Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1)

by Carissa Andrews

  “I—I saw it when you threw the packet at me. Esther’s in a cabin by the river. I need to get these details to Detective Radovich so we can locate it. She doesn’t have much time. There’s a man—someone the family’s never seen—he’s the one who—” I say, pulling up short.

  I blink back the surprise.

  “Don’t stop there, what else?” the man says, leaning in.

  “Hang on, who are you?” I say. “I don’t even know why the hell I’m telling you all of this. You could be part of the whole scheme, for all I know.”

  I clutch the packet and stand up. Backing away, I hold a hand out as he tries to follow.

  “Back the hell off,” I warn.

  “Okay, okay,” he says, holding his hands up, “name’s Blake Wilson. I’m Ted and Lacy Trundle’s friend,” he says. For a far too long and awkward moment, he holds my gaze.

  “Friend? Since when do friends break into people’s houses?”

  “Well, I’m also a private investigator—”

  I cast my eyes to the floor, absently consuming this new information.

  “Why on earth are you wasting your time with me? Shouldn’t you be out there doing your damn job?” I say, anger suddenly welling up.

  “As a matter of fact, I am. I needed to know for sure you could be trusted,” he says. “You may have convinced Ted with whatever parlor trick you had up your sleeve today, but I can’t have someone working with me I can’t trust. I needed to know for sure. Hell, I’m still not entirely convinced.”

  “Trust for what?” I say, pressing the packet to my chest. “As far as I’m concerned, between the two of us, I’m a goddamn saint. I haven’t accosted you or broken into your damn house. Besides, the one you really need to be concerned about is whoever took Esther.”

  “Ordinarily, I’d say you were right. But before your talk with them today, Ted was convinced you were a charlatan. He was concerned about you impeding the case with some wild goose chase, but Lacy has been hellbent on bringing you in. This is their daughter, we’re talking about. Then something changed; whatever you said to him this morning had him confused, but he wanted me to confirm before I brought you in. I don’t need some fake psychic screwing up my investigation. I gotta know you are what they say you are. Or what they think you are, anyway. It didn’t seem, well until now, like you had anything special,” he admits. “But that coulda been an educated guess based on the packet.”

  “Gee, thanks for your thorough analysis,” I say, making a face and flipping him the bird.

  “You know what I mean. Every interaction with you has yielded absolutely nothing. You didn’t even know I’d come back into the home,” Blake says, reaching for his cellphone.

  “No offense, but it doesn’t always work that way,” I say, glaring at him. “Sometimes I actually have to push myself to see things. Other times, they come easy.”

  I let out a long sigh.

  Why in the hell do I feel like I need to defend myself to this arrogant asshat?

  “Fine. You’ll have to tell me more on the ride,” he says, pushing send on his phone.

  “What?” I snort.

  Holding up a finger, he walks a few steps away, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up. “Yeah, it’s me. Might be something to this psychic chick, but we’re gonna have to confirm. She thinks we’re looking in the wrong place. According to Diana we’re gonna need to refocus the search along the river. I’m bringing her in to go over satellite images now to see if her hunch pans out. Be there in a few.”

  Blake ends the call and turns back to me.

  “Ready to go?”

  I fling the manilla packet back at him.

  “Since the moment I got home, I’ve been assaulted by you twice, nearly passed out from using my abilities, not to mention knocked out by you—god, I probably have a lump on my forehead now, thanks by the way—and interrogated like a criminal. I think I need a damn minute to regroup.”

  Blake’s deep brown eyes widen and his dark eyebrows tug in.

  “I didn’t knock you out. You passed out as I walked back in.”

  “Well, that’s a relief,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  “Look, you said it yourself, we don’t have much time. If Esther’s with this man at the river, we have to get our asses moving. If things really are going down the way you say they are, then this should be super easy. I’m sure I don’t need to tell you the statistics for missing kids and the chances of being found alive, but if I do—”

  I hold up a hand, “No need. I’m well aware.”

