Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set

by Amy Miles

  Piercing pain sliced my left temple. My empty hand flew to it, pressing in a feeble attempt to relieve the sharp stabs. White lights filled my head, like a camera flashing furiously between frames. An orange sign. Another man. Long hair. A fallen tree.

  Then blackness.

  The kidnapper broke the connection by pulling his hand away. He stared at me like I was crazy, but showed no sign of anything other than a normal handshake. I, on the other hand, felt violated to my core. I’d gotten what the police needed, but the pain was excruciating. Like evil had been inside me. Running through me. I shuddered.

  “I’ve cooperated enough. What’s this about?” The bastard chuckled, playing the total innocent act. He scratched the tuft of crinkly hair above his ear. “Kid or not, you better not question me without an attorney present. I know my rights.”

  Five for five. I stood, hands shaking, and wobbled across the room on spaghetti legs. The detective had told me to give him a signal when I was through, but I couldn’t think straight. To say I was freaked would be putting it mildly.

  “I’m done.” That should get the hint across.

  The detective caught Blondie’s eye then nodded toward the door.

  “Get up.” Blondie put a hand on the kidnapper’s arm and pulled him to his feet. “We’re finished here.”

  “This is what you brought me out for? What kind of game are you playing?” His cheeks got red and his glare put the fear of death in me. “I at least get another phone call.”

  “You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Blondie pulled him by the elbow and their footsteps clomped and echoed across the room.

  The door shut behind them and I felt sick as my imagination ran wild. I’d seen blood in that beautiful girl’s hair. What had he done to her? And was it too late to save her?

  ****

  The detective grabbed my arm as soon as the suspect left the room. “What did you learn?”

  I barely heard him.

  All I could do was panic at whether or not that little girl was alive. And even if she was still alive right now, she could die while I was trying to find her and it’d be my fault. All my fault.

  My stomach turned once, twice, and then my hand flew to my mouth. Oh, gosh, no. Please don’t puke. I swallowed several times, got a grip, then glanced up at the detective. Could he tell I almost heaved?

  “Let me know if you need a trash can.”

  Figured. With his job being detecting and all.

  He stared at me with his piercing green eyes and seemed impatient with my reaction—that I needed to vomit. But, there was something else in his eyes, too. Maybe hope. “Are you okay?”

  I nodded, still unable to speak.

  “So, that’s really all there is to your psychic power thing? You shake his hand and voila, you read his mind?”

  Hopeful, eh. Suspicious, definitely.

  “Basically.” I choked out my answer. No point in mentioning the searing pain or my pounding head.

  He paused a moment, as if considering whether or not I was for real, then seemed to come to a decision. He nodded. “Do you know where she is?”

  “Yes. I mean, no.”

  He frowned. “Well, which one is it?”

  I shrank under his impatience. What, did he think I did this kind of thing every day? “She’s still alive. Or she was when he left her.” My head ached like an ice pick had plunged into it and my stomach threatened to hurl at any moment. “I think I can find where she is, but we need to hurry.”

  I headed for the door, turned the knob, then realized he wasn’t following me. I pivoted in his direction. “I know they took her somewhere up Highway 50. We should start there.” I’d seen the freeway sign clearly in my head and would hopefully recognize landmarks along the way. “She could be ten minutes or ten hours away. Come on already. We have to get going.”

  His brows furrowed and he grabbed my arm again. “So, you’re saying you do know where she is.”

  The suspicion was back. I let go of the doorknob and jerked my arm away. “Look, I know it’s creepy and weird and a million other things. But, I just read that freakoid’s mind, okay? Believe it. The girl had blonde hair, hazel eyes, and is wearing a bright pink jacket.” I rubbed my temples. “There was another guy there, too. He had long, dark hair. What if he’s with her now?”

  He jumped back. “How’d you know about the other guy?”

  I waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Do you think I’m here for the fun of it? Face it. I’m not a scam. It’s not like I’m charging you, am I?” It was silent in the room now, except for the blood pounding in my head. We were wasting time. I opened the door, stepped into the hallway, and motioned for him to get moving. “Are you coming, or what?”

