“Yeah. Damn it. “
He unclipped his cell from his belt, punched in a number, and described the scene to whoever answered. Apparently, the body belonged to one of the rookie cops who worked for Adam.
He snapped the phone closed and looked through me. “What the fuck is this all about?”
I didn’t have an answer, so moved on to question him. “Who is it?”
“Rookie. Just started a few months ago. What the fuck was he doing out here? His assignment was to shadow, be a pain in the butt to his partner. Nothing else. Killing a cop. What the hell does that have to do with this construction racket?”
His eyes iced over as he looked at me. “And you?”
“Me?”
“I think the Chief needs to retire you from the department, effective immediately.” He reached for his cell again.
I grabbed his hand. “No. We don’t know enough about this, and it would be a mistake to, um, retire me until you’ve made use of my fingers. Much as I do not want to get near that dumpster, I should…touch it.”
The look on Adam’s face would have frozen boiling water. “You will not go near the dumpster. You will sit in the car until someone gets here to take you home.”
I shook my head. “No, Adam. We came here to shock me into getting my sense of touch back. Let’s see if it worked. Sure as all hell, if this didn’t do it, ain’t nothin’ gonna work.”
I snagged a handful of tissues, and got out of the car with determination. At least that was my plan. Since I was still a little wobbly, the “attitude” didn’t come off quite as well as I’d planned.
Fortunately, several cop cars pulled up at exactly the right time to cover my sudden lack of enthusiasm. While Adam talked to them, I resolutely headed for the dumpster.
Not to look inside.
Oh, no.
Talk about disgracing myself. That would do it. No, un-huh, bad plan. I wrapped a couple tissues around my fingers, ignoring the trembling that had taken over my body. My plan was to touch the dumpster, see what I could pick up.
Only there seemed to be a slight problem.
I couldn’t see anything. Black. Nothing but black out there. Just as I gave serious consideration to conjuring up a full-blown panic attack, Adam come up next to me.
“If you’re going to do this, you have to open your eyes.”
“Right.”
I knew that.
I had to open my eyes. Now if I could just remember how to get those lids to raise up. Adam poked me in the ribs—hard. My eyes flew open, and I glared at him. “I’m going to touch the dumpster.”
“Got that.” He grinned.
“You’re not going to argue with me?”
He blew out a sigh and shook his head. “No. You’re right. Someone has killed a cop. Much as I want to, I can’t protect you from this. I can’t, won’t, stop at anything to find the killer. Even if it means walking you over to that dumpster. Just not right now.”
He grabbed my shoulders and turned me around so I was facing his Crown Vic. “The crime scene unit has to do their thing before you contaminate the site. Wait in the car.”
I nodded, headed back to the car, then changed my plan and veered toward the rubble. The cops would be busy for a while so why not warm my fingers up on something else? I tucked the wad of tissues in my pocket and circled the perimeter of the debris. Memories came crashing back—the noise, the shock, dust clogging my throat. I pressed my hand against what was left of a wall, and my mind flooded with images.
“Well, shit.” Sharp pain stabbed my temples.
A slower, less traumatic influx of information would have been nice. Not that I didn’t want things back to normal. Only this wasn’t exactly normal. More like super fingers. Guess I was making up for lost time.
I sucked in a couple of dusty breaths that ended in a coughing fit. When the world stopped spinning, I carefully brushed my fingertips against the rough, charred wood. This time the images moved through my mind slowly enough that I could make out the blossom of orange heat as it ate the framework of the building—like a scene from a movie.
Woohoo, the fingers were back.
I ran toward Adam. This had to be shared. Immediately. Except they were removing the body from the dumpster, and it stopped me cold. Seriously bad timing for my announcement. I took a few tentative steps toward the scene and caught Adam’s eye. He shook his head and jabbed his finger at me. I got the message. Was more than happy to oblige—except my curiosity kicked in. For some inexplicitly stupid reason my feet kept moving toward the body.
