Haunting Whispers

by V. K. Powell

  “If it’s such a good thing, why aren’t you more excited?” Deb passed around the guacamole dip and chips.

  “I am excited.” Rae took another swig of beer, and when she lowered the bottle her friends were all staring at her. They weren’t buying it. “Mostly excited.”

  This group of women had been the only consistently stable thing in her life for the past five years. When she and Janet fought or when she changed positions in the department, they were there. Each of them brought something different, something she needed. Stephanie’s passion reminded her to grab life by the throat and squeeze for all its gusto. Ronni personified integrity. And Deb was the best best friend—fiercely loyal, brutally honest, nurturing, and kind. If emotions flowed, Deb wanted to share them. They were all good, reliable, trustworthy companions.

  “If the most-decorated detective in the department couldn’t solve this case, what makes me think I have a chance?” Rae couldn’t admit the extent of her self-doubt even to them. Years of betrayal by her parents, associates, and lovers had taken a deeper toll than she realized. She didn’t just distrust others now; she couldn’t even trust herself.

  “God, I hate her!” Stephanie jumped from the sofa and grabbed another beer. “That fucking Janet. She’s made you question everything. Can I kill her?” Despite her rough exterior Stephanie didn’t even hurt insects she found inside her house, so no one worried about an actual homicide.

  Deb answered with a steely calm. “I’d prefer to handle it.” She had everyone’s attention. “I don’t care that she’s part Italian. The mafia’s got nothing on a Southern redneck.”

  “Right,” Rae said. “What can you do, twang her to death with your accent?”

  The group cackled but Deb wouldn’t be outdone. “I have deadly relatives. They could blind her with chewing tobacco juice at twenty paces or cold-cock her with a polecat before she knew what hit her.” It took several minutes for the laughter to die down.

  “It’s a complicated case and I don’t want to let these victims down.”

  “And that’s why you won’t,” Ronni said. “Fresh eyes and that kind of compassion go a long way. You’ll figure it out.”

  They sat in silence for a few seconds, as everyone seemed to let the truth of Ronni’s statement sink in.

  “Now, have you met anyone you’re interested in yet?” Deb asked.

  Anything except total honesty right now would undermine her cherished friendship with these three women. If she expected their allegiance, she had to give hers. “Maybe, I’m not sure…” The room suddenly went very quiet as they gathered closer for the scoop, but she didn’t know exactly what to say about Audrey Everhart. “She’s a victim in an assault, but not really. I think she’s holding back information, but I’m not sure. She’s different. I think she’s attractive.”

  Deb responded first. “How did you meet her? How long have you known her? What’s her name?”

  “We met in her rookie school class over a year ago. I felt an attraction and that was all. You know, that immediate zing you get sometimes that usually doesn’t mean anything. I hadn’t seen her again until four days ago.”

  “And now she’s a victim in a case?” Stephanie asked. “Well, you’ve got to nip that.”

  “You said, not really. What does that mean?” Ronni wanted to know.

  Rae explained the situation with Audrey as best she could. The story didn’t make any more sense out loud than it did rumbling around in her head. “Isn’t this perfect? The first woman I like after Janet and she’s obviously hiding something. I can’t deal with any more deception.”

  The room was too quiet. Her friends didn’t have any answers and they refused to give her false hope. Their silence confirmed what Rae already knew—run as fast as possible and don’t look back.

  However, Audrey had challenged her professional skills, piqued her personal curiosity, and aroused her sexual interest. It wouldn’t be so easy to just walk away from her.

  Chapter Four

  Arya clenched his teeth against the pain coursing through him like electricity. Drugs were not an option. His plan required optimum performance. The medication dulled his senses and slowed his reflexes. What would’ve happened if he’d been medicated the other day when she needed him? His initial goal had been reconnaissance—surveillance and documentation of patterns and behaviors—the foundation of any successful mission. But the degenerates had forced his hand.

