Deep Beneath: A Psychic Vision Novel

by Dale Mayer

  “We’ve got everything we need to know,” he said.

  Mark turned to look at Ned. “What do you mean?”

  “I have your social security number,” he said. “I don’t really need anything past that. With it, I can cause you all kinds of hell.”

  Her ex-fiancé shook his head. “That’s not fair,” he bellowed. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Tell it to the cops. You didn’t do anything right,” Samson said, his voice hard. “You watched somebody try to kill her. For all we know, you had a hand in it.”

  “I didn’t,” he said. “I didn’t.” And then he burst into tears and sat down in the corner of the room, wrapping his arms around his knees.

  Whimsy stared at him in surprise. “If you didn’t,” she said, “then what the hell is going on?”

  “They came to me,” he finally said. “They came to me before the kayaking.”

  She looked at him. “Who?”

  “A group of men. A group of very scary men.”

  “As in the men we saw when we first set out kayaking?” she asked.

  He looked up, pathetically grateful. “Yes. Them. You remember them, right?”

  “Absolutely, I remember them. We were friendly, and they were … reserved. One was security on campus. But something was uneasy about them.”

  “Right,” Mark said. “They’re not only uneasy to be around but freaking terrifying.”

  “You need to tell us from the beginning,” Ned said. “Somebody tried to kill this poor girl, and, if it wasn’t bad enough that she survived two bullet wounds, the ocean tried to kill her at the same time.”

  Her ex-fiancé turned to look up at her. “Did they shoot you?”

  She nodded, placing a hand over the still-healing wound on her shoulder. “They shot me in the shoulder, and they grazed my head with the other shot,” she said. “Samson found me and stitched me up.”

  “Oh, my God!” he cried out. “I didn’t know what was going on around us.”

  “Why did they want me dead?” She looked for a place to sit down, but honestly, he’d pawned everything from the kitchen chairs to the coffee table.

  “They didn’t say. They didn’t even say they would kill you. But I had to get you there within a certain time frame. They said they just wanted to talk to you. But then, when they paddled past us, I wasn’t sure what was going on. Afterward, when I made it back to shore, I wasn’t even thinking about them,” he said. “I was terrified you were dying, or the sea had already killed you. I was exhausted when I got back to shore. I burned through all my energy by the time I made it, and I collapsed on the sand. I was miles away. I loaded up my kayak and called the Coast Guard and told them you were missing. I got a lift from some guy with a truck and came back to my place.”

  “How long after that was it?” Ned asked. “Because, if you’re lying, you can bet I’ll have something to say about it.”

  Mark shook his head. “I’m not lying. Honest, I’m not. But I don’t know how soon it was. I was hours getting back. And the Coast Guard said they had several reports of missing people due to the storm. A yacht had been close by, and somebody had been shot and gone overboard there too.”

  “I saw that,” Whimsy said. “But I didn’t know if it was somebody on board getting shot, or if it was just wild shooting going on because they were drunk.”

  Mark stared at her. “You were out there at the same time?”

  She nodded. “I tried to get help from them, but they were so busy fighting that they didn’t see me.”

  “The cops need to talk to you then about that incident,” Ned added. “I think they pulled a body from the water with bullet holes in it. Likely came from that yacht.”

  “When Samson told me that I’d been shot, I thought it had been them. I thought they figured I’d seen them,” she admitted.

  Mark stared at her. “Who goes for a kayak trip and ends up in the middle of a storm, watches some guy get murdered, has somebody else already planning to take you out, you drown, and then you wash ashore on an island with this guy?” he asked. “Who has those kinds of experiences? Not anyone normal? That’s just bizarre.”

  “Maybe,” she said heavily. “I didn’t sign up for this, but it’s what happened, and it’s what I have to live with.” She faced him. “But you’re the one going to jail. And speaking of which, why did you do what they asked you to do?”

  Mark began to rock in place. Finally, he whispered, “Money. I did it for the money. But they didn’t pay me. And I know I’m not going to get paid now either. They’ve set me up to take the blame.”

  Just then a heavy pounding came at the door. Mark let out a squeak and curled up into a tighter ball.

  Whimsy walked over to the door, but Samson grabbed her. “No,” he said. “Not you. We don’t know how many people know you’re still alive. And, once they see you, that’ll be confirmation. At the moment it’s just rumors and that one media announcement.”

  She took several deep breaths.

  Ned walked over and called out, “Who is it?”

  “You know who it is,” the man said on the other side. “It’s fucking D-day.”

  Ned dove to the side. Samson grabbed Whimsy in time as the door was suddenly filled with bullets. Her ex-fiancé passed out, dropping sideways onto the carpet.

  She pulled out of Samson’s arms and crawled to his side, sure he had been shot. But instead, it looked like he had just passed out. She could hear the running footsteps going down the hallway. “Do we go after them?”

  Samson shook his head. “The cops can deal with this one.”

  “That’s good to know,” she said. “I guess the next question is, if they came prepared to shoot Mark, are they going to my place next? Planning to take me out once and for all?”

  “Yes,” Ned said. “That would be my guess.”

  “And that’s just wrong,” she said. “Haven’t I been through enough shit yet?”

