Weakest Lynx

by Fiona Quinn

  “They’re coming over for spaghetti tomorrow night. We wanted to watch a couple of videos. Why don’t you come and get to know them?”

  “Tomorrow? Oh, I’d like to, but I can’t. I have Rescue Squad duty.” Beetle whined and inched her nose closer to the baby, her nostrils working out the scent. I reached over and scratched under her whiskery chin.

  “You’re an EMT? How’d you get involved in that?”

  “My mom. She was sick for a long time. Toward the end, I had to call 911 a lot. I thought it might be good to know what the EMTs did to help her, maybe get some equipment on hand to make Mom feel better—well, to make me feel better.” I pushed Beetle back; her nose was getting too curious. “I checked into it, and the Rescue Squad said they’d pay for my training and certification if I volunteered for them for two years. Sounded like a deal to me, so I signed on.”

  “Do you like going out on calls?” she asked.

  I paused for a minute. Did I like it? What a curious question. I didn’t volunteer because I liked it—I did it because people needed help. “It’s been a good thing.” I said.

  Sarah tipped her head to the side. “Can I ask how old you are? You look like a teenager.”

  “I turned twenty March third.”

  “That’s too young. I mean, with your story, I would say you had to be at least twenty-five.” Sarah squinted. “It seems unreasonable that you’ve accomplished what you have at such an early age.” She drew her brows together and offered me a contrite frown. “I hope you don’t mind my saying that.”

  “That’s all right. I homeschooled.” I waved at Justin getting into his car across the way. “If I’m talking to another homeschooler, then my bag of tricks is no big deal. I think it’s all about, you know, where a family puts their focus. Growing up, I never had to study for an exam or write a term paper. I spent my time learning other things in other ways.”

  She nodded. “What a cool way to grow up.”

  I smiled ruefully. “Yeah. Though you’re right, sometimes I feel like I’m trying to bake myself under the broiler.”

  Sarah laughed softly. “In my limited, and quite frankly very bad, culinary experience, trying to cook things that way rarely turns out well.”

  “It ends up raw on the inside and burned on the outside? Yeah. That’s about how I feel. I’m hoping things will calm down. I just want to get my house fixed for when Angel comes home, so we have nice, safe place to start out our lives together.”

  Sarah nodded. A little world-weariness of her own edged around her eyes. We sat quietly together, watching the cars drive slowly down the street. After some time, Sarah rubbed her hands on her thighs and stood.

  “I guess I’d better get back and make sure my son hasn’t set the dog on fire. We’ll do the dinner thing another time, when Andy’s in town, and you aren’t on duty.” She reached down and scooped up her baby. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your helping Ruby. Thank you so much. Reiki, you called it?”

  “Yeah.”

  I watched Sarah cross the street. Reiki. I slapped myself on the forehead. Miriam Laugherty. I bet she could pick up a better psychic impression on Stalker. Why didn’t I think of her before? I blew out a huff of air. Miriam. Shit. Bands of stressed ratcheted down over my ribs. That was not the road I had intended to take … Ever again.

  Nine

  I curled up like a cat on Miriam’s living-room couch with a cup of hibiscus tea steeping on the table beside me. Miriam was on the phone with the police, jotting notes about a case they wanted her to work for them. Someone’s Great Dane came home this morning with a human skull in his mouth. The detective needed a jump start—some information to get going with while the skull waited its turn on the forensics lab shelf.

  Miriam was an Extrasensory Criminal Investigator. Who knew such a thing actually existed? The law enforcement world didn’t like to talk about her or her stellar closed-file rate because … well, probably because the concept boggled the mind, or maybe because it threw their rational methodology out the window. I understood all that. When I first talked to Miriam, I thought she was full of hooey, too.

  Miriam swiped her hand through the spill of blond curls cascading down her back and hung up with a little apologetic smile. “Sorry.”

  I pulled the teabag from my cup. “How’s Kim?” I asked. Kim was my mom’s hospice nurse who taught me Reiki and healing arts during Mom’s final fight, and she was Miriam’s wife.

