At Second Sight: Sentinels

by Meg Allison

  “How do I know? I’ve never figured out how your gift works. You seem to read me pretty easily.”

  “You are my brother. You’ve always been an open book to me. But I can’t read emotions that quickly for most people. Especially Nathan—he’s closed himself off almost completely.”

  “How? Why?” She could hear the scowl in his voice.

  “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “But I can tell you he’s not your killer, although you already knew that.”

  “And how do you know what I already know?”

  “Well, I guess I’m just hoping my brother wouldn’t leave me alone with a man he seriously thought capable of murder. Particularly since this lunatic is targeting red-heads.” Silence. She raised a brow. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  “What?”

  “Leave me alone with a possibly homicidal maniac who has a thing for red-heads?”

  “Of course, not. You’re a pain in the ass but you’re still my baby sister.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “No, I don’t really think Quinn killed anyone, but when I couldn’t get through to you…”

  “You panicked.”

  He sighed. “Yeah, something like that.”

  A smile tugged at her mouth despite the lingering anger. “You have nothing to worry about. Your intuition is right on the money, as always. Nathan hasn’t killed anyone. You need to trust in your gift more.”

  “It hasn’t always led me the right way.”

  She could still hear the self-doubt and guilt. Adam had once relied on his own gift and intuition as if it were another limb. But the one time it had let him down…that one time had left him with scars she wasn’t sure would ever heal. Mostly because he wouldn’t let them.

  “Listen, I did what you asked,” she told him. “From what I can sense, Nathan is as sane as any of us. I think he’s being completely honest about the drawings and has nothing to do with the murders. He's scared. Unsure of himself, like most men. But he's not violent.”

  “Good, although I was fairly sure of that myself. Is he…you know?”

  She chuckled. “Adam, you can say the word. It’s not a racial slur. Yes, he is chosen. I’m not sure how strong his gift is, but I have the feeling he has no control over it at present. I'd like to find out more about his family and whether or not any of them have talents.”

  “Well, that’s up to you. All I’m concerned about are his drawings. I’ve gone over them inch by inch, but there’s nothing there to give us any clues as to the murderer’s identity. If he is chosen, I don’t understand how this particular gift is of any use to anyone.”

  “It takes time and patience to train someone to use their gift. With some coaching, he might be able to control the visions and the outcome of his drawings. If he can do that, then we might be able to find out more about the killer.”

  “How do his visions work? Can you get him to talk about it?”

  “I think so…eventually. But it’s going to take a little time.”

  “Sam, honey, I have all the time in the world. It’s the women in this city that I worry about.”

  Her stomach tightened. “He’s going to kill again, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, I’m sure of it. With this kind of bastard, the only way to stop him is to put a bullet in his brain. We have to catch him. If Nathan can help us, we need him to do so a.s.a.p.”

  “Then he will,” she told him. “He’s connected to the killer somehow—that much I can tell you. But he doesn’t know how or why and neither do I. If he did, he would tell you. This whole experience is tearing him up inside.”

  “Can you help him? I wouldn’t ask but it’s important.

  She bit her lip. Did she really want to get involved any deeper? She thought of that one drawing and the look of confused terror frozen forever in the dead woman’s eyes. How was the killer was connected to Nathan? What if it was someone he knew? Saw every day without realizing it? Would the anger that drove him to kill move from red-headed prostitutes to any woman with the same characteristic? Goosebumps rose over her skin. It didn’t matter. She had to be brave. She had to face her own demons this one time, for everyone’s sake.

  “Yes, I’ll help,” she finally agreed. “The whole situation scares the hell out of me, but I can’t turn my back on it. Not now.”

  “Thank you, Red. Now crawl back into bed and get some more sleep. Don’t want you getting sick on us.”

  “Yeah, okay. I’ll talk to you later this afternoon. Love you.”

  “Ditto.”

