****
Jack shifted in his seat and their legs touched, sending shock waves down her body. Katherine feigned disinterest as Beauregard blustered around next to her. His legs were too long, and he was too bulky to fit into his seat comfortably. Understandable, since he was the size of an ox. Of course, he had insisted on the aisle seat, even though that was her seat of preference.
Her real preference had been to sit in first-class, like she was used to, but she was working for the government now—actually two governments, the Cities of Atlanta and Sydney—so the roomy seats, solicitous service, and white tablecloth dinners were just a dream. If this airline even had a first-class section.
Katherine buckled up as the plane began its descent into Sydney. She was absolutely beat, out of sorts, and tired of tasteless airplane food, flirty flight attendants, and the stale smell in the cabin. And she was tired of being locked in, of sitting in this same tight spot for almost twenty-four hours, tired of being watched constantly by her own personal guard dog.
Katherine couldn’t wait to get to the hotel. She was dying for a hot shower and the opportunity to relax for a while in her cozy (she hoped) hotel room and enjoy a good seafood dinner from room service. She was up for some tasty Balmain bugs, which Beauregard’s travel guidebook defined as butterfly fan lobsters that thrived in the waters around Australia. Then she was going to hibernate for the evening so she could be refreshed before their morning appointment with the commander of the New South Wales Police Force.
She and Beauregard were definitely not on the same page of the guidebook, or any other book. She sensed he had no intention of lounging around the hotel. Right now, he was probably mentally outlining all the things he wanted to do when he got into the city—starting with a bus tour of Sydney to get acclimated and a stop at Bondi Beach. For a guy who went strictly by the book, that didn’t sound like proper police procedure. How could his mind be on sightseeing when a serial killer was on the loose? She was willing to wager that Beauregard was a country bumpkin, a mama’s boy who had never traveled out of his comfort zone.
“We could visit the Sydney Opera House,” Jack said, leafing through the Sydney guidebook he’d had his nose buried in since they’d taken off from Atlanta, when he wasn’t tailing her or sleeping or eating. He’d probably memorized it by now.
“The guidebook says the Shangri-La Hotel is conveniently located in the historic Rocks district, right in the heart of Sydney’s City Centre,” he told her. “That’s very close to the Central Sydney police station where our meeting is. The Shangri-La is supposed to have killer views of the Opera House and Sydney Harbour Bridge.”
“You should be less concerned with killer views and more worried about the serial killer.” Jack didn’t have to see the faces of the victims or feel their suffering. If he did, he wouldn’t be making such idiotic suggestions.
“You’ve never really been involved in a serial killer case, have you?” Jack asked pointedly.
Katherine didn’t want to admit she was scared or unsure of herself, but there was no way around the fact that she was out of her element. She sold artwork for a living, serious artwork, to buyers with serious money, but she had no experience with serial killers or the seamier side of life.
“No, this will be my first time.”
“Well, I have, and it’s not pleasant,” said Jack, kicking his legs out. “We will find this guy, but I think we need some downtime before our ordeal, to get our bearings. It’s always a good idea to immerse yourself in the city, get the lay of the land.”
Downtime sounded good to Katherine. Lack of sleep and the constant barrage of visions had her head pounding. But her idea of downtime was not sightseeing.
“There’s even something called a Sydney Harbour Bridge Climb that starts right around the corner from our hotel,” Jack said.
“You want to climb a bridge after an exhausting plane trip?”
“Why not? It will get the blood flowing. After the climb, we can relax and hang out at Circular Quay, maybe take a commuter ferry to the Taronga Zoo, see some koalas, some kangaroos. I understand they have some great kangaroo on the menu Down Under, too. Our appointment isn’t until tomorrow, so we’ve got the whole day ahead of us to do whatever we want.”
“Hold on there, Beauregard.” Katherine bristled. “Besides the fact that you are gross and disgusting to even mention seeing kangaroos and eating them in the same breath, we are not going anywhere together. For one thing, we’re not here on a sightseeing trip. This is all about police business.”
