“But you can’t be ser—”
“I’m very serious.” He took another sip of tea. “I sensed you at the Plantation that day, when I was in the research library. After the second murder.”
I blushed and looked down.
“You were there; I knew you were there. I didn’t know how I knew, but after I left the building, I followed the path a little ways up the hill and then stopped and watched. A few minutes later I saw your…interesting departure through the window.”
My jaw dropped.
“I began to pay attention, to try and hone in on the signals. I had some dreams.”
I took a step back from the bar. Now I really was frightened. I’d been hunting a crazy killer but it seemed I’d gone and found myself a crazy stalker at the same time.
He raised a hand. “I am not here to hurt you. On the contrary, I’m the one who alerted the state police to your location a few nights ago.” He set his mug back down and studied my face. “I had a vision, a very strong vision. I clearly saw what was happening to you. I called; I told them what mile marker you were near. I may have even saved your life.”
“But…but that’s crazy.” My thoughts were jumbled. “How could you know? I mean, Breuger said he saw Stevens’ car…and anyway, you said your third eye’s blind.” Is that where the band got its name, I wondered hysterically.
“There are things we don’t understand in this world,” he said. “Please sit down. Let me explain it to you as best I can.” I hesitated. He patted the seat of the bar stool. “Sit, Samantha Warren.” Finally, I relented.
“Okay,” I said once I was seated. “Explain.”
“The first time I saw you, at the Plantation, I surprised myself by calling out to you. I don’t go out of my way to talk with strangers. Especially not white strangers. Except when I’m working; there, it’s my job.” He turned in the stool and faced me. I worried that my Ikea bar stools wouldn’t hold up under Bob’s—er, Rob’s—substantial weight.
“I forgot about you after that, frankly,” he said with a smile. “Until that day in the research library. I was in there talking with Stevens, asking him about his research—little did I know, by the way, what he was really up to—but I kept seeing your face. I didn’t even know your name, but our encounter in the parking lot kept coming back to me. Puzzled, I left. As I said, I walked away, but I had an almost uncontrollable urge to go back. Instead I stood and watched. Sure enough, you came sliding out the window a few minutes later.” He smirked. “Graceful,” he added.
I blushed again.
“After that, I tuned in. I’ve had these psychic moments before, but this was stronger. The night you were taken to that island, I felt a profound sense of unease and I knew it was related to you somehow, but I still didn’t know your name or how to respond.” He took another sip of tea. “It was a very unpleasant night.”
For me too, I thought.
“After that you were all over the news. I learned what I could about you; searched for you on the Internet. Read up.” He paused. “NSA, huh? That surprised me.”
I shrugged.
“I continued to follow the case. I opened my mind to your signals, and over the next few days, they intensified. I began to receive clear visions. Not constantly mind you, but often enough to take notice.”
Shit. Had Injun Bob been tuning in when Milo and I got cozy?
“Saturday night I was in bed asleep, when the vision came to me very strongly. It was like a dream at first, but at the same time I knew it wasn’t a dream. It was real. I got up, went to the gas station at the corner and made an anonymous call. Then I went home and sat up, waiting. I meditated; I needed to know whether or not you were all right. It was overwhelming. And then, maybe fifteen minutes later, a sense of calm descended. I knew you were okay; I knew the threat had passed.”
He fell silent and I pondered his claims. I’d had the mental dialogue with my dead father for a few years now, but I’d always believed there was a rational explanation. Like the one my shrink provided, that it was simply my subconscious mind. But this was different. I’d never even seen this man until a few weeks ago.
“You haven’t really explained,” I said. “You’ve described some very difficult to believe scenarios, but you haven’t explained. And you said ‘soul family.’ What exactly is that?”
Rob laughed. “You’re right. Well, it may or may not satisfy you, but here’s how I’ve explained it to myself.” He leaned back. The chair back held up.
