Blind Sight

by Terri Persons

  “It’s alive!”

  “What’s alive?”

  “The baby,” Bernadette panted. “Lydia’s baby. It has to be hers.”

  “Where? What do you see?”

  “Nothing now.” She tossed the fabric down. “I fucking lost it.”

  “Cat…”

  “Give me a minute,” she said, and blinked to try to clear her eyes.

  “This is unbelievable,” Garcia said.

  She felt him get up from the bed. “There are two killers,” she said to the darkness.

  “What? How do you know?”

  She closed her eyes tight and opened them slowly. “I switched from one set of eyes to another. Went from one room to another. Back and forth. Might have been in two different houses.”

  “Crap! Has that ever happened before?”

  “I don’t… I can’t… I don’t remember.” She was distracted by his questions as she tried to get her regular sight back. Tipping her head up, she hoped the skylight and its stars would come into view.

  “Is the baby in any danger?”

  “Not that I can tell. The killer was feeding her … giving her a bottle.”

  “Her? You know it’s a girl?”

  “She was swaddled in pink.”

  “What else?” Garcia asked excitedly.

  “A short guy with a shaved head was talking to the other killer. It was in a room filled with big-game trophies. It had a window looking out over a lake filled with ice shacks on it.”

  “Was it happening right now or—”

  “Yes. I think so.” She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands.

  “Where? Somewhere close? Every lake in the state is covered with fish shacks. Was it up here?”

  “Stop asking so many questions!” She could hear him stomping around her. Angry and frustrated, she didn’t know if it was the killers’ emotions rising up in her or her own. “Leave me alone for a minute!”

  “What is it, Cat?”

  “I can’t see,” she whispered, more to herself than to Garcia.

  “I know,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “You just told me you lost the connection.”

  “No,” she said hoarsely, and brushed his hand off her. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “What’re you saying?”

  “I can’t see anything with my regular eyesight. I’m completely blind.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Garcia brought new meaning to the phrase “freaked out.”

  “Son of a bitch!” he bellowed.

  Before Bernadette could raise an argument, he scooped her up from the bed. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she hung on tight as he bounded down the stairs. The sensation of getting jostled around in complete darkness was terrifying and a little exciting. A carnival ride controlled by a drunken operator.

  When they landed on the first floor, Garcia dropped her on the couch. She heard his truck keys jingling. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “I’m warming up the Titan.”

  The possibility of being left alone like this infused her with terror. She struggled to keep her voice calm. “Where are you going?”

  “We’re going back to the hospital.”

  She could hear fabric rustling. He was putting on his coat. “We were just there a couple of hours ago.”

  “This has got to have something to do with your concussion. They said if your symptoms got worse I was supposed to bring you back in.”

  “Sudden blindness was not on the list of things to watch for,” she said. “I really don’t think this has anything to do with it.”

  “Shaken infants go blind.”

  “I wasn’t shaken, and I’m not an infant.”

  “Can’t be a coincidence.”

  The prospect of revealing her unnatural abilities to a layman unhinged her more than losing her eyesight. “Tony. Think about it, when Hessler asks what I was doing right before this happened, what are we going to tell him?”

  “So what if he knows? He’s a medical doctor. Patient privacy. He has to keep it confidential.”

  “He won’t. By morning, everyone will know. I’ll be turned into a circus act.”

  “We don’t have to tell him shit then,” said Garcia. “We’ll say you were getting ready for bed when everything went black.”

  She heard him pull the door open. “Tony. No. I am not going to spend another three hours in that damn—”

  The door slammed.

  Her heart was pounding, and she had to force herself to sit motionless on the couch. She needed to derail another trip to the ER. As shaken as she was by the loss of her regular sight, she didn’t want to go back to the hospital and risk being exposed. Even if Garcia was correct in assuming that this had something to do with her head injury, she couldn’t imagine there was anything Hessler could do about it at this hour. He worked at a small hospital in the middle of the woods. If her sight didn’t return by dawn, she’d have Garcia drive her to a medical center in the Twin Cities. Besides, if Hessler did have something to do with the killings, he was the last person she wanted to trust with something as precious as her eyes. Keeping her blind could only help his cause.

  She heard the door open and Garcia stomp his feet. He brought a cold draft inside with him, and she rubbed her arms. “Were you raised in a barn?” she asked, working to lighten her voice and defuse the situation.

  “Love it when you talk farm talk to me,” he said, and closed the door. He walked next to her. “I’ve got your coat. Stand up and I’ll help you with it.”

  She shook her head and fastened her hands over the edge of the cushions. “I am not moving from this couch.”

  “I’ll throw you over my shoulder and haul you out of here like a sack of potatoes.”

  “Oh yeah, big shot? I’d really like to see you …” She stopped herself, and laughed dryly.

  “That isn’t funny,” he said.

  “You’re smiling, aren’t you? I can hear it in your voice. You’re cracking up.”

  “I am not,” he said stiffly.

  Bernadette felt the couch sag as he sat down beside her. Making like Helen Keller, she put her hands on his face and ran her fingertips over his mouth. “You are. You’re ready to crack up, you sick bastard.”

