Hide'n_Go_Seek

by Mayer, Dale

  Stop.

  Kali bowed her head.

  Facing her lay something she found all too familiar - with a twist. A twist she'd only recently started to better understand since Mexico. If there was ever a defining moment in her life, that had been it.

  The whispers spoke again, calling to her. Insisting she follow them. It was rare for The Sight to be this strong, this insistent. She shifted her feet, easing the ache from standing too long. At least her heavy, steel-toed work boots grabbed the uneven ground with the solid grip of experience.

  Glancing around, she filled her mouth with water, rinsing the new grittiness inside.

  Shiloh whimpered at her side. Death depressed her. Kali frowned, rubbing the back of her hand across her forehead. Didn't it depress everyone? Kali stroked the top of Shiloh's silky head.

  "It's okay, Sweetheart. We can't help him anymore, but we can bring him home to his family."

  Him. Kali tilted her head in consideration. Yes, the victim was male. That knowledge sat confidently inside her soul. Another fact. Her intuitive hunches had become reality - something she could count on as fact.

  She'd had no trouble finding this victim. She didn't understand how her skills worked or why. Kali also didn't know how to use them properly or how to shut them off. She could only accept that they were there and refused to be ignored.

  Kali had morphed into a divining rod for violence - man-made violence.

  And this poor man had been murdered.

  ***

  Grant Summers leaned back against his high-backed office chair and rubbed his temple. Working for the FBI always meant tons of paperwork. Some days it went smoothly, he could burrow in and dig himself out. Then there were days like today. Delay after delay. He'd yet to get anything off his desk. Instead, dozens more red-flagged problems had joined the pile. He'd be lucky to be clear by the weekend.

  His stacked inbox caught his eye. Big, brown manila envelopes, too many to count, white business envelopes, too many to care, and a magazine. Now that he could handle. Grabbing it out of the stack, he plunked his feet on top of his desk and grabbed five minutes for something not case-related.

  It was the latest edition of Technical Rescue, compliments of his brother in Maine. Rob wanted him to return home and continue doing the type of work they'd both done once long ago. Choosing to stay up-to-date on the industry let Grant know that the idea percolated in the back of his mind. Maybe one day...

  Turning to the Table of Contents, he scanned through the listed articles. He paused. His breath caught and held as his fingers raced through the pages to the name that had caught his eye. A picture in the center of the page.

  Kali Jordan.

  The same damned baseball that had hit him seven years ago socked him in the gut again. Time hadn't diminished the impact. His breath whooshed out on a long sigh as he feasted on the picture. Fatigue dripped from her features, dust coated her from her work boots to her hair drawn back in a no-nonsense ponytail. Obviously photographed on a disaster site, her dirty rescue vest dominated the picture. Tired, proud, Kali stood strong on a boulder, her dog at her side. A sunset colored the background.

  Damn she looked good. Older, sure, but then so did he. Was her hair darker? He remembered a sun-kissed gold layer over deep rich brunette locks. And long. God, he loved long hair.

  She wore a pained I'm-doing-this-for-the-cause type of smile. She had heart, that girl. And as he recalled, she was anything but a media hound. He'd first met her years ago at a conference where she'd been a guest lecturer.

  He'd been fascinated. The stomach punch at the first sight of her had been illuminating. He'd been new to auras and chakras and had never understood the various terms for the different psychic abilities back then, but even he couldn't have missed the merging sensation of rightness between them.

  But she had.

  It had been hard. In his head, the rightness of it was natural, automatic. She'd been the one. The perfect match. The synergistic yin to his yang.

  Except - she hadn't been free.

  That realization had stunned him. How could anything so perfect not work out?

  He shook his head at the painful memories.

  For seven years he'd had that gut feeling that it wasn't over. It couldn't be over. It might not have been the right time back then, but there would come a time when it would be right. Yet what if he was wrong? Had he let life pass him by while he waited - for something that might never come?

  He stared at the picture and wondered. Would that time ever come? He'd avoided committed relationships, always wondering...always waiting.

  His cell phone rang, yanking him out of his reverie. He reached into his pocket and checked the number. Stefan. Of course. Stefan slept when he wished, painted when he wished, and channeled incredibly strong psychic abilities the rest of the time.

  Grant leaned back in his chair and lifted his feet to rest on top of his desk. What did his wily friend have to say today? "Hey, Stefan."

  "You're wondering right now if you're going to see her."

  Grant slammed his feet down on the floor as he leaned forward. "Shit. What?" He closed his eyes in frustration. His free hand pinched the bridge of his nose. Being friends with Stefan meant his mind was his friend’s to read. Sometimes that became very irritating.

  "But not today?" Stefan snickered.

  "Oh, shut up."

  "The answer is yes, you are. And soon."

  Grant loosened his tie, swallowing heavily. His mind spun at the endless questions forming.

