She lowered her head. “I don’t know how much help I’m going to be. But yeah. I’ll give it a try. I guess. Let me make some arrangements here. I can call some of my part-timers, see if they can take on full-time for a week. Will that be enough? A week?”
“We can work around your schedule. When you have time, I’ll take you to some of the crime scenes, see if you can pick up on anything from them.”
“Okay. All right. And maybe I could talk to some of the victims.”
“He... hasn’t left any of his victims alive.”
She closed her eyes. “How many have there been?”
“You haven’t been following the case on the news?”
She shook her head. “Not until this last one. Something about her...” She let her voice trail off with the thought.
“Thirteen so far,” he told her.
She shook her head sadly. A little voice asked her if this wasn’t exactly what she had always wanted. A big case, a chance to do some good. To prove herself.
No, she thought. Not like this.
But she knew she had to try. “So when do we begin?”
“Tonight.”
“So soon?”
He smiled gently. “Tonight, I’m taking you out to dinner. To thank you for saving those kids, and maybe me along with them.”
She held his gaze and wondered if maybe she had fulfilled that part of her premonition–that of saving him. She also wondered if he thought he was going to have to romance her a little in order to ensure her continued cooperation.
She kind of hoped so.
Chapter 4
“So you’re seeing her tonight?” the chief asked.
“Yes, taking her to dinner as ordered, but like I said, I think you’re off base on this one.” Sam sipped his beer and reached for a handful of pretzels. They were off duty, having a beer after work at the Cock and Bull Tavern. It wasn’t an unusual occurrence.
“Come on, Sam. You heard the tape of her call to the tip line.”
“I heard it. I just don’t think it’s all that incriminating, considering–”
“Considering what? Her so-called abilities aren’t for real. She warned you about a storm she could have heard about on the local news. You said so yourself. She’s no psychic. If she knows something about our boy, it’s personal knowledge, not some crap she’s getting from a crystal ball.”
Sam lowered his head. “She’s a nice person, Ed.”
“Yeah. Prisons are full of nice people.”
Sam didn’t like what he was being asked to do, but he didn’t have a choice. It was his job as a detective with the small city’s police department. Pulling over speeders wasn’t. He’d been in that borrowed uniform and cruiser for three days before Megan Rose had finally fallen into his phony speed trap. And he would have pulled her over whether she’d been speeding or not, which blew her theory, about her “vision” causing their chance meeting, right out of the water. No, he didn’t believe she was some kind of psychic. He wasn’t beyond crediting her with a sharper than average intuition, though.
“I don’t want your opinion on this, Sam. I just want you to do your job.”
“How did this end up being my job, anyway?” he asked the chief. “Was I chosen for my skill, my instincts, my record?”
Ed slapped his shoulder. “Your record. With women, that is. The ladies love you. God only knows why.” He winked good-naturedly. “One-Night Sam. Once I found out she was in your age range and unmarried, I knew you were our best chance of tripping her up, getting her to tell us how she really knew the things she did.” He tipped his head to one side.
“That’s about what I figured.”
“Come on, Sam. It’s in the line of duty. How bad can it be?”
Sam shrugged, thinking it wouldn’t be bad at all. Just kind of cruel. But there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do for Ed Skinner, and he thought Ed knew it. That was probably a big part of the reason Ed had chosen him for this job. “How far do you expect me to take this thing, anyway?”
“As far as you have to. Date her, bed her, wed her if need be, just get the information.”
Sam rolled his eyes. Ed was being sarcastic. About the “wed her” part, at least. “All right. I’ll stay on it. But you jot it down somewhere that I did so under protest, and that I’m convinced she’s harmless and completely innocent. I know I’m right about this.”
“You’re psychic, too, huh?”
Sam made a face.
Ed shrugged. “Well, hell, maybe she is innocent. If that’s the case, then get her to tell you who the killer is by using her powers.”
She changed clothes three times while waiting for Sam to arrive. The first choice, a slinky red dress, was too sexy. The second, an off-the-shoulder peasant blouse with jeans, was too casual. She finally settled on the standby little black dress, added a lace shawl, and stood in front of the mirror wondering if she should put her hair up or leave it down.
The doorbell rang.
She swore and glanced at the clock. “Hell.” He’d said six; it was only ten of.
Oh, well, she would just have to do. She went to the door, opened it wide.
He frowned at her. “Don’t you think you ought to ask who’s there before opening your door? Given the situation, I mean?”
She frowned right back at him, stepped back, and closed the door.
He chuckled softly, but he played along, and promptly rang the doorbell again.
“Who is it?” she called.
“It’s Sam. Your date for the evening.”
“How do I know it’s really you?”
“You’re psychic, remember?”
“Oh, yeah.” She opened the door again. “Now perhaps you’d like to try again with your uh...greeting?”
He blinked, then he got it. He stepped back and looked slowly down her, all the way to her toes, and back up again to her eyes. “Wow,” he said. “You look incredible.”
“That’s more like it.”
“I mean it.”
She smiled. “So where are you taking me?”
“That’s a surprise. Got everything?”
“Um-hm.”