  She hung up the receiver and thought about the last twenty-four hours. They had begun in the arms of the man of her most treasured fantasies…and went downhill from there. But after getting over meeting her dream-lover’s doppelganger, she had found herself pulled in even deeper. Nathan was handsome, funny, intelligent and erotically intense. Best of all, he might be one of the few men who could eventually understand and accept her with all her unique quirks. Not to mention the sometimes-bizarre people she dealt with in her second, more secretive career as councilor to the Sentinels.

  She laid back on the pillows and let the fatigue pull her under. But her dreams weren’t sexy or peaceful. Shadows chased her down a long, narrow street. Wicked laughter bounced off the brick buildings, echoed and distorted by the thick, relentless fog. She woke again with a start and blinked at her surroundings. Her room. Safe, normal. She was alone.

  But the dark feeling wouldn’t dissipate with the dreamy mists. So, she climbed out of bed and began to get ready for the day long before the sun arose. Nathan had promised to pick her up for lunch. Maybe it would be best to cancel.

  Her mind and emotions were such a jumble, she wasn’t sure which end was up. In one afternoon, her basically predictable and boring life had been knocked off its axis. Could she really afford to invest her heart, her trust, in a man she barely knew? Maybe she should put some distance between them before she really fell for him.

  And maybe it was already too late.

  * * ‡ * *

  He sat and stared at nothing while someone droned on about floor cleaner. Or bathroom cleaner. Something with cleaner in it…bright white…bleach white…hell, if he knew. Nathan tried to refocus his attention on the speaker, but the man’s face seemed to blur before his eyes. The dry monotone weaved in and out of the chaotic thoughts careening through his head as visions of spilled ink and blood converged into a deep, dark puddle somewhere in his imagination.

  After his drawing episode, he’d had a difficult time falling asleep. Then the alarm clock jolted him from a turbulent dream involving rivers of ink and tall, dead trees that seemed to reach for him as he ran. He shook his head. Just a bit longer…a few more minutes and the meeting would end. He’d be able to go back to his small office and lay his head down for a moment. Just a moment. Then things would be better. He’d be better.

  “Quinn?”

  The sound of his name caught his attention and he jerked his head around. The boss, Dave Miles, stood watching from the head of the narrow conference table. Nathan swallowed. From the edges of his peripheral vision, he knew everyone watched him intently, waiting. But he had no idea why.

  Damn.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, sir?”

  Miles raised a brow. “I asked how the proofs for the Dormont account turned out.”

  The tension in his shoulders loosened. “Good,” he replied. “I went over them this morning. There are a couple of places that need tweaking, but it won’t take long to get them finished up and ready for the presentation next week. I'm sure everyone will be pleased with the outcome.”

  “Good,” the older man said with a nod. “I’d like to see them on my desk by eight tomorrow morning. Is that feasible?”

  Shit. “Yes, sir, no problem.”

  “All right, then,” Miles glanced around the table and smiled. “That should do it, everyone. I’ll be in my office until noon today, then I have meetings around town and won't be availa
ble. If anyone needs me—don’t.” Everyone laughed at the standard joke. “Obviously, you know I’m available in any emergency. Let’s just make sure we’re all clear on the precise meaning of the word.”

  Another round of the required laughter and everyone began to stand. Miles glanced at Nathan as he pushed his chair back.

  “Quinn?”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Stay a moment, please.”

  He cringed inwardly. “I’d be glad to.”

  That request seemed to hurry the others along and finally the last filed out, letting the glass door swing shut behind her. Miles tapped a thin stack of papers into order on the table and smiled. Nathan’s gut clenched. God, he hoped to hell he wasn’t about to be fired. He hated advertising, but he really needed this job to pay the bills. While Miles and Associates wasn’t the best firm in town, it was a damn sight better than the places he’d worked in New York. At least here he wasn’t in constant fear of finding a knife—literal or otherwise—in his back.

  “Here,” Miles motioned to a chair closer to his. “Let’s talk for a moment.”