  "She has The Sight but has no idea how strong she is. Ask to see her paintings."

  With that cryptic statement, Stefan rang off. Grant frowned. Damn. Stefan was right 99 percent of the time. What’s the chance that this one time - the one time he was desperate to have Stefan be right - he was wrong?

  ***

  Kali swallowed, her throat rasping like aged sandpaper as she avoided looking at the mounds of rocks and crushed building around her. While she was stuck in Bralorne, hours filled with organized chaos had slipped away since she'd located the buried victim. Kali had continued to search for survivors, always keeping an eye on the crew and gathering throng. Now she'd finally allowed herself to be drawn to the drama like the rest of the crowd.

  Shiloh whined. Kali tore her gaze from the heavy equipment sitting beside the open pit. The smell of death was hard to get used to - even for a dog. Knowing what it was didn't help. In fact, it almost made it worse. Still when it was your life's work, what choice did you have?

  Except to wear a mask and breathe through your mouth.

  Tugging Shiloh's bright orange lead once, Kali took several steps back. The crime scene people needed more space. At least that's what she thought they were. Their white coveralls carried no labels, but proclaimed them official. Still, she was grateful they'd arrived to take over.

  The crowd immediately swarmed forward to fill the gap she'd left.

  "When did this crowd arrive?"

  Kali twisted to face Brad. "Just after you left." She offered him a tired smile, wiping the dust from her eyes. "What took so long?"

  Brad held out a tall take-out cup. "I was waiting for Jarl to show. I don't know where he took off to. That guy's a bloody ghost when he wants to be. Besides I brought this back for you. Forgive me?" He wafted the full cup under her nose. "Tall, dark and black?" The warm cup changed hands.

  Kali moaned in delight. "Coffee. Oh, thank God. I'm so cold."

  "It has to be 92 degrees. How can you be cold?"

  With her fingers hugging the coffee cup, Kali blew at the steam coming through the small opening. "I'm exhausted," she admitted. "I don't seem to have much energy these days." She shot him a worried glance. "Jarl's gone missing? Again? What's with him? He's been acting different lately."

  Several men jostled her, almost spilling her coffee on their way past.

  Brad patted her shoulder and pointed to a spot away from the action. Walking ahead, Shiloh sprawled in a small patch of shade.
A huge boulder provided a place to sit and enjoy their drink in relative peace. Kali curled up with her legs crossed, while Brad stretched out his six-foot length. Covered in dust and both in jeans and black tee-shirts, except for their bright fluorescent vests, the two people could have been any two tired people.

  "Jarl could be struggling today. This gets to you after a while. We have to remember tomorrow is a new day."

  Kali exhaled noisily, staring at the heat waves rising around them. "I don't know. We work so hard to free these poor survivors, then to have this happen?" She eased her sore body into a more comfortable position. "I don't understand how someone could do this. It's senseless."

  Brad frowned. "Like what? Who? What did I miss?"

  Kali motioned toward the commotion in front of them. "I don't know exactly what happened here, but remember the guy we found several days ago? Stephen? The one with the broken left arm that had been pinned between the two cement slabs?"

  Brad narrowed as his gaze as he considered her description. "Yeah, I remember. Construction worker or something similar. What about him, outside of the fact he's damn lucky to be alive?"

  With a tight smile on her face, she said, "That's the problem. Someone decided he shouldn't be. Alive, that is."

  Brad shot her a startled look. "What?"

  Kali swirled her cup, watching the black brew slosh around. Brad deserved the full explanation. He'd been in on the poor guy's original rescue. "Shiloh signaled when we were walking through here a couple of hours ago."

  She glanced over at him. "Heaped on one side appeared to be freshly turned dirt. I requested a crew to check it over. When we found the clothing we went into recovery mode, thinking this was a slide victim. It didn't take long to realize we were wrong."

  "Wrong?" Brad frowned, a crease forming on his forehead. "What could be wrong with finding another victim?"

  Kali stared up at him, the ghosts from too many disasters, accidents, and deaths swirling through her mind. "This one was murdered."

  ***

  How was the Best of the Best now? Standing quietly, Texan watched as Kali wandered along the temporary road, Shiloh ever at her side. His position was perfect. Close enough to keep abreast of the running conversations but far enough away to mask his interest in what was going on.

  He'd orchestrated this lovely little mess, so why shouldn't he enjoy the results? After all, this was his debut. Well, public debut.

  People surged forward, with the recovery team bringing out the victim. The crowd’s gasps and cries were his well-earned accolades.

  Shifting his weight, he slid his hands into his dusty jeans pocket.