  She walked toward the front of the community center, oblivious to her surroundings, as the three sloppy, untrained rogues approached from behind. He couldn’t allow them to touch her, to spoil her in any way. Arya moved swiftly and immobilized the first one with a strike to the chest. The others ran like cowards. Then she was so close, the pull too strong. He wasn’t ready. But she was waiting for him. His fever grew and the ache worsened—control fragile, desire overpowering.

  He reached for his only non-lethal weapon and stepped closer. She would certainly turn at any moment and see him. After all, they were connected. Why didn’t she turn? He placed the device against her back and pulled the trigger. Power surged through him into her. The craving swelled and burned between his legs. Rage exploded inside.

  Her delicate body convulsed in grotesque shapes and she hit the ground. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It wasn’t his way. He had a method, a foolproof plan. But circumstances demanded that he act to protect her. He had started to retrieve her body when the gangbangers returned with reinforcements. He had to choose between an altercation that would certainly result in their deaths and undue attention or leaving without her. He’d agonized over his choice since.

  Afterward he waited outside her apartment for her return. His note hung loosely in the door. A car pulled up. He knew she was inside. Another woman opened her door, tried to touch her—someone he’d never seen—obviously a cop by the bulge under her leather jacket. The cop removed his message from the door. He’d almost shot her on the spot. It would’ve been so easy to eliminate this person who dared get between them. He intended his note for her only. Arya calmed himself and watched their interaction at the door. She hadn’t allowed the cop inside her apartment. Good girl. She was still his special person and soon he would have to be closer.

  *

  Audrey stared at the pages of assault cases spread across her kitchen counter, glad to have uninterrupted time to review them. Probably over a hundred cases, the printout hadn’t seemed so daunting initially. Each entry consisted of a single-line account of a separate incident. Every item included time and date of offense, location, suspect MO and description, arrestee if any, weapon if used, and the identifying case number. If she expected to make any headway, she’d have to narrow the list.

  She wasn’t used to crime analysis or thinking like a cop. Her particular skills would come in handy later. At the moment she needed to concentrate on reducing the pool of possibilities. Perhaps the most identifying marker first. She highlighted the weapon category, then slid her ruler down the entries, counting as she went. When she finished, she noted only six incidents in which stun guns were used. After she read the other details, her spirits once again plummeted.

  Five of the six cases involved women who used stun guns to ward off attackers, who in turn filed assault charges. What a crazy judicial system that turned the victim into the suspect for simply defending herself. The remaining entry sounded more promising. Jeremy Sutton assaulted Cris, could be male or female, utilizing a stun gun. She put an asterisk next to the case and looked around for her cell phone. Damn contraption. When she needed it, the irritating thing sprouted legs and crawled off.

  A faint chiming noise alerted her to the direction of her phone and she followed it to the crumpled blanket on the sofa. She shook the cover and her cell skidded across the floor, its cry for attention louder. Ignoring the message tone, she dialed the number to the police records desk. If her calculations were right, Loretta would be on duty and could provide what she needed.

  Her quick exit fro
m crime analysis the last time Loretta helped her wouldn’t win her any points. As she waited for an answer, Audrey regretted the two dinner invitations she’d accepted from Loretta to keep their link intact. She didn’t like misleading people but seemed to be doing exactly that at every turn lately. Maybe it was time to do the decent thing and be honest with her about her lack of interest.

  “Records Division, Loretta, can I help you?”

  “Lo, it’s Audrey.”

  “Hi. It’s great to hear from you.” Loretta’s voice dropped an octave and lost its professional edge. “I’ve been hoping you’d call. You ran off in a hurry the other day.”

  “I know. We need to talk about that…and some other things too, but it can’t be right now. Lo, I’m sorry. This is business. I need your help in a hurry.”

  “Okay, go ahead.” Her disappointment came through the line like a chilly breeze.

  She gave Loretta the case number and asked for the address of the arrestee, Jeremy Sutton. The short pause after Loretta conveyed the information told Audrey she was waiting for her quid pro quo. “I’ll get back to you soon.” The best she could do. She didn’t wait for Loretta to acknowledge her obvious brush-off.