“Then why don’t we go straight to police headquarters? Why did you insist on waiting a day?”
“Because I knew I’d be exhausted after our twenty-four-hour flight,” Katherine complained. “I can’t see straight or think straight. And my brain is turning to mush. My internal time clock is all out of whack. In order to do what I have to do, I have to be rested so I can concentrate, open myself up to feel things, focus. How can you even think of sightseeing when there’s a serial killer on the loose?”
“The guidebook says the best way to overcome jet lag is to get on with your day, eat your meals, and stay awake,” said Jack, openly thumbing through the guidebook to find the passage he was citing.
“Do you believe everything you read in there?” Katherine retorted, reaching over to grab the guidebook from him. “What if the guidebook told you it would be a bigger thrill to jump off the Sydney Harbour Bridge than to climb it? Would you jump?”
“Maybe, with a parachute or a bungee cord.”
“You like to live dangerously. I prefer to get my adventure fix watching TV from the safety of my hotel room.”
“If the psychic prima donna needs her beauty rest...”
“Take that back,” Katherine said irritably.
“I’m only speaking the truth. Admit it. You have no idea who the killer is, what he looks like, or where he is. This whole trip is a big boondoggle to you, but as long as we’re here—”
“If you really believe that, then you’re even more of a jerk than I thought.”
Jack shrugged.
“What time is it?” Katherine asked.
“You’re the psychic. You tell me.”
“You know what I mean. Sydney time.”
“How should I know?”
As if on cue, a voice came over the loudspeaker.
“This is Captain Hayes. We’re about to land in Sydney. It is currently eight a.m. Sydney time. Thunderstorms are predicted for later this afternoon. On behalf of your Sydney flight crew, we’d like to thank you for flying with Koala Blue Airlines today. We hope you enjoyed your flight and that you enjoy your stay in Sydney. It was a pleasure serving you, and we hope to see you back again soon on Koala Blue.”
Thunderstorms. Perfect. She should have predicted that. The weather fit her mood exactly.
Jack Hale had made no secret of the fact he thought she was bizarre. He’d pitched a hell of a fit when his superiors ordered him to accompany her to Sydney. He wasn’t a babysitter. She was a quack. She knew nothing about police procedure. Blah, blah, blah. He had bordered on insubordination and had almost been fired over it. He’d definitely gotten his ass handed to him. That had been fun to watch. For a giant, he didn’t have such a big brain, and he wasn’t very flexible.
Finally, his sergeant had settled it.
“Young Jack, I’m making allowances for you because I knew your father,” said Sarge at the end of the upbraiding. “Everything isn’t always black-and-white. I’ll admit this is a little unorthodox, but what choice do we have? The media is watching every move we make. We’re out of options, and we need all the help we can get. You will either accompany Miss Crystal to Sydney or you can walk out this door now and leave your shield behind.” He hesitated, offering a last piece of advice. “Your father was not a quitter.”
Jack had grumbled, but in the end he had caved. Katherine smiled at the memory, did a little victory dance in her mind. She was determined to be taken seriously.
> From what she could tell, Beauregard was as rigid as a stone, a play-by-the-rules kind of guy who wasn’t bothered by shades of gray or nuances. You were either right or you were wrong. He had obviously already written her off as irrational, and his goal was to make sure the police in Sydney got the same impression of her.
Well, she had a goal, too. To help the NSW Police Force catch their serial monster in record time so she could get out of there and as far away from Beauregard Lee Jackson Hale as possible.
Chapter Four
Sydney, Australia
Jack stepped up to the registration desk at the Shangri-La Hotel while Katherine soaked in the soothing décor of what was obviously a first-class hotel. Impressive setup. Now this was more like it.
“Reservations for Hale and Crystal.”
The woman behind the counter typed their names into her computer and frowned. “Is that Catherine Crystal with a C or Katherine Krystal with a K?”
“Katherine with a K and Crystal with a C,” Katherine answered, relieved that at least one person in the world hadn’t heard of her.
