The Psychic, the Cop and the Killer

by Annette Morris

  There was a sharp silence. "What were you going to say?"

  I laugh self-consciously. "I forgot you're a detective."

  He laughs. "Never forget that."

  Taking a breath, I begin explaining. "You know I'm psychic right?"

  He nods.

  "Well. I wasn't always psychic. It only happened after Anna was born. Strange things began happening."

  "What sorts of things?"

  "At first, lights would turn on without my doing it. Thinking I wanted a light to turn on would be enough for it to come on. Then I began to see ghosts flitting around town."

  "You saw ghosts?" he asks amazed.

  "Yes. At first, it was difficult. It was another reason I never dated. It was difficult for me to go out. I'd drive down a street and have to slam on the brakes to avoid a woman on the road. But there would be no woman there." I take a breath. "My sisters all thought I had gone ... well ... that I needed to be locked up. My mother wouldn't allow it. She knew of an auntie many years ago who also had psychic skills. There was a rumour that she was a witch. I take after her."

  "And no-one else in your family has any of these skills?"

  I shake my head. "No. But then I'm the only one of my sisters to have had a child. I shrug. It might come for them later."

  He nods. "It's possible. Go on. What happened next?"

  "Then one day, I was helping Janey, my sister. She's head librarian. Anyway, I was working my way through boxes of books left from donations." I take a deep breath. "I grabbed an old book. Covered in dust. I remember thinking how good it would look once cleaned." I gulp. "When I touched the book, I got the memories of the previous owner. They were ... horrible." I shiver and wave my hand as if to wipe the memories away. "Anyway, I ended up rolling around on the floor, screaming my head off. And apparently, speaking in some foreign language."

  "Jesus! That must've been a shock for you?"

  I laugh. "Yeah. You could say that. Janey kicked me out. She had no choice. She couldn't have me touching anything in the library and going off into ... anyway. That was the first time I found out I could touch objects and gain a glimpse into their past."

  "Wow! I wish I had your skills."

  I shake my head. "No. No you don't," I reply firmly. "There are always down sides to everything."

  "I understand there are some down sides to it. But I just meant that in law enforcement, in particular, those skills would be invaluable."

  I nod. "I can see that. But most law enforcement officers are not favourable to it. You saw the reception I got at the police station."

  "It's been hard-wired into cop's brains, that anything that is not normal ... well is dangerous."

  I nod.

  John's phone rings then and I get up to clean up the dishes while he takes the call.

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  Chapter 10

  "What?" John yells. "Fuck!"

  Quickly wiping my hands on the dish towel, I rush into the lounge room.

  John sees me coming and walks over to turn on the television.

  The words of the announcer on the television takes my breath away. "Recapping the news of the hour in sunny My Town. A fire has destroyed the shop of local psychic, Caitlyn Bright. Caitlyn is ... "

  My knees buckle and John has to help me sit down on the lounge chair, as he continues with his phone conversation. Staring at the screen in disbelief, I feel numb. My shop is gone. It's been destroyed. My shop, my stock, my car, my only income ... it's all gone. I hear John still talking on the phone, but I tune him out.

  John hangs up his phone and turns off the television. He comes and sits alongside me on the lounge chair. "How you doing?"

  I shrug. "I have no idea." I'm numb. Completely numb. I can't believe that everything is gone. Everything I worked for. All gone. In a heartbeat, my life has been changed.

  Taking my hand in his, he starts talking. "I have to tell you that ... " He brushes his fingers through his hair as if gathering his thoughts or delaying the inevitable. "They think it's suspicious. So the insurance company will demand a full investigation. That means that ... "

  I hold up my hand to stop him. "I know what it means. It means it could be years before I see any of the insurance money." Tears form in my eyes as I realise what that means. No livelihood for me and Anna. I will have to consider alternatives. I may have to start a home based business ... selling herbs and seeds from home. The question is will ...

  John takes a breath in. "The Captain wants to offer you a full time position with us. As a consultant. With me as your partner. If you're interested?"

  My mind is still filled with everything I have to do, it takes a few minutes for his words to register. When they do, I simply sit there and stare blankly at him. "What?"

  "The Captain knows you'd be good for us... for the police. You could help solve some cold cases. We could use your help Caitlyn."

  His words finally register. I think about it. Using my skills to help solve crimes. It fits. I think I'd like to do it. I'm not sure about Anna though. How will this work with her? What will the other kids say about her in school? But I do need an income to be able to care for her. If the insurance money doesn't come through for years... I can't borrow from my parents again. And who's to say the same thing doesn't happen again. The public knows me now. I sigh. I'll miss having my herbal shop. But I do feel I can do more good working with the police.

  I make up my mind quickly and take a breath. "Okay. Fine. I'll do it."

  He smiles at me and nods. "Good."

  We sit in silence for a few minutes. My mind is filled with differing emotions and thoughts. First is anger ... anger that people have burnt my livelihood down. Puzzlement as to being offered the job with John. And finally ideas ... ideas for the future. If I can get the shop going at a later time. It's all jammed in together and is now swimming around and around. I can't seem to gather any one of my thoughts.

