by A J Sherwood
Good, glad she was being her usual, sensible self about this.
With not much else to do but wait on them, I settled on the opposite side of the table and the camera, leaning back comfortably. Garrett and Donovan settled on either side of me, Sho on the far end, ready to man the camera.
“Jon, can I ask some questions?”
Knowing he had to have a few hundred, I nodded in encouragement. “Sure, Garrett. Shoot.”
“Take me back to the basics,” he said with a wave of the hands. Garrett was the type to not be able to talk without his hands in motion. “I know that psychics help with detective work and stuff, have been for a few decades now, but how did all that start?”
“Well, you know that psychics weren’t generally accepted at all through most of the world’s history?” I checked because people didn’t retain everything they learned in school. When he nodded, I continued, “In 1891, H. H. Holmes started killing people. The police were desperate to catch him, but there wasn’t enough evidence. Most of the bodies were stripped of the meat and organs, and then he’d sell the skeletons to medical labs and schools, making it impossible to trace them. The police got desperate enough to try a local famous psychic for help. Janice Walker was her name, and from the records we have, she was one of the best. She located nine of the bodies Holmes had killed. With those bodies at hand, they were able to catch him and force a confession.”
“Huh.” Garrett’s eyebrows rose into his hairline. “And that was enough to get the ball rolling?”
“It was a little bit of a mixed reaction,” I admitted, see-sawing a hand back and forth. “Holmes confessed to twenty-seven murders, but some of the people he said he murdered actually turned out to be alive. There’s still a question of how many people he truly killed. It cast a shadow of doubt on Janice Walker’s ability, even though she’d been quite helpful.”
Sharon, knowing this history as well as I did, pitched in, “But it really did get the ball rolling. The next time they had a serial killer, they tried using a psychic again. The killer was Johann Otto Hoch. He killed over fifty people by the time they caught up with him.”
“That case went better, and the next time they had a serial killer—Harry Hayward—they were faster to call in a psychic for help. Though he was suspected of killing eight people, they could only prove one; he was caught and executed for it in 1895. It started a trend, where the police were more amiable to calling in outside help.” I eyed the table. The map had been reset, and Sharon and Carol both wore gloves to handle the weapon as they carefully took it out of the evidence bag. We’d be ready to go in a minute.
“I think it helped that they considered serial killers to be more or less possessed of a devil,” Carol added absently, her hands still busy as she performed the last of the setup. “So they figured calling in people who were more in touch with the occult just made sense in order to stop them.”
I snorted wryly. “The logic on that still hurts my brain, but she’s unfortunately right. Anyway, psychics were used in an unofficial capacity for a few generations, but it wasn’t until the 1960s the idea really caught on. All the social reform movements, I guess. By the time Ted Bundy was caught, TV and newspapers reported when psychics were used on a case, and people started demanding the police use us more often. I think they felt that if we were part of the police force, the crime rate would drop, because it would be faster to catch the criminals.”
Sharon snorted, hands idly twirling through her brown hair. “Not that that happened.”
My open hand acknowledged her point. “But by then, the police had realized we really could help them close cases faster. The laws and regulations were adjusted to include evidence we found, although they still won’t just take our word for everything. We have to find corroborating evidence on a lot of things. But it opened up the justice system to include us, and we’ve been working in the field ever since.”
Carol finally straightened, a satisfied bearing to her as she put her hands on her hips. “And it also helped regulate us. The government demanded we be licensed. That cut the fakes from the genuine articles, gave those of us training who needed it, and a viable means of using our talents to earn a living. All good things. That’s the overall gist of how we came to work with the law.”
“But some of you are actually on the force and some of you aren’t?” Garrett’s voice lilted up in question.
“Just like we have professional police consultants and others who are cops.” Sharon shrugged. “Same difference, basically. Psy Agency isn’t unusual, either. People figured out decades ago that if you have different types of talent all in one house, it generally works better. Like Jon and Carol’s talents, where individually they can do some cool stuff, but put them together and they’re nigh unbeatable.”
