The Third Eye

by Jenna Rae

  “May I offer a heads-up, Captain?”

  She turned to the lanky thirty-year-old with a quizzical expression. “Sure, what’s the deal?”

  “It’s Commander Young, ma’am. She’s, uh, in a mood.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, irritated on Tori’s behalf by Marcus’s snide sexism. Would he have said the same thing of a male boss? She doubted it.

  She thanked him, her tone a few degrees cooler, and waited for him to slip out and close the door. She turned back to face the wide windows that laid out much of Briarwood’s downtown and a slice of the sea for her appreciative perusal. Traffic was heavy, despite the late-morning hour, and Brenda wondered what Tori thought when she looked out at the view, if she looked out at all. She had a tendency to develop singular focus too.

  The sun shone bright and hot through the glass, and she closed her eyes to savor its warmth on her skin. She had always meant to take Tori to sunny, beautiful places, but they’d done little more in ten years than take a couple of trips to Hawaii and the occasional weekend jaunt to Tahoe or Bodega Bay.

  In the sun, with her eyes closed, she could almost imagine she was on some beautiful beach with Tori lying next to her, her wet hair plastered to her head, her skin burnished and sandy, her face relaxed and open. She heard the door open and close behind her but didn’t turn around, reluctant to let go of her fantasy. When she felt Tori’s arms slip around her waist, at first she could almost think it was part of her daydream. Then she opened her eyes and started to turn. When Tori tightened her grip, Brenda leaned back just a little to nestle into her.

  “I—”

  “Shhhh.” Tori breathed deeply. “You smell good.”

  She closed her eyes again. “So do you.”

  “Mmm.”

  Tori kissed her neck, her ear, her hair. Brenda turned and they faced each other, less than an inch apart. She stroked Tori’s soft, warm skin. She stared into Tori’s eyes, drunk on their intensity. The electric blues were so bright in the sunlight they almost glowed.

  She felt dizzy with desire. All she wanted was to feel Tori’s lips. She leaned forward and offered a tiny, chaste peck on Tori’s cheek. When Tori didn’t resist, she brushed her lips against Tori’s and teased her with a tiny kiss. Tori gave a shaky laugh and shook her head. She held Brenda’s neck and pulled her in for a hungry snogging that made Brenda’s head spin.

  Tori’s lips were soft and warm and inviting. Brenda felt the rest of the world slip away as she clung to Tori and tasted the mouth she’d been missing for months. She felt Tori’s heartbeat, her heat and her immeasurable energy, and she was frantic with the need for more. She clawed at Tori’s suit jacket and dragged it off her to drop it on the floor. Then a filmy white blouse was all that stood between her and Tori’s bounty of soft, kissable skin. She fumbled with the ridiculously small, ludicrously numerous buttons to finally push it out of the way.

  She let her fingers roam lightly over Tori’s neck and shoulder and down her arm as the blouse fell. She grasped Tori’s hand lightly in hers and moved her kisses to Tori’s throat, where her pulse beat in a frantic rhythm.

  Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. She only saw shadows and felt her pulse exploding inside her every half second. She was dizzy and nauseous. She broke away from Tori and staggered toward the divan. She collapsed onto its unforgiving cushions and held a hand over her eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  Tori sounded far away, and she nodded, unable to speak for a few seconds.

  “I pushed you,” said Tori, who sank down next to her. “I’m sorry.”

  She shook her head. “No,” she finally said. “I just… Suddenly I couldn’t breathe.”

  “Well, you always said I was breathtaking.”

  She choked, and before she knew it, she and Tori were in each other’s arms, this time hooting with laughter like two hysterical schoolgirls. They laughed until her stomach hurt. Finally Tori sobered and shook her head.

  “God, I needed that.”

  “I don’t know what to think of this.”

  Tori shook her head. “Neither do I. Let’s come back to it later, okay?”

  She searched Tori’s eyes but couldn’t read what was in them. Finally she nodded agreement.

