The Psychic, the Cop and the Killer

by Annette Morris

  "Yes. Sir," I joke. The first slice goes down fast. I sit and munch on the second while I ponder the problem.

  "Why do people delay things?" I try a different way to try to get an answer.

  "Well," John begins. "They delay to put off something they don't want to do."

  I nod. "Yep. What else?"

  "They delay to give them time to finish something else ... they ... ," He stops talking.

  I look up at him.

  He's standing frozen as if he's just had a lightbulb moment. He reaches for his mobile phone and dials a number.

  "Yeah. It's John. Who's on Bill's place?"

  "No. Just a hunch. Okay thanks."

  He hangs up and scrolls through his phone and makes another call. He waits, phone up to his ear. He looks over at me. Panic in his eyes.

  "What is it?" My heart speeds up at the look in his eyes.

  "I thought of another reason for people to delay things," he says.

  "What reason?"

  "To run. They delay so they can bolt."

  "Oh. No." I stand suddenly, unsure what to do.

  He nods. "The cop on duty watching Bill's house is not answering his phone." John rings another number. "Yeah. It's me again. Captain. There's no answer." He listens for a few minutes, then says, "Yep. Okay." He makes another call, explains what he wants and sits down to wait. A few minutes later his phone rings. He answers it and says, "Yep. Thanks." He sighs. "It looks like Bill's done the bolt."

  He looks at me. "You were right. You were the delay. With you in hospital and hurt, it gave him time. Time to run. You couldn't touch the jewellery and get any more information on him, while you were hurt."

  "Which gave him more time to plan and leave," I add.

  John nods.

  "Damn!" I sit heavily in a chair.

  "Yeah."

  "How good is he? Could he run and not be found?"

  "Yeah. He could."

  I sigh. The pizza on the table doesn't look as appealing as it did before. To think that because of me, he'd been able to plan and get away.

  "This isn't your fault Caitlyn."

  "Who's fault is it then? I was the one who delayed everything. If it wasn't for me being in hospital, I would've read the jewellery. I would've found out more information and it might've been enough to charge him."

  "Might've," he throws at me. "It might not have too. You don't know. And in case you forgot. You were in hospital unconscious. It is not your fault."

  The front door opening had us both swinging around fast.

  Ted and Dave stop dead in the doorway staring at us. "What? What's happened?"

  I sigh.

  John relaxes a little. "It looks like Bill... the bad cop... he's gone rogue. He's taken out his guard."

  "He's bolted then," Ted says.

  John nods. "Looks like it."

  They both walk further into the house, shutting and bolting the door behind them. "What now?" Ted asks.

  "We're waiting for confirmation."

  "And if he has bolted?"

  John sighs and scrubs his hands through his hair. "We find him."

  "Okay. Well we brought breakfast," Ted says brightly.

  "Great! I could use a good breakfast. What did you get?"

  They walk into the kitchen and begin dishing up bowls of rice and vegetables.

  "Better than pizza?" John jokes.

  I shake my head. "No. Just different."

  He nods and pulls my chair out for me.

  I sit and dig into my bowl. All we can do now is wait. Wait for a confirmation call. I still have to touch the jewellery. Hopefully I can get some more details from that. In the meantime, I would eat and relax a little.

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  Chapter 25

  A week later, Bill was in custody. He was behind bars. He had decided to run, but in the end he'd slipped up.

  He'd left behind a notepad. A notepad that he'd written down details of where he was going and his new name. He ripped off the relevant pages, but I'd managed to sense from the paper underneath, the details of where he was going. He'd gone interstate, under an assumed name. He'd changed his appearance. He had a new name, passport, and licence. He'd had more than enough time to set it all up when I was in hospital.

  By the time they'd nabbed him and brought him back, I'd touched Trudi's jewellery. From that, I had located Trudi's body.

  Trudi's body, was unearthed finally from a shallow grave near the local cemetery. A police department issued torch with serial number still attached, was located with the body. The torch was pronounced as the murder weapon. An autopsy revealed that Trudi had been hit on the head with the torch, resulting in her death. The torch had been issued to Bill Travers. He'd never reported it missing or stolen. Bill would be behind bars for a long time.

  Trudi's parents were glad it was all over. Sad, of course, but at least satisfied at the outcome. They held no grudges against the rest of the police officers.

  Trudi's funeral was huge. Police officers from miles around came for it. There was standing room only. Thousands of police, wearing their blue uniforms lined the road outside the church. Police also acted as an escort for the young girl's final resting place. Trudi would've been happy to see the police escort. She'd told her parents when she grew up she wanted to be a police officer. The police chief even created a special shield for her. The shield attached to the coffin. The media was out in droves snapping pictures. The news went worldwide.

  I still couldn't go home yet. My home was still surrounded by media. They all wanted the story of the decade. But I wasn't talking. Neither was John. The Captain told the story to the media.

  Anna and I moved in with John. My clothes are in the closet alongside of his. Anna sleeps next door in her own bedroom. John and Anna get on well together.

  John has had to clean up the lounge room and remove his books. For the time being, he's boxed them up and stored them in a self storage shed. He's building another room to store them in.