  “Fine. I’ll tell her you asked after her.” Miriam’s eyes filled with concern. “You, on the other hand, look terrible.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Miriam always was direct.

  “I mean, you’re as beautiful as usual.” She flourished long fingers with the grace of a ballerina. “What I should say is you don’t feel good to me—your energy’s all over the place.”

  I swallowed, unsure where to start.

  “The beginning is usually best.” Miriam’s laugh jingled; a grin lit up her pixie face.

  I shook my head with pursed lips. Being here and seeing Miriam was harder than it should be. The last time we talked had been …

  “Right now, you’re thinking about our last case together—and it’s stopping you from telling me the real reason for your visit. So let’s start there, okay?” Her eyes darkened.

  I breathed in deeply and let my exhale escape in one long whoosh.

  “You saved her life. You understand that.” Miriam leaned forward, asserting her conviction.

  I focused out the window at a beautiful bare-limbed willow.

  “Have you been practicing your ESP?” she asked.

  “No, ma’am.” I shifted my gaze to my hands knotted in my lap, then back into Miriam’s cyan eyes. “Well, I haven’t walked behind the Veil—that is, I haven’t tried to leave my body or do remote searches since I stopped training with you. But things bubble up like they have all my life. ‘Knowings.’ Pictures … Scents.”

  “Scents? That’s new.” She cocked her head to the side.

  I rubbed my nose and sniffed audibly. The pervasive ooze emitted its mephitis. Could she smell it, too?

  “I’m glad you’re not playing around unsupported,” she said. Tension stiffened her features especially behind her eyes. “I’ve never seen anyone make such a profound connection before …” She rested her hand on my arm. “I blame myself that you were hurt. I didn’t realize it was possible to share the pain and injuries of someone when linked in the ether. I’ve done some research since then—your abilities are rare. But there are other documented cases.”

  I reached for my cup, purposely breaking our connection. My mouth had gone dry. My lips stuck to my teeth. The night I worked that case for her had been a hell ride. A young woman—caught on a cell phone video by a passer-by—got dragged from her car at the mall. Responding officers IDed the abductor as a known predator. The detective, fearful for the victim’s life, called Miriam in on the case.

  When Miriam couldn’t pick up on anything, she brought me the woman’s photo, hoping I’d get something helpful. As soon as I put the picture in my hand, I flew out of my body and got the shit beaten out of me. Physically, I was in my apartment and the woman was in an alley—but we were one. And what happened to her happened to me.

  Thank God, I was able to keep one foot on this side of the Veil—part of me stayed on this plane—and I could tell Miriam the name of the restaurant I read off their emergency exit door. The police arrived in time. The victim lived. After three days of unconsciousness, I gathered myself back together and recovered. I never, ever, ever! Wanted to do that again. I pulled my gaze from the inside of my cup up to Miriam’s concerned eyes.

  “You never have to. Lexi. You will always have the choice. That’s how it works.” Miriam tucked a leg under her and cradled her teacup in her lap. “Let’s talk about the smell.” She took a sip, watching me over the rim.

  “Can I ask what you’re picking up first, before I give you any of my information?”

  “Men,” she said
simply.

  “Plural?” My heart stumbled.

  “Three,” she replied. “Three men in three layers. I’ll start with the oldest layer. The first man—a beloved teacher with a father-daughter-like connection to you … You would describe him as ‘exotic.’ He’s painted midnight blue-black with incredibly long thin arms and legs. This man keeps his head shaved and wears dark, nondescript clothes. When you conjure up his image you think of the African Anansi tales and his laugh—like thunder rolling up from his belly. Hmmn. Very poetic. I believe I recognize him from seeing him at your apartment … Is this your friend Spyder McGraw?”

  “I’m so worried about him. I haven’t heard anything since September.”

  “He loves you. He misses you. He’s working hard on a case. It’s of vital importance—he’s far away. It will be a long time yet until he can come home.”

  I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. “Thank you.”