  After a short drive, Audrey stood in front of Jeremy Sutton’s house wondering for the second time in a week if this was a good idea. She scanned the area and got no unfriendly vibes. She hadn’t sensed anything hostile at the community center until it was too late either. Audrey proceeded with caution. When she faced this man—and that’s exactly how she would evaluate him—what would she say? Did Rae stand outside suspects’ doors and wonder how to proceed in an investigation? She seriously doubted it. Audrey rehearsed a couple of possible scenarios in her head and knocked.

  A handsome young man with wavy red hair opened the door. He smiled and Audrey felt at ease. “Yes?”

  “Mr. Sutton?”

  “That’s right.” His brown eyes showed no sign of recognition.

  “I’m from the mayor’s office. Could I ask you a couple of questions about your recent encounter with the Kramer Police Department?”

  The man’s friendly smile turned sour. “Is that what they’re calling it now, an encounter?”

  “I didn’t want to be unkind or insulting. Would you mind a few questions?”

  He assessed Audrey for a few seconds. “I’ve never heard of the mayor’s office following up with wrongly accused people.”

  “Quality control. Please.”

  Sutton’s demeanor softened as he stepped aside and waved her in. “Okay, but I won’t be tricked or disrespected in my own home.”

  They sat across from each other in the immaculately decorated living room and neither spoke for several minutes. Audrey took in the hand-carved wooden sculptures in rich mahogany and soft pine finishes that accentuated floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Accessories and live plants sprinkled the space with pops of vivid color. Audrey decided she’d made a mistake.

  “Could I offer you a cup of coffee, some water?” Though his words sounded sincere, Audrey felt the offer came more from proper etiquette than genuine cordiality.

  “Water would be great, thanks.” When he returned, Audrey took a sip from the bottle of Pellegrino. She was again struck with the sense that Jeremy Sutton wasn’t her attacker. But she’d come this far and a few questions would eliminate any doubt. “I’m sorry to bring up unpleasantness, but who was the victim in your assault case?”

  “Cris Masterson.”

  “Male or female?”

  “Male. He accosted me when I passed a bar on my way home. Apparently he thought I was gay. I defended myself with the only thing I had. If you’d read the report, you’d already know all that.”

  She felt like a complete incompetent. Rae would never have faced a suspect unprepared. She’d definitely made a mistake by not reading the initial investigation. She thought of the uncomfortable conversation with Loretta and realized she could’ve avoided that as well. The details of the case and the arrestee’s address were documented in the full report if only she’d gotten a copy. Maybe amateur sleuthing was harder than it appeared. To cover the real reason for her visit, she asked a couple more questions. “And has your case come to trial yet?”

  “He dropped the charges.”

  “How did the police officers treat you?”

  “They were doing their jobs, misguided as they may have been.” She sensed his obvious discomfort. Who could blame him? A stranger showed up at his door asking questions about an incident he’d prefer to forget. She would’ve felt exactly the same way.

  “I see.” Jeremy Sutton watched every move Audrey made, particularly her hands. “What kind of work do you do, Mr. Sutton?”

  “I’m a woodworker. I love it.” He indicated the sculptures behind him and his face lit up.

  That accounted for his obvious interest in her hands. He was truly an artist. She admired creative people and doubted most of them were capable of violence. Maybe it had to do with their connection to the universe and that inspirational flow. “Well, thank you for your time, Mr. Sutton, and the Pellegrino.”

  “Sure.” He smiled warmly and his eyes sparkled again with kindness. As he opened the door, he took her hand with such gentleness Audrey didn’t attempt to move away. The extended handshake convinced her Jeremy Sutton would never intentionally harm anyone.

  Audrey drove back to her apartment confused, dissatisfied, and full of self-recrimination. Usually firmly in control, confident of her actions, and determined enough to follow them through, today she’d acted like a complete novice. However, she had eliminated Jeremy Sutton as her attacker so she hadn’t completely wasted the trip.