  “I am. You’re not.” His voice was stern, commanding, and . . . movie-star sexy. “Too dangerous for a civilian.”

  That last part, not so sexy.

  “You can’t leave me behind.” I’ll admit, I sounded whiny. But I had to see for myself that the little girl was all right. There was something in her face. Something familiar. Like I’d seen her before. I whirled to face him. “Besides, are you telling me that reading a criminal’s mind isn’t dangerous for a civilian? You and Collins didn’t seem to have a problem with that.”

  My argument didn’t seem to faze him. He pulled a short stub of a pencil and small pad out of his shirt pocket. “Give me the address.”

  I crossed my arms. “Do I look like a phone book?”

  His fist bunched and pounded the wall, causing the tip of the pencil to snap. “This isn’t a game. If you think you know where she is, tell me so I can check it out.”

  “I’m not Mapquest, okay? His mind didn’t spit out driving directions. Like I said, I think it’s up somewhere off Highway 50. And we should really get going.”

  “You can’t come.” His eyes were flaming, totally painful to look at. But, I could tell he was torn. He glanced toward the exit, then back at me. “It isn’t safe. It’s against the law. And I’d lose my job.”

  “What other choice do you have?” My eyes burned from his intense stare. “I saw blood. She must be hurt. She could die while you’re worrying about your job. How’re you gonna live with that on your conscience?”

  The truth of the words made my hands shake. A girl’s life depended on me. On my freaky ability.

  He stared at me, looking royally pissed off. Then, he closed his eyes and seemed to mentally count to ten. “All right.” He finally grunted. “You can come while I check this out. But, if this is a joke, I swear—”

  “It’s not.”

  He firmed his lips. “It better not be. And you’d better do exactly what I say, when I say it. Got it, kid?” His cell phone vibrated against his hip and he lifted it, his eyes flicking across the screen. He cursed and then clipped his phone back on his belt. He pulled keys out of his pocket, then dodged toward the illuminated Exit sign, and pushed through the door.

  It bugged me that he’d called me “kid” again, but there was no time to argue. Instead, I flew after him, wondering what he’d read on his cell phone.

  The detective headed for a white, unmarked car that was being given a sponge bath by some shirtless guy, wearing jeans, and headphones.

  The detective barreled up behind the guy just as he’d waved a thick yellow sponge across the trunk of the car. “Get lost, Trip.”

  “Aagh!” The guy jumped back, throwing his arms up. His sponge flew through the air, sending a downpour of soapy bubbles across my shirt. The younger guy pulled the earpieces out. “Geez, Sam. Sneak up on a guy, why don’t you?”

  I pulled my cold, sopping mess of a shirt away from my skin and glared at the guy who’d soaked me. He appeared about my age, had a mop of dark hair, and deep green eyes that looked strangely like the detective’s. “Thanks a lot.”

  To be honest, I’d rather have spent the moment staring at his muscles than ragging on him, but as usual I couldn’t control my mouth.

  He glanced at me briefly, but
didn’t seem to think much of the mess he’d made. Instead, he moved toward the detective, who was sliding into the driver’s seat. “Wait up, Sam. Where are you going? Can I come?”

  Sam started the engine and motioned for me to get in. “Police business, Trip.”

  Trip? What kind of a name was that?

  Disappointment flicked across the guy’s face. “I’m police.”

  “Correction. You’re my part-time gopher.” Sam barely waited till I was in before backing his half-washed car out of the parking spot.

  I grabbed the dashboard as the car jerked me forward.

  “Come on, Sam. Let me go with you.” The guy pounded on the rear window of our car. “I can help!”

  Sam ignored him and turned to me. “Buckle up,” he said, as the car squealed toward the street.

  Despite Trip’s heated protest, we drove off without him. In the rearview mirror, I saw the confusion and hurt on his face. If it weren’t for my soaked shirt, I would’ve almost felt sorry for him. “Who was that guy?”