“Here it is. The gentleman who made the reservation requested one room.”
Katherine stepped up to the counter, elbowing Jack out of the way. “There must be some mistake,” Katherine insisted. “I don’t want to be anywhere near this man.”
“I have a lovely suite with a king bed reserved for Detective Jack Hale and guest.”
“Well, I’d like a room on a separate floor,” Katherine replied. “Preferably a separate property.”
The desk clerk’s hands flew over the computer keys, searching for a vacant room. “I’m sorry, Ms. Crystal, but we’re all booked up. We have three conferences and a wedding going on at the hotel.” The clerk made some notations and handed her an envelope. “Detective Hale’s suite has a spectacular view. You won’t be disappointed. But I’d like to offer you and Detective Hale a free breakfast to compensate for the mix-up.”
“I don’t care how many conferences you have going on or how magnificent the view is. And I can assure you I will be disappointed if you can’t find me another room.”
“Again, I’m terribly sorry,” said the desk clerk, who sounded apologetic but whose impatient tone reflected a woman who was obviously experienced at handling difficult guests. “But Detective Hale’s suite is very spacious. I think you’ll be quite comfortable there. It’s one of our best rooms.”
“I don’t care if it’s the Taj Mahal. Who made these reservations?” Katherine demanded, staring ominously at Jack. “Detective Hale?”
“The room was booked by the New South Wales Police Force at their special rate,” answered the desk clerk.
“Maybe the police department couldn’t spring for two rooms at these prices,” Jack said, looking sheepish. “But they really splurged on this hotel.”
“I don’t need a fancy hotel.”
“Somehow I doubt that, Miss I-Always-Travel-First-Class. But it’s important that we’re near the police station.”
“The closer you get to Sydney Harbour, the more expensive the rooms are,” explained the clerk. “If you want mid-range rooms, you’ll have to head inland.”
To Katherine, with utter exhaustion in every bone of her body, inland sounded like another planet. She doubted she could make it upstairs, even on the elevator. “This has nothing to do with cost and everything to do with the fact that you plan to keep me under surveillance. There’s no way we’re going to sleep in the same room.”
“It’s not a room, it’s a suite,” Jack shot back. “My orders are not to let you out of my sight.” Jack fidgeted with his wallet.
“I thought so,” Katherine stated impatiently, lifting the oversized Michael Kors purse from its perch over the handle of the suitcase and sliding it over her shoulder. It felt like a lead weight. “Do you always take your orders so literally?”
“Following the rules keeps you safe. So does being together 24-7, and if that means sharing a room, then so be it. You’re my responsibility while we’re in Sydney.”
“Oh, so you did tell them we only needed one room?” she challenged, emphatically shaking her head. “I am not shacking up with you. I hardly even know you. And I don’t want to know you. This is ridiculous.” Katherine turned to the clerk. “Can you please book me a room at another hotel?”
“I can try, Ms. Crystal, but all the hotels in The Rocks district are full. This is the most popular time of the year in Sydney.”
“Just my luck,” Katherine muttered, turning back to Jack. “I’m dead on my feet. I’m ready to fall asleep right here in this lobby, and I don’t think I can make it as far as another hotel anyway. So there’d better be a separate place for me to sleep in your suite.”
“Live with it, sister. You, me, Sydney—the possibilities are endless.”
“You are just trying to rile me, and it’s not going to work,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to remain calm. “All right, if I have to stay in the same suite, I am going to make your life a living hell. By the time I’m through with you, you will regret the day you met me.”
“Too late,” he seethed. “I already do.”
****
Katherine drew back the floor-to-ceiling blackout curtains and the wispy white sheers in the suite at the Shangri-La and gawked at the jaw-dropping view. She’d traveled all over the world with her parents, seen some pretty awesome scenery, but of all the hotel rooms, in all the places she’d ever visited, this view was the most magnificent. If it wasn’t one of the Seven Wonders of the World, it should be.