  As she got back on the highway, her cell phone rang. The aggravating little thing wasn’t helping her mood and she seriously contemplated throwing it out the window. She’d never gotten anything from it but bad news anyway.

  “Yes, go ahead.”

  “Still hate your mobile, I see.” Yasi chided her in her melodic voice.

  “Oh…hi. I mean it’s good to hear from you.”

  “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Yasirah Mansour was the most compassionate person Audrey knew, so the hurt in her tone was almost too much to bear.

  “I’m sorry, Yasi. Things have been a bit crazy around here.”

  “Are you okay? You sound strange, like you’re out of balance.”

  “No, it’s work.”

  “Whatever you say, but I’m not convinced. Are you home?”

  “Almost.”

  Yasi hesitated, which was never good. She was a total extrovert and loved to talk more than almost anything. “I hope you won’t be upset because I’ve done something.”

  The last time Yasi did “something” an equipment malfunction almost killed them. She hated to ask. “What?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Come on, Yas, I’m not in the mood for games.” She turned into her apartment complex and saw Yasi sitting on her vintage apple-red Corvette in front of her door. She looked like a graphic hood ornament with her womanly frame wrapped in a flowing multicolored kaftan. As Audrey parked beside Yasi’s car, she felt a momentary pang of regret as her friend’s dark hair whipped around her gorgeous face, dark eyes, and full lips. Why hadn’t they ever been lovers? They felt the connection, even talked about it, just never took the next step. Audrey worried that it would destroy a perfect friendship. Now she loved Yasi like a sister. Even so, she wasn’t ready to explain what was happening in her life—even if she’d been certain herself.

  In spite of her reservations, she got out of the car and ran to her. She needed confirmation that someone cared. It had been too long since she’d felt loved in any form. “Oh, Yasi, I’m so glad to see you.”

  Yasi held her and rocked side to side, cooing reassurances. Her voice was like liquid love flowing from Audrey’s ears directly to her aching heart. It hadn’t been easy the past year only seeing Yasi randomly. She hadn’t realized until now just how difficult and how lonely she’d felt.


  “There, there. Now I’m certain something’s wrong. You can tell me all about it, but first I have a present for you.” She opened her car door, pulled out a shoebox full of holes, and with a grand flare presented it to Audrey. “This is what I’ve done. Please don’t be mad.”

  Audrey didn’t have to open the box. The distinctively dis-gruntled meowing and scratching from inside verified her suspicions. Yasi knew her so well and it had been almost two years since Olga passed. “How old? What color? When—”

  “Why don’t we go inside and find out?” She hugged Audrey to her as they walked into the apartment. They automatically headed for the sofa and stretched out like they’d done so many times as kids coming home from a movie. It was as if they’d seen each other yesterday, their intimacy intact.

  Audrey placed the box between them and lifted the lid. A tabby kitten popped over the side and flung itself toward her, snuggling into the hollow of her neck. Audrey felt a connection immediately. “She can’t be more than seven or eight weeks old. She’s gorgeous.”

  “She’s ten, weaned, has all her shots, and is litter-box trained—in other words, the perfect house pet. Don’t you love her? And look at those darling little eyes.”

  Carefully dislodging the kitten from her neck, Audrey gazed into the most beautiful pair of mismatched eyes she’d ever seen, one deep green and one yellow. “Oh, my.” She stroked the kitten’s coat, amazed at its coarse, springy feel, unlike Olga’s silken fur. The kitten’s wiry hair was dense and formed little ringlets all over her tiny body.

  “She’s an American wirehair. I found her at the pound. They’d taken very good care of her. She’s the friendliest kitten I’ve ever seen. Can you imagine anyone abandoning this little bundle of preciousness?”

  “No.” Audrey was immediately in love. “No, I can’t. What’s her name?”

  Yasi smiled and produced an envelope from her purse. “I thought the three of us would take care of that together. Remember how Nadja used to name pets?”