Damn I hated when that happened.
I caught sight of dead guy’s face, and my vision tunneled. Not the time to faint, Everly. You’d be the brunt of cop jokes for the rest of your life.
Chief Hayes headed me off, gripped my shoulders in his strong hands, and held me steady. “Take a minute. Get your feet under you.”
I exhaled. Stepped away from him, and rubbed my hands along my thighs. “I’m okay. It’s just that—”
“You’re where you shouldn’t be. Your assignment does not include impeding officers working a homicide.”
I took another step back. “Chief—”
“Wait in Adam’s car until I can spare an officer to take you home.” He spun away from me.
“No. Chief, I—”
He whirled back to face me. “What?”
A lesser woman would have needed immediate therapy to recuperate from the razor sharpness of his glare.
Not me.
Nope, I grabbed his sleeve.
“I recognize him,” I explained, my hands waving in the direction of the black body bag.
“And?” he growled.
“He was in your office. When we met.”
The chief’s nostrils flared.
“The rookie. He lied to you. I didn’t think it was my place to say anything, especially since the information came through my fingers—when I tripped on your carpet—”
“Your fingers are the reason you’re working for me.” He leaned in, crowding my space. “Now what exactly are you trying to tell me?”
“Whatever he talked to you about. He thought it was great you believed him, that you bought his story. The impression he left was smug, nasty. Guilty. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone—” I nodded toward the dumpster— “but whoever he is, I think it’s connected.”
The chief’s brows drew together. “Officer Jerry Applegate. You were heading over there to touch the body?”
“Um, no.” But ignorant of my words, my feet moved toward the body bag. A shudder wracked my body with enough force to register on the Richter Scale. What in the bloody hell was I thinking? No way was I going to touch the remains of Officer Applegate. I didn’t even like him when he was alive.
The chief glared at me, hands on hips.
Words poured from my mouth. “My curiosity overcame my common sense.” I forced myself to take a step back, away from the body bag. “It’d be best if I—”
The chief’s fingers circled my wrist. “Let’s get this over with. If you can offer any information to get the bastard who did this…”
I swallowed.
Hard.
Trailed behind the chief until we reached the smelly black bag. He bent, reached for the Velcro. I grabbed his hand. “No!”
His eyebrows hiked.
“It doesn’t matter about the plastic being between my fingers and his body, Chief. It won’t stop the images.”
My mind went into panic mode and dissolved into an internal rant. No way are you touching that body, Everly. Eeuww. Seriously. Not necessary. But if it were necessary, you could do it. Civic duty and all. Nobody goes around touching dead bodies, unless they’re a mortician—or totally bonkers.
I squatted, reached out, and rested my fingers against the black plastic. Nothing. Had my fingers stopped working again? Panic zapped my common sense. “Open the bag.”
A fresh-faced officer grasped the edge of the Velcro and tipped his head in my direction. “
He was shot. Clean, professional hit through the forehead. There’s decomposition. Just wanted you to know what to expect.” And with that he exposed Applegate’s head and upper chest.
I held my breath and gritted my teeth to keep from spewing cinnamon latte, but I did it, let my fingertips brush against his shoulder.
And promptly landed on my ass.
“Bloody, bloody hell,” I shrieked.
Adam grabbed me under the arms and lifted me away from the body. “What the hell, El?”
My gaze slid to the chief. The air tingled with his unspoken words—amateurs, crazies, idiots, nut cases—every possible adjective raced across his face.
I’d lost a lot of respect with this one, and worse, didn’t have a clue how to tell him what I’d seen.
I shook my head. “Oh, boy.”
Adam’s hands tightened on my shoulders. “El?”
I broke away, noticed my fists were clenched, and purposely relaxed my fingers. “Okay. You’re not going to like this. This guy—” I nodded toward the body bag— “Jerry Applegate, he was at the shopping mall site.”
The chief spun on his heel, paced away from me.
Adam’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Remember the first day we worked together on this demolition thing?”