He crooked an elbow, and she took it, pulled the door closed behind her, and double-checked the lock. He led her to his car, a hot-looking black Mustang, and opened the door for her. “Buckle up, now,” he said when she got in.
“Buckle up, hell. I want to drive.”
He smiled at her. “I’ve seen you drive.”
She rolled her eyes at his little joke, then said, “You need to change the oil. It’s past due.”
He frowned and glanced down at his odometer. “You’re right.”
She shrugged. He closed her door and went around to his own side to get behind the wheel. And then he drove her to the best restaurant in town, bought her a meal that was so sumptuous it should have been illegal. They ordered a single dessert to share.
As she spooned bites of luscious brownie sundae into her mouth, he watched her from the other side of the table. He picked up the white cloth napkin and dabbed something from the corner of her mouth, and said, “I think pulling you over that day was one of the best moves I’ve ever made.”
She averted her eyes and felt her face color. “You’re not getting any tonight, Sam. You can stop piling it on.”
“I’m not expecting any tonight. And I’m not piling anything but the truth. I like you, Megan.”
“Well, what’s not to like?”
“Nothing I can find.”
She put her spoon down and pushed the fishbowl-sized dessert away. “I can’t hold any more of that.”
“Me neither. I think we’d both do well to walk some of this meal off, don’t you?” As he spoke, he waved at the waiter, who immediately appeared to take his credit card.
“You want to go walking?” she asked.
“Sure. The town park is just a block from here. It’s a beautiful night.”
“God, I haven’t gone walking in the park since...since all this
started.”
“The attacks, you mean. But you weren't following them, until the vision."
"No. But the last time I walked in the park, it didn't feel safe anymore. I haven't been back." She suppressed a shiver, pasted a smile on and said, “I’ll be safe enough with my own cop in tow.”
“Damn straight you will. How are you set for footwear?”
“Pumps,” she said with a frown.
“You must like me, if you broke out the heels.”
“You do have sisters, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Well, I only went for the two-inch ones. It is a first date, after all.”
He grinned at her, flashing the dimple that made her stomach flip-flop. “Maybe next time you’ll wear the stilettos?”
“You play your cards right, cowboy, I might even wear the open toes.”
He sucked air through his teeth and pressed a hand to his chest.
She laughed out loud.
“My sister Shelby left a pair of flip-flops in my car,” he said. “One size fits most.”
“You’re ready for anything, aren’t you?”
The waiter returned with the credit card and the check. Sam added a tip, signed the bottom, and put the card in his wallet. Then he got up. “Ready to try on the new shoes, Cinderella?”
“Ready.”
He cradled her elbow in one hand as he guided her around tables and waiters to the exit. The car was waiting out front, but he only opened the trunk and fished out the flip-flops. She kicked off her pumps, realized she was wearing stockings, and got into the car.
“What’s wrong? Change your mind?”
“Stockings,” she said. “They have to go. Flip-flops have that toe thing.”
“Ahh.” He stood there in the doorway, and she thought about telling him to turn around or close the door, but decided to play instead.
She slid her skirt up to the top of the stockings, and pushed them down her legs, one at a time.
He was mesmerized. She couldn’t remember when a man had looked at her the way he was looking at her. And it wasn’t all that revealing; the stockings only went to midthigh. She noticed he only took his eyes off her once, and that was to make sure no one else had the view he was so obviously enjoying. He blocked the doorway with his body. And he whispered, “You’re killing me, you know that?”
“You’d see more than this if I wore shorts.”
“Then next time, wear them.” She left the stockings on the seat and slid the flip-flops on. He took her arm and tugged her out of the car, and this time, he held her hand as they walked down the block, around the corner, to the sprawling, grassy Pinedale Town Park. It was minuscule in comparison to the sprawling state park nearby, but perfect for an after-dinner walk with a handsome man.
They entered one of the walking trails and followed its meandering course through the woods, until they reached the park’s centerpiece, a perfect little pond, currently home to several wood ducks and a pair of swans who were permanent residents. The moon had risen; it hung low in the sky, huge and lopsided, nearly full.
They moved to the benches near the pond, and Sam took off his jacket and slipped it around her shoulders.
She turned to face him. “This is nice. You’re good at this dating thing.”
“So I’ve been told.” Did he look a little guilty when he said that? “You want to sit awhile?”
“No. I want to know if you’re as good at first kisses as you are at first dates.”
He held her eyes, slipped one arm around her waist, and cradled the back of her head with the other hand. It made her feel delicate and cherished. He pulled her to him, bent his head, and brushed his lips across hers lightly, softly, repeatedly, before finally parting them and covering her mouth for a kiss that took her breath away.
The flash hit just as she was starting to reconsider her earlier promise that he wasn’t getting any tonight. It hit bright, hard, and fast. She went stiff in his arms. And by the time he lifted his head away, it was gone.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Two things. Most importantly–the killer. He’s in the park. Here. Now. I saw you chasing him, wearing just what you’re wearing tonight. So it has to be–”
Before she finished the sentence, the night was split by a woman’s scream.
“Stay close to me,” he told her, and gripping her hand, he took off running.