  The lounge room is now filled with Anna's toys and books. John doesn't seem to mind. He quite enjoys the lounge room now. He especially likes it at night. Where we cuddle together on the lounge while watching a movie or listening to music. Our lives have changed forever. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

  I did go and visit Billy Evans's sister. I didn't pick up too much more information than we already had. We know Billy did kill the old lady. We know why he did it. We know what weapon he used, but the weapon will never be found. It is not listed as a cold case anymore, but as closed.

  John added a footnote in the file that Billy Evans was responsible for the elderly lady's death. But as Billy is now deceased too, there is no more we can do. John notified the relatives of what we'd found. They are more than content now. They know justice has been served.

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  A few days later, in the dark of night, to avoid the reporters, I made a trip home to collect more of Anna's and my clothes. I ran into my sisters there who were all happy for me and Anna. One of my sisters, Alex, pulled me aside before I left.

  "Caitlyn," she says to me. "I have a problem. I need your help."

  "What's wrong?"

  "I'm ... um ... I'm seeing things," she blurts out.

  I frown. "Seeing what exactly?"

  "I'm not sure."

  "Ok. Well explain to me what happened."

  Alex sighs, and scrubs her hands through her short blonde hair. Her bracelets jangle as she moves. Along with her anklets, her earrings and who knows what else she's had pierced over the years. Mum thinks she's just expressing her inner need to be free.

  "Okay. I got called to do a job the other night. Okay?"

  I nod. Alex works as a security guard for a local firm. She has always been a tomboy ever since she was a kid. That hasn't changed much over the years.

  "So. Tom and I turn up to the site."

  Tom is her partner. I thought there might've been a love interest there, but Tom is
happily married with kids.

  "When we got there, all we found was ash."

  "Ash?"

  She nods. "Like something had burnt there at an insanely hot temperature."

  "Wow!"

  "Yeah. Well. We took photos of the ash. Then Tom walked around a bit, to see if he could tell if anyone had broken into the place. We had to contact the owner, but we needed to know if the premises were secure first."

  I nod and wait.

  "When Tom left to check the premises, I bent down to the ash and put my hand in it."

  "You put your hand in the ash?"

  "It was something I felt I had to do. I have no idea why."

  "Like a compulsion?"

  She nods. "Yeah."

  "Okay. What happened when you put your hand in the ash?"

  Alex gulps. "I got a vision of the man who had burnt there."

  I stare at her. "A man had been burnt?"

  She nods. "Yeah. I could see him as clearly as I can see you."

  "Wow!"

  "Yeah. Right. Caitlyn I'm scared. What does this mean?"

  I sit on the bed thinking furiously. "Um. Well. For starters ... it means you can see ghosts."

  She shakes her head. "No. I haven't seen him since."

  "But have you seen any other ghosts?"

  She hesitates, then sits alongside me. "Yes. The other night I was on duty and I ... ,"

  "Go on," I urge.

  "I was driving down the main street heading to a job. I had Tom in the car. I slammed on the brakes to avoid a man walking across the road."

  "But he wasn't there," I finish.

  "Yes. How did you know?"

  "Because the same thing happened to me when I first started seeing."

  "Oh. Damn," she whispers.

  "Yeah. I would say you're getting what I've got. Or a variation of it."

  She sighs. "What do I do?"

  "Can you take time off work?"

  She shakes her head. "No. They're slammed at the moment. They have too much work and not enough people. As it is, we're working around the clock. That reminds me," she jumped up off the bed. "I have to go. I'll be late for work if I don't go now."

  "Alright. Listen. I'll give you some quick tips. But you're going to have to find some time to talk to me. And soon."

  She nods. "Okay."

  "First ... don't drive. Get someone else to drive. Come up with some bullshit reason. You're tired. Your eyes are playing up. Something. It's either that or have an accident."

  She nods. "Yeah. I figured that might happen."

  "Second ... record everything you see. It's to find a pattern of what you might be experiencing."

  She nods again.

  "And third ...teach yourself not to react. To anything. If you see a ghost, teach yourself to look through it, or around it. Do not react. You'll be mixing with people who can't see it. You have to act normal."

  "Act normal. Right. Got it." She bopped her head.

  "Go on," I tell her. "Get out of here. Get to work."

  She laughs. "Thanks Caitlyn."

  I wave her out and grab another bag to pack. I frown as I work. Another sister who can see the supernatural. Did that mean that we all would? Does it run in the family? Does it come from mum or from dad? I sigh. Too many questions. Not enough answers.

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  Other Books

  The Demon Game

  The Thirteenth Passenger (Book 1 of the Outback Tours series)

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  About the Author

  Annette has always wanted to live forever. There is so much to do and, never enough time to do it all. That's why the idea of vampires and demons appeals. My mind is filled with different worlds, different creatures, and disasters waiting to happen. Somehow all of these ideas, end up in books.

  And now, you can read my ideas.

  Annette writes books on her own as well joint books with her husband. You can visit Annette Morris online at thetwowriters.weebly.com for information on her latest books. Alternatively, you can send an email to thetwowriters@yandex.com and subscribe to the newsletter and receive a free book.