  “Nobody.” The detective stopped at the edge of the parking lot. “Now, where are we going? You said Highway 50 East?”

  “That’s right.” My heart started pounding again, but I managed to pull the seatbelt across my chest and click it into place. Boy, when Sam made a decision to get going, he didn’t mess around.

  He hit the gas and zoomed down the block.

  Suddenly, I forgot all about the guy we’d left behind. I was part of a police investigation. The key part. Such a far cry from my usual after school activity of eating yogurt and watching Edmond rise up—after years of torture and betrayal—to reclaim the woman he’s always loved.

  And just like Edmond, I had to find someone important. A girl with hazel eyes so familiar I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

  Chapter Four

  I gripped the sides of my seat as Sam sped through a yellow light. “Shouldn’t we have waited for that Collins lady?”

  After all, she was the one my dad trusted me with. Not Dale Earnhardt Jr. here.

  “Collins got hung up.” Sam sped past the stately white Capitol building.

  Several billboards flashed in my head, confirming this was the highway the kidnapper had driven on. Definitely 50 East. “How do you know she got hung up?”

  “She sent me a phone text.” The detective turned the wheel and we zoomed up the 50 on-ramp.

  “Oh.” I remembered him checking his cell phone at the station. That must’ve been Blondie.

  “Now where?” he said.

  I scanned our surroundings. Nothing jogged my memory. Suddenly, I panicked. What if I was sending him the wrong way? “I’m, uh, not sure.”

  He made an annoyed sound. “I’ve just taken a minor for an unscheduled “ride along” outside the city limits. My butt’s on the line here, kid. You’ve gotta give me more than that.”

  “I don’t know, okay?” We flew down the fast lane and I searched frantically for anything I’d seen when I’d shaken that awful hand. “And stop calling me kid.”

  He gripped the wheel so hard his knuckles turned white. “I’ll call you anything you want—give you anything you want—if you can help me find that girl.”

  For a moment, I was distracted by his offer. Anything I wanted? A sudden image of that guy Trip popped into my head and I frowned. Why would I think of him? Why not Joel Templeton? Or the actor who played Edmond Dantés?

  Up ahead, I spotted a billboard of a famous actress wearing a milk moustache. Adrenaline surged through me and I forgot all about Trip. “The suspect saw that.” I pointed to the red graffiti covering the actress’s white shirt and jeans. “I’m sure of it. The same day he had the little girl in his van. We are going the right way.”

  Thank goodness.

  “Van?” His voice was low and angry. “You didn’t tell me there was a van. What color was it? What year? Did you get a license plate number?”

  I had my nose pressed up against the window, but turned long enough to glare at him. How rude to pelt me with questions when I was working my butt off navigating to a place I’d never been. “For your information, I only saw the inside of the van. Now, do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate.”

  I watched the scenery pass by in a blur and tried to suppress my fear that I’d miss something important.

  He remained silent only for a moment. “So, you saw that billboard in your vision or whatever.”

  I frowned. “It’s not a vision.”

  “What do you call it then?”

  Good question. Collins had called it mental telepathy. But, that sounded so sci-fi. “I’m not sure. I think it’s some kind of mind reading. Basically, people’s thoughts seem to transfer to my mind through the physical contact of our hands.”

  He mulled this over. “How is that possible?”

  I didn’t know this guy well enough to tell him super genes ran in my family, so I just shrugged. “I’m not sure. Who was that guy washing your car back at the station?” I said, trying to change the subject.

  Sam merged into the right lane, passed a grandma going fifty-five, then quickly switched back into the far left lane. “He’s the part-time office assistant. He helps out during his lunch break and after school.”

  It had to be more than that. Otherwise, slamming a fist on the boss’s window would’ve gotten him fired. Besides, he had the same eyes Sam did. “You know him outside of work though. Right?”

  He let out an exasperated sigh. “Trip’s my cousin.”

  Bingo!

  “Goes to Sac Valley High, like you.”

