Perfect Trust argi-3

by M. R. Sellars

“Really? It didn’t taste like pork,” he said.

  “That’s because it wasn’t pork either.”

  “Well, it sure as hell wasn’t chicken. I know that much.”

  “You are correct.”

  “Well if it wasn’t beef, pork, or chicken then what the hell was it?”

  “Actually, it was ostrich.”

  My friend slowed his pace, almost stopping as he gave me a long look, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Ostrich. You mean like the big-ass-stickin’-its-head-in-the-sand-bird? You mean, that kinda ostrich?”

  “Actually,” I offered, “they don’t really stick their heads in the sand, they just lay them against the ground.”

  “Ostrich?” he repeated, ignoring the bit of trivia.

  “Yeah,” I nodded as we rounded a landing and picked up the pace once again, “ostrich.”

  “Jeez, white man.”

  “Didn’t you like it?” I asked.

  “I had seconds, didn’t I?”

  “And thirds as I recall, so what’s the problem?”

  “I ate a fuckin’ ostrich, that’s the problem.”

  *****

  I hung back as Ben conferred with Detective McLaughlin at the doorway to the interview room and then after a moment waved me over.

  “Okay, this woman was raped about two weeks ago, and she’s still pretty skittish. Right now she’s okay with you bein’ here,” he told me in a stern whisper. “But here’s the rules-you’re just an observer. Let us handle it, and if ya’ get some kinda hinky Twilight Zone thing goin’ on, gimme some kinda sign so I can get ya’ outta there.”

  “Like what?”

  “I dunno, anything. Better yet, just don’t go off into never-never land on me and we won’t hafta worry about it.”

  “I’ll try,” I said. “That’s all I can do.”

  “Yeah, well try really fuckin’ hard, okay? I don’t need ta’ be worryin’ about ya’ goin’ off the deep end and spookin’ a witness too.”

  Charlee pulled the door wide to allow entry, and we were greeted with a thick haze of blue-white smoke that hung in languid ribbons on the already stale air. A thin shiver arced down my spine, and I knew instantly that I was on the correct path.

  “Miz Hodges,” Charlee said as she shut the door behind us, “this is Detective Storm and Mister Gant. Detective Storm is the officer I was telling you about. Gentlemen, this is Miranda Hodges.”

  The woman seated at the table in the small conference room fit the victim profile perfectly-early twenties, very petite, very blonde, and very pretty.

  She was also very nervous.

  There was a noticeable tremble in her hand as she brought a cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. A half empty pack was on the table in front of her along with a disposable lighter, and the ashtray was filled with better than a half-dozen butts. I stole a glance at my watch. They hadn’t been in here for very long.

  “Hi,” she said in a meek voice then stubbed out the remaining inch of the burning tobacco, only to immediately light another.

  My own craving for nicotine re-awakened, and I wanted desperately to sit down and join her in the chain smoking frenzy but decided that I’d better not. Ben shot me a glance and I nodded perceptibly. I’d been telling him all along that my return to smoking had to be due to the outside influence of a victim. I had simply thought that I was channeling the vice of a dead victim, not a living one. But here was Miranda Hodges, cigarette in hand, and there was no denying the possible correlation. Maybe I was wrong, but I doubted it. The timeline and the intensity of the habit fit.

  I smiled inwardly for a moment. Score another one for me. If things kept falling into place this quickly, I just might get the gift of my sanity for Christmas.

  “Good morning, Miz Hodges,” Ben greeted the young woman as we ventured into the room.

  “Detective McLaughlin told me that you work with Homicide,” Miranda ventured.

  “That’s right,” he answered.

  She looked past Ben and locked her eyes on mine. “Are you with Homicide too, Detective Gant?”

  “Mister Gant is a consultant,” Ben told her, answering before I could open my mouth and heavily stressing the Mister. “He’s helping us with another case, and I thought his input might be valuable here. But if you’re uncomfortable…” he allowed the comment to hang, unfinished.

