“Just more of the same. Chief Winder talked me into helping the NYPD while I was in New York City, and I nearly got killed, so talking about that might not help me so much.”
“Oh.” He nodded with comprehension. “Were you in a rough spot, or did someone target you specifically?”
“Uh… yeah, they wanted me dead.”
His brows rose. “I take it that happens a lot?”
“Pretty much.”
He nodded, thinking I was like a walking trouble-magnet, and it had everything to do with my psychic ability. Good thing I was talking to him. Still, he knew I was holding something back. Every time I spoke about my ability, I glanced away and wouldn’t look him in the eyes.
Intuitively, he knew that being psychic—or whatever it was I did—was the basis of all my troubles. He’d have to recommend more sessions so he could get to the bottom of it and give me the help I needed. Maybe we could talk about the first time I realized I was a psychic and how it had changed my life.
Oh great. That was that last thing I needed. Maybe talking to him hadn’t been such a good idea after all.
As the silence continued, he changed tactics. “Let’s talk about something else.” He rubbed his hands together and leaned forward. “How about this? Is there anything positive that’s happened lately? Something that’s made you smile?”
I brightened. “Actually yes, there is. We… my kids and I… adopted a dog this morning. He’s smart and well-behaved, and my kids love him.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful. Pets can really have a soothing effect on people. That might be just what you need.”
I hadn’t considered that, but he was right. Petting Coco, and talking to him, had helped lighten my load. I looked forward to seeing him once I got home, so it was already working.
“We’re almost out of time,” Bob said. “But this is a good start. I want to give you some tools that might help relieve some of your stress. Considering your bad dreams, I’d like to recommend doing some meditation before you go to bed.” He explained why and how it worked, and gave me a list with some apps and websites on meditation to choose from.
“Also, you might find it useful to keep a journal. At the end of each day you could write down what happened that day and how you felt about it. One of my officers calls it a “barf journal.” He smiled. “It’s just a way to put it all out there, so you’re not internalizing or denying those feelings. I think it could help with your stress.”
“Okay. I’ll try it out.”
“Good. As I’m sure you know, it’s my job to determine how you’re doing, and it’s up to me to decide when you can return to work. Right now, I think you’re fine to get back on the job, as long as you keep coming to see me.”
“Really?”
“Sure. I think what you’ve done, and how you’ve handled it, is remarkable. I want to see you again day after tomorrow, and then we’ll figure out how many more times you need to come in. Sound good?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“Great. Day after tomorrow, I’ll expect to see you again at two-thirty.” He stood and held out his hand. After I shook it, he handed me his business card. “And feel free to call me anytime—day or night, whatever you need.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He came around his desk and opened the door for me. I thanked him again and walked out, feeling relieved. That wasn’t so bad. And the fact that he thought I was doing well, in spite of it all, made me feel even better.
With a light step, I took the stairs down to the detectives’ offices. Entering, I glanced over the room, looking forward to seeing Dimples. He sat at his desk, studying something on his computer. My gaze wandered the room for a glimpse of the psychic, but I didn’t find a new person anywhere. Did she go home already?
Dimples caught sight of me, and his lips turned up into a big grin that sent his dimples swirling. From here, they looked like little tornadoes in his cheeks. Naturally, I smiled back and made my way to his desk. He jumped to his feet and gave me a big hug. Unfortunately, he squeezed my injured arm, and I flinched.
He noticed and quickly pulled away. “Are you hurt?” I’d automatically covered my arm with my hand, so he focused on it. “What happened? Let me see.”
I pulled my hand away and lifted my short-sleeved shirt, so he could see my wound. “Just a few stitches from a knife wound.”
He examined it, thinking it looked worse than a few stitches, especially with the yellow color of bruising all around it. Had someone squeezed my injury on purpose? His questioning gaze caught mine. Is that what had happened?
I nodded. “Yeah, pretty much. The cut is the result of the first time the guy tried to kill me. After he was ordered to kidnap me instead, he liked to squeeze my arm to keep me in line.”
