Adam stepped around Sean, his gaze sliding between them, eyebrows hiked into tight arches. A single headshake later he tucked me into his arms, the hug providing so much love I had to swallow back my tears.
“Gonna put you under house arrest if you keep this up,” he said. There was a faint catch in his voice—just enough to push the tears down my cheek.
I scrubbed them away and got down to business. Gave Sean an outline of the events preceding the explosion, and then Annie added her opinion. “You know El is going to drive everyone nuts if this investigation doesn’t proceed at warp speed.”
What could I say, she was right. I was all done with the sitting around part of my convalescence. If it weren’t for my ability to touch going south, I’d probably have been planning to break into Jacobson’s office in a few hours—when I finally got all of these well-meaning people out of my living room.
Lost in my musings, I missed the first part of Sean’s comments, but caught the last of his sentence, “…dynamite to blow up the house and El’s car. The arson team is working to connect this explosion to others around town, but before we make a definitive statement, there are more tests that need to be run.”
I pulled my mind out of my non-working fingertips and jogged my brain back into activity. “Why do you suppose North gave me that address? Did he plan to kill me? Or was I just in the wrong place at the wrong time?”
Adam stood, blew out a sigh, and then reluctantly offered his opinion. “Officially, we’re still unsure about the extent of North’s involvement. Unofficially, I’d bet he’s into this up to his uncooperative neck. I just don’t have proof…yet.”
Sean nodded. “Yeah. There’s something off with North, but like Stone, I can’t put my finger on it.”
My fingertip found the diamond nestled in my navel, and a smile touched my lips. Surely it would help me to focus my attention on my subconscious wisdom and find some answers. Just because I’d temporarily lost my ESP fingers, didn’t mean I’d lost the ability to use my mind.
“You know—” I broke into the on-going conversation— “it could be North didn’t give Mitch and me the address at all. Marcy Blaine, his secretary is the one who typed out the addresses. Could be she decided to send me to the scene of an impending crime.”
Adam tilted his head and studied me through squinty eyes. “You didn’t mention that earlier,” he said.
“I forgot. Concussion and all. North handed Marcy the prospectus sheets so she could type out the addresses. There’s no way I’d know if she switched the addresses or not. Also, there’s the chance he made an honest mistake and pulled the wrong prospectus. The man was pretty shaken over Jacobson’s death.”
Adam nodded. “We haven’t questioned North yet, thought we might get more info if we tailed him for a while. See if he does anything interesting.”
“Good plan,” I agreed.
“But now I’m thinking Marcy Blaine needs to be under surveillance too. Problem. No available manpower. Maybe I can tail her on my off-time.”
Annie hit him with a playful punch. “You’re already overloaded. Besides, it’s common knowledge Marcy and North are having an affair. If you follow one you’ll bump into the other one.”
Adam shifted his gaze between his sister and Sean again. Flipped his index finger between them, but didn’t say anything. Cleared his throat. “Yeah. But what about when they aren’t engaged in extra-marital activities?”
“Good point,” Annie agreed. “I’d offer to take one of them, but I just picked up a client and my schedule is tight.”
Annie’s gaze trailed over me. “It’s time to wind this up. El is turning an unhealthy shade of gray and—”
Adam stood, his gaze focused and cold. “And I’m going to personally take over surveillance on North. I want to be on his butt when he starts making mistakes. Looking forward to introducing him to his fellow inmates. They won’t be lookin’ anything like Marcy Blaine.”
Sean reached for Annie’s hand, and he urged her to meet him later. If Annie’s smile was any indication of her availability, the night was going to be steamy.
My response to their obvious happiness surprised me. I was happy for them, truly I was, but also sad I didn’t have anyone to turn to. Mitch’s schedule had been getting more difficult, and my heart was heavy with the secrecy between us. I understood it, even accepted it. Sort of.
“I’m leaving for retreat tomorrow morning. The best way I can help is to get my ESP fingers back in working order and that’ll only happen with intense meditation time.”
“Are you up to driving?” Annie asked. “At last count you were coming up one car short. And what about a license?”
I gave her my best innocent expression. “The retreat house isn’t far, and I can borrow your Acura, or the truck. Whichever you don’t need. This afternoon I’ll hit motor vehicles for a replacement license.”
Annie shared some kind of silent communication with Adam. “Right. But I’ll take you to get a new license. You can nap on the ride into town, and the process shouldn’t take long since you have friends in the Apex PD.”
She shot Adam a pointed glance, and he reached for his cell.
Then she turned her attention back to me. “You might want to use some more cover-up on those scratches before you have your picture taken.”
She was right about that. “Yeah. I don’t want to be reminded about the explosion every time some sales clerk asks me for ID.” I headed to the bathroom to prepare a picture-perfect face, and detoured by my appointment book on the way back to the living room. I’d penciled Katelan Finn in for a four-thirty appointment. She hadn’t cancelled, so it was a go. Time to move past explosions and into regular life.
The Universe has a sneaky way of doing that. Putting the right client on my schedule at the wrong time. Bloody inconvenient.