  They parted as something like friends, and she wondered how long that would last. She hoped she wouldn’t lose that friendship too. She also hoped she could keep her word and bring Peterson back to his friends, bring Smith back to her young daughter and bring Fortune back to her dealer.

  Chapter Twelve

  Brenda stopped by her house and then drove to the dark square that housed Briarwood Watchdogs’ headquarters. The ominous exterior featured matte black tiles and dark tinted windows. The parking lot was ringed in chain-link fence topped with concertina wire. She took a quick survey around the block. Oddly, there seemed to be only a single point of entry on one side of the fortress’s perimeter.

  An oversized gate featured six uniformed guards standing in a rigid formation that didn’t afford them a view of anything but the strip mall across the street. Each of the young men had sweat rings under his arms and on his chest and back, and sweat glistened on each shorn head.

  With this little field trip in mind, she’d changed into a black polo shirt and dark gray cargo pants, but quality technical fabric meant the outfit was breathable, lightweight and comfortable in a way the guards’ uniforms clearly were not. Her low black boots and short hair would, she hoped, help her blend in without looking too much like she was trying to do so. In the testosterone-heavy world of Dan Miller, one was either a cupcake in a club dress or a pseudo-military wannabe in a uniform.

  The Watchdogs compound was supposed to look imposing and authoritative, but it was a showcase of bravado. The militaristic, macho posturing of Dan Miller and his undertrained guards screamed of insecurity and fragile ego, and she suppressed a groan as she approached the guard gate.

  Two black-shirted guards walked around her Caliber while a third stood by her open window and held up his hand. His tinted sunglasses and shaved head were meant to look tough, but they only accentuated his protuberant ears and florid razor rash.

  “Ma’am, only authorized personnel are permitted on these premises.”

  She smiled up at the boy with what she hoped was disarming ease. She took off her sunglasses and blinked wide eyes at him, while employing the vocal characteristics of the young lingerie shop employee.

  “Sure, totally, sir. It’s just that, um, Mr. Miller? That’s the boss here, I think? He asked me to come by here today. He’s in like China or India or something? And he wanted me to redesign the uniforms. They’re kind of itchy, I guess? And they don’t breathe, so you guys get super hot. And, uh, not in the sexy way?”

  For the first time, the guard showed an inch of humanity. “Really? We been complaining—not that we would, I mean, but, these shirts suck. Ma’am.”

  “Mr. Miller feels super bad about it, but you know how it is. He can’t look weak by admitting they were less than perfect, so he’s having me do it while he’s in India. You know what I mean?”

  The kid pursed his lips and nodded. “But you’re not on the list.”

  “Shoot! That means I can’t do my job. I think Mason was supposed to make sure I got on the list. Mason Harding? Do you know him? Is he here today?”

  “Oh, man. That’s the guy… His girlfriend just died. She was a lady cop.”

  Blinking at the term, she nodded. “I just feel so bad for him. I don’t want him to get in trouble with the boss.”

  The guard grimaced, and she wondered what Miller was like when he took off his public-relations mask. If this employee’s reaction was any indication, Miller was less than charming under pressure. Weak leaders often were.

  “But I don’t want you to get in trouble either. I don’t know what to do!” She threw up her hands as though helpless to come up with a solution.

  “Oh, no, don’t even worry about me.” Youth-fueled bravado kicked in, and the guard nodded a
s if to reassure himself. One of his gang muttered something at him, but the kid waved him off with a frown. “I got rank on these guys. I’m shift leader. I can take the heat.”

  “Really? That’s so sweet of you. I really appreciate it. Do I need like a badge or anything?”

  The young man snapped his fingers at the guard behind him. “Get this lady a badge. Oh, what’s your name, ma’am?”

  “Sandy, Sandy Watts.” She smiled brilliantly at the naïve young guard and watched him fumble with his clipboard while the other undertrained watchman handed her a guest badge.

  “There we go.” His smile faltered slightly, and she touched his hand with her own.

  “And what’s your name, sir?”

  “Mikey, Michael. Mike. Martinez.”

  “Oh, Mike, you’ve been so great. Thank you! Will you be here when I leave?”