  “No,” she shook her head. “No, it’s fine. What kind of consultant?”

  “Umm…”

  “Latent memory analysis and dream interpretation,” I interjected, plucking something impressive sounding out of the air since Ben seemed at a momentary loss. I knew full well that I was stepping outside the boundaries that he’d set, but I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity.

  I’d been allowing everyone else to guide me for far too long. I had come to the conclusion that it was my turn to drive.

  “So like a psychiatrist then,” she said.

  “Not exactly,” I told her with a shrug and then nodded as I moved closer to the table. “But something similar I suppose.”

  “I’m not crazy,” she immediately announced.

  “No one thinks you’re crazy, Miz Hodges,” Charlee told her.

  I could feel Ben’s stare burning a large hole in my back. I was going to be in deep trouble with him when this was all over, but I knew he wouldn’t make a scene. Not in here, and not as long as things remained on an even keel anyway. Still, the only way I was going to redeem myself in the least was if I could make some progress, so I continued.

  “Not at all,” I echoed. “I’m just here to help you with your memory, but if you’d rather I leave, I’ll certainly understand.”

  She sat quietly for a long stretch before finally answering, “I’m not so sure I want to remember.”

  “That’s perfectly normal,” I offered calmly, pressing my voice into a soothing monotone. “But eventually we always do. Perhaps not everything, but enough to fill in at least some of the blanks.”

  Her eyes were fixed with mine, and she gave me a nervous smile before looking down at the table. She was outwardly displaying a tenuous amount of confidence in my presence here, and I accepted it for what it was worth. I fought back my own desire to rush headlong into a series of questions and ushered it into the background. I couldn’t afford to betray her trust, nor did I want to.

  “I have plenty of those.” She let out a forced laugh. “Blanks I mean.”

  “Rohypnol does that,” Charlee told her. “That’s one of the reasons it’s called the date rape drug.”

  I continued to watch the young woman, not placing any demands on the situation but keeping my attention focused directly on her. Engaging in a simple exercise, I allowed my breathing to grow more and more shallow as I drew air slowly in through my nose and let it escape from my mouth in a quiet stream.

  “While it may seem painful at first, Miranda,” I offered, keeping the measure of my voice even, “filling in those blanks can offer closure.”

  She turned her gaze back to me and brought her eyes to rest directly on mine once again. I continued to stare, unblinking as I spoke, “And with that closure can come peace of mind.”

  She was beginning to relax as I soothed her with my voice. I could feel a connection beginning to flow between us, and I prepared to press forward. Ben, however, immediately figured out what I was about to do. He had seen me enter into such a hypnotic state before, and he wasn’t going to allow it this time around.

  My friend cleared his throat with almost over-animated gusto and bumped against me. I was betting the move was no accident.

  “Excuse me,” he offered the bogus apology, grabbing my arm as I stumbled. “Clumsy of me. Sorry ‘bout that, Mister Gant.”

  When I caught his eye I knew I’d won my bet. But it didn’t matter. He’d done what he set out to do. The thin connection was broken and Miranda Hodges, wearing a mildly bewildered expression as if she’d just awoke, shook her head and blinked.

  “I want you ta’ know I appreciate ya
’ talking to us,” Ben offered, stepping farther forward and insinuating himself even more prominently into the scene.

  “So why are you interested in this, Detective Storm?” Miranda turned her attention to Ben as she took a hit from her cigarette. “Did…did the sonofabitch that raped me kill someone too?”

  “We don’t know for sure,” he told her. “But I’ll be honest, yes, that is a possibility. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

  Her reaction was instantaneous and not all that unexpected.

  “Oh my God,” she whimpered as she brought her hand up to her mouth. She rolled her eyes up to the ceiling and blinked hard before squeezing them tightly shut. She let out a low, nasal whine as she began trembling. Large tears proceeded to roll down her cheeks, and we all stood in awkward silence.

  I personally erected a shabby wall of ethereal defense against the woman’s burgeoning emotions as I felt a lump begin to rise in my throat. Apparently the empathy I had been missing seemed to have chosen this inopportune moment to return.