“You recall I spoke to you of spirits when we first met? That’s real, Sam. I know you were skeptical, but I have experienced the spiritual world on numerous occasions in my life. You simply have to open yourself up to it. But what is a spirit, really? It’s the energy of one who has left the physical plane. But those of us still here, in the physical plane, also exude energy. We experience the energy of those around us, every day. But for some reason, and I have a theory on this, the connection between me and you is very strong. Our energies are connected.”
“But Rob,” I interrupted. “After we met, the only time I thought about you was as a suspect.”
“You haven’t opened your mind, that’s all.”
“But I have, I—” Suddenly, I was embarrassed to mention my ongoing mental Father-Daughter talks.
“I’m aware of the link you have with your father, Sam.” Rob turned and looked out toward the beach. “You’re in touch with him, aren’t you?” He waited.
“I guess…”
“He reached out to me too, Sam. Saturday night. I think he facilitated my vision; I think he knew you were running out of time.” Rob turned back to me. “I think that there’s a connection between my ancestors and yours. I know your family dates back to the early settlers. I’ve concluded that at some point, our families were linked. Perhaps my ancestor saved one of yours. Perhaps it was the other way around. I really don’t think we’ll ever know, but I firmly believe that at some point over the past four hundred years, our families were close. Hell, we could even be related. It doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you understand and that you not be afraid. Maybe, you’ll even find a way to embrace this connection we have.”
Rob stood. “I know I’ve given you a lot to think about and I don’t have any intention of inserting myself into your life uninvited. I just thought you deserved to know what I experienced. I do hope we can be friends someday, but that’s entirely up to you.” He walked toward the front door. “Just remember, Sam. I’ll be there to help if you need it.” With that, he let himself out.
Milo’s breath had evened out; his arm felt heavy on my side. As much as I loved having Milo with me in bed and his strong arm around me, my ribs weren’t ready for the weight. I lifted his arm and rolled onto my back.
I stared at the ceiling, running Injun Bob’s story through my mind. I was never going to get used to calling him Rob. Could it be true though? That we were linked, psychically? I hadn’t told Milo about his visit, much less his crazy tale. And yet…his story seemed plausible. He could have just seen me that day, falling through the bushes outside the research library at Plimoth Plantation. But there had been an anonymous call to the state police Saturday night, made from a location that was very close to the address the DMV had on file for one Robert Hopkins. When it came in, however, Sergeant Brueger had already seen Stevens’ car and was seconds away from firing on Stevens. So, though I didn’t think Injun Bob was lying, I wasn’t convinced there was some mystical connection either. And he didn’t actually save my life. But what about his visions? Could we be somehow connected in a non-physical plane? It was a lot to accept, but as I fell asleep I saw his smiling face on the back of my eyelids.
Chapter 48
“Got nice weather for it anyway,” said Grady. “You two enjoy; this little fella will be happy as a clam keeping watch over the fish.” He scratched Pepper’s chin. Pepper generally didn’t like to be held for long, but in Grady’s arms he seemed relaxed.
Laura smiled from Grady’
s side. “He’s always welcome, and Lady could use a bath anyway,” she added, laughing. Some color had returned to Laura’s cheeks and her cough was nearly gone.
Milo put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. “Thanks you two,” he yelled over his shoulder as he pushed me toward the car. “We’ll see you tomorrow night.” Leaning down, Milo whispered in my ear. “Unless I can convince you that we deserve a whole week away?”
Milo opened the door for me and I climbed into the passenger seat. My sore ribs made shifting uncomfortable; I was letting Milo drive the Mini out to Provincetown for a well-deserved weekend getaway.
“Sadly, I don’t have a six-figure bank account like some people,” I said. “I need to get back to work next week. I have three appointments with potential clients,” I added with pride. All those bad-hair shots in the papers had been good for something.
I turned on NPR and Milo and I laughed through an hour of Car Talk. Finally, I turned it off. “If I laugh any more, my ribs aren’t going to heal,” I said. Traffic was light and we were rounding the elbow of the Cape; in another forty-five minutes or so we’d arrive at the tip of Cape Cod, where John Billington and another forty men had signed the Mayflower Compact nearly four hundred years earlier. It seemed fitting. Milo had booked a bed and breakfast for the night. I made a mental note to work that into my next conversation with Mrs. Trimble.