  “Probably, I guess.”

  “Then I’ll see you on my way out, Mike.” She grinned as his unease dissipated, and she toodled her fingers as she cruised slowly past the ineffective guards and into the parking lot.

  Guest badge in hand, she left behind the sweat patrol and drove around the side of the building, where she’d noticed the largest concentration of cars. If the employees liked to park there, it probably meant the side entrance was close to the elevator or far from the boss’s office.

  She parked near the outside end of the second row from the middle and was eyeballing the discreet northern entrance when her phone buzzed a call. She glanced at a number she didn’t recognize and took a breath before answering.

  Her hello was greeted with a loud exhalation that made her pull the phone away from her ear. She frowned before listening again.

  “Captain Borelli? Ma’am?”

  “Who is this?”

  “Uh, Mason. Mason Harding, do you know who I am?” His deep voice seemed tight with anxiety or tension.

  “I’m sorry for your loss, Mr. Harding.” She scanned the almost-featureless face of the building in front of her. Anything could happen in there and no one would see it. Was she letting its forbidding façade fool her into thinking Briarwood Watchdogs was more sinister than amateurish? Was Harding looking out at her right now? Why hadn’t he returned her calls until she’d shown up at his workplace? She turned slightly in her seat as if she could see into the tinted windows of the monolith.

  “Thanks. Uh, can I talk to you? I mean, now?”

  She decided to play dumb. “Sure, I’ll meet you wherever you like. Where are you?”

  His breathing changed, and she heard echoes as in a stairwell. “I’m coming to you. In the Caliber, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll come get in your car, if that’s cool.”

  She turned a bit more and scooted her seat back a few inches before adjusting the passenger seat forward. She was less than thrilled with having him in her car, but she’d wanted to talk to Tami Sheraton’s boyfriend for days. If this was what it took, then so be it, but she had to give herself some tactical advantages. She clipped her seat belt behind her and turned a good thirty degrees toward the passenger side. She also changed the angle of her seat so she could fit her arm comfortably between her and the seat back without it getting pinned beside her.

  Thirty seconds later a rangy, bespectacled young man slipped out of an unmarked black door and loped toward her. His brutally shorn head, black-rimmed eyeglasses and long, scrawny limbs made him look too young for the uniform that hung on his tall, narrow frame. She blinked in surprise. She’d pictured beautiful Tami Sheraton’s boyfriend as an Adonis, muscular and tousle-haired.

  She unlocked the car’s doors and waited for him to slide in. Her hand hovered near her waistband, and she had to push away unease at being trapped inside her car with someone she didn’t know in hostile territory.

  He blinked owlishly at her when she extended her hand, and then he pumped it awkwardly across the narrow center console. It was like shaking hands with a giant spider inside a matchbox. His fingers were cold, despite the heat. His grip was weak, his skin dry.

  Close up, Mason Harding looked like a refugee from a high school computer camp. He was painfully gaunt and hollow-eyed. While dark with pain, his eyes were clear. His skin was stretched too tightly over jutting cheekbones, but it, too, was clear. His teeth looked expensively perfect.

  “Thanks for seeing me,” he said in a surprisingly deep, resonant voice. She smiled, thinking Sheraton might have fallen for the rich, sonorous tones he produced. Over the phone he’d merely sounded gravelly. In the acoustic confines of the compact car, he sounded like a movie star from a more glamorous era.

  “Right back at you,” she said.

  “Sorry for not calling you back.”

  “I imagine you’ve been focused on just getting through the days and nights.”

  “Uh, yeah,” he laughed, a bitter sound. “Pretty much.”

  He faced front and made a rueful face, swallowing hard a few times and then glancing around the parking lot like he thought someone might be watching them. His long legs were folded in front of him in the confines of the shortened passenger enclosure, but he made no move to change his seat’s position. His knees were inches from his chest, and she realized he wasn’t even aware of how restricted his movements were.

  “Is this a good place to talk or would someplace else work better?”

