"You can do that?" he asks, eyebrows raised.
"Yep."
"Okay. Well. Let's see what we have in here." He pulls out some plastic bags filled with different objects and drops them on the desk. Sorting through them, he pulls out a blue cardigan. "How about we start with this?"
"Okay," I whisper.
He hands me the plastic bag.
It feels weird, touching someone else's belongings. Especially someone who's no longer alive. I feel as if I'm intruding.
"When you're ready," John tells me. "Pull out the cardigan."
I take a deep breath to centre myself before starting. Sometimes these visions last a few minutes, sometimes hours. It depends on how much information I can read.
Finally, I open the plastic bag and pull out the cardigan. As soon as I touch the cardigan, I'm transported to a footpath.
I find myself walking alongside an elderly woman. She's pushing a shopping trolley. She's happy. I can feel her happiness. I can sense her thoughts. Her relatives are coming over later. She's looking forward to seeing them. I hear footsteps coming up behind us fast. I try to turn, but whoever it is is too quick.
The man, runs up and tries to grab the purse from the elderly woman. She's surprised, but holds onto the purse. She can't let the purse go. The purse contains all the money she has until next pension day. And, the purse is a reminder to her of good times. Her husband bought it for her. She doesn't want to lose it. It's important to her. So she fights back as best she can. She holds onto the purse tightly.
"Give me the purse," the guy swears at her.
"No," the elderly woman spits at him.
He reaches out, grabs the purse harder, gives the elderly woman a hard shove as he does so.
She falls onto the concrete. She hits hard. It hurts. Skinning some skin off herself as she falls. But she still holds onto the purse.
"Let go of the fucking purse," he yells at her. He keeps looking up and down the street seeing if anyone else notices what's going on.
"No," the elderly lady repeats stubbornly.
Thinking quickly, the man reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a spanner. He'd been repairing toilets all morning. He hits her on the back of the head and the elderly lady finally lets go of the purse. He puts the spanner back into his pocket and runs back up the street.
I stay with the elderly lady until help finally arrives.
Then the vision ends.
I come back to myself, to find I am lying on the floor. John's sitting behind me, holding my shoulders. I blink trying to reestablish myself in this time frame.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I could use a soft drink though. Something cold."
"I'll get it. Wait a few moments though."
"Ugh. What did I do?" I whisper. I feel ... kind of ... Out of it.
"You were squirming and pushing out at something. You were saying ... no, no. Then you yelled out, 'Let go of the fucking purse!' Then you collapsed." He takes in a breath. "For a minute I thought you'd stopped breathing."
"Oh. I'm sorry."
"Don't be," he kneads at my shoulders. Trying to attempt to ease the hard knots there he could feel under his fingers. "That's how you work. Okay. Let's get you up and I'll go get a cold drink. Then we can debrief."
I nod.
John helps me to my feet and I sit in one of the kitchen chairs. I rest my head on the table. I can already feel a headache beginning.
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Chapter 13
"Okay," John begins as he comes back and hands me a cold can of soft drink. "What did you see?"
I take a long sip of soft drink and then begin explaining. John takes notes as I speak.
"Wait," he holds up a hand to stop me. "What did you just say?" he interrupts as he glances through his notes.
I start to retell it. "The man reached into his back pocket and pulled out a spanner," I tell John. "He'd been repairing toilets all morning. He hit her on the back of the head and ... ,"
"Yeah. I got that bit," John said. "But how did you know about the spanner and repairing the toilets?"
"Oh! Well sometimes, I get the feelings or thoughts of everyone at a scene ... not just the victim. Like someone might be saying that something is nice, but someone else might be thinking that it's not."
"Really?" He sits back and stares at me. "So you can sometimes get all the feelings and emotions from everyone involved at a crime scene?" he asks.
I nod.
He quickly scribbles some notes down. "Okay. So this guy you saw. He pulled a spanner out of his back pocket?"
"Yes. He'd been repairing toilets and ... ,"
"Can you tell me anything about him? His size, weight, appearance?" John interrupts.
"Some. I would need to go back in and go deeper to get a better picture. But basically, he was around 18 years old. Tall, lean, black hair. Wearing jeans and t-shirt."
"Holy shit!" John says excitedly.
"What?"
"This is the closest we've ever got to the murderer."
"Really?"
He frowns. "You're like a witness being there at the time. This is really good." His frown goes deeper. "Wait. You said he was repairing toilets. Do you know where he was doing that?"
I shake my head. "No. But with another reading specifically focused on him, I could find out."
"Can you do it now? Or do you need more of a break?"
"I can do it now."
"Do you want to use the same object ... the cardigan? Or do you want to try something new?"
"I'll keep with the cardigan. I know the scene now and I need to focus on him again."
John nods. "Okay. When you're ready then."
I take another couple of sips of cold drink, then sit back and try to relax my thoughts. Breathing deeply, I focus all my thoughts on finding out more detail about the man in the vision.