Dimples’s face hardened, and his jaw tightened with anger.
“It’s okay,” I said, wanting to calm him. “The guy’s dead, so it’s all good.”
He shook his head, and a few choice swear words ripped through his mind. His gaze caught mine and his eyes widened. “Uh… sorry. But what the hell?”
He wondered if it had happened because of the police case or because of Manetto. Had the mob boss nearly gotten me killed again? Knowing I’d heard that, he heaved out a breath, then spoke softly so only I could hear him. “I can help you take him down. You know that, right?”
I sighed. Not this again. It was an ongoing argument between us, and I did not want to go there right now… or ever. It was just too late for that. I pushed my initial anger away to placate him. He only had my best interests at heart. How could I be mad about that? “I know, and I appreciate it.”
“So what happened?”
I sighed. “It’s a long story, and I promise to tell you all about it another time. Right now, I think there’s someone you wanted me to meet?”
“Oh… right.” He glanced around the office, thinking that she’d left to get coffee in the break room and should have been back by now.
“Maybe she left the building and went to a coffee shop? The coffee around here isn’t the best, right?”
“Uh… that’s true.” He was thinking that getting a cappuccino with whipped cream and sprinkles was more Willow’s style. She wouldn’t think twice about leaving, but how did I know that? Did I get a premonition?
I laughed and he smiled. “That must be it,” I agreed. “So tell me about your case.”
His smile dropped. “We still haven’t found a body, and Willow didn’t pick up much from the woman at the hospital. It would help if we had the woman’s name, but she doesn’t remember anything, and her purse is missing.”
“Wow. That’s nuts. So Willow hasn’t helped much, huh?” Deep down, I was happy she’d failed; how crazy was that? Dimples pursed his lips and gave me a knowing smile. I just shrugged. “Maybe I should talk to the victim?”
“Yeah… maybe. But are you cleared for that? How did your counselling session go anyway?”
“It was good. Bob Spicer is great, and he cleared me to get back to work.”
“Good to hear. Maybe we should—”
“Harris,” Chief Winder said, coming out of his office. “We found a body. I need you to head down there—Shelby?” He caught sight of me, and a guilty flush stained his cheeks. “Uh… you’re back. That’s great.”
Before I could respond, a woman stepped out of his office behind him. Tall and thin, she had long, brown hair with blond streaks and bangs. Her hair lay in wispy tendrils that framed her square jaw. Heavy makeup accented her large eyes and red lips, and she wore a white, v-neck, bohemian-style peasant dress that hit her legs several inches above the knee. With wedge-style sandals on her feet, she was nearly as tall as the chief.
Keeping with the peasant style, she wore several beaded necklaces that dipped toward her cleavage, with matching beads that jangled on her wrists and ankles. If she was going for the fortune-teller look, all that she lacked was a scarf around her head.
She caught sight of me, and her brow wrin
kled. She was thinking, uh-oh, I must be Shelby Nichols, and I was staring at her like I wanted to kill her. This was bad karma. She’d thought she’d have more time. Now she’d just have to pretend she didn’t know anything about me.
Noticing my pursed lips, the chief hurried toward me with a smile and an outstretched hand. “I can’t tell you enough how much your help meant to Martin. You really came through with the case. It’s still hard to believe how much you were able to do.”
He dropped my hand and turned to Willow, who’d followed him to my side. “Shelby was instrumental in taking down a drug ring, and the mob family behind it, just last week in New York City. It was huge.”
Willow sent a reserved smile my way, while the chief quickly introduced us. “Shelby, this is Willow Maguire. She’s been helping us while you were gone.”
This close, I could see that the blond streaks were mostly to cover the gray in her hair. Black eyeliner framed dark, long eyelashes that could only be fake, and she smelled like smoky incense and flowers, or some kind of patchouli. I’d say she was in her late forties or early fifties. Without all the heavy makeup, she would have looked more wholesome. Instead, she looked like she was playing a part.