“Got that part.”
“I went back to the site later, called you and reported on the guy who set off the explosives.”
“And?” Adam’s growl raised the hair on the back of my neck.
“Jerry Applegate set off the explosions.”
SIXTEEN
The chief hunkered over Applegate’s body, then stood, crowding my space. “You better be damn sure about that accusation, Ms. Gray.”
Doubt clouded my mind, and I snuck a peek at the body bag. Maybe one more touch, just to be absolutely sure. But they had the body on a gurney and were wheeling it away.
I tensed my muscles to keep from flinching. “The energy and the images match. I can’t get a lot from…him. Not now. Whoever shot him did it from a distance, so there’s no energetic imprint. I’m not sure how he got in the dumpster, but it wasn’t the shooter who put him there.”
Hayes nodded, eyes glazed over. Uncertainty gnawed at my belly leaving an ugly hollowness behind. Energetic imprints weren’t his thing, I got that. But did it make me…useless?
He tasked a uniform to take me home. And that was that. End of discussion.
It took less than a half hour for me to shower off the smell of death and curl up in my favorite chair on the deck with a cool glass of Rock Rabbit Sauvignon Blanc. It slipped down my throat, a faint trace of spice lingering on my tongue. It was good to be alive and not a crumpled, fly infested body that had been tossed into a dumpster.
Now if I could just put the pieces together about this Applegate dude and the TNT and the construction demolition…”
Something tickled my cheek. Scared the heebies out of me, and I bounced out of my chair hitting Pierce squarely in the jaw with my very hard head.
“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, did I break your jaw? And what the hell are you doing sneaking up on me like that?”
“I was going for a gentle wake up. And no, you didn’t break my jaw.” He eased his fingers along his chin, and crooked his neck back and forth a couple times.
Something cracked.
Probably time to change the topic.
“So, um, why are you here?”
“Not the warmest welcome, Fingers. Thought you might like to break into North’s office with me.”
“Fingers? That was Pudgy Pick Lock’s handle. How dare you compare—”
“Point. Not comparing you to the miscreant who killed Hunt’s friend. Although, that mishap got you a new belly jewel…Belisama.” His finger traced the edge of the diamond—through my t-shirt, but still.
I huffed out a breath and slapped his hand away. “Belis… Wait! You want to take me on an op?”
He scrubbed his palm over his face. “Looks like Blaine or North tried to kill you. I want to know why. Thought you had a right to come with me seeing as how it’s your ass they kicked.”
This was a no-brainer. “Let me change into some B and E clothes. Be with you in a sec.”
He was laughing his ass off, but I needed the diversion. And the illegal entry gig would give me a chance to run the afternoon’s events by him. I pulled on lightweight black slacks and a black t-shirt, tucked my hair under a black ball cap, and slipped into black sneakers. Could I dress the part or what?
“Into black I see.” His grin was insufferable.
I turned my palm in his direction. “Have you checked a mirror lately?” We looked like twins except he’d added a black windbreaker.
He twitched his shoulders—almost a shrug. “I haven’t done laundry for a while. Ready to roll?”
My turn to smother a grin. “Yep. Absolutely. Um, good news. My hinky touch gift came back today—”
He whirled around. “Good and bad. Useful in North’s office, but I’ve been places recently that I’d rather not share.”
“So…you’re telling me to keep my hands to myself.”
He cracked a smile. “Not by choice.”
“Right.” Best to let that comment slip by without discussion.
Pierce flipped on a pair of sunglasses. “Heard about Applegate.”
I stopped, dead. “Not my fault. I had nothing to do with…anything.”
He opened the car door and flashed me his pearly whites. “Two bodies. Two weeks. You’re stackin’ ’em up.”
I opened my mouth, snapped it closed. He had a point.
“You’re coming with me because the office is closed, both Blaine and North are out of town, and because I owe you a lock picking lesson. Probably won’t happen again.”