  “Huh.” It wasn’t as if I knew everyone at school. I really only hung with Julie. “I haven’t seen him around.”

  He concentrated on the road with a grave look and didn’t so much as glance my way. Maybe I’d pissed him off. But, what had I done? Then, it occurred to me that I hadn’t exactly followed directions back at the station.

  “Are you mad at me?” I blurted. “I know I wasn’t supposed to say my name back there in the interrogation room—”

  “What?” His face changed then and he gave me a quick glance. “No, it’s not you. It’s just—this is probably a wild goose chase.”

  I crossed my arms, while we passed a familiar building. “If you think it’s a wild goose chase, why are you bothering?”

  “Nothing else to go on.”

  At least he was honest, I supposed. But, his doubt put extra pressure on me. Like I needed to prove myself. It didn’t help my killer headache one bit. “Do you have any aspirin?”

  “I might.” With only his left hand on the wheel, he reached across the dash, popped open the glove compartment and fished through a mess of papers. Eventually, he pulled out a small bottle, held it a few inches above my open palm, and then dropped it.

  I caught it easily but couldn’t help feeling like he’d purposely avoided skin contact. Was he afraid to touch me? Huh. He wouldn’t worry about our hands touching if he truly thought I was a scam. The thought appeased me somewhat as I dry-swallowed two small white tablets.

  In the distance, I spotted an orange sign and I jumped in my seat. I’d seen that when I touched the creep’s hand. It was a ways off the highway and we were about to pass the exit. “Turn!”

  “Here?” He jammed the wheel to the right and we cut off a blue SUV. The driver blared his horn and extended his middle finger. The detective’s hands gripped the wheel. “A little more notice would be nice next time.”

  “Go right!” His criticism annoyed me even though I’d once again made us swerve last minute. Thankfully, no cars were coming this time.

  My heart thudded in my chest. We were close. I could feel it. I craned my neck in every direction as we slowed and drove several miles down a paved street.

  “There.” I pointed to a dead pine tree that had cracked near the bottom and was now lying on its side. “Stop the car.”

  “Okay.” He killed the engine and turned to me, his green eyes questioning.

  I covered my mouth with my
hand barely able to believe my brain power had led us here. But it had. “This is where he left her.”

  “You’re sure?”

  All I could do was nod.

  He pulled the door handle. “Then, let’s go check it out.”

  My hands trembled as I reached to open my door. Sure, we were here, but the real test would be to see if my peek-a-boo brain had worked in time. Or, if it was too late.

  ****

  I pulled the door handle, pushed out into the cool afternoon breeze, and promptly choked on dusty air. The detective said something, but I barely heard him as I studied the surroundings. Spots of trees and brush. Dry and desolate. The little girl was out here. Scared. Or dead.

  I didn’t even know her name. They said the less I knew the better, but a name didn’t seem like too much to ask. “Detective? What’s the girl’s—”

  “I’ve called for back-up.” He flipped his cell phone shut. “I swear if you’re playing me . . . ”

  “I’m not!”

  He nodded, then pursed his lips as if he were deciding something. “Get back in the car. You’re staying here with the doors locked after you tell me which direction to search.”

  I spotted a huge boulder shaped like a deformed kidney bean. I ran toward the rock, then hurried down the steep embankment behind it, sliding on my heel till I hit the bottom.

  “Wait!” The detective shouted and then followed me down the brown, rocky slope, landing at the bottom beside me with a loud thump. “I told you to wait in the car. Back up—”

  “We can’t wait for back up. She needs us. Now!”

  He clenched his jaw and lowered his chin. “You stay by my side and don’t run off like that again.”

  He withdrew a shiny gun from his right holster, holding it low in front of him.

  Holy smokes! My heart stopped at the sight of a real, live, gun. This wasn’t a Hollywood action film with an actor waving a rubber gun at every joker who crossed his path. This was real. Someone could get shot.

  Someone like me.

  I swallowed hard. Geez, were bullets really going to fly? What if the detective got hit? I didn’t want to go down without a fight. “Shouldn’t I have a gun, too?”