Teasing, I told Donovan lightly, “I like her ’cause she says nice things.”
Sharon winked at me, grinning. “Now, you should know we have rules in place, because sometimes people think they can order psychics around like slaves. There’s two very firm rules when dealing with our precious little flowers.”
“Hey!” Carol and I protested in unison, indignant at the description.
Ignoring us, Sharon ticked two points off on her fingers. “First, everyone has to respect a psychic’s limits. If they say they can only do X and Y, then they do X and Y. You don’t demand A to Z too. Also, if a psychic goes down, you never, ever touch them. Only their anchor can get near them when they’re overloaded. If you see a psychic down, and an anchor needs help, you first ask how you can help and then you follow what they tell you to the letter. Carol doesn’t go down that often; she’s got decent shields, and she doesn’t push her limits. Jon’s the problem child.”
I scrunched up my nose at her. “I changed my mind; I don’t like you anymore.”
Donovan slung an arm around my shoulders. “It’s fine. You’re my problem, not theirs.”
“You are not helping,” I said, poking him in the ribs with a finger.
Sharon grinned at me, not at all offended. “Part of the problem we have with this station is that they don’t respect those two rules. If they try to force an issue, stand firm. Legally they can’t do that. If they try to touch either Carol or Jon when they’re down, you can use physical force to get them to back off. But go easy there—too overboard and it won’t look good.”
“Got it,” Garrett confirmed with a nod.
“We’ll read you in better after this,” Carol assured him, shaking her fingers out. “Alrighty, everyone ready for the last reading today? Good. Sho, let ’er roll.”
Sho flicked the camera on and gave her a nod.
We went through the introductions, license numbers, and all that. Carol told the date and time, as per standard procedure, and then touched the wooden axe handle lightly with her fingertips.
When tracing an object like this, it was hard to ask its history. The best she could do was to first ask its origin—if it had been recently created—or the place it had rested the longest. She couldn’t say ‘last resting place’ on this because the axe had been in evidence lockup for a good two months. It was a fine balancing act on her part, and I didn’t get all the nuances of how she eked out even a semi-helpful answer.
The map on the table went through a dizzying display of lines as she honed in and finally stopped at a particular place, the area pulsing in a dim white light. “Mitchum True Value Hardware. Looks like it’s in Cumberland City.”
“At least that one’s in Tennessee again,” her sister said, leaning back and making the chair creak a little. “Makes for less paperwork on Hall’s end. He’s really casting a wide net for these, isn’t he? Cumberland’s, what, an hour’s drive from Clarksville?”
“More or less,” I agreed with a faint frown. “But this also makes it obvious this is all very premeditated. He’s driving out of the way to go pick up something to use, and then immediately using it. Or at least, I assume so, since Carol can’t get a fix on him.”
�
�I still should be able to find some trace of him, but he’s done something to prevent it,” she confirmed, dropping heavily into the chair and reaching for a water bottle. Sharon handed it to her when she couldn’t quite reach, and Carol gave her sister a nod of thanks as she twisted the top off. “Dammit. I’ve tried narrowing the search in different ways, but all that does is bring up various locations. The site where it was used, or Evidence, or even the factory it was made in. It’s like he has some idea of how a psychic’s power works, too, and he’s circumventing it by not holding onto these things for any length of time. Not long enough to leave a residual energy signature of any sort. Nothing he’s used has any sort of identity in connection to him. I can’t figure out how he’s doing it, but the fact remains, he’s found a loophole somehow.”
“Clever,” Donovan admitted grudgingly. “Unfortunately for us. Alright, what can we do now?”
“Today? Not a thing.” I shrugged, already scooting my chair back and getting ready to stand. “Carol’s at her daily limit, and without a suspect to question, I can’t do much. We’ll report this in and leave for the day, I guess. Come back to tackle it in the morning.”