  Nathan obliged and moved to take the newly vacated chair. He looked at his boss while the other man carefully stacked his papers in a briefcase and clicked it closed. That done, he folded his hands and placed them on the table, then turned another fatherly smile to Nathan.

  “I noticed today that you seem a bit preoccupied,” he began. “I was just wondering if everything is all right?”

  “Uh, yes, sure, everything is fine. I apologize for spacing out on you, I guess didn’t sleep well last night.”

  The other man waved a hand in the air. “No, no, I understand, believe me. I also know my weekly updates aren’t exactly entertaining, which is one reason I didn’t go into politics or comedy.”

  Nathan smiled.

  “No,” the older man continued, “What concerns me is that this preoccupation of yours seems to have been going on for a couple of months.”

  Ah, shit! Was it that obvious?

  “I haven’t said anything until now because I know what it’s like to be young and single. You do have a social life, I’m sure. Things happen…we get distracted…” He stood then as he ran hand over his balding head and laughed self-consciously. “I suppose what I’m trying to say is that I want to make sure you’re happy here, Nathan. If you need anything, anything at all to help keep things going, to keep the ideas fresh, please let me know. I’m more than willing to work with you around any personal problems.”

  “Oh, well, that’s very nice of you, Mr. Miles,” Nathan replied as he tried to wrap his head around what was being said between the lines. “I have been having some personal issues lately, but I’m doing my best to keep them out of my work. I don’t want to let you or the company down.”

  “Of course not, Nathan,” he glanced at the conference room door as he slid one hip onto the table near Nathan’s seat, “Just between me, you and table here, I consider you to be one of the most talented graphic artists that I’ve had the pleasure to work with in many years,” he said as he looked down at him. Nathan fought the urge to scoot his chair back. “The others, they’re good in their own right, don’t get me wrong, but it takes more than an artistic bent to really shine in this business. It takes instinct, and a bit of intuition. You have that. I saw it in your portfolio and I see it every day in your work.

  “If you need anything to help you through these personal issues, as you call them, please let me know. I can offer an old man’s advice, a more flexible schedule, even some time off, if needed. I might be able to introduce you to some friends of mine, as well.”

  Nathan suddenly felt at sea. What was the man talking about?

  “Friends?”

  “Oh, you know,” his boss said with a rather unsubtle wink. “Ladies…or gentlemen… that can help you forget all about your worries for a while. Everyone needs companionship now and then, right? But you must come to me, talk to me, or I’ll never know.”

  Nathan’s head spun. Was Dave Miles suggesting what it sounded like? Was that why he’d set up his agency in one of the less reputable parts of town? Before Nathan had time to contemplate it, he realized that no matter how liberal his boss might be, there was no way he could tell Dave Miles the entire truth. How would that conversation go?

  “Oh, I'm sorry, sir. It's just that I've been drawing dead women when I don't realize it. Not just dead… but murdered. Seems I'm channeling a serial killer.”

  Yeah, not a good career move unless the firm had an outpatient program with the local psych ward. Thank god, he had Samantha to talk to now. And Liam. If it weren’t for Liam Bays, he might have wound up in jail or going slowly insane as he dealt with the death-visions on his own.

  “Of course, thank you, Sir,” Nathan replied to his expectant boss. “There’s really nothing I feel comfortable discussing at present, but I appreciate the offer a great deal. If it turns out I need any help, I’ll definitely let you know.”

  Miles smiled, leaned forward and clapped him on the shoulder. Nathan froze as the touch lasted a few seconds longer than felt natural. Then the other man squeezed his shoulder and held his gaze for an uncomfortable beat of silence.

  “Well, good,” his boss continued as he took a hasty step back. “Now get back to work and I’ll expect those revised proofs in the morning.”

  “Sure thing.” Nathan stood and moved to the door, only to stop and look back. “I really appreciate your confidence in me, Mr. Miles. I promise I won’t let you down.”

  He walked out of the meeting room, conscious of eyes watching as he walked to his own office. But he refused to look around. He deplored gossips and wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of thinking he cared what they thought. Talk about him all they want. Words held little power over him at this chapter in his life.