Sam tugged her along behind him, and she surprised him by keeping up without any trouble, despite the flip-flops, the dress, and the darkness. It elevated her a notch higher in his estimation that she didn’t stumble or complain or ask to stop. Though after that kiss, it would have been tough to lift her much higher.
He spotted the struggling couple in a wooded area off the trail: a larger form straddling a small one. The small one lay on her back, and the bigger one had her pinned and was pounding her face.
“Police! Get off her, you sonofabitch!” Sam released her hand, veered off the trail and went crashing through the brush toward the pair. He pulled his gun, but the attacker was already on the run. He'd rolled off his victim at Sam’s first shout, sprung to his feet, and was racing through the underbrush.
Sam glanced back at Megan. She was already crouching beside the battered victim, her phone in her hand, her face stricken. She looked his way, as if feeling his eyes on her. Hers were intense, damp, powerful, and furious. God, she was something else.
“Stay here, stay with her,” he said.
She nodded. “Go get that bastard,” she said. “Be careful, Sam.”
He didn’t believe in her powers, he reminded himself. So why did that warning send a chill right up his spine?
Chapter 5
Megan knelt there, half afraid to touch the young woman, but knowing she had to. The victim was frightened, traumatized, probably in shock. She needed to know someone was there, that she was safe, and Megan didn’t think words alone could do the job.
She put a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder. “It’s okay. A cop is chasing him, and help is on the way. He’s not coming back. You’re safe.”
Her eyes–one wide with fear, the other split at the corner, swollen, and bloody–fixed on Megan. She couldn’t have been more than twenty-one, probably younger. “H-h-he h-hurt me.”
“I know. An ambulance is coming. You’re going to be okay.”
A twig snapped, and the woman’s hand shot to Megan’s like a cobra striking, and squeezed tight.
“It’s just a bird. You’re safe,” Megan began, but then the flashes came, rapid-fire, blinding, far more vivid and potent than anything she’d ever felt before, and she knew she was experiencing what the girl on the ground had just gone through.
She was running, her feet hitting the path, a satisfying burn in her muscles, and the rush of chilled air in and out of her lungs.
An arm like a steel band snapped around her neck from behind. Can't breathe! He yanked her off balance, slammed her into the ground. Something hit her face–her cheekbone exploded in pain.
What’s he hitting me with? God, is it a hammer?
But it was only his fist, again and again, while he fell atop her, knees on either side, groin grinding against hers, his free hand tearing at her spandex running pants, his white sneakers bright in the darkness.
Rapist! No. Fight, fight him. Don’t let him–
She used her hands, pounding at her invisible attacker, clawing at his eyes, and kicking her feet, though they hit nothing. It was as if he couldn’t feel any impact, and with a few more of his blows to her face, she was fighting just to remain conscious.
Megan felt it all. The panic, the fear, the pain of every blow, the hot blood oozing into her left eye and burning there, the weight of him, the smell of his breath. She screamed.
“Hey, hey, come on, talk to me now!”
She opened her eyes, found she was lying on her back a few feet from where the victim lay. Paramedics surrounded the wounded girl. One was leaning over Megan, looking at her as if
he thought she might be another victim. Beyond him lights flashed red and white in the darkness, painting everything in alternating strokes of color. She drew a breath and pushed herself up into a sitting position. “I’m okay. I was helping her, and I thought I heard him. I just panicked and, uh, I fell.”
The medic frowned, but then Sam was there, moving the man aside, crouching down and clasping her shoulders, looking at her with worry in his eyes. “What happened?”
“The usual,” she said, holding his upper arms for support. He pulled her to her feet, but she didn’t let go when she got her balance. If anything, she wanted more contact. To be wrapped up in him completely would be a good start.
“Did you get the guy?” she asked.
“No, he took off in what looked like an SUV. It was too damn far away and too dark for me to get a description, much less a plate number.” He shook his head, leading her aside, away from the others. As he did, he slipped an arm around her shoulders and held her close to his side.
Better, she thought.
“You got another flash?”
“Man, did I. That poor woman is hurting. I think her cheekbone is broken, maybe her jaw, too, by the way it felt when he hit me. Hit her, I mean.”
He stopped walking, frowned down at her. “You...felt it?”
She nodded. “As if it were happening to me. God, I’ve never felt that kind of fear in my life.” She watched the medics lift the gurney and carry the woman to the clearing where the ambulance waited. “At least he didn’t rape her.”
“He didn’t? You’re sure?”
She nodded. Other cops were arriving, securing the scene, stringing yellow tape. One carried a camera and began flashing photos.
Sam gripped her upper arm, suddenly animated. “Meg, I don’t suppose you...” He bit his lip.
“What?”
“Did you see him? In the vision, did you get a look at him?”
She thought back. “I was too scared to try. It was happening so fast, you know? I was being pummeled, trying to avoid the blows, trying to cover my face and hit back.” She narrowed her eyes, remembering the experience. “I think there were times when I could have glimpsed his face. I just wasn’t thinking clearly enough to try. And I think he might have been wearing a mask of some sort.”
Night Vision Page 3