I strained to listen to her thoughts, but she guarded them well, easily slipping into her persona with the talent of a skilled actor. I even picked up a sense of superiority from her, like she was looking down her nose at me.
“Oh, is that right?” I asked, acting like Dimples hadn’t told me. “How exactly does she help you?” I wasn’t about to let the chief off that easily, and I wanted him to squirm. He flushed a deep red and couldn’t quite look me in the eyes.
Before he could answer, Willow spoke up. “I’m a psychic.” The perkiness in her voice sounded forced, and she smiled like it was a joke. “I know it’s hard to believe, but it’s true, and I’m glad I’ve been able to help. Did you hear about the little girl who went missing? I’m the reason we found her.”
“Oh,” I said. “Well… then Brian was lucky you showed up.” I used the chief’s name to let her know we were on a first-name basis. She didn’t seem to know who I was talking about, so I continued. “I mean… Chief Winder.”
“Oh… right,” she said, waving her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Anyway, he…” she glanced at the chief. “Brian… asked me to come back in and help with another case. So… here I am. We were just coming out to tell Drew about the body. In fact… we should get going, right Drew?” She said his name like they were a couple, and I nearly gagged. “It was so nice to meet you, Shelby.” To Dimples, she said, “Ready to go?”
Dimples had that deer-in-the-headlights look, and I could totally see how much he disliked her. He didn’t want to go with her, but he was stuck. He looked at me and thought what should I do? I don’t want to go with her. Can you come too? Please?
The chief was thinking that he’d like me in on this, but he couldn’t send two psychics. “Uh… Shelby, do you have a minute to talk?”
I looked between them and shrugged. “Sure.” To Dimples, I said, “Call me when you have a minute. I’d be happy to help.”
Willow wanted to tell me that they didn’t need my help, but she wisely kept her mouth shut. She’d speak up if she needed to, but it wasn’t necessary now. This was her investigation, and she’d worked too hard to be replaced. She’d have to pepper Drew about me once they’d left. The more she knew about me, the better prepared she’d be. Still, she’d hoped to have more time before I showed up.
Dimples sighed with defeat and nodded. Then he ushered Willow to the stairs. She sent me a wary smile before turning away. That smile, along with the intent behind it, told me more than I got from her thoughts. She wanted my job. It was that plain and simple. But why go the psychic route?
That was about the hardest way to get a job as a consultant for the police, especially if she had no skills. Of course, because of me, more people, including the chief of police, believed in that sort of thing. But, if that was her reasoning, that just made her seem even more manipulative and downright evil.
Chief Winder led the way to his office, and I sat down in front of his desk. “I’m glad you’re back,” he began. “But I have to say that I was surprised to see you so soon. I thought you might need some time off after everything that happened in New York.”
“Oh… well, I came in today because I had an appointment with Bob Spicer. After we were done, I thought I’d come by and say hello.”
The chief’s face brightened. “That’s great. So what did Bob say? Did he clear you to come back to work?”
“He said I was good to go, but not to take on too much, you know?” I hoped that was enough to keep me on the sidelines. “I could probably help Detective Harris if you need me, but it looks like you’ve already got someone else on the case.” At his pained expression, I continued. “I have to admit that it was a shock to find out you’d replaced me.”
His eyes widened. “Replaced? Oh no… not at all. You could never be replaced.”
“Well, that’s nice to know.” I stood, suddenly too angry to stay. “If that’s all, I’ve got to go.”
“Uh… sure.” He knew he was in hot water, but he didn’t know how to fix it. “I’m glad you’re seeing Bob.”
“Yeah, me too. He’s great.”
“Good. Hey… uh… take as much time as you need. When you’re up to working again, let me know.”
He thought that would be the ticket to smooth things over between us, but that was the last thing I wanted to hear. He should be telling me how much they needed me, and that Willow was a fake and nowhere near as good as me. Geez.
I nodded, but I couldn’t keep the icy smile off my lips. As far as I was concerned, he was in the dog house, and I wasn’t sure I ever wanted to come back. Willow could just help him out from now on. Then he’d find out how much he really needed me.