  “You’re tickling me.” He put his fingers over hers and pulled her hands down. “You’re trembling. You’re scared.”

  “I’m cold.” She yanked her hands away from him. “Now go shut off the truck and come back inside. Put another log on.”

  “Then what?”

  “Then we have a glass of wine in front of the fire and relax.”

  “Your sight—”

  “Is going to come back,” she said. “I’m absolutely certain.”

  “How?”

  “I have a plan,” she said.

  “Let’s hear it. If it’s not good, we’re going with my plan. The sane plan.”

  “You’re wasting gas.”

  She felt him get up from the couch, heard the door open and close. She fell back against the cushions and tried to quickly come up with some bullshit that would satisfy him. Only one thing came to mind, and she wasn’t looking forward to it. Her head still ached, and she was exhausted. At the same time, she was curious in a clinical sort of way. Would it work, or would it screw her up even further? Would it cause something temporary to become something permanent? There was only one way to find out.

  “Absolutely not,” said Garcia. “That’s how you lost your eyesight in the first place.”

  “Hear me out,” she said.

  “I’m listening,” he said, and sat down next to her.

  Garcia was fiddling with his keys. He wasn’t going to roll over on this one. She talked fast. “The blackness I saw before when I used my vision, that must have been my sight struggling to get a lock on two sets of eyes. Well, it finally did it. It figured out how to go back and forth.”

  “So …”

  “So …” She was making this up as
she went along. “So I got a sort of whiplash from whipping back and forth between homicidal maniacs. I’ve … I don’t know … disturbed something related to my special sight. Knocked something loose. Thrown something off balance.”

  “But your concussion …”

  “Could have made me more vulnerable to damage. I’ll give you that one.”

  “How in the hell is returning to the front lines going to fix it?”

  She had to admit that the more she explained her plan, the less sense it made. Then again, her special sight didn’t make sense, either. Instinct told her that this idea of hers could work. “Trust me on this.”

  “If it doesn’t pan out, we’re going back to the ER.”

  “When the sun comes up.”

  “Immediately.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t trust Hessler as far as I can throw him and his cauldron.”

  “I’ll drive you to Minneapolis. University of Minnesota Medical Center.”

  If her scheme didn’t work, she’d be ready to go back to the cities. The longer this lasted, the more anxious she became. “Agreed,” she said.

  “Where do you want to do it?”

  She didn’t want to move around the cabin, with him leading her. Demoralizing. “Right here would work,” she said. “But you’ll have to find that sliver of cloth. I think we dropped it on the floor in all the commotion.”

  He got up from the couch and returned a minute later. Sat down next to her. “Let me know when.”

  Holding up her right palm, she announced, “I’m ready.”

  “You’re shivering.” He started to get up. “I’m going to turn up the heat.”

  She reached for him and felt his shirt. Pulled him back down. “I lied,” she said. “I am afraid.”

  “You sure you want to go through with this? We could hop in the truck right now and head south. Mayo Clinic. We could drive straight through. We’d be in Rochester before—”

  “Give it,” she said.

  Garcia placed his hand under hers to steady her and dropped the fabric into her palm. Curling his fist over hers, he said, “Good luck.”

  Even though she was blind, she closed her eyes. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. They both sat in silence, neither moving. A log tumbled in the hearth, and the sound seemed to fill the entire cabin. She opened her eyes.

  “What do you see?” Garcia whispered.

  “Nothing,” she said, fighting the panic that was building inside.

  “So this isn’t working,” he said, shifting his weight on the cushions.

  She put her left hand on his thigh. “Give me some time. I’m distracted.”

  He put his hand over hers. “You feel like an icicle. I’m putting more wood on the fire.”

  As he opened the glass doors, she felt a rush of heat on her face. She wondered what it would be like never again to see the flames. Never again to see anything. Could she live that way? Maybe it was the price she paid for wielding supernatural tools. One sense exchanged for another. If only the choice had been laid out to her at the onset, she would never have opted to keep this gift. A mundane life with normal eyesight and no psychic upgrades, that would have been her first pick.

  As if cuing in on that thought, she was suddenly back again, in the kitchen.

  Then back in the trophy room.

  Back to the kitchen.

  Trophy room.

  Kitchen.

  “Stop!” she yelled, and closed her eyes. Unfurled her fist. Tipped the fabric onto her lap.

  Garcia: “Cat?”

  Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw that he was standing in front of her. She looked up at him. “Tony.”

  “Can you see me?”

  She blinked twice and rose to her feet. “I can see you.”

  “Is stuff out of focus or blurry or—”

  “It’s good. Like before.” She took a step forward and started to sway. “I’m just a little woozy.”

  He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “Take it easy.”

  “I’m just worried that—”

  “What?”

  “I think my sight, my special sight … I was jerking back and forth between the two killers’ eyes … It’s not supposed to work that way. I think it’s permanently screwed up.”

  “If it is, we’ll manage.”

  “But what good would I be to you?”

