Slow Burn (Rabun County Book 1)

by Lisa Clark O'Neill

  Except that wasn’t the real reason.

  “I have an overly-sensitive limbic system,” she said.

  Sutton frowned. “I’m sorry?”

  “You know. The thalamus, hippocampus –”

  “Hypothalamus and amygdala. I know what the limbic system is. But I don’t know what you mean by overly-sensitive.”

  Adeline hesitated again, and then finally sighed. “I’m basically a poorly-tuned human radar for emotional vibes.”

  “Emotional… vibes.”

  She pushed her chair back from the table. “Never mind.”

  “Wait.” Pushing his own chair back, Sutton intercepted her before she could throw the remains of her half-eaten pizza in the trash. “Adeline. Please.” He took her plate, and then laid a hand on her arm. “I’m trying to understand what you’re saying.”

  That steady grey gaze, with which she was rapidly becoming familiar, appeared sincere. And the heat from his hand brought only comfort.

  Adeline wavered. “Let’s… have a seat in the living room,” she finally said.

  She walked toward the window, because she’d forgotten to close the blinds before she crashed. That, coupled with the fact of the unlocked door, nagged at her. She’d told Sutton that her short-term memory was sometimes still spotty – especially when she was tired or distracted – but flipping the lock as soon as she came inside was an ingrained habit.

  She knew too much about people to ever be overly trusting.

  When she turned, she found Sutton already seated in the bentwood chair, leaving her the more comfortable sofa.

  The man’s manners couldn’t be faulted.

  Adeline picked up the discarded blanket before sitting down, and then grabbed her glasses from the table. Even though they didn’t hide her eyes like sunglasses would, she felt better prepared to speak once she’d slid them on.

  “Being a veterinarian, I know you understand the purpose of the limbic system, even though it’s probably a bit different in animals.”

  “Not as different as you might think,” he said. “We are animals, after all. And while there’s plenty of debate as to whether animals experience emotions as we understand them, there’s no question that they learn, have memories, and experience at least instinctive emotional states such as fear.”

  “What do you think?”

  “You mean do I believe that animals experience emotions?”

  She nodded.

  “Yeah. I think they do. Maybe not as complex as humans, but I don’t know that that’s a bad thing. Humans are screwy.”

  Adeline smiled. “We certainly are.” And some humans were screwier than others. Unfortunately, she probably had to include herself in that. “I’m sure you also know that the limbic system can malfunction, becoming hyperactive due to illness, impairment or injury.”

  “Such as being hit by lightning.”

  Adeline nodded.

  He considered that, and then ran a hand through his already tousled hair. “You’re making me think back to stuff that I haven’t needed to remember in a long while. But hypersensitivity would result in… a heightened fight or flight response, or basically chronic anxiety? Maybe difficulty regulating impulses and emotions?”

  “Both. In part. After my mom and sister died, I recovered physically fairly quickly, aside from the things I mentioned. But emotionally… not so much. I was afraid of almost everything. One day I’d be numb, and the next sobbing uncontrollably. I had nightmares and meltdowns.”

  “I’d say that’s understandable given the circumstances.”

  “Yes. But… you have to understand my father – and maybe, considering your obvious scientific bent, you can. Everything in his life was built on a foundation of logic and fact and reason. If something didn’t make rational sense, if he couldn’t verify it through objective study, he didn’t know what to do with it. Which is not to say he wasn’t capable of emotion. He loved us very much, and losing my mom and sister nearly destroyed him. But he was also, well, really bad at handling a brain-injured, hyperemotional young daughter. Until he met my stepmother. But that’s another whole story.”

  “I’d like to hear it sometime.” Sutton hesitated, tapping his fingers on his thigh before continuing. “I want you to understand that if this question is out of bounds or intrusive or just plain insensitive, you can tell me to go to hell. But there are drugs that help regulate the limbic hyperactivity, right? SSRIs?”

  “Yes. They depress system activity, which helps alleviate depression and anxiety, which are both common, persistent problems for lightning strike survivors. I took them off and on for at least a decade, until I was better able to adjust.”

  Sutton’s tapping fingers stilled. “Why do I get the feeling there’s a but following that statement?”

  “Because otherwise this would have been quite a speech just to tell you I have brain damage? Even if the cause is out of the ordinary.” Feeling chilled despite the very effective wood stove, Adeline unfolded the blanket. Smoothing it over her legs, she tried to figure out the easiest way to explain the rest. “Do you believe that dogs can sense bad people?”

  “That depends on what you mean. I believe that dogs have certain senses which are keener than the equivalent in humans, such as their sense of smell. They can detect chemicals which we’re odor-blind to, which is what allows them to track other animals or people, or sniff out drugs, or detect a seizure prior to it happening – although some prominent neurologic researchers dispute the latter for various reasons. But as to your question, there’s plenty of anecdotal evidence that individual dogs don’t like certain people from the outset, and it’s commonly attributed to those people being what we’d consider bad or threatening. Maybe dogs are just better at reading body language, or maybe there’s some sort of odor molecule that we haven’t yet identified that’s secreted when a person is planning to do harm. I mean, we do know that humans have various physiological reactions to arousal. There’s a certain class of people who get aroused by committing or contemplating committing crimes. Legally speaking, I guess it would be related to the idea of with malice aforethought. The difference between someone who kills accidentally or out of necessity, and someone who does it with intent and sometimes relish.”