After a curt goodbye to the chief, I left the precinct with a heavy heart. It was discouraging to know I was replaceable, even though I knew it wasn’t completely true. What I needed was a friendly face and maybe a ride on a motorcycle to help me feel better. With that in mind, I drove to Thrasher Development.
I pulled into the parking garage and headed to the elevator, taking a quick peek around the cement column where Ramos kept his motorcycle. Yup, there it was. Just looking at all that magnificent chrome and leather unfurled something in my heart.
The song, “Devil Rider,” by Jodie McAllister, started up in my head and brought a smile to my lips. She’d written that hit song about Ramos and his motorcycle. With it on my mind, I sang the chorus out loud in the elevator on the way up to the twenty-sixth floor. By the time the doors opened, I was in a much better mood.
I walked into Thrasher Development with a smile on my face. I hadn’t spoken to Uncle Joey or Jackie, his secretary and wife, since we’d come home, and I was pretty sure they’d be surprised to see me so soon.
In fact, it even surprised me that I’d voluntarily show up at the office of a mob boss. After everything I’d been through, I should know better, but, here I was with a smile on my face. What would Bob Spicer think about that? He’d probably want to commit me.
“Shelby!” Jackie exclaimed. “I didn’t expect to see you today. How are you doing? How’s the arm?”
“It still hurts a little, but it’s healing. How’s Uncle Joey’s shoulder? Did he ever get it looked at?” He’d gotten shot coming to my rescue… well… I guess it was more like a flesh wound. But a bullet’s a bullet, right?
“Yes, but only because I made him go in.” She shook her head. “That man can be so stubborn.”
“Yeah, no kidding.” Uncle Joey may be a mob boss, but he’d changed in the past year or so, mostly because of me… or at least that’s what I liked to think.
Since I’d met him, he’d made several discoveries. He’d found out Jackie was in love with him. They’d secretly married, but now everyone knew. He’d also found out he had a son, Miguel, who, at eighteen, had enough talent
to become the lead singer in a Broadway musical in New York City. That musical was the main reason we’d all been in New York, but it had turned into so much more, and we were lucky to be alive.
“Joe’s in his office with Ramos,” Jackie said. “And I’m sure they wouldn’t mind if you interrupted them.” She knew Joe would be happy to see me, especially since I’d come in all on my own. Ramos was half in love with me, so she knew he wouldn’t complain.
That was a sore spot for her, and she wished he’d get over it. I was a married woman, and she didn’t want him to destroy my life. But the way he looked at me even made her hot all over. If he kept it up, she worried that I wouldn’t be able to resist his charms. Of course, I’d kept my distance for over a year; maybe I was stronger than she thought.
As I walked down the hall, I fought the urge to turn around and tell her that she didn’t need to worry. Ramos and I had an agreement. He may tease me, but he didn’t want to ruin my life, so it was all good. Besides, even if I wasn’t happily married, he was a hitman and not relationship material… at least that’s what I told myself.
Uncle Joey’s office door was open, so I gave a slight tap on the door and stepped inside. Uncle Joey glanced up, and his eyes widened. “Shelby. This is a pleasant surprise. Come on in.”
“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by.”
Uncle Joey smiled broadly and came around his desk for a quick hug. “I’m glad you came. It’s good to see you.”
I met him halfway, surprised at the warmth I felt to see him again. “You too.”
While he returned to his seat, Ramos stood from his chair and looked me over with a wicked gleam in his eyes, thinking that he liked what he saw, especially the tight, black jeans and soft blue shirt that made my blue eyes sparkle like gems. “How’s the arm?” he asked, wondering if I was going to give him a hug, too.
Crap. Jackie was right. The intense way he looked me over sent tremors from my head to my toes. Of course, he’d do that to anyone, right? It didn’t help that he was dressed in his black hitman attire, and danger rolled off him like he was ready to kill someone. Why was that so attractive? Hmmm… what would Bob think about that?
Dying Wishes: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Shelby Nichols Adventure Book 14) Page 3