  I managed to stave it off, thankful that the distress wasn’t aimed directly at me because I still wasn’t all that well grounded. Right now, I needed to take things one at a time.

  Charlee found a box of tissues and offered it to the young woman. She took them and sniffed loudly as she dabbed at the tears, and then looked up at us and weakly uttered, “I’m sorry.”

  “S’okay,” Ben told her. “Can we get ya’ anything? Maybe somethin’ ta’ drink? Coffee? Soda? Water?”

  “A soda,” she nodded. “A soda would be good.”

  “Particular kind?”

  “Anything diet.”

  “How about you, Chuck?”

  “Coffee’s good. Two creams, four sugars.”

  “Okay, one diet soda and one coffee, two by four,” Ben repeated. “Come on, Rowan, why don’t ya’ come with and gimme a hand. Ladies, we’ll be right back.”

  *****

  “Just what the fuck was that?” Ben snarled at me as we entered the corridor and rounded the corner toward the vending machines.

  I didn’t answer and just kept walking.

  “You were tryin’ ta’ do one of those hocus-pocus things, weren’t ya’?” he continued angrily.

  I felt his large hand come down in a firm grip on my shoulder, and with a quick jerk he twisted me around. “Goddammit, Rowan! Don’t walk away from me when I’m talkin’ to you!”

  “Back off, Ben,” I spat.

  “Me back off?” he asked, incredulity coloring the question. “I talked to ya’ about this before we went in there. You promised me ya’ wouldn’t do any of that shit.”

  “I didn’t promise you anything,” I shot back. “I said I’d try. That’s it.”

  “Ya’ didn’t try very fuckin’ hard!”

  The few people that were in the hallway were giving us wide berth as each of them selected the nearest escape route. Ben was seething, and the very sight of him like this tended to strike fear directly into the heart. He hadn’t been willing to make a scene in front of Miranda Hodges, but apparently once the door to the interview room had closed he had no problem at all with us being center stage.

  “Guess again! I’ve been trying ‘very fucking hard’ for a week now. Maybe it’s your turn!”

  My comment took him completely by surprise. He just stared at me dumbfounded with his jaw hanging open. Whatever biting comment he’d been prepared to hurl at me had instantly evaporated into nothingness. After a moment he spoke, this time with a little less fire in his voice. “So what the hell is that s’posed ta’ mean?”

  I sighed and consciously forced some of my own anger to drain away. “It means that it’s time you started trusting me again.”

  “When haven’t I trusted you?”

  “For the past week, at the very least,” I told him. “Ever since I walked in here with that notepad it has been like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

  “Yeah, well, I thought I had a damn good reason for that.”

  “Fine. I’m willing to accept that. But start adding it up, Ben. How much more do I have to do to prove to you that I’m right? Do you really still have reason to keep shutting me out on this?”

  “You mean besides the fact that you ain’t a copper and have no authority here?”

  “That’s never stopped you from listening before.”

  “I promised Felicity.”

  “And we saw how that ended up, didn’t we?”

  “Yeah, well that wasn’t entirely my fault.”

  “I didn’t say it was.” I shook my head. “It was nobody’s fault. But it’s a moot point anyway. All the promises in the world aren’t going to keep these nightmares out of my head.”

  “But if I keep ya’ out of it, I can keep ya’ safe.”

  “Not from the visions, you can’t.” I shook my head.

  “That’s Felicity’s end of the deal.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I just handle what I can see.”

  “That’s just it. It’s not what you see that’s doing the harm. It’s what I see,” I appealed. “And even she can’t protect me from these things, Ben. I think you’ve both realized that by now. If you haven’t, then you’re blind.”

  “Jeezus, Rowan.” He shook his head and rested one hand on his hip while sending the other up to smooth back his hair and begin massaging his neck. “Man, if I had a freakin’ time machine…”

  “You’d do what? No, let me guess. You’d go back in time and never get me involved in the Ariel Tanner case?”