Hall did not like us leaving, but we’d already given him a few leads to follow up on, and there was nothing else we could do without more to work with. He seethed and grumbled, but Jim shooed us out the door. Just lingering around waiting for something to happen was a useless waste of time on all our parts. Besides, it was barely two o’clock; if we left now, we had a decent chance of getting home without being stuck for hours in rush-hour traffic.
Sho and Garrett carried on a lively conversation in the back seat on the way home, mostly lighthearted, with Donovan half-turned in his seat to participate as well. I barely paid any attention to it.
With the decision made for Donovan to stay with me for a full month, I knew that meant he would want to start tonight. He wasn’t the type to let moss grow under his feet. I figured he’d go home to pack a bag, and I would need that hour reprieve to get my head straight before he showed up at my door.
I still had a mixed reaction on this because, as much as I loved having him with me, I was petrified I’d destroy us. Living with me had always been the breaking point with loved ones. It was hard for me to believe he would be the exception, even in this. But he was so sure it would be fine, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. To give us the benefit of the doubt. More than that, I wanted him to be right.
Most of my adult life, I’d known I would probably live alone. While resigned to it, I hadn’t been looking forward to that empty stretch of years. Donovan’s entrance was more than a pleasant surprise, to put it mildly. He made me hope for things I’d long since resigned myself to not ever having.
God, please let this work.
We pulled into the parking lot at Psy, and Sho and Donovan piled out, heading to their own vehicles. Before I could get the car into reverse, Garrett surprised me by climbing over the middle console and into the front passenger seat. He didn’t buckle in or show any signs of staying long. He sat sideways, facing me squarely. His meridian lines sparked with the spring green of affection, yellow ochre of determination, and strangely, of the pure purple I thought of as true communication. What was going on here?
“Bane.” He sucked in a breath, steady but a little wary at the same time. “After hearing everything you can do, I gotta assume you know me and Donovan haven’t always been platonic with each other.”
My eyebrows beetled together as I strove to read him, but this was one of those cases where I could see emotions but had no idea what the man was thinking. “Yes. I can see that.”
“I figured. If you can see that, and you’re not angry about it, can I assume you and Big Bear talked it through?”
Sidetracked completely, I couldn’t help but ask, “Big Bear?”
“His call sign.” Garrett’s lips twitched.
“You know, I find that perfectly hysterical, because I often think of him as this big bear. Sometimes he’s a teddy bear, sometimes he goes grizzly.”
“And he hibernates when he’s tired, only comes out for food,” Garrett agreed, nodding, eyes crinkling up in a grin as his lines sparked amusement. “Yeah. It’s how he got the call sign.”
I was going to get so much mileage out of this. I put the thought aside for a moment, concentrating on the now. “Yeah, Garrett, we talked it through. Not that it took much. I can see very clearly that while you two love each other to pieces, you’re not in love with each other. You’re not a threat to me.”
All the tension riding in him sloughed off, and he openly beamed. “Damn, you’re easy-going. I’m glad you can take this in stride.”
Only when hell froze over would I admit I was still a little jealous. But that was the petty, possessive part of me speaking, and it really had no room here. “Just answer me one question. Donovan already told me his reason, but if you’re that close to each other, why not try for more?”
“Honestly? Because as much as I love him, he drives me insane after a certain point.” Garrett rubbed at his jaw with the flat of his hand, sapphire blues sparking, no doubt because he struggled to explain what he intuitively understood. “Don needs someone who needs him, if that makes sense. He’s overly protective and smothering. If I tried to be his lover, I’d end up murdering him in a week. I don’t do good with that kind of overbearing protection.”
“Because you can kick your own ass?” I offered.
Garrett beamed at me, pleased. “Exactly. But you seem to be okay with it?”
