damn well they’re gonna let her keep him now, is squished between them. Both Blake and I follow but stand further back so the family can focus on Esther.
Lacy wraps her arms around Esther, sobbing uncontrollably and Ted drops to his knees beside them.
A squad car pulls up, its lights flashing, but siren turned off. Two officers steps out, walking directly toward us. After what feels like forever filling him and his partner in—they’re finally satisfied enough to let us be on our way.
“Ted, Lacy—we’re gonna let the three of you get settled for the night. I’ll be back in touch with you tomorrow to discuss everything. I’m sure the police will want to follow up and talk with you more tonight, anyway,” Blake says. “Sounds like they plan on keeping at least one officer here for the night, too.”
Ted turns to the two of us and walks over.
“Blake, Diana. I don’t know how to thank you enough. We would never have found her this quickly—or at all—if it wasn’t for you.”
He holds his hand out in appreciation. Blake takes it first, shaking his hand vigorously and patting his shoulder.
“Don’t mention it. We’re just glad she’s home,” Blake says.
Ted turns to me and I fight the urge to leave his hand there. I quickly reach out, shaking it as well, and trying to avoid the feedback it might invoke. Instead, I get snippets of relief and joy—mixed with gratitude for having Aiden in his college English course. It’s how he and Blake became friends.
“Glad things turned out the way they did,” I admit.
“Yeah, makes two of us,” Blake agrees.
Walking around the front of the vehicle, he opens his door. For a moment, he hovers there, one hand resting against the frame. Curiosity plays at my mind as I watch his eyes lingering on the front room window, half grinning to himself.
Why do I suddenly wish my gifts were working on him? My whole known life I’ve wished I could shut it off, but now…
“Ready?” I say, breaking the line of thought.
“Yeah,” he nods, taking a seat.
I open my door and slide inside. This whole day has been a weird juxtaposition of discombobulating circumstances since the moment I ran into Blake—literally. Not only did I start off on the wrong foot, but I’ve gone through a more unusual day than I can ever remember having. In part, thanks to him.
“You did a good thing,” I say, turning my gaze back to the passing street lamps as he heads out.
“No,” he says, shaking his head, “we did a good thing. As much as it pains me to admit it, there might be something to your psychic abilities.”
“Oooh, the skeptic is turning?” I chuckle.
He raises a hand, “No, I wouldn’t go quite that far…but I’m not willing to completely dismiss it yet, either.”
“I feel so special,” I say, bringing my fists together and placing them beneath my chin.
“You know what I mean. If you were in my position, would you believe you?”
I lean forward, considering.
Part of me would love to say hell yes, I’d believe me. Then again, I can’t trust most people on their best days, let alone if they were talking about something completely out of the box. Most people are lying, obnoxiously self-centered jerks.
“I see your point,” I admit.
“It would be negligence to simply believe in something without proof. It’s my job to question everything. I’ve found sometimes the smallest, most insignificant details can lead to the path of discovery. For myself. For my clients,” he says.
“I take it you’re not a God-fearing kinda man, then,” I chuckle.
“What makes you say that?” he asks, his eyebrows tugging in as he turns my direction.
My mouth drops open slightly, and I scratch the top of my head.
“Your skepticism I guess. What you said about believing something without proof,” I say. “Am I wrong? Guess it wouldn’t be the first time today.”
“Yes and no,” Blake admits.
“You confuse me.”
Blake turns the Rover down my street, and instinctively, I place my hand on the handle of the door.
“I take it you don’t easily confuse?”
I chuckle. It’s like a weird ritual of round robin. Tit for tat.
“What makes you say that,” I say, playing the part.
“Well, if you are what you say—then confusion probably doesn’t land squarely in your court a whole lot. Then again, you could be really good at educated guesses,” he shrugs.
“One may never know.”
Blake pulls the vehicle into my single car driveway and I automatically open the door as we come to a stop.
“Well, Blake—I wish I could say it was nice to meet you…but it’s been an odd day at best. Good luck getting the back windshield fixed. Thanks for the ride home.”
Before he can say anything, I close the door and cross the front lawn. I’m halfway up the front steps when I’m pulled up short.
“Hey—I, uh—have a good night,” Blake says, as I turn around. “I appreciate your help.”
“You said that already,” I say, my eyebrow quirking.
“Did I? Oh, well, night,” he says, stepping back and waving awkwardly goodbye.
I stand on my front steps, watching him turn around and walk away.
Even at this late hour—even after getting to know him a tiny bit—he still has a great ass.
I sigh to myself and turn to the front door. With my keys in hand, the lock clicks open, and I walk inside; closing the door behind me.
I’m not sure what it is about Blake—he makes me question myself.
No—that’s not true. He makes me question my previous assumptions about people. It’s pretty obvious he’s a good guy—at least his heart’s in the right place. He’s still a jerk in his own way, though. Deliberately running into me, breaking into my house.