  “Yeah, somethin’ like that.”

  “We’d still end up right where we are now, Ben.” My voice softened as I spoke. “She was a friend of mine, and I would have gotten involved anyway. You know that. If you hadn’t shown up that night to ask me about the Pentacle at the crime scene maybe someone else would have. Or I would have heard about it somewhere. Even I don’t believe in pre-ordained destiny, but I know I was meant to do this. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have these visions.

  “You need to get over this guilt of yours. The real truth is that neither of us is responsible for this. I know you don’t necessarily believe it, but there’s something bigger at work here, and it’s what keeps dragging me into these things; not you-or even me for that matter. And whether either of us like it or not, that’s my problem, not yours.”

  “Yeah, tell that to my conscience.”

  “That is your problem, not mine,” I told him with a grin.

  He huffed out a heavy sigh. “Shit, white man, every time ya’ get involved in an investigation we end up arguin’ about somethin’.”

  “It’s been a bit worse this time around, hasn’t it?” I acknowledged. “Good thing we’re friends.”

  “Yeah,” he grunted. “So why the hell do we do this?”

  “Probably because we’re both strong-willed individuals who, although we’re seeking the same result, have diametrically opposed ways of going about achieving it.”

  “You have been hangin’ around my sister too much.” He returned his own grin.

  “So have we cleared the air?” I asked after a moment.

  “I’m still not exactly happy with ya’ blindsidin’ me in there like ya’ did,” he returned.

  “Would it help if I apologized?” I asked.

  “Right now? Not much. Later, prob’ly.”

  “I can live with that,” I said. “So can we get back to the business at hand?”

  He gave me a long, hard look then rubbed his chin with the back of his hand before pointing a finger at me. “Can ya’ do this without Felicity here ta’ nail your foot ta’ the floor?”

  “Yeah, I should be okay.”

  “Don’t try ta’ snow me.”

  “I’m not,” I answered with genuine sincerity. “We’re not talking about channeling a spirit here, just a bit of interactive hypnosis. There really shouldn’t be a big problem.”

  “What if the stuff she remembers is graphic? Couldn’t that be a problem?”

  “It pr
obably will be graphic,” I conceded. “But apparently not violent. She’s alive and she obviously wasn’t tortured or anything, so it should be okay.”

  “Nothin’ funky?”

  “Well,” I shrugged as I spoke, “depending on what I see, it could get a little spooky.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I figured,” he nodded. “Better let me fill McLaughlin in before this goes any farther.”

  “So you’re actually going to let me try it my way?”

  “I dunno yet,” he said. “Lemme think about it.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Detective McLaughlin was only inches from colliding with us as we entered through the squad room door on our way back to the interview room. There was an almost wild look contorting her face, and the level of energy she was exuding was physically palpable.

  “Whoa!” Ben jumped back, juggling a pair of hot coffees. He had stuffed the unopened can of soda into his pocket. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Forget about Hodges,” Charlee announced the matter-of-fact statement. “She’s gone.”

  “Do what?” Ben exclaimed. “Whaddaya mean gone?”

  “She left,” she continued, obviously worked up about something. “You guys weren’t gone for two minutes, and she bolted. Said she was sorry, but all she wanted to do is tell me she remembered something about a dress.”

  “It wasn’t because of me was it?” I asked.

  “I doubt it,” she spoke in a rapid fire staccato, her voice building into a near frenzy. “She was still way too spooked when she showed up. I’m surprised she stayed as long as she did to be honest. But anyway, that’s not important.”

  “Not important? But…” Ben started to object.

  “No, listen to me.” Charlee shook her head vigorously and gestured. “I just now got off the phone with University Hospital. They’ve got a thirty-two-year-old blonde rape victim sitting in Emergency right now.”

  Ben stopped cold and looked at her. “You pretty sure it’s our guy?”

  “Can’t be positive, but according to the doc, her neck is bruised up, and she can’t remember where she’s been since Saturday night.”