It was sweet he was double checking on me, too. Or was this part and parcel of his protective instincts? Hmm, likely a mix of both. Garrett’s protective instincts ran just as high as Donovan’s and stayed even truer to people he deemed as ‘his’ to safeguard. I felt rather privileged he now counted me as one of his ducklings.
“As much as I try to be independent, I actually need that kind of protection. I have no situational awareness when I’m doing a reading, and unfortunately, I have to be close to criminals to do my job half the time. Did Donovan tell you I was shot at this year?”
“Your place was riddled with holes, was how he put it,” Garrett said with a pointed look at the right side of my chest.
“Yeah, well. I’ve been stabbed by a former partner too.”
Garrett whistled low and long, eyes wide. “Damn, man.”
I shrugged, as there weren’t any words really adequate to reflect how I felt on all of that. “You can see what a relief it was to me when Donovan came. I can trust my safety to him, I have no doubt of that, and it’s such a load off my shoulders to have him with me that I can’t find anything he does as overbearing. I need an overprotective partner.”
“So he actually fits the bill perfectly.” Garrett sparked chartreuse, happy with what he heard. “Good. I know he’s pleased as punch to have you. I just wanted to make sure we’re good. And you know, if ever you need me, I’ll be right there at your back like Donovan.”
Canting my head a little, I debated on what to say, but in the end went with complete honesty. “I know you will. And we might need that sort of help. This business isn’t exactly safe.”
“That’s what makes it fun. Alright, Bane, we good?”
“We’re good,” I assured him and meant it. “And thanks. Really. I prefer to keep the air cleared.”
“Me too.” With a smack on my arm, he opened the door and hopped out. “Night, Bane.”
“Night.” The man was definitely growing on me. A smile lingering on my face, I started the engine up and headed for home.
8
I went home and packed, but that wasn’t my only destination. I had a little stop to make before going home to my lover. The anger in my blood sizzled and snapped, demanding an outlet, but that was not the only reason I was going to have a little chat with Rodger. It was high time someone put that man in his place. I volunteered myself for the job.
Lauren and Rodger were creatures of habit, with Rodger always picki
ng Lauren up at the end of the workday. Sure enough, I found them both there, despite it being close to quitting time. They looked up with a smile as I walked in, smiles that faltered and grew alarmed when they saw the look on my face.
Well, to Lauren’s vision my aura likely sparked blood red with anger, but Rodger didn’t need her sight to see how pissed I was. Pinning him in place with my stare, I ordered softly, “Stay a moment, Rodger. We need to have a little chat.”
Alarmed, but eyes shrewd, Lauren whirled on Rodger and hissed, “Now what have you said to Jon?”
Smart woman to figure it out so quickly.
Rodger held up both hands and frantically defended himself, eyes bouncing between us like a ping-pong match. “Now wait. Wait, I was just giving him some advice. There’s no need for this. It wasn’t like I said something he didn’t already know, I was just giving him a little push—”
The need to constrict his airway grew nearly overwhelming. I stepped right into his personal space, and for all his height was near mine, he still had to look up a little as I loomed over him. He flinched as he did it, his survival instincts no doubt demanding either fight or flight. “Rodger. I know your wife has told you this before, and Jon’s said it dozens of times just in my hearing, but maybe I need to say it in a way you can understand. If you give him one more piece of unsolicited advice about anything, I will break your jaw.”
Rodger’s back went up, mulish and stubborn. “There’s no reason to be this angry with me. I was on your side in this!”
“The problem with you—” I had to physically check myself before I decked him “—is that you’re so sure you’re right, you never once consider that you might be wrong. You didn’t help me, Rodger. You dug into his insecurities, stirred up his doubts, and nothing you said was helpful.”
He opened up his mouth in another protest; I cut through it mercilessly. “You arrogant asshole, don’t you dare defend yourself! You are not on the side of angels, not in this. You and your wife have done so much damage to him it’s a miracle he was able to trust in me at all. I almost lost him before I even had a chance because of your decisions.”