  “Well, good. Then you know we need to figure out which house we’re dealing with and we need to know now. If you’re as real as you claim to be—I need you to come with me so we can corroborate your story.”

  “Story?” I say, my mouth popping open.

  “You know what I mean,” Blake says. “We gotta help her.”

  His eyes plead with mine and I can’t help but be a little moved by it. I mean, here’s a guy who has only a friendship connection to the family…but he’s genuinely concerned about finding her in one piece. It’s written all over his face.

  “Yeah, yeah okay. Let’s go,” I agree, walking over to him. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch.”

  As soon as I walk toward him, I’m instantly dizzy, and reach for the front of my head.

  “You okay?” Blake asks. “I swear, I tapped you on the back to get your attention and you passed out. Your head slammed on the kitchen counter. I didn’t expect you to pass out like that.”

  He reaches for my arm, hoisting me up and helping me walk along with him.

  “I swear you knocked me out,” I say, shaking my head.

  “I don’t know what kinda man you think I am, Diana, but I don’t make a habit of knocking people out when I don’t have to,” he says snorting.

  “Is that so?” I say, crinkling my face, and shaking my head. Cobwebs and tendrils from passing out threaten to consume what’s left of my consciousness.

  “Just because I didn’t knock you out doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to take advantage of the situation. There was information I needed, so I set ya on the chair and waited for you to come around,” he says, reaching for the front door.

  “Smooth. So you’re a ‘take advantage’ kinda guy,” I mutter.

  “Lady, seriously, you ain’t got the first clue about the kinda guy I am. Seems like you can’t get a single fix on me at all—which is a bit questionable as a proclaimed psychic don’t you think?” he growls.

  Clearly, I touched a nerve.

  “You know what, let’s get moving. The sooner we’re there, the sooner I can identify the property, and the sooner Esther can be found,” I say.

  And the sooner I can get the hell away from you and never have to see your sorry, perfect ass again.

  3

  MAYBE IT WAS STUPID to assume we were heading down to the police station. But that’s exactly what I did. What a moron. I blame it on post-ability blackout or something.

  We’ve left the safety of the city I know and love—only to enter a wooded area with winding dirt roads.

  “Where in the hell are you taking me?” I ask when I reclaim my bearings.

  Blake sighs deeply and shoots me a sideways glance.

  “What? It’s a reasonable question,” I say, not even trying to mask my alarm.

  “We’re heading back to my place, Diana,” he says, keeping his eyes on the road.

  My fingertips fly to my forehead and I scratch at my eyebrow. The lump on my forehead itches.

  Dammit, my abilities have certainly picked a fine time to go on hiatus. Never—not once have I ever been caught off guard quite so many times. Especially not in one day and sure as hell not by the same damn person. How do normal people do it?

  “Why exactly are we going there?” I say, squinting my eyes at him.

  “I have all of my specialized equipment back there. If you think we’re gonna get the details we need outta the Helena PD, you’ve sorrily overestimate
d the intelligence of their detectives. Why do you think I was brought in?” Blake says, a hint of amusement playing at his tone.

  He clearly enjoys making me uneasy…as well as flashing his high regard for his own intelligence.

  Narcissistic ass.

  “You know, you coulda been upfront to begin with,” I say, my eyes flitting to the passing trees beyond the confines of his Range Rover.

  “I coulda,” he says, nodding in agreement. “But then again, you never asked.”

  “Ugh,” I groan.

  Taking a deep breath, I lean back, pressing hard into the headrest of the seat. More than anything, I want to find the little girl, make sure she’s safe, and slide back to my ordinary, everlasting life. Not to mention, get away from this guy.

  I take back everything I said about wanting more of a challenge than ordinary people and their mundane requests. I’d take all of it over this, any day.

  Could my abilities be on the fritz now? Or worse…slipping away after the ritual last month, too?