Even through the settling mist, the sight of the city took her breath away with its panoramic view of Sydney Harbour, Sydney Harbour Bridge, the Sydney Opera House, and the coves beyond. Boats dotting the harbor breezed in a dynamic watercolor come to life, their gentle wakes trailing like shooting stars across the sun-sparkled water.
The hotel website promised spectacular, but spectacular didn’t even begin to do justice to the scenic feast laid out before her. Tired as she was, she’d love to browse through some of the local art galleries and buy a painting of just this scene, or at least a postcard.
Katherine turned and took in the spacious room with its larger-than-life king-sized bed and a royal purple quilted floral headboard that stretched nearly to the ceiling. The room was washed in a welcoming warm yellow paint. There was a huge comfortable-looking tufted couch, two flower-patterned wingback chairs, a desk, and a ginormous flat-screen TV.
Before she could scope out the sleeping arrangements, the toilet flushed and Jack sauntered out, like a male dog marking his territory, apparently proud of the way he’d done his business. Actually, she’d been sauntering too after communing with the luxurious bathroom facilities in their suite. The bathroom even had a crystal chandelier.
“Are we ready?” he said.
“Ready for what?”
“To see some of Sydney.”
“First of all, I don’t think I can tear myself away from this view.”
“It is pretty sweet,” he said, joining her at the window. “But the real thing is out there.”
“You go ahead. I’m whipped. I think I’ll just take a cat nap.”
“Then you’ll zone out for the rest of the afternoon. I told you, we need to stay up all day and then we’ll be back on our regular sleeping pattern and eating schedule. Come on, I’m starving.”
“Why am I not surprised?” she said, folding her arms across her chest. She sighed. “Actually, I could eat something light. Maybe some broth. I think I’ll order from room service.”
Jack ambled over to the bed. “Quite a bed,” he said.
Was he insinuating something? “Quite a couch,” Katherine countered. “That’s where you’ll be sleeping.”
“Hey, this bed is big enough for Kate Plus Eight.”
“It was your idea to get one room, Papa Bear. You’re not sleeping in my bed, no matter how many bowls of porridge you try to ply me with.”
“Why, do you snore?”
&
nbsp; “How would I know?”
“I know you have nightmares,” Jack stated, lowering his voice to barely a whisper, “when you dream. I mean at least you did a lot on the flight over.”
Of course she had nightmares. The world was a scary place, and there were a lot of scary thoughts tumbling around in her brain, thoughts she couldn’t control. Sometimes her mind was a freaking horror show.
“Okay, let’s run down to Circular Quay and have a snack while we watch the ferries take off,” Jack suggested. “My treat. It’s supposed to have a great view of the bridge.”
“What’s wrong with the view from our room?”
“Nothing, I just want to be up close and personal.”
Up close and personal. Katherine felt her face flush and her legs start to give way. “Oh, God, no,” she whispered, reaching for purchase and grabbing air.
She felt Jack’s hand on hers just before she crumpled to the ground.
****
Jack rushed to her side, catching the swaying woman in his arms just in time. He carried her to the bed and shook her. She was starting to scare him.
“Kate, are you okay?”
She wasn’t responding. He was trained in CPR. Should he try that, or call the hotel operator? One minute she was admiring the view, and the next she was unconscious. What had just happened?
“What’s wrong?” he said, checking her pulse. Maybe her clothes were constricting her. She hadn’t eaten. Maybe she was dehydrated. He reached over to the end table for some bottled water.
Still nothing. Why were her lips blue? He started CPR. Breathed into her mouth, pressed against her chest.
Kate’s eyes flew open and her arms flailed against him.
“What are you doing?” she said, sitting up against the headboard. “You were trying to suffocate me.”
“I was trying to save your life,” Jack said, breathing easy again. She was okay.
“You had your hands on my boobs.”
Jack sighed and smiled. “I was doing CPR.”
He twisted off the lid and handed her the bottle of water. “Here, drink this.”
She took a drink from the bottle.
Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Page 4