Mental note: I gotta figure out how he did that. Kinda creepy.
Probably should have asked him, Diana.
I roll my eyes at myself.
Flicking my keys onto the table in the entry way, I make my way to the refrigerator and grab the Mexican leftovers from last night’s meal. Until this moment, I didn’t realize how hungry I was. I suppose being damn near kidnapped the moment you get home will do that to a person.
With lights low, I sit down at my dining room table and eat. My mind races through the evening’s events; through all that happened and all that coulda went wrong. I avoid any stress—or forcing my abilities to go anywhere they don’t want to go. As it is, my body is already heavy and ready for rest.
If I didn’t have such an aversion to technology, this is where I’d
pull out a smartphone or something and text Renaldo to have him cancel tomorrow’s appointments for me. If I’m up before noon, I’ll be surprised. Unfortunately, I don’t have one and likely never will.
I reach for the ordinary landline wall phone that’s probably as old as this house. Dialing his number, I glance at the clock on the stove. 1:47am.
Yikes. Brody’s gonna kill me.
Fortunately, his voicemail picks up and I leave a quick message, “Hey Ren. It’s me—sorry to call so late, or early depending on how you look at it. Anyway, I’m not gonna be able to make it in to work today. I’ll explain later. If you can reschedule my list, I’d appreciate it. Talk to you in the morning. Bye.”
With that said and done, I place my dishes beside the sink and go through my nightly routine—pee, floss, brush teeth, rinse and spit, slip outta the day’s clothes and into my tank top.
I don’t bother with my lights, instead opting to wander the halls in darkness. Sliding into bed, I take a final breath, resting back into my pillow, and squirming around enough to get comfy. My eyes close and almost instantly, I’m drifting into the peaceful bliss of sleep.
Before I can enjoy any of it—I’m pulled back to the Range Rover—to being shot at. Glass shattering.
As our vehicle speeds off, the two men haul ass inside. After seeing Ralph—the man who was holding Esther—tied up to the chair, they race to the hidden room, and find it raided. They know their time is limited, so they shoot him in the head and haul ass.
My eyes pop open.
Shit, the real bad guys got away.
6
DESPITE THE REVELATION of the men getting away, I close my eyes and try to slip back into sleep. There’s nothing I can do about it, anyway—and besides, the cops should know by now. They were coming in right as we left. I’m sure they’re already on the hunt, trying to locate and apprehend them. The best thing I can do is stay out of their way before someone freaks out at my gifts again.
Darkness consumes me, and I give in to its beckoning. For the longest time, I drift, quietly and peacefully through a multicolored mist—reenergizing; reconnecting to the source of all. After a while, the energy shifts, molding into something familiar, but distant—as though it’s a dream I’ve walked once before but have never recalled.
Torches burn along the walls of a cavern—it leads somewhere important, but I can’t place why. My heart thumps against my chest, because I already know the outcome isn’t good. Somewhere within my soul the awareness seeps in—he’s gone—someone’s taken his energy and displaced it. Even though he means something to me—I don’t know who he is. Or why. All I know is I need to make this right—
As I reach the end of the tunnel, light floods into the walkway from inside. Torches along the wall smoke and flicker, but within the chamber, is utter silence. Before I can cross the threshold into the main chamber, I notice a symbol along the wall. It looks like a cross between the more modern male and female symbols I’m used to—but not.
I reach out to touch the symbol, drawn to the power emanating from it. As soon as my fingertips touch it, I’m thrust from the cavern and back into my bed.
Knock, knock, knock, knock.
My eyes flicker open, and I take in the streaming daylight cascading in from my bedroom windows. By the looks of things, it’s mid-afternoon.
Knock, knock, knock.
I sit up in bed, trying to place the sound until I realize it’s someone knocking on my front door. Sliding out of the sheets, I reach for my robe and gingerly walk to the front door. Every muscle is sluggish, but light at the same time. As though I got enough sleep but fought in a world championship boxing fight the day before.
The cold floor seeps into my feet, making my entire body frigid. Before I even reach the door, I know who’s waiting for me: Detective Radovich.
I unlock the deadbolt and swing the door open.
“Come on in, Dan,” I say, stepping back and swinging my hand out to offer up my living room.
The detective’s stance is wide, but timid at the same time; clearly conflicted with why he’s here. His blonde eyebrows raise high above his dark blue eyes, and he lets out a relieved sigh.
“Hi Diana, sorry to bother you this way. I’ve been trying to call you this morning, but you haven’t answered. Your employee was getting nervous,” he says, taking off his hat, and stepping inside.
“Huh?” I say, shooting him a confused look.
“Renaldo, I think his name is.”
“Yeah, that’s him. What do you mean he’s getting nervous? I called and left a message for him last night saying I wouldn’t be in.”