  Would that really be so bad? I mean, after all these years, it might actually be a blessing.

  I sit up straighter in my seat, suddenly curious.

  “What are you doin’?” Blake asks, his eyes flitting to me.

  “What’s it to you?” I say, casting a glance of indignation.

  Oddly enough, he chuckles, “Fair enough. We’re almost there. You know, in case you’re curious.”

  “Well, yippee skippy. If we were gonna take much longer I woulda said there was no point in looking for the girl,” I say, far snippier than I originally intend.

  Still sitting upright, I close my eyes and focus on Esther.

  Can I sense her if I try?

  Instantly, flashes inundate my mind—moments of calm before the oncoming storm. She sits alone in a room, playing with a puppy; her insides are coiling with guilt and worry, knowing exactly how much trouble she could be in—but still trying to believe it will be okay. The sensations are odd—a juxtaposition of her innocence, and something much more malevolent lingering to the outskirts of her awareness. The man on the other side of the wall has horrible intentions, but she doesn’t have the frame of reference for any of it.

  Shuddering, I wrap my arms around myself.

  Blake pulls the car up to a small Tudor home, partially hidden by the large oaks in his front yard. Light cascades from the oversized windows, illuminating the dormant grass, and guiding the way to the front door.

  I reach for the car handle, but Blake hits the locks and grabs my left hand, pulling me up short. His hand is warm—bordering on hot—and it makes me shiver in the chill of the cold night.

  “Do me a favor. Let me do the talking, okay? You’re here to guide us to which house we need to get into,” he says, his eyes suddenly serious. Any previous hints of mischievousness fading away.

  “No promises.”

  I’m not sure who the hell’s inside he’s so afraid I’m gonna talk to, but I hope it’s a wife or something. I’d love to watch him squirm after the hell he’s put me through today.

  I tug my hand from his and exit the Rover. Without a glance back, I walk confidently up the stone steps to the entrance and wait for him to unlock the massive front door.

  My strength is returning, and the crisp night air and moonlight continues to do me some good.

  Blake walks up a few moments behind and simply pushes open the door—no keys required.

  “You may enter,” he says, smirking.

  “Right,” I mutter, ushering myself past the arm he’s swung outward—offering me inside.

  “Aiden, we’re here,” Blake calls out, his voice bouncing around the small, empty entryway.

  I flit my eyes around. The majority of the house is as barren as the entry, despite the character and charm of the outside of the home.

  “Ever think of decorating a bit?” I mutter.

  “Why?” Blake says, raising an eyebrow.

  A young man, no older than twenty bounds around the corner. His shaggy brown hair reminds me of a sheep dog, the way he has to toss his head to the side to see.

  “Heya, Blake. I got all the specs pulled up,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “Ready when you are.”

  The young man’s eyes bounce from Blake, to me, and back to Blake.

  “Great,” Blake says, walking out of the entryway and down the hall Aiden came from.

  The two of us stand together in the entryway staring at each other for a long, awkward moment.

  “Hi, I’m Aiden,” the kid finally says, holding out a hand.

  I look down at his outstretched limb and take a second to decide if I want to follow through with the mundane ritual. His blue eyes latch on me expectantly, so I take his hand in return.

  “Diana,” I say as our hands lock.

  Before I can catch a breath, Aiden as a young child floods my consciousness. He’s no more than eight himself, playing with a toy robot. In the room with him, adults talk in hushed whispers. They all think he’s too young to be alone in this world. His parents are dead and there’s no one left to take him. They need to find a solution, poor boy. Without hesitation, Blake offers himself, his home, and opens his life to an unexpected single-fatherhood, despite having only been in the special forces for a year and a half.

  The vision is ripped from me as Aiden removes his hand.

  I step back, surprised. Not only for the insight of Blake and Aiden’s interesting dynamic, but by the selflessness of Blake’s actions. It doesn’t jive at all with the man I’ve met thus far.