  Under her hand her ex-fiancé started to moan. She looked at him in disgust. “The guy is gone,” she said, “but when the police arrive, you’ll give your complete statement, and then you can sell your car and catch a bus. I don’t care what you do. Just disappear. I can’t believe you sold me out for a paycheck.”

  He nodded. “Disappear, yes. That’s what I meant. I need to disappear.”

  She let Samson open the door to the cops when they finally arrived. It was pretty obvious which door they needed to come to. It was completely pulverized with bullet holes. He let them in, then motioned to her ex-fiancé on the floor. “It’s his place.”

  The second cop looked at Samson and said, “Who the hell are you?”

  Samson gave him a hard smile.

  Ned stepped forward and said, “Let me speak with you.”

  He led the cop off to one side, handed over his card, and motioned at both Samson and Whimsy, giving an explanation of what had gone on.

  The cop scratched under his hat as he listened. “Are you kidding me? She gets shot, drowns, comes back again, and now she’s here to find out her ex-fiancé was involved? Asshole.”

  “I hear you. He needs to get on a bus and get a long way away from here because the shooter will come back for him if he finds out he’s still alive.”

  “Oh, yeah, they will, and, if they think he had anything to do with it, or if they think he even saw them …”

  “So basically they’re just cleaning up loose ends,” she said and shook the cop’s hand. “Thank you for coming so fast.”

  “It’s my job. And I’ll be taking Mark down to the station with me.” He looked at her with interest. “So you’re the woman lost at sea?”

  “Maybe,” she said. “Samson found me, took me back to his research station, where I received the medical attention I needed, and he just now brought me back to the mainland. Honestly, I wish I’d stayed on the island.”

  “Yeah, that’s a rough return.” He looked at the door. “And how the hell is it you guys all missed those bullets?”
<
br />   “Ned went to the door,” she said, “and asked who it was. The tone of voice from the guy out there tipped us off. We all moved out of the way because he said something about it being D-day, and then he just fired. Luckily we were all tucked away when the first bullets came through the door. When the bullets stopped, he went running down the hallway. I thought he’d killed my ex-fiancé, but he had just passed out.”

  Mark glared at her. “Well, sorry,” he snapped. “I’m not James Bond. I don’t live this kind of a life.”

  “Neither do I. But you’d be surprised what you can do when you have to.” She snorted. “It’s amazing actually.” She turned to the cops. “May I leave now? I’m still not well, and I have to admit to being very tired, very cold and even hungrier than I was earlier.”

  Ned nodded to her. “Yes. We’ve given them our statements. They know where to find us.” Then he turned to the cop. “You should know this guy cleaned out her bank accounts, pawned all her furniture and jewelry, and made illegal charges on her credit cards too,” Ned said to the cop.

  “Really?”

  She nodded. “Nothing like an opportunist, huh?”

  “Do you want to press charges?”

  There was a stillness as everybody looked at her. “As long as I get the money back in my account, which I believe Ned says has happened, and my credit cards get clear, no. It’s okay. I’ll have to choose a better partner next time,” she said with a sad smile.

  “Or you could just maybe not die next time,” Samson said with a grin.

  “Or maybe that,” she said with a laugh. She took one last look at her former fiancé sitting in a pathetic puddle on the floor as the cops talked to him. “Good-bye,” she said with finality.

  Ned picked up her laptop. “How much of this stuff do you want?”

  She looked at the stack, saw her old phone and grinned with relief. “It’s not very much. Maybe we can just throw it all into a bag.”

  “If you want it, yes.” Ned reached down, picked up a plastic grocery bag and loaded up the last of her belongings. It wasn’t much. As a matter of fact, it was pitifully little.

  The cop dragged Mark along out of his apartment. He looked at her. She could see tears, and something else, maybe grief, maybe sadness. She didn’t know.

  “I did love you,” he said as she turned to walk away.

  She nodded. “Amazing how that became past tense so quickly. Seven days ago we were an engaged couple, to be married. Seven days ago you were involved in a plot to kill me,” she said with regret. “I can’t imagine that that’s the kind of love I need.”

  *

  Samson hated to see the look on her face. Her words were hard enough. But she had such a look of betrayal and abandonment on her face that he knew he wouldn’t forget it for a long time. He wrapped an arm around her and led her outside the apartment, down the hall and down the stairs.

  By the time they got to the car, Ned had raced ahead and was already opening the back doors for them.

  Samson helped her into the vehicle, then went around to the other side and sat down beside her. She was numb, but, then again, she had learned a lot of hard truths today.

  “You’re not returning to your place tonight,” he said. “We can’t take that chance with gunmen on the loose.”

  She shrugged, almost beaten down by the day’s events. How sad was that?

  He looked at Ned. “To the office maybe?”

  Ned nodded. “I’ll run back to her place later and grab some more clothes for her.”

  Samson grabbed her hand gently and held it in his. “Just hold on. We’ll get you some food and some coffee. Anything else?”

  “How about a new life?” she asked.

  “Personally I think I already did that.”

  Her eyes widened, and then she laughed. It wasn’t long before her laughter turned to tears.

