(FADE IN:)
EXT. – THE BEACH – NIGHT
She ran, stumbling over her bare feet, the heavy sand pulling at her, dragging her back. Heat shimmered from the depths of the coarse whiteness, though the sun was long set over the beach.
Her knees hit the surface, digging into the sharp edge of a shell, but she didn’t scream as her blood flowed from the slice in her pale flesh. Couldn’t past the pounding in her head, the pain it caused her to draw a breath. Her whole body scorched from the inside out, eating itself as fear mixed with the toxin in her veins.
The night air, humid and heavy, wrapped her lungs in a wet blanket, drowning her while she fought for breath. She felt equally powerful and fragile, the dark spinning around her as she struggled to rise. Fear won over the awe of how beautiful and fresh the sky looked, how sparkly the few stars she could see, magnified, intense, burning holes in her eyes, in her soul.
She staggered to her feet, blood trickling down her leg, the tall pier ahead shadowing the pounding of the surf. A hiding place. Surely she could crouch in the darkness and escape.
But the dark intensified her fear, made it an agony she couldn’t bear and, moments after her trembling legs carried her under the towering wooden structure she emerged on the other side, panting, chest crushing her lungs, her wilding beating heart.
She wasn’t alone anymore. Up ahead people talked, laughed, stood in casual calm on the shore. She could reach them, and they would help her, save her from… save her.
From.
She opened her mouth to scream and only a thin sound emerged, a faint whistle of breath exhaling from her laboring lungs, a line of drool dripping from the corner of her lip to darken the fabric of her torn halter. One knee gave out, the injured one, and she stopped, bending to grasp at it, terror so powerful she felt it build like a living thing bursting from her already constricted chest, begging for release as she tried one more time to scream.
Her searching fingers reached out for salvation as a hand emerged from the darkness under the pier and pulled her back into the black as the waves pounded the beach.
***
Episode Two: Exotica
(Smashwords Edition)
Copyright 2014 by Patti Larsen
Purely Paranormal Press
Find out more about Patti Larsen at http://www.pattilarsen.com/
Sign up for new releases http://bit.ly/pattilarsenemail
***
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Director Annetta Ribken www.wordwebbing.com
Production Designer Valerie Bellamy www.dog-earbookdesign.com
Editor Jessica Bufkin
Producer Anne Chaconas www.badassmktg.com
Series Created and Written by Patti Larsen
***
INT. – DR. PANTHER’S OFFICE – AFTERNOON
Dr. Ocean Panther crossed her legs, knee length skirt brushing gently over her skin. She refrained from chewing the end of her pen in frustration as her current—and most aggravating—patient stood in dark silence in front of the large, plate glass window of her high rise office. Not for the first time, Cici silently asked herself why she’d agreed to take on this detective as a patient.
But, when Gerri Meyers spoke up, she remembered.
“You asked a question? Sorry, I missed it.” The statuesque redhead turned with a playful smile on her face. Classic distraction technique. It seemed Gerri knew therapy’s tricks about as well as Cici. She did her best not to sigh, found herself smiling in return. As much as she would have liked a more pliable patient in the tall detective, Cici found she liked her more and more with every irritating and progress free visit.
Gerri turned back to the window without waiting for Cici to comment. Instead of asking her question again—about Gerri’s state of mind the last few weeks since the death of her partner, Joe Mutch—Cici took the time to simply observe her. For the first time in a long time, since she was a child, as a matter of fact, Cici thought of her grandmother’s teachings. A full-blooded Periqwai Indian, native to the very lands where Silver City now stood, Mama Roan made it her mission to ensure Cici was well versed and educated on her tribe’s history.
She always said there were those the great creator, Toqwai, gifted with the soul of much more than just humanity. Cici always passed off such stories as just that. Until she met Gerri. In her, she could see what Mama Roan meant.
Gerri was more. Not that she seemed odd or off to Cici. Quite the contrary. There was a massive charisma about the detective, an attraction that had nothing to do with sexuality. And yet, everything to do with it. Cici could only imagine men were terrified of Gerri. Women jealous. All while being inexorably drawn to her. And Gerri, though confident outwardly, had to be unaware of her effect on others outside the benefit it gave her doing her job.
A wild animal lived inside the detective, begging for release. And the woman did her very best to keep it trapped. Cici shivered slightly, hearing Mama Roan’s voice in her head.
“Them that’s more,” she said, accent heavy with the native language of their tribe and English never far past passable, “they be trouble waiting for happen.”
Cici got the point. And, sitting there, observing Gerri, she finally understood. Not only was Gerri “trouble waiting for happen”, she was likely attracting it to her like a magnet.
Not that Cici believed such things. She’d been raised in an educated household, her father a lawyer, mother a nurse. Her parents hadn’t exactly rejected the tribe, were still full members. But their decision to live off the reservation, to give Cici and her little brother the option to grow up in the white man’s world, gave the therapist a unique perspective on life. And while her brother, Wind, went back to the tribe with his head full of ways to improve life on the rez, now chief by a landslide election that shocked even her, Cici remained in the concrete and glass castles of the white man. Where she felt she belonged.