My mind latched on to a singsong refrain about famous last words, but I managed to keep my mouth shut for the entire ride to North Construction.
Pierce pulled into a secluded parking place, shut off the engine, and slipped his shades down his nose. “You don’t say something soon bad things are gonna happen to your insides.”
“I’m fine.”
“No. You’re thinking. From now until we get back to the car I want you to focus on me and what we’re doing.”
I couldn’t stop my grin. “No problem.”
He grunted. Typical Pierce.
When I got out of the car he handed me a small cloth packet. “I’m gonna disable the alarm. You’ll take care of the lock. Don’t rush. You have time.”
I pressed my lips into a tight line. Couldn’t seem to find my tongue. He wanted me to pick the lock on the outside door—in full view of anyone who happened to stroll down the alley. No way. He knew something about this lock or the circumstances I didn’t know. Damn how my fingers itched to touch him, see if I could pick up any images to help me figure out what was going on in his head.
I held tightly to the cloth packet. Pierce wouldn’t take it well if I touched him when he’d specifically asked me not to. He’d never done that before. My curiosity spiked.
“Focus.” His voice, harsh, shivered down my spine.
“Okay. Sorry. Focused, here.”
He stepped aside. “You’re up.”
How the hell was I supposed to do this? First thing: open the packet of tools. I stared at them, and for a second my mind blanked. I’d used these tools, knew them. No need to panic. I took a breath and ran my fingers over the metal. Several images of how they’d been used in the recent past flickered through my mind “Okay. Fingers working.”
Now, about this particular lock. I ran the pad of my index finger over the keyhole and a clear picture of a mechanism exactly matching the image I’d gotten from one of the tools in the packet settled in my mind’s eye.
I rolled my eyes at Pierce. “No wonder you’re letting me do this.”
“I wouldn’t put you in danger, Belisama.”
“What’s with the Belisama? What’s it mean?”<
br />
I selected the hook pick and turning tool I needed, stuffed the cloth packet into my back pocket and laid my fingers against the lock. I could clearly see the doohickeys, how to insert the hook, push against the pins, and use the turning tool. It only took a minute before I heard the snick of the lock releasing.
A beautiful sound.
“Irish. Goddess. Connected with fire, crafts, and light. Fits you.”
Huh? Pierce was comparing me to an Irish goddess. Warmth flashed in my belly. So. Not. The. Time.
I pushed the door open, but Pierce stopped me from moving with a touch. “After me.”
No problem. Better him than me to face blazing guns and scary people. He always came out of those situations without a scratch, and I always ended up in the emergency department.
As we slipped into the building, I kept my hands to myself. Nothing here would be pertinent to the case, and I didn’t need extraneous stuff mucking up my head. We took the stairs to North’s office, Pierce nodding at me open the lock.
This one was different. I touched the mechanism and images flowed through my mind. “It is so great to have my sense of touch back,” I mumbled as I selected the tools I needed.
Two deep breaths, a wiggle and a push, and the lock sprang free. No point in mentioning my sweaty palms or shaking fingers.
This time Pierce held the door for me to enter first. “Nice work,” he said, resting his hand on my shoulder. “My contribution to getting the ESP back in your fingers.”
“So that’s why you asked me to tag along. A pity lock picking.” Anger simmered, but died a sudden death. Pierce was right, damn it. I needed to trust my fingers, and this was the perfect situation to build my confidence.
“Not something you could do on your own.” He squeezed my shoulder, headed toward Marcy’s niche, and made himself at home in front of her computer. “Give me a minute to see what we’ve got here.”
I took the time to wander into North’s office, my fingers hovering over his desk. No gloves. Pierce had gloves, but hadn’t offered me any. I whirled to face Marcy’s workspace, hands on hips, and attitude on hot. “How come you have gloves and I don’t?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Because you’ve been here touching things, and your fingerprints are legal. Come here and look at this file. Are these the addresses Marcy gave you?”
a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure) Page 16