  He rubbed her back. “You’re an excellent agent, with or without it.”

  “The only reason the bureau keeps me around is because I can do things the others can’t. If I’ve lost it, they’re going to send me packing.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

  “You’d put yourself at risk, and I can’t let you do that.” She started to pull away from him, and he tightened his hold. “What’re you doing?”

  “Read my mind.”

  “Funny.”

  He bent down and kissed her along the side of the neck. “This was a long time coming, Cat.”

  “We can’t do this,” she said, and in the same instant found herself leaning into him.

  “Didn’t this scare teach you?” he growled into her neck. “Life’s too fucking short.”

  “What about our jobs? This case? The work?”

  “It’ll all be there in the morning,” he said.

  • • •

  They returned to the bed in the loft.

  It was too bright, so she threw her panties over the shade. She was glad she’d worn something lacy instead of her usual Jockey briefs.

  He’d been working out with weights for years, and had the big arms and rippled abdominal muscles to show for it. He wasn’t excessively pumped but, rather, looked like someone who’d been working on a farm all his life. It was a look that aroused her and made her nostalgic; she wanted the night to last.

  He went down on top of her, and his mouth went to her breasts. She buried her hands in the top of his dark head. He smelled clean and fresh. Someone who’d been outside all day. She opened her legs to him, but he held back. He lifted his mouth off her breasts and breathed into her ear: “Let me know if I’m too rough. It’s been so long.”

  “For me, too.” Running her hands over his back, she enjoyed how hard and smooth he was under her palms. She gently grazed the back of his neck with her nails.

  “Feels good,” he said.

  She ran her fingers down the length of his body, dragging her nails from his shoulder blades down to his lower back. Raking his buttocks, she whispered, “What about that?”

  “Yeah,” he moaned, and returned his mouth to her breasts.

  She cupped the back of his head with her hand and arched her back. “Tony.”

  He pulled his mouth off her and grabbed her breasts, bunching them in his hands and kneading them. The entire time, he kept his attention focused on her face. “Am I hurting you?”

  “It’s good,” she said, looking up at him with narrow eyes.

  He lowered his lips to hers and kissed her. His tongue darted into her mouth. As he withdrew it, she scraped his tongue with her teeth. “You are so beautiful,” he said.

  As he increased the force of his thrusts, she locked her arms and legs around him. “I’m going to come.”

  “Not yet,” he said, and raised his body off hers.

  “No,” she said.

  “I’m not done.” Ducking his head down, he disappeared under the covers.

  She felt him kissing the inside of her thighs. He came up from under the covers and entered her again. They climaxed together, and fell asleep at the same time.

  In the middle of the night, she was shaken awake. “I’m good, I’m not dead,” she croaked. “You don’t have to get me up.”

  He climbed on top of her, and they made love twice before falling back asleep.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Shivering, she awoke on her back just before dawn to sheets damp with sweat. Collapsed facedown on the bed, Garcia was snoring into the pillow. One of his long legs was thrown care
lessly across her body. What would he think of her after last night? What did she think of herself? Sex had a way of ruining more things than it fixed.

  Stirring and mumbling, he flipped onto his back. “Cat?”

  “Yeah?” She held her breath, waiting for him to blurt something about how they’d made a massive mistake. Their careers were in jeopardy. It can never happen again. The sky was falling. Their world had turned to shit.

  Instead, he rolled on top of her and buried his mouth in the crook of her neck. “Good morning,” he said against her skin.

  “Good morning,” she said softly.

  “That was fun last night,” he said, lifting his face off her neck.

  She smiled at him; he looked like a sleepy puppy “You hungry?”

  “Yeah, I am.” He pushed her legs apart with his thighs.

  She inhaled sharply. “Wait…”

  “I’m sorry,” he stammered. “I hurt you. I’m …”

  She pressed against his lower back, holding him where he was. “No. It’s okay. It’s good.”

  He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her on her bottom lip. “You and I…”

  Here it comes, she thought. “Yeah?”

  “We really needed it.”

  “We did,” she said.

  He rocked gently and returned to nibbling on her neck.

  He fell back asleep. Typical guy. She slipped out of bed, stepped into her panties, pulled a sweatshirt on over her head and socks on her feet. Padded down the stairs. The cabin was cold, and she wanted to get a fire going. Get breakfast going, too.

  He came down half an hour later wearing boxers, a tank T-shirt, black socks, and his cabin slippers. “That coffee smells good.”

  She eyed his attire and stifled a laugh. “Uh … Decaf, unfortunately. It’s all Ed had on hand.”

  “This place is fucking freezing,” he said, rubbing his arms.

  “I stoked the fire,” she said as she stood at the stove, stirring some scrambled eggs.

  “Ed’s not gonna like his next heating bill, but what the hell.” He hobbled over to the thermostat and turned up the furnace. “You checked the date on those eggs, I hope.”

  She examined the carton. “Expired two weeks ago.”

  “Won’t kill us.” Garcia opened the freezer, took out a slab of bacon, and put it in the microwave. “Let’s have some of this pork action, too.”