Until now. Premonition hit her like a freight train, even as Cici tried to deflect it. Here was proof of her grandmother’s teachings. She was positive of it. Of the six races, the disguises worn by humans to hide their animals within. When Gerri turned, Cici jumped a little, though her patient didn’t seem to notice. Instead, the detective stood, framed in sunlight, her red hair on fire, the beast within her showing so clearly Cici could barely breathe.
It wasn’t until Gerri crossed the room, leaving the direct light, she appeared just human again. Cici struggled to regain control of her beating heart as Gerri sank into the chair across from her, oblivious as far as the therapist could tell, to the turmoil in Cici’s mind.
“I’m fine,” Gerri said in her deep and resonant voice. Cici held still, realizing she was finally answering the question. “Joe’s death was a tragedy. I’ve moved on.” She shrugged her wide shoulders, crossing one cowboy booted foot over her knee, settling it there, much like a man might sit. Gerri’s ease of being made Cici feel breathless all over again. Did she know what lived within?
Did Cici? Or was she just letting her imagination run away with her?
“And your anger issues?” Cici cleared her throat delicately, silky black hair falling over her notes as she tilted her head down, if only for a moment’s respite. Looking away from Gerri only made thi
ngs worse when Cici glanced up again. How had she missed this the last three times she’d had sessions with the detective? Sure, she’d noted the charismatic pull of the woman. But this was different, as though she’d woken something in Cici just by being.
And she wasn’t so certain she was grateful for that.
Gerri’s brow was furrowed, green eyes staring at the tip of her boot. “It’s fine,” she said. “I’m not angry.”
Cici laughed. She didn’t mean to. But the lie was so absurd, her insides so wound up over this new awakening, she couldn’t help it. Gerri met her gaze, temper burning behind those eyes before she, too, laughed.
They chuckled together a moment, the amusement easing the tightness in Cici’s chest, releasing her from the odd awareness. When she drew a deep breath and released it, Gerri transformed from more than a woman to just the detective, attractive in more ways than one, but just a tall, stunning redhead. Cici shook her head at her own odd reaction and wondered what the hell was wrong with her.
Mama Roan would love this.
“Okay, got me.” Gerri’s grin was genuine, though her gaze remained guarded. “Anger issues.” She rubbed one hand over her eyes before shrugging. “I don’t know, honestly.” She seemed genuinely bemused, and, for once, Cici felt like she was being completely truthful. “I had a great childhood. Awesome folks. A brother and sister who love me.” She shook her head, red hair spilling around her in waves. “I have no reason to be angry.”
While most of what Gerri just said was true, that last part was a lie. She knew damned well why. She just wasn’t prepared to share it with her therapist. Yet.
To Cici, though, it was progress.
“And your new partner?” A bone of contention she was well aware of. Cici watched Gerri’s jaw flex, her shoulders tighten.
“That asshole.” She looked away. “I’ve considered murder a few times.” Cici didn’t comment as Gerri wrinkled her nose. “Just kidding.” Pause. “Well, mostly.” Another pause. Cici resisted the urge to giggle, soft hysteria rising in her throat. Who was this woman?
Gerri’s jacket began to ring. Cici drew a breath, ready to complain, but stopped. Gerri knew the no cell phone rule, broke it every single time she had a session. Cici just sat back with a knowing look and let the detective answer.
As the redhead mumbled into the phone, Cici sighed mentally. It wasn’t like she could force Gerri to face her demons. It had to be her choice. All Cici could do was be here when she was ready to finally face whatever held her back.
Gerri hit end and tucked her smartphone into her pocket with an apologetic grin that Cici didn’t believe for one minute. “Sorry, Doc. Murder calls.”
Cici waved her off. “Same time next week,” she said. “And leave the phone at the office.” She’d asked the same of Gerri three weeks in a row. Not like she expected the detective to listen.
By the time Gerri left the office, Cici’s mind turned back to the vision she’d had, the impression the detective lived with a beast inside. And though it went against her training and everything she believed it—even against her oath as a therapist to keep her client’s confidence—Cici’s thoughts went to her grandmother.
Impulse drove her to her desk. To pick up the phone. Mama Roan would know what to do.
***
EXT. – THE BEACH – AFTERNOON
Gerri stood on the water’s edge, watching the sand waver under the press of the salty wash, darkening the tips of her cowboy boots. She retreated, sweat trickling down the center of her back to pool just above the waistband of her jeans, the heat of the California sun powerful at 3PM in the afternoon.
She’d happily fled—and yes, was willing to admit she ran like a coward—from Dr. Panther’s office at the captain’s call, but not because she was eager to investigate another murder. Well, okay, so she loved her job, if not the reasons for it. But there was something about the therapist—call me Cici, she said the first time they met, something Gerri could never bring herself to do—that made the detective uncomfortable.
As though those dark brown eyes could see through her, into her soul or something. Gerri snorted to herself, the sound lost in the noise of the surf beside the pier, to the conversations of the paramedics and the CSI’s doing their thing while she stayed the hell out of the way until she could do hers. Maybe, if Gerri believed in that kind of thing. But, she didn’t.