“About your work, Sam…”
“What?” I was thinking about the four-poster bed and decadent breakfast that awaited.
“Well, I was thinking.” Milo cleared his throat. “I mean, we make a pretty good team, right?” He glanced over at me.
I sat up straighter and looked at Milo. “What are you trying to say, Milo?” I had a pretty good idea.
“Well, you know, I have a lot of financial expertise. You could expand your business to include forensic accounting and…” He sighed. “Dear Sir or Madam. Attached is my resume for your consideration. In addition to an MBA from Harvard University…” He laughed and chanced another look at me.
Stalling, I said, “You don’t have your MBA, actually.”
“I’m going to take my last course next semester. I already called my advisor.”
“That’s good.” I looked out the window. The sky was that crisp blue that comes only with turning leaves and falling temperatures.
“I’d like to be your partner, Sam. I’m even willing to invest; we could rent an actual office. Advertise in Boston. Like I said, financial investigation would be my specialty. Law firms are always looking for dirt on public companies after they file class action law suits. I know some people. I could bring in business. And we could work together on the tough cases. And I can keep my eye on you.”
I thought about it for a few more minutes. We were approaching the Wellfleet Wildlife Sanctuary. Did I really want a partner?
“Do you think it’s a good idea for us to work together if we’re dating?” I asked.
“I do. Look, we don’t have to be together 24/7. We can work independently on some cases and together on others.” He paused. “I mean, right now I want to spend every minute with you, Sam. But I know what you mean, what’s worrying you. I’ll give you your space if you need it.” He reached over and took my hand. “I hope you won’t need too much though,” he said and squeezed.
“And what if we break up. Are—”
“We aren’t going to break up.”
I looked over at him. “You sound awfully sure about that.”
“I am,” he said. “But I’m willing to take it slow until you’re sure too.”
Wow. I was thrilled but also terrified. I stared out the passenger window, afraid to let Milo see my eyes. (“Go for it, Sam. I approve,” said Dad.)
“Sam?”
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes and then squeezed Milo’s hand. I opened my eyes and smiled. “If I were interested, just how much would you be willing to pay for half of my business?”
Saturday night in Provincetown is an experience you won’t soon forget. Milo and I were walking along Commercial Street, holding hands and watching the drag queens and entertainers that paraded up and down the strip. P-Town is sometimes called the Key West of the north; it has more same-sex couples per capita than any other city in America. Even though it was off season, plenty of colorful characters were out. It might be fun to bring Charles Smit here some time, just to watch his reaction.
We found an upstairs pizza joint and sat outside under the heat lamps. We sipped our drinks and watched in amusement, laughing out loud at the personalities. There was a man in a long blond wig and a pink ballet tutu with hairy white legs running around the street, doing the occasional arabesque and making kissy faces at some of the more flamboyant queens.
Our pizza came, and as I bit into a slice, I noticed a young male couple walking along the street below. They weren’t in drag, but they were holding hands and at the corner, they stopped and kissed. I set my pizza down and leaned closer.
“Sam, don’t stare,” said Milo.
I shook my head and smiled. I was getting ready to tell him that I knew the guy when my text message alert went off. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and read it. The message was from Dude Number Two. “Got those tix 4 me?” it said. Shit.
“What is it?”
“Tomorrow I need to make a call for some concert tickets.”
“Concert tickets?”
“For Dude Number Two. So he can see the Numb Nuts.” I laughed out loud and Milo just shook his head. I would explain later.
“See that guy down there, the one in blue stripes kissing the guy in the brown hoodie?”
“The ones you were staring at? Yeah.”
“His name is Andrew Mattison. Remind me to show you my report on him sometime.”
Sam Warren, Private Investigator Extraordinaire.
Saints & Strangers (A Sam Warren Mystery) Page 25