  “Number two. This man is more recent. There is little here. He seems very new to your life. Hmm … Latino. A soldier—a very good one. He has glittering black eyes, silky dark brown hair, and tanned skin. When you think of him you focus on his smiles—white teeth and dimples. This man loves you, too; this is a joined love.” Miriam paused with her eyes closed, swaying slightly back and forth in concentration. “You’re married?” Miriam’s eyes sprang open with incredulity and grabbed my left hand where my rings glittered. A grin spread across her cheeks. “Congratulations! Oh, I like his energy. He’s definitely a keeper.”

  “He’s okay, then? He’ll come home safely?”

  A cloud crossed over Miriam’s face. “I can’t predict the future, sweetie. Let’s see what I can tell you …” We sat in silence for a minute before she continued. “He loves his job. He’s following his dream—it’s all working out well. He thinks he’ll be promoted soon. He misses you, though. The hardest part for him is that you can’t be together.” She looked at me sharply. “And if he knew you couldn’t sleep because you’re having nightmares nearly every night about IEDs, he’d be sick. You need to stop, Lexi Girl. It serves no purpose. Seriously.” Her voice was sharp, then her eyes softened as she shifted her attention. “Hmmn. Maybe this makes sense to you … He thinks he’s failed as a man. He let you down. Something about him asking you to follow family traditions … marriage. He’s ashamed.” Miriam’s eyes focused again, and she looked at me with what I could only interpret as disbelief. “You’re a virgin?”

  The heat rose on my face. Shit. She would pick up on something so personal. “Uh, well, his family is Catholic, and he asked me to wait … and then … our wedding night got interrupted, and he deployed the next morning. So that left me …” My gaze went everywhere but on her. The room was way too hot. I pulled off my sweater.

  “Oh, Lexi, I’m sorry.” She blushed along with me. “Yeah, I’m not even sure what would be the right thing to say here. Please don’t be embarrassed, honey. Life takes all kinds of strange twists and turns—and from the images I got from him …” She laughed conspiratorially. “He plans to set everything right the minute he sees you.” Miriam patted my knee with a wink.

  Miriam’s dog barked at the door, and she went over to let him out. I was glad for an opportunity to regain my equilibrium. As Miriam started back into the room, she looked over at me and gasped. “Oh, Lexi! No!” Her face filled with horror. Eyes wide, lips bloodless, she rushed toward me and gathered me in a protective hug. “Who is this man? The third one?” She grabbed my upper arms in a vice grip and gave me a little shake.

  “He’s the reason I came to talk to you,” I managed to stutter out.

  Miriam’s extrasensory skills allowed her to pick up impressions from the past. Things that have been. People who have been. Working in the present wasn’t part of her skillset, and I knew that coming in. Still, I had hoped for a tidbit—a morsel pointing to a crumb trail for me to follow.

  Miriam moved her head back and forth like she was trying to find the sweet spot where she could pick up the right vibrations. “I sense him … the sickness of the man’s brain … he feeds gluttonously on fear … He’s evil. Mentally ill and off his medications.” She moaned softly, her lashes brushed against her cheeks as her closed lids fluttered. “He’s killed before. He’s hungry to do it again, but he’s holding himself back … wants to drag out the game like foreplay.”

  I rubbed sweating palms slowly down my jeans, trying not to distract Miriam from her connection. I panted shallowly, hoping not to faint.

  “He thinks of the final kill as an orgasmic release of tension,” Miriam said. “Heightened by the months he spends teasing his targets. ‘Teasing.’ That’s his word for the fear he likes to create. Victims … Their energies are hovering near him … I can’t count how many.”

  “Why the poems?” I whispered.

  She shook her head. “I … I’m not sure. The only thing I’m getting is he didn’t write them. It was someone else.”

  This wasn’t new information; they were adulterations of well-known poets.

  “Why me? How’d I get caught up in all this?”

  Miriam’s fingers lay slack on her lap. “He believes he’s helping you … moving you toward your destiny. He thinks you like this as much as he does.” Miriam opened her eyes. “What poems, Lexi?”

  Miriam read the copies of the poems I had brought with me, and she wept.