  Adeline smiled. “You sound like my dad.”

  “Under the circumstances, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”

  “No. It is.” Her smile faded, but she did her best to not allow the inevitable sorrow to derail her. “I just meant that you took the laymen’s understanding of a common question and grounded it in science.”

  “It’s, uh, kind of what scientists do.”

  “As a scientist, do you believe that humans can detect… for the sake of discussion, let’s just call it evil in other people? Without specific evidence of wrongdoing, I mean.”

  Sutton sat back. “That’s a far more complicated question. Are you talking about intuition?”

  “I guess that’s as good a description as any in this context.”

  He studied her keenly, and she could all but see the wheels turning in his head. He was probably wondering what the hell he’d gotten himself into.

  “I think that people with bad intentions often exhibit behavioral tells that can broadcast said intentions with varying degrees of… clarity, for lack of a better term. I mean, there’s a whole field of psychology dedicated to body language. Some people are better able to pick up on that language subconsciously, which is what we often refer to as intuition or gut instinct. So, to answer your question… to a degree. And under specific circumstances.”

  “What if I told you that when I was eight years old, I identified a child predator before ever laying eyes on him in order to make note of his body language.”

  Sutton’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”

  Adeline drew in a breath. The memory wasn’t an easy one, as it brought the early conflict with her dad back to the forefront, and that wasn’t the image of him she wanted to hold onto right now.
But it had been a pivotal moment in their relationship, as well as for Adeline in recognizing something critical about her new self. It was also the main reason for initiating this discussion.

  So, she soldiered on.

  “My eighth birthday was an extremely difficult one. It was only a few months after my mom and sister died, I was still dealing with various health concerns, including difficulty speaking. My grandparents hadn’t sold out yet, and were stuck in the Atlanta airport due to a plane with a mechanical issue, and I was quite put out that they wouldn’t arrive in time for my party. But my dad, bless him, did his absolute best to make it as normal for me as possible. Of course, at that point, normal wasn’t possible.” Adeline rubbed her temple. She could still feel the dull remnants of her earlier headache, and dredging this up wasn’t helping. “Anyway, I was… less than appreciative. I didn’t want the cake from the bakery, I wanted my mom’s homemade one. I had balloons and gifts and a few of the neighbor kids over, but all I wanted was my old life back.”

  “You were angry.”

  “I was pissed,” she corrected. “I was an asshole to the point that my dad finally threw up his hands, thanked the neighbors for coming and took me to one of those Build-A-Bear places at the mall just to keep me occupied. You got a free outfit for your bear if it was your birthday, and I was sufficiently interested in choosing one that I forgot to be miserable. Until I felt it.”

  “Felt what?”

  Despite the fact that she’d made the decision to tell him, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was making a mistake. After all, he was the first man she’d had any romantic contact with in well over six months, and she knew that she was in an unusually vulnerable emotional state right now. That could be the reason she’d reacted like she did. By opening herself up to him, she ran the risk of making too much of what was really just a simple kiss, and also scaring him away.

  But if he did ghost her, she guessed he wasn’t worth her time, anyway.

  “A change in the air,” she said. “Which sounds weird and hyperbolic, but it’s the simplest way to describe it. The hair stood up on the back of my neck, my skin began to tingle, and I felt physically repelled by something behind me, so much so that I instinctively moved in front of my dad. I’d been dealing with all sorts of unfamiliar and unpleasant physical sensations ever since the strike, so I guess I shook it off as just another aftereffect of being hit by lightning. Dad put his hands on my shoulders, and the feeling went away. And then we went over to the stuffing station.”

  Adeline closed her eyes. So many of her memories from that time in her life were either fuzzy or nonexistent, but for whatever reason, this one was clear. “I was intent on watching the process, moving around the glass box thing to make sure I had the best perspective, and I must have mistaken the adult I sensed behind me for my dad. Even though I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, because I was too invested in being an asshole, I really liked when my dad rested his hands on my shoulder. And so, I moved closer, hoping that he would do it again. But as I stepped backwards, against him, I felt this… shock to my system. A repulsion so strong that I actually felt nauseated. And when I turned around, I realized that it wasn’t my dad behind me. It was another man. Another man who looked like all of the other men and dads in the workshop. Not something with fangs and horns. But I felt such an all-encompassing sense of wrongness that he might as well have looked like a literal monster. I screamed.”

  Sutton, who’d been following her story without interrupting or rolling his eyes, frowned. “The child predator?”

  “Look, I know it sounds ridiculous, but –”

  “Adeline. Please don’t assume my thoughts. Unless you’re saying you can read minds?”

  “No.” Irritated, she scowled. “Of course not.”

  “Then I’d really like you to continue. Was the man behind you the child predator?”