  “I don’t have anything to hide. I just don’t normally spend work hours off my post.” He laughed. “I’m not a guard, by the way. That’s just the way they talk here. I’m a computer geek, as Tam put it. It doesn’t matter if they fire me, really. Force of habit to think of it, I guess. I wanted to show her I was a regular guy and I could do a regular job. She was so opposed to moneyed privilege, the idle rich.”

  Brenda nodded slowly.

  “Listen, I wanted to thank you. Tam thought a lot of you.” He swallowed again. “She really looked up to you. When you came in the gate, I recognized you right away. We have cameras.” He gestured vaguely in several different directions.

  She bit her lip. “I wish I’d gotten to know her better. You called her Tam?”

  “That’s how she introduced herself to me once we were out of costume. Cosplay convention. She was Furiosa, and I basically stalked her for two days. I was Cloud.” He rubbed the stubble of his head, knocking his elbow into the window to his right and mumbling an apology. “My hair was longer then.”

  She didn’t know who those characters were, but he smiled at the memory, so she mirrored his expression, taking care not to overdo it.

  He again rubbed the top of his head, this time with his left hand. His arm was so long that his elbow came within a few inches of her face, and she stiffened. But he dropped his arm and buried his face in his hands. Loud, ugly sobbing racked his narrow frame, and he hunched over until his forehead, framed by his knees, almost touched the dashboard.

  She waited him out for a few seconds before snagging a handful of tissues and shoving them at his arm. Snuffling, he scrubbed at his eyes and blew his nose a few times. Finally he sat back up and held the wad of wet tissues in his upturned palm.

  “She was such a good person. Smart, real, beautiful. Compassionate, so warm and so good. The most honest person I ever knew.” He sagged helplessly against the back of the seat. “I loved her. I don’t know why she loved me back, God knows I’m not much to look at, and she didn’t need my money. But she really did love me back.”

  She nodded, her expression receptive. She noted his mention of his money. Did he have more family money than Sheraton, or was he unaware of her family’s financial resources?

  “I miss her every minute. It’s like somebody carved out the middle of my chest and left a rock in there. I don’t know how to live the rest of my life without her.”

  She was surprised to find herself blinking away her own incipient tears. “I’m sorry.”

  The bereft young man closed his eyes and then snapped them open. “Thanks. Thank you. I’m sorry for losing it like that. I�
�ve always been a real softie. My whole family’s real macho. They think I’m a wuss. Maybe I am.”

  “She didn’t think so,” he said. “She thought I was pretty great, actually. But she was the amazing one. We used to talk about everything. I would have done anything for her.” He blinked several times and cleared this throat. “She wasn’t sure at first—that’s why you’re here, I guess—about Mark being a crook. She thought maybe she misunderstood.”

  “She wanted to be sure before she said anything?” She spoke softly. She needed Harding to keep talking.

  “Yeah, exactly. She used to make these maps. If this was true, then these five things had to be true too. And she’d look at them, the second tier, she called them. If one of them wasn’t true, then she’d have to adjust the first tier. Like that. It was complicated the way she did it. Painstaking. But smart. She thought of things I never would have thought of. Like she could see inside things to what was really there. I used to call her X for x-ray sometimes, to tease her, you know, because of Professor X? Almost psionic. Not really, but sort of.”

  He laughed and bit his lip and looked down at his big hands, one of which was still clutching a wad of damp tissues. He looked at the white mess as though he didn’t recognize what it was, and then he sat silent and still.

  “I noticed that,” she said, her voice low like she was in church. “She saw patterns where other people didn’t. Structures underneath. Sounds like you do something like that too.”

  “She didn’t always tell people what she saw, because they didn’t see it too, so they didn’t always believe. She had to get proof, she said.”

  “The camera.”

  He turned to her, a universe of pain in his dark, shadowed eyes. “She didn’t tell me. I wouldn’t have wanted her to do it. I would’ve tried to stop her. I wanted to protect her but she didn’t want me to. She started keeping secrets from me so I wouldn’t worry. If I hadn’t tried to stop her, maybe she would’ve told me and I could’ve helped her. You know where I was when she got killed?”