  "Look. I know it's tough," John begins. "But at least you'll still have an income though right?"

  I nod. "Yes." I take a breath. "Thank you. You've eased my mind a lot. I had no idea what I was going to do for income. Now at least, there will be money coming in for me and Anna. And, I will be helping, in some small way to improve the lives of the people here in My Town."

  John laughed. "It won't be in a small way Caitlyn. I don't think you realise just what's involved in this job. But, let's focus on the basics. Everything else ... it's just stuff ... stuff that can be worked out later."

  I nod and take a breath. He's right. I have to prioritise. I now have a job which I have to focus on. The insurance could take a long time to come through.

  "Okay. So let's get some coffee and I'll start explaining your new job. Okay?"

  I nod again. "Yeah. Okay."

  He gives me a quick kiss and walks into the kitchen.

  I glare once at the tv screen, as if it has caused all the problems. Then I too rise and go into the kitchen.

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  We sit at the kitchen table nursing our cups of coffee while John explains. "Right now, we have one hundred active murder investigations."

  Shock causes me to blurt out, "One hundred active murders!" I had come back to My Town because of Anna. Because I'd thought it was a nice safe place to bring up a child. Now John's telling me there was one hundred murders here. I couldn't believe it. Had I made a mistake coming back here? Should I take her somewhere safer? My mind was in turmoil.

  John grabs my cold hands and squeezes them. "Hey. Listen. Caitlyn. I'll explain. Okay?"

  I nod, still somewhat dazed.

  "Active murder investigations are current for five years," John explains. "After that they're pushed into the cold case files."

  I shake my head. "I had no idea there was that many murders."

  John nods. "Not a lot of people do. We try to keep it as quiet as possible. Bad for business." His words have a bite behind them.

  I cock my head. "You don't agree?"
/>
  "It makes my job harder," he says as he runs his hands through his hair in exasperation. "If I can't interview people I need to, it ... ," he stops. "Never mind. Anyway. The protocol here in My Town is to keep crime as non-existent as possible. I have to work with that protocol always. Your job will include helping to solve both current and cold case files."

  "How many cold case files are there?"

  John laughs and sits back in his chair. "How long is a piece of string?"

  Confused, I frown. "What?"

  He leans forward again and looks me in the eyes. "Caitlyn ... the cold case files go back to the day My Town was first founded," he explains further.

  "But My Town has been here for hundreds of years!" I protest.

  He nodded and leans back again. "Now you begin to understand the problem."

  "Oh Wow!" I understood what he was saying then. I sit back in my chair and try to think about how many files that would be, but my mind boggles.

  "Yeah. I've been trying to focus on the current crop, but when I get time I go through the cold ones. It's a losing battle for me. But with your help, we might start to get on top of them. Tell me." He leans forward in his chair again. "Do you get sick or anything after touching objects and having the visions?"

  I understood why he was asking. He was asking whether there were any side effects to my visions. "No. I don't get sick. My brain becomes tired after a while. I get headaches. I have to have many breaks. And sometimes, if the visions are bad I end up with nightmares. But other than that ... no."

  He nods. "Right. I'm going to organise for someone to fix your car. The insurance company will be in touch at some stage. You need to call Anna, before she hears the news about the fire. You also need to pick up some clothes for yourself."

  I hold up my hand to stop him. "What are the clothes for? I can't stay here forever."

  He grins. "Why not?"

  I stare at him warningly.

  Then he grows serious. "You'll need the clothes because we'll be pulling a lot of late nighters, or even all nighters. We'll be working odd hours. So you may have to stay here instead of going home every night. I want you to have some of your own clothes here to change into. Besides ... it would upset Anna, if you returned home with blood on your clothes."

  I frown. "Why would I have blood on my clothes?"

  "Like I said. Investigating murders can get messy. Trust me. There is no harm in leaving clothes here. Is there?"

  I think about it and can't come up with any harm in it at all. "No. I suppose not."

  He nods. "Good. Then, we have to organise the paperwork for your job. Get you organised with an ID and a gun. Can you shoot a gun?"

  "Wow! My head is spinning trying to keep up with you. You don't rush into things much do you?"

  "We haven't got time to waste Caitlyn." He gets up to pace. "Each minute ... each hour ... of every day ... the current cases get colder and colder. That is a fact. Then one day you realise it's too late. The case is too cold. It's never going to be solved. I can't live with that. I can't live with a murderer getting off scott free. And all because I didn't connect the dots fast enough to stop him."

  Stunned, I sit and stare at him. This was a new side of him I hadn't seen before. "You're passionate about your job?"

  He nods and keeps pacing. "Most of us are. We're constantly dealing with the scum of the earth. We're abused daily. We're spat on. But we're still determined. Every day, we get up with the hope that today might be the day. Today we might catch the bad guy. And when we do, we make this part of our world that little bit safer. Safer for people like you and Anna to live in."

  I get up and give him a hug. "Thank you."

  "What for?"

  "For being you."

  He laughs. "Okay."

  I know he doesn't fully understand what I'm thanking him for. But how do you explain you are thanking him for being so caring, so passionate? How can anybody understand what drives another person until they have to walk in their shoes?