  “Nathan?”

  He stopped at the light feminine voice and turned to the reception desk.

  “Yes, Kathy?” he forced a smile.

  “I just wanted to know if everything is okay? Is there anything else I can do to help?”

  He stared for a long moment as his tumbled thoughts tried to make sense of what the woman was saying.

  “Oh, no, thank you,” he finally said. “I appreciate your call about the proofs.”

  “No problem at all,” she replied with a smile. “I like to be helpful––especially to my friends.”

  Ah, okay. He felt a little niggle of discomfort at that. They knew each other, yes. They spoke frequently, but never about anything of consequence. Suddenly he felt at a complete loss as to what to say. But surely it was nothing serious. A crush, if anything. A harmless office infatuation. Or maybe it was just is overactive imagination running wild. Before it was over with, he’d have himself convinced that everyone was coming onto him.

  “Well, I’m sure you have plenty of your own work to do,” he said. “But thanks for the heads up, I’ve been a little preoccupied as of late.”

  She nodded, her brilliant white smile still firmly in place. Nathan turned to go.

  “Would you like me to order lunch in for you this afternoon? I already have a few orders ready to go.”

  He stopped. “Um, no thank you, that isn’t necessary.”

  “Oh, it’s no trouble,” she insisted. “I order for many of the artists and executives, especially when they’re on deadline.”

  “Oh, is that in the job description of company receptionist? Lunch orders? I would have thought you’d have enough to do keeping this place running.”

  “No, it’s not,” she shrugged, “Not really, but I like to do whatever I can to help. I really admire creative people.”

  “Thanks, Kathy, but I have lunch plans today. Maybe some other time.”

  Her smile dissolved. “Oh, well, sure. Maybe next time.”

  He thought about Kathy and her obvious willingness to do whatever it took to find approval. Friends. It made him a bit sad. While he understood how she must feel, it wasn’t his place to encourage her.r />
  Two hours later, he had the Dormont proofs done and ready for his boss. He walked them down the hall and handed them to Dave Miles’s private assistant before shutting down his workstation computer and gathering his things. He wasn’t sure how this date with Samantha would play out, but he wanted to be prepared.

  “Thanks again, Kathy,” he said as he passed her desk on his way to the elevator. “I’ll probably just work from home this afternoon if anyone asks.”

  Her smile seemed a bit cooler this time. “Fine, have a good day.”

  Chapter Four

  It had been a long morning of meetings, promises and plastic smiles by the time Samantha made it back to her office around twelve-thirty. At least she could be sure that everything for the upcoming benefit was on schedule. The food and drinks had been ordered. Invitations would be sent out by the following week, and they’d managed to book one of the more popular DJ’s in Savannah for the music.

  The guest list was a long and somewhat exclusive one, thanks to her client list, Camille Bryant’s contacts and the chief of police. Everyone agreed that by inviting half of the movers and shakers of Savannah, they were assured both good press coverage as well as substantial donations. Camille would be pleased, in the end, particularly since the last charitable event she’d been involved with hadn’t ended well.

  “Understatement of the century,” Samantha muttered as she cringed at the memories and quickly shoved them aside.

  Onward and upward.

  If Camille wasn’t letting ancient history get to her, then she sure as hell had no excuse. Although she didn’t have a clue how the usually shy, reclusive writer could simply let the degrading episode die along with the rest of her past. She really admired Camille’s strength. But it could only help her to have a faithful, gorgeous man by her side.

  Samantha entered her office, dropped everything on the wide blue sofa that spanned one wall and kicked off her heels before dropping into the wingback desk chair. The supple leather crunched slightly beneath her weight as she settled back with a sigh. It had been hard to concentrate on the meetings and plans with the image of Nathan’s bedroom eyes foremost in her mind. While the thought of seeing him again made her insides quiver with anticipation, a small part of her wanted to lock the door and hide. She was not ready for the changes this man would bring into her life.