  He hauled her into his arms and just held her tight against his chest. He shifted so she was in his lap. His arms were securely around her, and he just let her cry.

  To think that her ex-fiancé not only had taken everything of hers that he could possibly utilize but that he had also had a role in her murder plot was something they needed to sort out and fast. But he was pretty sure Mark’s brain didn’t tend toward complicated plots. This was a case of pure greed.

  It wasn’t far to the office. When they got there, they went in through his private elevator, straight up to his office in the back room. He tucked her into one of the big armchairs and fixed a pot of coffee. He knew Heather would arrive anytime now, but he hoped Whimsy wouldn’t look quite so much like a lost waif when Heather arrived. But it was already too late.

  As he turned around, his admin opened the door. In her hand was a platter with a carafe of hot coffee, and it looked like a couple shots of whiskey on the side with two big covered plates. He smiled at her. “How did you know?”

  “Ned informed me when he parked outside,” Heather said.

  Samson put a finger to his lips and watched as Heather’s hands covered her mouth.

  “Is she okay?” she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

  “She will be,” he said comfortably. “But today was tough.”

  “I should have stayed at the island,” Whimsy said, looking at him. “Samson wouldn’t let me.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” Samson said steadily. “We had things we had to deal with here.”

  “Now that they are dealt with,” Whimsy said, “my apartment has been stripped of furniture, and I have no place to sleep tonight. What’s the chance I can go back with you?”

  He grinned at her. “I’m not quite ready to go back. Remember? I have things I have to do too.”

  “Jamie,” she said. “I want to meet Jamie.”

  “And you will,” he said, “after you eat a full meal and rest. You need to get back to yourself again.”

  She sighed, turned to his admin and gave her a beautiful smile. “Thank you so much. And, when you get a chance, thank Ned for me too.”

  “No thanks are necessary,” Heather said. “We’re all family. And that means we look after each other.”

  Whimsy gave a broken laugh. “If I follow that logic, being family has nothing to do with blood and everything to do with trust and respect. Something I apparently don’t know how to get. Or is it because I never got a chance to marry my ex-fiancé and make him part of my family … because then he would have cared, right?”

  There wasn’t a whole lot Samson could say to that.

  Chapter 14

  It was hard to admit, but the difference between Samson and his friends and coworkers—or family, as they called each other—and what she knew to be family, or what she thought would have been a much closer relationship, was disconcerting.

  She was back in a vehicle, only this time Samson was driving, with Ned in the back seat on his phone, and they headed toward Jamie’s current place of residence. “How long has he been here?” she asked Samson.

  “Off and on for a couple years,” he said. “Jamie is a hell of a good kid. He always was seen as special. Only it’s like he lost out on his ability to cope as a child, and, as soon as he discovered drugs, he was hooked.”

  “Or he’s a special kid, and in ways most people wouldn’t—couldn’t—understand,” she corrected with a smile. “And I really like your staff.”

  “Like they said, they are family,” he said simply. “I have two brothers and a father, but Ned has always been here looking out for me. He worked for my dad for the longest time. I think that’s when our bond developed.”

  “And your mom?”

  “She divorced Dad when I was about ten,” he said, his voice deepening. “It was really rough at the time. We were all traumatized over it. She couldn’t handle Jamie.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t go live with her.”

  “She moved to a motor home with her current boyfriend,” he said shortly. “There wasn’t a lot of room for kids in her life. Literally.”

  Whimsy w
inced. “Sorry. That sounds like a painful subject.”

  “It was painful at the time,” he said. Then he chuckled. “Some things you never quite forget. It doesn’t make it something you have to avoid talking about. Mothers are a main part of the conversation, no matter where you go.”

  “True enough.” She watched in awe as they approached a large security gate with huge wrought-iron doors on the side. “Is this the place?”

  He nodded. “Yes.” He rolled down his window at the sentry gate, identified himself and was let through. “Lots of security.”

  “Is that normal?”

  “Yes,” he said. “It’s not a cheap place. A lot of rich people keep their relatives here.”

  That was oddly disconcerting. Unsettling. “Do you think there’s any chance they’re keeping them here against their will?” she asked in a low tone.

  He looked at her in surprise. “That’s not something I want to think about,” he said.

  He might not want to think about it, but it was hard for her not to. When people had money, it was easy for them to lift carpets and brush all the dirt under and out of sight. On the flip side, the wrong kind of people wanted to strip the rich folks of their money and belongings. Money brought its own problems. Like not having enough money brought other kinds of problems.

  It also bothered her because she’d struggled so hard with her sister. A part of her was pretty damn sure her mother had called family services on Whimsy, but she couldn’t prove it, and now she no longer wanted to go down that path, but the thought niggled in the back of her mind.

  Family meant something different to her versus what it did to Samson and his crew obviously. But good for them. It was something she wanted to reach out and to touch, to know for herself. But how did one do that when one couldn’t even imagine such a thing as Samson’s family?

  He pulled up and parked in the visitor section. The signs were clearly marked—doctors on one side, visitors on the other. It gave the impression of being a place where guards walked around with firearms subtly hidden yet oozed that sense of presence and power.