She just had to keep reminding herself of that.
She pivoted slowly at the sound of her name being called in a soft, British accent and bobbed a nod to her friend and medical examiner, Dr. Rachel Hunter. Ray hunched over a pale, barely clad body, softly bloated from time in the water, though the young woman’s good condition was enough to tell Gerri she couldn’t have been out there in the ocean for long.
Which suited Gerri just fine. Blood, gore, even maggots. She could handle it. But floaters? Shudder.
Ray stood, crossed to Gerri, her black jacket clinging to her, a strand of her long, dark hair escaping her ponytail. It caught the breeze and slipped between her lips. Ray’s slim hand caught and pulled it free before she grimaced, snapping off her gloves with distaste as she tucked the lost piece behind one ear.
“Body flavored,” she said. “Yum.”
Gerri laughed. Murder wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t help herself. “ID?”
“Nothing on her.” Ray’s hazel eyes sparkled in the sunlight, pale skin ready to burn at a moment’s notice. Gerri wondered what the hell possessed the brunette to move to one of the sunniest states in the country, the least suited to her coloring, then stomped on her question. She liked having Ray here, and their anthropology nut sister-in-arms, Kinsey DanAllart. If Ray wanted to live a life slathered in sunscreen or burning her little nose on the job, that was her business.
Well aware just how selfish that made her, Gerri dove back into work.
“Cause of death?” Might have sounded like a stupid question, considering where the girl’s body was found, but Gerri knew better than to assume anything.
“Not drowning.” Ray tucked her gloves into her pockets, fanning her pink face. “There are two unusual puncture marks on her neck. Could be COD.” She shrugged her thin shoulders, a bead of sweat trickling down her temple. “I’ll know more when I get out of this damned heat and into the comfort of my nice, quiet, cold morgue.”
Gerri grinned. “Sounds delightful.” Her phone rang as Ray winked. Once glance at it and Gerri hit speakerphone, holding it up so they could both talk and hear the person on the other end. “Kinsey.”
Dr. Kinsey DanAllart’s voice came through, slightly tinny, but loud enough even over the activity of the crime scene. “Hey, Gerri. You busy?”
“Just solving a murder,” Gerri said at her most dry while Ray stifled a giggle behind one hand.
“Oh!” Kinsey always sounded so young to the detective, though she was thirty-two, just like her. “Anything… weird?” The near whisper of the word almost ruined Gerri’s mood. And while she knew it was rather morbid and horrible of her to be in a good mood at the scene of a murder victim’s discovery, at least she loved her job. Kinsey’s mention of weird gave her pause while Ray shook her head.
The three of them had enough “weird” to last Gerri a lifetime. The memory of her last case, one that disappeared out from under her when the bodies of her two victims vanished without a trace, along with every scrap of evidence from the crime scenes, just added insult to an old injury. Gerri refused to think about Missy Spence back in Chicago, to look into her head at the soulful black eyes of the little girl she couldn’t save, all while building a towering wall around anything at all to do with Kinsey’s obsession with the paranormal.
Sure, she’d seen things she couldn’t explain. Yet. But that didn’t mean there was something going on that couldn’t be uncovered with good old police work and science.
“Just a regular who done it, Kins.” Gerri knew she sounded testy, but couldn’t help it. “What’s up?”
“Nothing, I…” For
a moment, Gerri thought maybe the call was dropped, until Kinsey went on. “Nothing. You two free for dinner tonight?” Gerri knew false brightness when she heard it. Her green eyes watched absently as the two paramedics loaded the body into a heavy, black bag, the sound of the zipper closing one of the most final songs she’d ever heard.
Every single time.
When Gerri glanced back, Ray was grinning. “Not dinner,” she said. “Dancing.”
“Ray!” Kinsey’s true sparkle was back. “I’m totally in. Where?”
Gerri groaned softly as Ray grabbed the phone from her. “There’s a new place just opened,” the brunette said, refusing to let Gerri off the hook as the tall detective half turned away in protest. Ray’s hand grasped her jacket and spun her around. “I hear it’s all that.”
“Let’s do it.” Kinsey sounded relieved. “I need to blow off some steam. Ger?”
With Kinsey waiting on the other end, maybe Gerri could have found a way to bow out. But having Ray plead silently with her big, hazel eyes, lips shaping, “please” over and over, there was little Gerri could do.
“Fine,” she groused, feeling equally put out and oddly flattered the girls cared enough to force her uncooperative ass out once in a while. “Whatever.”
Kinsey squealed on the other end while Ray handed Gerri back her phone with a broad, obvious wink. “Settled then,” Ray said.
“What’s settled?” Leave it to her partner to pick the worst time to interrupt. Gerri’s brief flash of gratitude for her friends died in a flare of dislike as she turned her head to glare up three inches into the blue eyes of Detective Jackson Pierce. Dr. Panther asked her how she was getting along with her new partner, knowing full well what Gerri thought of him.
But Cici really had no idea.
Exotica (Episode Two: The Nightshade Cases) Page 1