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  Chapter 11

  "Okay," John begins. "Well. Let's start with Trudi Whelan. Can you tell me what you saw when you touched Bill ... the detective? Did you see her murder? Did you see him kill her?"

  I shake my head. "No. Only her rape."

  He runs his hands through his hair. "Okay. So we need proof. Proof that he ... Proof that he did it," he adds.

  I nod. "I'd need an article of clothing worn by Trudi that day. If she's buried ... ,"

  "What makes you think she's buried?"

  I shrug. "No idea. It's a feeling I got from touching him."

  "Sweet Jesus," he mutters.

  I clear my throat. "Anyway, like I was saying ... Either an article of clothing she wore that day, or some jewellery she wore."

  "Wait," he interrupts. "Does it have to be a piece of jewellery she was wearing that day?"

  "No. Any of her jewellery that she used to wear will do. I have no idea why. But somehow jewellery worn regularly retains the person's essence for longer."

  He nods. "Jewellery I can get. Go on."

  "If I could narrow the car down, to which one he was using, I could get something from the car as well."

  "Okay. That I can do. What else?"

  John jumps up and grabs a pen and paper from the kitchen counter. He brings it back to the table and begins scribbling furiously.

  I think about it. "An article of clothing that he wore."

  "Okay. So ... A piece of jewellery she wore regularly and an article of his clothing?"

  I nod.

  "What if you touched him again?"

  I shake my head. "That won't work. Not now. He would've built up his defenses. I will never get through again so easily now."

  "What about at his house?"

  "Sure. If I can touch stuff at his house, I might get something. He might've kept a souvenir or something."

  John nods, but I notice his fingers tighten on the pencil.

  "I'm sorry, John."

  "What for?" he blurts. "You're not the scum bag cop who raped and murdered an innocent young girl!"

  I take a breath at his anger. "No. I'm not. But he was your colleague. Or friend."

  He shakes his head, puzzled. "No," he speaks slowly as if thinking while talking. "He was never my friend. I could never figure out why ... but there was always something that stopped me approaching him. I kept getting these negative vibes from him. But I had no idea it was because of this!"

  "It wasn't just this, John."

  He looks up at me, eyes gone cold. "What?"

  "Remember what I told the Captain I had seen when I touched him. All those other times I saw him knifing someone, punching someone."

  "Yeah. I remember."

  "Well all those things would've caused you to... go around him. They would've caused you not to want to become friends. There was something you sensed that warned you."

  He sighs. "Yeah. It's a pity I didn't sense all this."

  I sigh again. "Sometimes, you just sense that someone is evil. You may not know why."

  He nods. "Yeah. Okay." He takes a breath, holds it and then lets it out slowly. "Yeah. There'll be a huge investigation into all his cases. Luckily, I wasn't involved in any of them."

  I sigh and look down at the table.

  "It's not your fault, Caitlyn. It would've come out, eventually. It's just that it was you that brought it to the surface."

  "Yeah. I know. But that doesn't help how you or the rest of your work mates are going to feel."

  John sighs. "Yeah. That might be a problem." He stands and paces for a few minutes. Then turns to me. "I'm going to ask the Captain if we can do most of our work from home. That way at least, it will lessen the time you're at the station."

  I nod. "That might be a good idea, actually."

  "Yeah. I'll do that." He slides his hands through his hair ... repeatedly over and over. "Tomorrow. I'll ring tomorrow. Let everything calm down first."

  "Okay. Then
what do we do now?"

  He sighs. "I need you to write down everything you saw in the vision. Everything. Caitlyn. No matter if you think it's important or not. Like the time of day or night. Anything that stands out. I need everything."

  "I can do that."

  "Okay. While you're doing that, I'll make some calls. Then I'll set up the next case."

  "What's the..."

  "Nope. Not going to tell you. I want your focus on Trudi Whelan first. I want everything written down. Then we'll go onto the next one."

  "Okay. Do you have paper or..."

  He hands me his laptop.

  "Fine."

  While John makes his calls, I sit and try to remember everything I can from the vision I had. I try to remember everything about Trudi Whelan. I know how important this is for John. So I'm determined to do the best job I can. When I've got what I can in my head, I start typing.

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  Chapter 12

  It takes a while to write everything down, but finally I finished. I couldn't think of anything else.

  "How about some lunch?" John asks.

  I shake my head. "Not yet. Tell me about the next case." At some stage, while I'd been typing up the report, a delivery had arrived for John. It had been a box. And I had a hunch it was the cold case he wanted me to work on next.

  John walks over, picks up the box and heaves it onto the table. He takes off the lid.

  A musky smell suddenly permeates the kitchen.

  "How old is this cold case?"

  "This murder was committed in 1994," he tells me. "Do you want the details?"

  I shake my head. "No. I prefer to work cold and then work backwards."

  He frowns. "What do you mean backwards?"

  "Well," I struggle to explain what I mean. "It's like. If I have the details beforehand, I might feel too much pity or something and that might screw the results. If I don't have anything and I see people and places, I can then go back to the file to try to work out who's who. Then, I can retouch the object and refocus my visions to a specific person or place."