Reaching out, I grasp hold of the cardigan and am transported back to the scene of the crime. I wait and focus on the man. I hear his thoughts. Feel his feelings and emotions. Feel the regret and the pain of what he's done. But he'd had no choice. It was his life or hers. Finally, I got everything that I could and let go of the cardigan. I find myself on the floor again, with my head resting on John's lap. I grin. "We should stop meeting like this."
He frowns down at me. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You were yelling out how sorry you were. You kept yelling out, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"Oh. That was the man in the vision. That was his thoughts and feelings."
John's eyebrows raise in disbelief. "He was sorry?"
"Yeah. He felt regret and pain for what he'd done. But he'd had no choice. It was either him or her."
John hands me back my can of soft drink. "What are you talking about?"
I sigh. "He had gambling debts. He owed money to a bookie. The bookie called in his marker. He had to find $500.00, or he was going to end up dead with a bullet in his brain."
"Do you know the name of this bookie?"
"No. Sorry. I didn't focus on that."
John sighs. "Okay. So what did you find out?"
"Well. I found out where he worked."
"Where?"
"There was a pub down the road from the attack. He worked there. But I think he's long gone."
"Why?"
"His last thought was ... he was going to use the money from the old lady to pay the bookie. Then go interstate as fast as he could."
John sighs. "Okay. Well at least we have where he worked. We should be able to get records from back then."
"Okay. Can I have a look at a map of the area where the attack happened?"
"Sure," John says. "Hang on. I can find it faster online." John pulls out his mobile phone and starts flashing through the screens.
I sit up and take another couple of sips of the soft drink. It isn't cold anymore, but it eases my dry throat.
"Here," he says as he hands me the phone.
"Thank
s." I take the phone and line up where the murder was and where the pub was. "Look at this. He could've done the murder and then walked back down this street to get back to the pub."
John glances over at the phone.
"Yep."
I keep searching around. "There's nothing else around the area much. There's a Primary school nearby. A Coles supermarket. A sea food restaurant, church, theatre and further south is a yacht club. The pub is the only place that stands out."
John stands and starts scribbling down notes again.
I keep searching, then laugh out loud at what I found. "Huh. Look at this. There's a review of the pub. Someone left a comment that the bar staff are a bit dodgy."
"What?"
I glance up at him in surprise at his tone. "What?"
"Did you say dodgy?"
"Yeah." I glance back down at the review. "Yep. Dodgy."
John snatches the phone from my hands and begins punching numbers in. "Jack? Yeah. Look do you have anything about a pub in?... "
I tune out and start to search through the box for anything else I might be able to use to get more info. I locate more blood-stained clothes in plastic bags. But that's all that's in there. No jewellery at all. I could do no more but wait until John was off the phone.
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Chapter 14
I type up my notes on the cold case. I'm hungry now, so I use the house phone to call for a pizza.
John is still making calls and taking notes.
While on the house phone, I call home again while I'm waiting. My mobile phone is in my purse, flat. I'd forgotten to turn my phone off last night. And the charger for it is at home.
Mum answers the phone, "Hello."
She sounds harried. "Mum. It's Caitlyn. What's wrong?"
She sighs. A long weary sigh. "Caitlyn. The media's camped outside. They've been there all night. There are more coming all the time."
"What? I'd thought they'd be gone by now."
"No. I heard them calling out questions when I went to take Anna to school. They're asking about some cop now. Something about a murder."
"What? How did they find out about that?"
"About what? Caitlyn what is going on?"
I sigh. "Mum. Look it's complicated. You know about the shop and car?"
"Yeah. I saw that on the television. I'm so sorry Caitlyn. I know you liked running the shop."
"It's fine mum. I have another job now, anyway."
"What? What job?"
"The police have asked me to work with them on cold cases. They're going to pay me mum. So I'll still be able to care for Anna and pay rent."
"Oh poof. You know we don't care about that Caitlyn."
"Mum. I know that. But I feel better when I bring in some money for us. You know that."
She sighs. "Yeah. I know. So what's going on?"
"Well. I accidentally touched some cop, and I had a vision. In the vision I had, he'd raped a young girl."
"My God! A cop! That's terrible."
"Yeah. I know. Well anyway. He killed the girl afterwards and buried her body and I'm trying to find out where."
"Oh my lord! Caitlyn! Is this going to be the norm now? You talking about murders and dead bodies?"
"Um..."
"Because I don't think it's appropriate for Anna to hear this kind of thing."
"Mum. It's my job now. I have to do it. But if you don't want me to talk about it, then I won't."
"Good. Don't." Her tone was final. There would be no compromise over this. "Now when are you coming home?"
"I'm not mum."
"What?"
"Mum. I'm staying here with the detective. We're working the case. I'll call in and pick up some clothes when I can."
"What about Anna?"
"Well. I'll pick her up too mum."
"No."
"What?"
"No. I won't have her staying in a home filled with talk of murderers and dead bodies."
"Mum. Anna's my daughter. She will be with me."
"Caitlyn... please... be reasonable."