I walk over to my recliner and take a seat. The detective does the same, opposite me on the couch.
“Diana, that was four days ago,” Dan says. “I listened to the message myself. He’s been here knocking at your door a number of times, but you’ve never answered. He got worried.”
My eyes widen, “What? You have to be kidding me?”
“No joke. Wish it was,” he says, his eyebrows flicking up to his head.
The impressions of his own surprise are palpable. He’s always been an advocate for my abilities, but he’s still shocked I wasn’t aware of how long I’ve been MIA.
“Everything okay?” he asks, glancing around the room.
Stifling back a yawn, I take a quick assessment of how I feel. Tired, but overall starting to regain most of my faculties.
“I’m okay. I think I over-used my abilities. Needed to take a beat to catch up on rest,” I admit.
Dan takes a moment to consider, then nods his head.
“You were awfully busy. In fact, we’ve been having a helluva time with the case you and that PI were working on, too. Coulda used some help these past few days,” he says.
“I know,” I say, remembering the vision I had before I passed out.
“You do?”
“Yeah, the men got away, right?” I say, leaning back in the chair and tucking the bottom of my robe around my legs.
Dan nods.
“Yeah, sure did,” he says, pressing his fingertips together. “One guy’s dead—”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to find them. At least Esther’s safe now.”
“Very true. From the way your PI friend tells it, her rescue was damn near your sole accomplishment,” he says.
My lips spread downward in surprise.
“He actually said that?”
“Pretty much. Said you were instrumental in getting her outta there,” Dan says, reaching for his hat.
I didn’t expect Blake to lie, per se, but I’ve gotta admit, I’m surprised he gave me as much credit as he did. I mean, he’s right—I was the one to figure out where she was and get her outta there. Not to mention, warn him about the others. But still…
“Well, I won’t keep you any longer,” he says, glancing at my robe. “Looks like you need to get dressed.”
I smile uneasily.
“Yes, I guess I do. Thanks for stopping by, Dan. I’ll give Ren a call now so he can stop worrying.”
“You do that,” he says, standing up.
“Good luck on the case. I’m sure you’ll find they other guys. They didn’t seem like overly criminal masterminds, if you know what I mean. Mostly arrogant assholes who thought they could get away with anything,” I say, remembering the impressions I got from the other two.
“Thanks, sure do hope you’re right. Anyway, talk soon,” he says, opening the front door and stepping outside.
As he closes the door behind him, I walk up to it and lock the deadbolt into place.
“Looks like I have some explaining to do,” I mutter to myself.
“You’re telling me some strange guy broke into your house and you decided, ‘oh, what the hell, I’ll go with him?’ And all this time you were sleeping? Like, actual sleep, sleeping?” Ren says for the second time, his eyebrows edging toward his hairline. As if it didn’t compute the first time around.
“Yes, for the love of a
ll that’s holy; I was sleeping,” I say, annunciating slowly, “Why is that so hard to fathom?”
Christ, what in the hell else would I be doing for four goddamn days? I’m not that kinky. Sheesh.
I shake my head in disbelief.
“What a waste of four days. You coulda at least lied and said you took an impromptu road trip to Cancun with the PI who broke into your house because you fell wildly, madly, deeply in love, and wanted to live it up for a few days. That I coulda believed, and at least admired,” he says, slumping in his seat across from me, “but this?”
He sighs indignantly.
“Sorry to disappoint you, Ren. No wild, mad love here. In fact, he was kinda frustrating more than anything else.”
“Aren’t they all?” he says, flippantly.
“Uh-oh. Trouble in paradise?” I say, raising a knowing eyebrow, and leaning back in my chair.
I don’t even have to be psychic to know Ren’s feeling neglected again. He and Brody have had an on again, off again romance which can be best described as true love. They annoy the hell outta each other so much, there’s no other way to describe it. They’re made for each other, truly.
“Oh my God, please, Diana. I don’t want to talk about Mr. ‘let’s drop my skivvies anywhere but the hamper.’ I need something happy. Tell me something happy,” he says, pressing his hands together in mock prayer.
“After four days MIA, you now know I’m alive,” I say, grinning and doing jazz hands. “Yay.”
Ren sighs, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “You suck at this.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
The bell to our little shop door dings, and Renaldo sits up straight.
“Gotta go. Duty calls.”
“Geez, that boss of yours is a slave driver,” I say, giving him a sideways smirk.
“Don’t I know it, sister,” he says, jostling his head back and forth, and snapping in mid-air in true, stereotypical fashion.
I shake my head, reaching for my Tarot card deck to pull today’s cards. I’m curious what messages I’ll receive today. Even if I can’t get any psychic impressions for myself, I’ve found the cards to be helpful in at least discovering trends.
Oracle: A Diana Hawthorne Psychic Mystery Book Page 6