The conversation quieted when I stepped back into the living room. I ignored the obvious behind-my-back discussion, and turned to Adam. “So, I have a client in a few hours. Can I get through motor vehicles quickly enough to grab a nap before she gets here?”
“They’re expecting you and will move you though as a VIP.”
“Thanks, Adam. I’m not big on special privileges, but today it’s greatly appreciated.”
He nodded and slid out the door with a wave. “Later.”
Sean planted a quick kiss on Annie’s lips, then rested his hand on my shoulder. “Hang in there.”
“See you later,” Annie said softly as he disappeared down the stairs.
She turned to me, both dimples showing. “So what do you think? About Sean I mean?”
“I think he’s a big teddy bear and he cares about you very much, but I’m reserving judgment until I get my sense of touch back to check him out for real.”
“He is a teddy bear. We should probably get going if you plan to get a nap in before your appointment. Are you sure you don’t want to cancel it?”
“No. This is the client I saw on Monday, the one I used to work with years ago. She’ll be easy since I’ve known her so long, and will understand about the scrapes and bruises. Although, I really do want a short nap before her appointment. She deserves my complete and rested attention.”
Thanks to Adam, things went smoothly at the DMV, and we were home in record time. Annie separated the key to the Acura from the others on her keychain and tossed it to me. “It’s a power button start. You just need to have the key nearby. Do you need anything before I leave? There’s a salad in the fridge for your dinner and you can reach me on my cell if you need anything later this evening.”
“I’ll be fine. My plans are to take a nap, work with Katelan, and leave early tomorrow morning. Nothing earth shattering.”
“Be sure and take your cell. From past experience I know you won’t tell me where exactly you’re going, although…where are you going? Can’t hurt for me to ask again,” she said with a hesitant smile. “One of these days you may slip up and give me an actual address.”
I gri
nned. “Today isn’t that day. I do this just to make you crazy, and because I know I’m perfectly safe there.”
“You know—” Annie shrugged— “I could find you if I set my mind to it.”
“I know. I also know you value and respect my privacy. Thank you for that.”
She gave me a hug and headed for the door. “Promise you’ll check this out with him Pierce before you leave. Try his cell. He’s not usually at the hospital two days in a row.”
She disappeared through the kitchen door, and the sudden quiet dropped around me like a shroud.
ELEVEN
Katelan sported a totally different look from the bright pink colors and happy flip-flops of her previous visit. This ultra-cool, professional woman wore a black suit set off with a fine white stripe and a discreet ruffle along the neckline. It screamed Designer. The Libra in me pushed my gaze to her feet—black, impossibly high heels with a very sexy ankle strap. I had those shoes on my wish list.
I managed to turn off the shoe-lust and find some words. “You look incredible.” Damn. So much for sounding professional.
Katelan laughed, sending her long hair rippling down her back. “I do, don’t I? It’s one of the things I like best about this job. I make a lot of money and they expect me to dress the part. Never in a million years did I think I’d be wearing an Armani suit, but it’s not something I’m complaining about.”
She bent to unbuckle her shoes, then glanced up at me. “What happened to you? Scrapes. Bruises?”
“No biggie. Mishap with my car, but I’m fine.”
“I know about that. Someone rear-ended me a few months ago.” She sighed as one shoe slipped from her foot. “Right now, I’m very grateful you have people remove their shoes before entering your home. These are gorgeous, even comfortable for about six hours, but after that they begin to remind me why flip-flops are my shoes of choice.”
“Um-hmm. I love sexy shoes, too, but I go for comfort most of the time. You must have been working today?”
“Yes, a big negotiation. Challenging. On days like this, I really love my job.”
“So how did it go with your assignment?” I asked as we snuggled into my overstuffed office chairs.
“Great. I’ve spent hours at the mall and have pages of notes. It’s amazing what you can learn when you step out of the way of your preconceived ideas and simply observe.”
“Talk to me about your favorite observation.”
Katelan reached into her bag and pulled out a steno book, flipped it open, turned a few pages. “This guy—” she pointed to the page as she turned the notebook toward me— “was the most interesting. He carried himself well, like many of the executives I work with, but his clothes came from a discount store.”
“How did your belly feel when you observed him?”
“Unsettled, like something was out of place. I’m not sure, but I don’t think he’d fallen on hard times or anything like that. It was more like he was hiding from something or someone.”
“Were there other movements that supported your intuition?”
She nodded. “Yes, his gaze was active, taking everything around him, and his movements were, not edgy, but aware. Yes, aware is the right word. In my imagination, I switched his clothes—”
I couldn’t help laughing.
She grinned. “He did look good in the nude. But the change of clothes brought up questions. I wanted to crawl into his mind, learn about his life.”
“Curiosity. A real problem that can lead to trespassing issues if you’re not careful.”
“Exactly what I thought, El. My curiosity has become hyperactive since I started working on my intuition.”
“I can relate to that. Continue with this assignment, only integrate it into your normal activities rather than setting aside a specific time.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Every day select one or two people to spend a few minutes observing, without expectations. People you run into in the course of your work, at the grocery store, the dry cleaner, wherever you go, whatever you’re doing, begin to make observation part of how you think, how you assess situations. You’ll be training your mind to let go of preconceived ideas so you can listen to your gut feelings.”