  “Miriam.” I rocked her in my arms. “I know how horrible it is connecting to evil. I’m so sorry to ask you to do this for me.”

  She never had an emotional reaction when she worked with the past impressions she lifted from the evidence handed to her by the various government agencies. Her attempts to get information for me came at a deeply personal cost to her.

  “No, sweetie.” She sat up, swiping her napkin over her eyes. “You were right to come to me. Right to ask for help. I just can’t grab hold of anything—not a single clue to offer you. It’s as if his plans aren’t in his head. He must be too mentally ill.”

  I left shaken and drained—lonely and scared. I drove back to Dave’s house. He let me take a nap on his couch. And for a brief moment in time, I felt safe.

  Ten

  “What the hell are you doing?” Manny raged, jumping out of his car as the men tipped his fridge into the Dumpster.

  “I’m saving your life.” I turned my back on Manny and directed the guys in for the stove.

  “My stove, too?” Manny swung his arms over his head. “How am I gonna cool my food without a fridge? Or cook mac ’n’ cheese for my boys?”

  Hoarder Central was a time-sucking fiasco. In my mind, at the beginning of the project, I moved boxes from inside the house to outside in the Dumpster. When the bin was full, I’d call over and get the next one put in place. Boom. Done. Ah, turned out to not be so simple when it came to the actual doing.

  Heaps of newspapers and magazines were easy, if exhausting. Many things, though, needed to be sorted through and taken to charity. The porch held piles of donations. Goodwill and the Salvation Army called me by name since my pickup truck swung by several times a week. In my battle with the mound, I worried I’d miss something—like the one picture they had of their beloved uncle, or a precious family ring. I could understand why Manny got overwhelmed by the process.

  Finally, I had made my way into the kitchen. Gross was a euphemism. I simply couldn’t deal with what I found. The appliances grew mold like a penicillin factory. Exposed wires tangled with the clutter. Liquefied food had rehardened into amorphous blobs. A biohazard for sure. I duct taped everything shut then went down to the Home Depot, where the day laborers gathered, and paid two guys to come back with me to manhandle all of the appliances into the Dumpster.

  “The fridge didn’t work; it’s not repairable.” I stood, hands fisted at my hips. “They don’t make parts for appliances that are forty years old, Manny.” Exasperation colored my words. “And it wouldn’t matter if they did. Everything in your kitchen is a health hazard, and they’re prob
ably fire hazards, too. I’m trying to save your boys from food poisoning and you from jail time.”

  The rent-a-muscle guys maneuvered down the steps with the dishwasher. They walked over, took their work gloves off, shook their hair and clothes, and smacked at their legs. The creepy, crawly sensation of invisible bugs scuttling across the skin; yup, I went home with the same feeling every time I left Hoarder House Hell. After pocketing their well-earned cash, the men went on their way.

  “Manny, I understand you don’t want to spend any money on the house, and I realize you’re following the recommendation of your lawyer and all. Sometimes common sense has to win out, though. After I scrub everything down, you need to pull up the floor. You have to fix the studs, lay new boards and put in laminate. Something was dripping in there. I dug around, and I found rot. The support beams are soft. At some point, safety overrides frugality, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I guess.” He sounded deflated. “How much more time in the kitchen?”

  “No clue, Manny. You’re almost done with the deck. Will Justin help you with the kids’ jungle gym Saturday?”

  “Yeah, then we’re gonna catch a baseball game on TV.”

  “Why don’t I let you spend Friday on the floor problem? Saturday, I’ll check out the outlets for some cheap, but quality, replacement appliances. I assume you want to mount a microwave, too?”

  “Yeah. Good plan.”

  Giving Beetle and Bella a scratch behind the ears, we motored down Silver Lake toward home. We had been playing Frisbee at the park, celebrating spring after our trek to the appliance store.

  Turning into my neighborhood, the “knowing” hit me with a solid blow to the diaphragm. My body slammed back against my seat as if driving through an invisible force field. “Exposed,” flashed in oscillating red. I slowed my car to scan. Nothing seemed amiss. Beetle and Bella had their heads out the window, dangling their pink tongues. Calm.