  “Yes.” And while she was tempted to say and I can prove it with documented factual details, she resisted the urge to fall back on defensive snark. “I didn’t know that at the time, of course, and the man reacted just like any other normal man would react, horrified and apologetic. He didn’t know why I was screaming and my dad didn’t know why I was screaming and the people in the store didn’t know why I was screaming, but everyone wanted me to stop. Since I couldn’t explain, and couldn’t in that moment get my words to form the correct sentences to even try, my dad just ended up carrying me out of the store. It was a horrible ending to a horrible day for both of us.”

  “How did you find out the man was a creep?”

  “The newspaper. Several days later, there was an article about a little girl who’d gone missing from a birthday party, of all things, at one of those fun centers with bounce houses and ball pits and tunnel mazes. Surveillance video caught an image of him near the girl who disappeared, and my dad recognized him as the same man from the Build-A-Bear workshop. So, he asked me, very casually, if there was a particular reason why that man had scared me. Did he touch me? Say something? No. No. He just made me feel bad. I couldn’t articulate it any better, and I don’t think Dad really believed me, but given that I’d had so much trouble communicating anyway, he didn’t push. But I did end up talking to the police, and the child therapist who worked with them, and I think they all believed that he’d touched me or done something and I was just too afraid to say. But he didn’t. I just… knew that he was bad.”

  “Did they catch him?”

  She nodded. “The fact that my dad came forward meant that they were able to check the mall’s security footage to get a better picture. They eventually IDed him. But not before he killed the little girl.”

  “Jesus.” Sutton’s face echoed his tone of disgust. “The sick bastard.”

  Knowing the case as well as she did, Adeline felt that was an understatement. But she wasn’t about to go into the details.

  “I can give you his name, if you want to Google the case. He’s serving a life sentence without possibility of parole.”

  “Why?”

  She frowned. “Because… he… murdered a child?”

  “No, I mean why do you think I would want to Google it? Morbid curiosity?”

  “I thought you might not believe me.”

  He stared at her with lifted brows. “Adeline, I realize that we don’t know each other very well. But you’re making some assumptions about my ability to empathize that aren’t exactly flattering.”

  “Skepticism isn’t a lack of empathy.”

  “Fair enough. But why do you think my first instinct, as I’m sitting here listening to you expose a pretty evident emotional wound, would be to fact check you?”

  Adeline blinked away the unexpected rush of tears to her eyes.

  “Jesus, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to –”

  “No.” She held up a hand, and then used the other to wipe a stray tear. She hated, absolutely hated, crying. But she couldn’t seem to help herself. “You didn’t do anything. Or I guess you did, but that’s not really the reason I started leaking.” She pressed her fingers against her eyelids in a bid to make it stop. “I told you that you remind me of my dad – and Jesus, that sounds creepy considering I just tried to climb you like a sturdy hardwood –”

  Sutton laughed and then looked horrified. “I’m sorry. That just caught me off guard.”

  “That’s okay.” She offered a watery smile. “I think this conversation could use some comic relief.” But the smile inevitably faded. “My dad had a difficult time coming to terms with my ability to sometimes – and I need to emphasize that point – pick up on other people’s vibes or whatever you want to call it. He considered it woo-woo, coincidence, or even obfuscation on my part, because he was convinced that creep touched me in some way and that I was just too traumatized to say so. And because the reactions are erratic and not something I can command at will, there was really no way to put them to a quantifiable test. It’s not like I bump into someone and can be like, oh, he’s planning to rob the convenience
store later, or she kicks kittens. I’m not psychic. I’ve also discovered that most people are basically… well, elevator music. Easy to tune out. It’s only on occasion that someone blips strongly enough on my radar that I can say, with confidence, that they present some sort of danger. Does that mean they’re a serial killer? No. But I do stay away from them, just in case. Anyway.” She drew in a breath. “I’m getting off track. To keep the peace with each other, my dad and I learned not to discuss it. And even after all these years… I guess I’m still disappointed.”

  “That,” Sutton said, his tone sympathetic “makes total sense. The people closest to us can also do the most damage.”

  She almost teared up again, but managed to hold it back. “Exactly.”

  He was quiet for several moments, but she could tell that he was thinking about what he wanted to say, so she didn’t attempt to fill the silence.

  “Working at the CDC, there was always a lot of interesting watercooler talk, and I seem to recall one of my colleagues talking about some researchers doing an experiment a few years ago involving a rubber hand, and how they could trick the subject’s mind into identifying the fake hand as part of their own body…” He ran his own hand through his hair again, and then glanced at it in consideration. “I can’t remember all of the details, but I’m pretty sure that it involved stimulating the neurons that recognize peripersonal space. The immediate space around the body.”

  Adeline blinked. “Like… a force field?”

  “Technically an electric field, but yeah.”

  She considered that, and while it made a certain amount of sense, it didn’t fully explain why sometimes places rather than people – like the house where they’d inadvertently met – gave her a bad feeling.

  Of course, that wasn’t terribly uncommon. She’d heard plenty of people over the years say they’d felt either creeped out by or attracted to a particular place, for no real tangible reason. Maybe that was just a basic human experience, rather than something precipitated by her freakish ability.