  He hadn't realized how much he would enjoy hearing and seeing their reactions. How much he would enjoy being the only one who truly understood. How much he would enjoy being God's inside man. His stomach had roiled initially at the hands-on work, but he'd never been the squeamish type and he'd gotten over it quickly. Besides, practice had improved his technique. Less messy. He straightened, rolling his shoulders as a sense of freedom washed over him. A heartfelt sigh gusted free. Such a difference this had made in his world. A small smile played at the corner of his lips. Life was good.

  Kicking the loose dirt at his feet, he considered returning to the temporary command center, except that could mean missing something good here.

  He watched Kali and Shiloh again. She'd almost reached the center. Several people stopped to talk to her as she walked. Everyone loved her. A little girl offered Kali a flower and a hug for Shiloh. He frowned with disgust. She'd been blessed with a model's body, a dancer's grace, and a queen's regal air. Only he knew her now. It had taken him a bit, but he'd finally seen the light. She had no soul. How dare she defy God's plan? Shooting a dirty look in her direction, he refocused on the scene going on around him, determined to enjoy the fruits of his labors. He could bide his time. There was a natural order to everything.

  Her turn would come...and soon.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Four days later

  Kali awoke early. She ached deep inside, a weariness, a heaviness weighed on her as she lay in bed. Now if only she could go back to sleep.

  There was such joy in saving a life. She could only liken the experience to what a doctor must experience in an Emergency, when a case offers little hope - yet a miracle happens, and the patient survives. Heart-wrenching, painful, satisfying.

  It was easy to understand why Brad went on a bender after some of the bad rescues. It was hard enough on his wife with him racing off to disasters around the world, without adding days of wallowing in it, as well. Several others, like Jarl, used God to help them get through the pain. Other rescuers depended on the people in their closest relationships to help them heal.

  Rolling over, she dropped a hand over the side of her bed, reaching until a cold nose nudged her palm. Grateful for Shiloh's presence, she stroked the dog's furry head - the two of them inseparable as always.

  "Let's go for our run Shiloh, before it gets too hot."

  Shiloh's ears perked up, her head cocked to one side. She barked once.

  It took a couple of minutes to change into a black tank top and matching shorts and pull her hair into a ponytail. Running on the beach was unlike any other type of jogging. It was much harder. The first couple of times she'd thought the run would kill her. Time and practice had improved her speed and technique. Now she loved it. She'd lived in Oregon all her life, on the coast for the last year. She couldn't imagine living anywhere else now.

  Kali and Shiloh navigated the fifty-odd steps down the cliff to the rocks and sand. Large boulders and crashing waves dominated this part of the coast. The crescendo was always noisy and boisterous, giving extra energy to anyone lucky enough to be in the vicinity. Another reason for running here. No matter how little she might want to run beforehand, as soon as her feet hit the cold moist sand they gained a will all their own to send her speeding along the waterline. Today was no different.

  Shiloh barked and danced in circles, and Kali laughed. The miles churned under their feet as she dodged the tidal pools of water. They ran daily when their schedule allowed. Staying fit was mandatory for rescue work. Besides, she loved the way running made her feel.

  Thoughts tumbled around in her head as she looped back several miles of the beach. It was a good thing the tide was out, or she wouldn't have been able to go as far. The beach narrowed to a strip winding between the rushing water and majestic cliff face. The slope was unstable there. Made so by tumbling rocks and sand.

  By the time they'd returned to the cascade of rocks below her stairs, Kali was covered in sweat, life thrummed through her veins. She gasped for breath as she slowed to a walk and stretched her upper body.

  The sun slipped behind the clouds, giving her a brief respite from the sun and helped her to cool down faster. She walked up the stairs and across the long stretch of wilderness to her yard.

  A small white envelope sat on her back doorstep.

  She searched to see if the person who'd delivered it was still around. There was no sign of anyone. It hadn't been there when she'd left. At least she didn't think so. Wiping her sweaty hands on her shorts, she picked it up and flipped it over and back again. No return address and only her first name printed in ink on the front. Written in all capitals, it appeared more businesslike than personal.

  Weird.

  After unlocking the kitchen door, Kali stepped into the kitchen before ripping the envelope open. A small folded sheet of paper fell into her hand. She flicked the paper open and read aloud.

  Game on

  Start of round one

  I hide and you seek, see

  -it's simple

  If you don't find them in time

  - they die

  So use those mad skills

  - and see

  Are you really so much better

  - than He?

  Get ready, because it's

  - Game On!

  Kali dropped the letter on the table and backed away, a
lmost stepping on Shiloh. What the hell was that? Her heart raced and it was all she could do to stay calm. She wiped her sweaty palms on her tee-shirt. She studied the letter from a distance, searching for some identification. No signature, no letterhead, no watermark. Nothing. Reaching for the envelope again, she searched for clues she might have missed. Nothing. The note was printed in the same style as her name on the envelope, blocky hand printed letters, only not all capitals this time.

  Shit.