Psychic Storm: Ten Dangerously Sexy Tales of Psychic Witches, Vampires, Mediums, Empaths and Seers

by Deanna Chase

  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 mor
e 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 have 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.

  He'd planned on putting in a couple of hours then heading to the hospital to pick up his mom. He opened a file where he typed in his notes from Samantha's call and the colonel incident. He saved the material with a different code. He admitted to a heightened sense of paranoia, but still...

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  8:20 am, June 21st

  "Hey Brandt, there's someone here to see you." Adam stood at the open door of his office the next day.

  Brandt raised one eyebrow. He wasn't expecting anyone. "Who is it?"

  Adam shrugged. "Deputy Brooker for Nikola County."

  "What the hell?" Brandt's stomach twisted. He lurched partway out of his chair

  Adam grinned. "You don't look so happy."

  "Very odd," he murmured to himself. "No, I'm happy," he corrected Adam. "I'd like to talk with the little piss ass."

  "Oh, there's nothing little about this guy."

  Brandt, in the process of clearing off the top of his desk and locking up sensitive files, scowled. "Big? How big?"

  Adam snorted. "This guy makes me look like an infant."

  "Scary."

  Adam nodded. "If I had to describe him, I'd say he was one hell of an arrogant SOB, far too used to getting his own way."

  Shit. So, Sam was probably right about him. Well then, time to go see why he'd come and what he knew about Sam.

  "Thanks, Adam. Anyone in the conference room?"

  "I don't think so. Is that where you want to talk to him?"

  "Yeah. I'm not sure yet, but this guy quite possibly needs to be behind bars himself. Don't want to extend too much courtesy, just in case."

  "Sounds good. I'm heading down there now. Why don't I deliver him to conference room one for you?"

  "Good. That saves me a trip and gives me a little more distinction. I could use that in this case."

  "What kind of trouble is he?" Adam walked out of the office with Brandt.

  "I think he's been a lot of trouble for a young girl."

  "Then no special treatment for him. We don't need more of his kind."

  "According to my information, he's also into corrupting law enforcement and running drugs."

  He shared a look with Adam. They both knew other assholes just like this one.

  "I need to make a quick call, then I'll be down."

  Adam left and Brandt called his mom.

  His call went to voicemail. Last night, Maisy had convinced the hospital staff to bring a cot into the colonel's room so she could stay with him. Brandt's protests had been shot down immediately. Chances were she was still there, but he'd feel better if he'd reached her. A second call to the hospital confirmed that his mom had spent the night and that the colonel hadn't woken up. As luck would have it, his mom was at the desk speaking with the nurse too. He spoke with her briefly, confirming that she'd gotten some sleep. She sounded more chipper this morning.

  Brandt then headed to the conference room, quickly scratching down a few notes and questions he wanted to ask as he walked. Entering the room, he found a huge man with beefy shoulders – not a beer belly, rather a beer barrel that completely covered the belt holding up his pants. Dressed in uniform, the deputy's beady eyes held a voracious gleam that belied the smile on his face.

  "Detective Sutherland?" At Brandt's nod, the older man stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Thank you for taking the time to see me. I appreciate it."

  Brandt shook the man's hand. Then motioned to a seat opposite his. He sat down, sliding his hand along his pants to wipe it clean before opening the conversation. "I'm surprised. Did you just happen to be in this region?"

  "Nope. I came specific. This case, Samantha Blair, is way too important to leave to chance."

  "Oh, you didn't mention that there was a case when we talked on the phone?"

  Deputy Brooker shifted his bulk into the big boardroom chair. "I thought long and hard about it. But decided I needed to come and check this out. I'd just about given up finding her when I got your phone call."

  "What do you want with her?"

  "She caused me a bunch of trouble a few years ago. I believe she stole something from my family that I would really like returned."

  Brandt frowned. Sam hadn't mentioned anything about that. "Stole something? Like what?"

  "Files and folders. Our family history. We went to a spell of trouble to collect this material and we'd surely like it back."

  The man was full of shit. Still, he was here. Therefore, whatever he wanted was important. Brandt didn't think any of it would be good for Sam.

  "What was she like the last time you saw her?"

  The beefy man hitched the front of his pants up over the lower portion of his belly. He shifted his weight; the chair creaked in protest. "She was a mouthy know-it-all. Just like she'd been every other time I'd seen her. The things that come out of that girl's mouth were something else. She's surely a liar, she is."

  "A liar." Brandt barely restrained the desire to jump across the table and strangle the bloody fool. "A liar but not a fraud?"

  "Nope, usually her visions were spot on. But that girl's a social misfit. She's not the same as you and me. She needed a keeper then and I'm sure things haven't changed."

  "What is your intention when you meet her?"

  "Just talk to her. See if she's had a change of heart in the meantime. Maybe she's ready to give the material back now. Or has she ditched it somewhere along the last few years?"

  Brandt took a few notes, more to calm the fury inside than for later information. There was no way this asshole was getting close to Sam

  "She had a bad car accident after she was in your neck of the woods. Did you know that?"

  "I'd heard. And in truth, I thought maybe she hadn't survived. I'd called the hospital a time or two, but word was she was in bad shape and not expected to live. That's when I put it all away in my head. Until your phone call, then I hopped into my truck and came here."


  Shit. Brandt was responsible for this mess. Truck? As in black truck? "Long trip. When did you pull into town?"

  "Oh, I arrived a couple of days ago. Didn't want to come knocking right away. Figured you'd be mighty busy."

  Brandt sighed, keeping his head down. The asshole was lying through his teeth. So he had been around when Sam called him screaming on her phone about some guy trying to run her off the road. Through the DMV, he could find out what this guy drove – putting him on the highway at the same time as Sam was a different story. How to prove that? "Yes, we're swamped. Portland is a big city and it's not like there's ever a down season."

  The deputy laughed. "Crime never takes a holiday."

  "Isn't that the truth?"

  As much as Brandt would like to cuff this guy with the information he had from Sam, he knew in good conscience that he'd need to hear what Sam had to say about the deputy's truths.

  Then he'd have another talk with the deputy...on his terms.

  10:48 am

  It had not been a good day. As a matter of fact, as days went, this one sucked. Bill had finally located the right hospital only to find out his drugged victim was still alive and in a coma. What the hell? If she died – great. If she stayed in a coma for the rest of her life – even better. He kind of liked that concept. But if she awoke, that was bad news. It couldn't be allowed to happen. He'd have to think this one over while monitoring the situation.

  Then he'd gone on to the care center with his dogs. The dogs had been great, the staff had been great – the people however... What was with those old people? They all had a gambling problem for one thing. And for another, they were a bunch of busybodies. Like that one old geezer. Apparently, he knew something about the ring the media had flashed on the television. Those damn old folks were betting on when he was going to remember just what it was. Who could have predicted such a problem? Well, he'd had no choice, had he? The guy couldn't be allowed to remember anything about him – ever.