  Aiden’s eyebrows tug in as he eyes me curiously.

  “Uh, let’s head this way,” he says, putting his hands behind his back as he walks out after Blake.

  Suddenly left alone in the entryway, I take a final glance around, then follow after. By the time I reach the hallway, both men have disappeared, so I follow the sound of their voices to pinpoint their location. Ordinarily, I’d have gotten far more details with my abilities by now. My gifts would have told me how long Blake has been here, why he did what he did for Aiden—hell, how often he brushes his teeth, works out, or has sex. But, just like the starkness of his home, nothing.

  Everything is utterly, completely, blissfully, silent.

  Even details surrounding Aiden seem to be short-lived and limited.

  As I round the corner to where the men’s voices are the loudest, I notice an open doorway—the only room adorned with things on the walls. Stopping for a moment to have a better look, I’m abruptly cut off as Blake rushes past me and closes the door right in my face.

  “Er—that’s private,” he says, his eyes shifting from me to the door and back again. “We’re this way.”

  Blake turns my shoulders to square up with the walkway and gently nudges me along.

  “What are you hiding back in there?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

  “Nothing, it’s just—nothing you have to worry about. Has nothing to do with the case,” he says.

  “Ah, so is it a sex dungeon, or your ‘My Little Pony’ collection?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

  Blake’s left eyebrow quirks upward.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, ushering me into the next room.

  “I vote My Little Pony collection,” Aiden chimes in.

  Blake rolls his eyes.

  I stop abruptly, surprised by the sheer amount of technology crammed into the twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot space.

  “Wow,” I say, my eyes opening wide.

  “Yeah, ya see why we don’t leave this kinda thing to the cops?” Blake says, smirking.

  On the wall directly in front of me is a large monitor with a satellite view of the Mississippi River and each of the houses along the route flash brightly. Beside it are three more screens, all operating on their own, searching for something I wouldn’t even have the first guess at.

  “Okay, Diana, we need you to help us narrow down where along the river you think you’re seeing Esther. Was there anything that st
ood out about the house?” Blake asks, his face serious, and his stance wide. “Right now, we have more than four-hundred homes along the shore and there’s no way in hell we’re knocking door-to-door.”

  I take a step forward and nod.

  “Uh, yeah, actually. It was an older home, but not so old you’d think the creep would be holding a little girl against her will in there. It was blue outside with white shutters—and had an early eighties vibe inside. Orange shag carpet kinda stuff,” I say, remembering back to the vision.

  “Good start,” Blake says, turning to Aiden.

  “On it,” Aiden mutters, turning to his keyboard. His fingers fly expertly and within seconds lights along the river go out. Another moment later, five homes load on the monitors in sequence, each showing the front face of a blue home with white shutters.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.

  That was fast. Like, blink and you’ll miss it kinda fast.

  The irony of how similar technology has become to my abilities is not lost on me. A shudder skitters down my spine. Technology creeps the hell outta me.

  No wonder some people don’t want to believe in psychics.

  “Any of these?” Blake asks, intensity rolling off of him in waves as he points to the screens.

  I take another step forward, peering at the monitors.

  “Yep, that one,” I say, raising my arm, and touching the one on the bottom left.

  Aiden whimpers, “Please don’t touch the screens.”

  He gets up, grabbing a small black cloth and wipes furiously.

  I back away and stifle a small chuckle.

  “You sure?” Blake says, his dark eyes monitoring my every movement.

  “Dead sure,” I say, returning his intensity.

  Blake turns on his heels and heads out the door.

  “Stay here with Aiden,” he calls out over his shoulder.

  “Uh, what? Like hell I am,” I say, rushing after him. “I’m coming with you.”

  Near the front door, Blake stops dead and squares up with me, “What kind of training do you have?”

  His eyes are deep, dark pools of serious desperation. There’s something hidden there—something buried deep and separate from this case. If my abilities were working with him I’d know instantly what he was trying to hide.