She pulled her feet up under her and waved her hands in the air. “Yes! I get it. Instead of just standing in line at the dry cleaner, I’ll pick someone interesting, observe them, take mental notes and run the observations through belly radar.”
“That’s it.”
She nodded. “I can do that, but I’ll be spending a lot of time in airplanes for a few weeks, so—”
“You’d like another assignment?”
“Exactly.”
I thought for a minute. “Okay. We can do that, but it’s important to work on your observational skills every day even if the next assignment seems like more fun.”
She straightened her legs and scooted toward me. “Agreed.”
“Okay, here’s the deal. Select several objects that are special to you, or that you are very familiar with—like a hairbrush, kitchen utensil, jewelry, or an article of clothing. Put them in identical brown paper bags or boxes and seal the packages so you can’t peek. Choose one at a time, touch it and focus without shaking it or using your other senses to determine the contents. Note what you think is inside as well as any sensations you associate with it. After several days, number the packages and write down the number along with what you think is in the package and any observations you may have. Set your daily lists aside and don’t refer to them again until you’ve practiced for a month. Then compare the lists and note the matches and mismatches, as well as any corresponding observations. You’ll want a minimum of ten packages to work with.”
She slid back in her chair and chewed on her lip. “This sounds like an exercise I can only fail. What if none of my guesses are right?”
“This isn’t about being right or wrong, Katelan. It’s about learning to trust your intuition. It’s the next step in honing the collaboration of your mind and body to work as a unit instead of assuming your mind is always correct.”
“Okay. I can see that,” she said as she picked up her bottle of water and unscrewed the lid. “What if I memorize what I think is in the numbered packages and just repeat the same things every day?”
“If that happens, stop using the numbers and go back to simply touching the package with directed focus.”
She swallowed, nodded. “All right. I can do that.”
“There’s a second step to this exercise,” I said as I made a few notes in her file. “Ask several of your friends to send you something boxed, and wrapped in brown paper. You’ll do the same thing with these packages only you won’t have a clue as to what’s inside.”
“Okay, but when do I get to open the packages?”
“It’s tempting to open them, but remember this isn’t a test. It’s about training your intuition.”
“But I can open them eventually, right?” She mouth turned pouty like a kid who’d just dropped her ice cream cone.
“You can open the packages after you’ve been working with them for a month. Then we’ll figure out if you should select new items and continue the assignment for another month.”
“I’m looking forward to this. At least, I think I am.”
“It’s fun. I practice this way every so often, and just for the record, if it weren’t for my fingertips I’d probably never identify the contents correctly.”
My words hung in the air, so sharply I could almost see them. This was exactly what I needed. The perfect exercise to tease my malfunctioning fingers into working order. Or it may completely send me over the edge. Whatever. It was worth a try.
Katelan had been talking. Damn. “Focus, El.”
“…the first assignment you gave me, and it turned out to be fantastic. I’m even more unsure about this one, so who knows. I’ll go with whatever you say because you’re one of the sanest people I know. This is supposed to be fun, right?
”
“Yes. Without a doubt it’s supposed to be fun. As for my sanity, I’m not so sure.”
The next morning I packed up a few things—I kept my childhood home well stocked with clothes and toiletries, so didn’t need much—and loaded a small bag into Annie’s Acura. It was a new experience to be driving a yuppie car. I missed my Bug.
The reality of not having wheels brought home a few other facts like the immediate need to go car shopping. And I had to replace my phone, handbag, and the necessary contents. I devoted a minute to remembering what I’d been carrying around and decided it would be more fun to start from scratch—buy the handbag and then walk around various stores selecting what I’d like to carry with me.
Who knew? Maybe my taste had changed after coming that close to dying. Not wanting to dwell on the dying part, I drove through Starbucks for a cinnamon latte, slid in a Beach Boys CD, cranked up the sound, and sang along for the fifteen-minute ride to my childhood home. The quiet and solitude never failed to surprise me, because it was located so close to the populated chaos surrounding my townhouse.
The Acura being a bit pricier and newer than my old Bug, I took my time navigating the gravel driveway, avoiding bumps and holes.
When I climbed out of the car, Harlan, my gardener, lifted a gloved hand in acknowledgement. He and Millie, my cleaning lady, came with the house. They’re married, in their early fifties, and care for the property as though it were their own.
Harlan had recently talked me into making some changes to the garden, and the fragrance of eucalyptus drifted on the breeze. “Maybe change isn’t so bad after all,” I said, running my hand along the leaves to release more of the spicy scent.”
Harlan smiled and winked.
“I guess I tried to avoid change for way too long.”
“Not to worry Miz Everly. We all grieve and heal in our own way and our own time. I think Millie’s set out some tea for you.”
“Thanks.” Huh. That was strange. Millie cooked and left meals for me, but neither she nor Harlan disturbed my privacy—other than for a quick chat, or to go over schedule details, or discuss necessary repairs. But tea? With Millie? Definitely a first.
a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) Page 11