"No mum. I have found something with this detective. With John. I'm not sure if it's going to last or not. But it's something good. I want to give it a try. I'm staying here so Anna will stay here too."
There was silence from the other end.
"Caitlyn. Are you safe there?"
"Yes. Mum. I'm safe here."
"Don't tell me anymore. I don't want to know. If I don't know I won't accidentally tell anyone."
I sigh. "I'm sorry mum."
"It's not your fault Caitlyn. You can't help who you are. You receive these visions... this psychic stuff as a gift. It's a part of you. You can't stop it."
"I know mum. It's just hard."
"I know hon. If it was easy, It wouldn't be worth it."
"Yeah. I know."
"So. The guy you're staying with... He's a cop."
"Yeah. He's nice mum."
"Make sure he protects you."
"I will mum. I have to go now mum." I could hear John coming closer.
"Okay. Take care Caitlyn. I love you."
"Love you too mum." I hang up the phone.
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"Everything okay?"
"Apart from the media camped outside. Someone told the media about me outing the cop ... and something about a murder."
"Crap."
"Yeah. You could say that. The media are there in swarms." I sigh.
His arms come around me and hold me tight.
"I want you to move in with me. You and Anna. I really think I'm falling in love with you Caitlyn. I don't get these feelings for every girl I meet."
"Have there been a lot then?"
"What? Girls? Nope. Not many at all. As I said I've been too busy with cases. But with you... yeah. I can see this working... long term."
"Okay. I'll give it a go. If you're sure? It feels right for me too. Like it's just natural."
"I'm sure. You're here. I want Anna here too."
The pizza arrives then and we both eat until we're stuffed. We'd missed lunch so the pizza was good.
John stays up to read through the reports I'd typed up. I opt for bed. I'm so tired I can barely function. It has been a long day. I have no sleepwear, so I'll have to sleep naked. It's not as if John hasn't already seen me naked.
Hours later, I am half awakened by John rolling me over and snuggling in. But sleep carries me away again.
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Chapter 15
The next morning I'm awakened by a warm hand rubbing up and down my body. One thing leads to another, and it takes us some time before we leave the warmth of the bed. While I'm showering, John cooks us some bacon and eggs on toast.
"I've been thinking," John begins as he chews on his toast.
"What?"
"I think we should go back through your statements and the evidence. See if we can find some other place to start."
"Okay."
"I've got requests in for interstate information on the robbery with violence case. As well, requests for warrants for the hotel. We don't have a lot more to go on with that one. Then with Trudi Whelan, we have to start putting things together."
"How do you mean?"
"Well. Like ... how did they meet?"
I sit back and think. "Yeah. We need that. Like... Did she go to him for help? Did they know each other before?"
"Exactly. There's a lot we don't know that we have to find out. We have to tie this thing up so tight that he'll never escape the justice he deserves."
"Okay. Where do you want to start?" I ask him.
"Let's do the dishes first. Then I'll need to download some files."
"Okay. I'll do the dishes while you download the files." I began collecting our plates and carrying them to the kitchen.
"You don't have to do that. I can help."
I shake my head and call back to him. "It's more important you get the files. And it will give me so
mething to do while you're doing it."
"Okay. Okay. I'll download the files," John says as he rises from the chair.
After loading the dishwasher, and cleaning up, I walk back and sit at the dining room table. It's larger and we can spread out more here rather than just the kitchen bar. When I arrive, I find the table filled with copies of reports and strewn with other evidence.
"Okay," John says. "I have a request in for interstate for details of any 18-year-old in 1994 who moved there from here. That in itself is a tall order. I really don't think we're going to get any response from that. There's probably too many to go through or the records weren't kept. So we can't depend on that. What else have we got?"
"We have the fact that he worked in the nearby hotel."
"Yes. But we don't know what as. It could've been as an employee or he could've been just a contractor brought in to fix the toilets. We have no way of knowing."
"Okay. I get that. But if we could get the employee list from then, we could sort through them and ... ,"
"Do you know how many employers keep records from that long ago?" John interrupts.
"If it's anything like me, I throw it out as soon as I can."
"Exactly. That's pretty much a slim chance too."
"What about tax records?" I ask hesitantly.
"Possible. And I have a warrant in for that ... But ... he could've hired on as a day labourer and paid cash. Back then the tax office wasn't as picky as it is now."
"Okay. What else have we got?"
"Well. You know what he looks like. We could sit you down with a sketch artist and draw his face."
I nod as I consider that idea. "Okay. That's one idea. Any others?"
John rises and begins to pace. "He commits the murder, goes back to work ... wait! Where was he living?"
"And did he have any relatives?"
"Yeah. If we ever get a name?"
"Okay. So he goes back to work after the murder. Leaves later for interstate. How did he get there? Car, train?"
"Good point. If we ever get a name, we can check and see if he had a car."
"Okay. Then he arrives interstate, moves in with someone? A friend?"
"Yep. I'll check if we get a name."
The Psychic, the Cop and the Killer Page 6