Tuesday's Child (Book 1 of Psychic Visions, a paranormal romantic suspense)

by Dale Mayer

  "Staying here is out of the question."

  "Why?" she interrupted.

  "There's too much cover for a predator. It would be hard to defend."

  "Not true," she answered shaking her head. "Someone could stay in the house with me."

  "We don't want to use you for bait. He's going to come looking for you and you know that. If we take you to a safe house, he won't be able to find you."

  "Really? You mean until another detective leaks that information too. Thanks but no thanks. I didn't trust the police before, and the behavior out of your office hasn't changed my opinion one bit." Sam walked over to curl up on the couch with the blanket wrapped around her body.

  Sadly, he watched as those beautiful curves disappeared from view.

  "Besides, if he can't find me, he'll just kill other women. You..." her voice choked, "or someone else has already set me up as bait. So you might as well make good use of the job." Bitterness edged her voice.

  Shit. Brandt sat down beside her. "Sam, I'm wondering if this isn't part of Deputy Brooker's machinations. If the killer found you, it would be an easy solution to his problem."

  Sam shot him a considering look. A sweater lying over the couch caught her eye. Dropping the blanket to her waist, she pulled the sweater over her head, tugging it down under the blanket. Oddly enough, it was that action that made him suddenly very nervous.

  "God damn it Sam. I didn't set you up. You know what a media frenzy is like. Once they sniff out a story like this, there is no letting go."

  "Thanks, but I don't need the reminder." Sam curled into a tiny ball and stared out into the night.

  ***

  3:15 am

  Now fully dressed, Sam curled up in a small ball in the corner of the couch where she could look out. Darkness still blanketed the valley, giving it an eerie glow. She wasn't going to leave her home. The police had created this situation, so they could damn well fix it. She wasn't being stubborn; she was being sensible. They wanted to protect her, fine. They could do it here.

  Moses pushed his cold, wet nose against her arm. "Hey boy. That's right, isn't it? We couldn't possibly move you and Soldier. He's just starting to adapt to this place as it is."

  She peered around at the simple room. This was her home and she wasn't leaving. She knew better than most what this killer was capable of doing.

  Brandt walked down the stairs. Her heart twanged. She didn't want to see him. She didn't like this sense of betrayal. If Brooker had done this, then it wasn't Brandt's fault. Except he'd promised to keep her name out of this. Unfair or not, there it was.

  She geared up for the fight to come. Still, the feelings of resentment were hard to maintain as he walked toward her. Her nostrils flared. Her heart and mind flooded with images of last night. It couldn't be. She refused to be swayed by sweet memories. Damn it.

  Ruthlessly, she forced down tears.

  Brandt gingerly stepped over the sprawled dog to sit on the couch with her.

  "You may not be feeling very generous toward me at the moment, however, I need you to understand and believe in one thing – I didn't set you up. I wouldn't – couldn't – do that to you. And I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

  When she stared at him, but stayed quiet, his shoulders sagged.

  "Please," he whispered, "Just believe in me, in us, that much. We'll work out everything else. I promise."

  This time, she couldn't hold back the tears. They pooled at the corner of her eyes before slowly running down her cheeks. Burying her face in her arms, she tried hard to stifle the sniffles. When his arms wrapped around her, lifting her to his lap, the dam broke.

  Brandt held her tight, murmuring nonsensical things in her hair.

  Finally, her sobs ran down until she rested quietly in his arms. Where did she go from here? How to go on? She'd lived so isolated for so long, she didn't think she could handle being pointed and laughed at again. She shook her head slightly. Tough as that might be, losing Brandt would be the worst. For the first time, she experienced this connection, this sense of belonging with another person. He fit like her other half, making her whole.

  "Honestly, I don't think many people will recognize you. Apparently, it's an old picture."

  Sam stilled then tilted her head. "Did you read my mind?"

  He smiled and dropped a tender kiss on her nose. "No. I figure that's your department."

  She leaned against him, not sure how she felt anymore. She hadn't really thought he was to blame. That responsibility belonged with the asshole who'd released the information. Still, how much did she really know of Brandt? Sure, her mind mocked. You only know him well enough to have wild, uninhibited sex with him. Sam winced at the reminder.

  "What's the matter now?"

  Deciding to be honest, she answered, "I'm realizing that I've only known you for a few days."

  His arms tightened. "You know all that matters."

  She wondered about that.

  ***

  6:10 am

  Several sleepless hours later, Brandt walked into the kitchen expecting, even spoiling, for a fight. "I hope you've reconsidered."

  She pulled the bread out of the toaster and buttered the two pieces and didn't answer.

  "I hope you're prepared to be reasonable." Brandt knew he should shut up, yet found himself aggressively defensive. He needed her to understand, to care about staying safe.

  She shot him a look. "Reasonable? Take another look at what has happened to my life, then tell me that."

  "Damn it, I have. I wouldn't have wished this on you for anything. But it doesn't change the facts. You have to be protected, and we have to catch this asshole. This could be the same guy I'm hunting, or it may be an entirely different asshole. I don't care – we have to get him off the street. You have to stay safe." His voice rose at the end of his sentence. He visibly struggled to regain control, but it was tough. She was fighting him over something that was inarguable.

  She finished buttering the toast on the plate and carried it over to the table. "I don't have a death wish, but I do want this to be over. I can't live in a cell, and I have to have some space for my..." Out of words, Sam wafted her hand in the air. "For my abilities or whatever you want to call them. I can't live the same as everyone else. Don't you understand? These things happen and I don't know when they will. I have to feel safe in my world." Glancing around at the cabin, she added, "It's not much, but it is home. I feel good here, rested. Being in the real world all the time hurts me." She paused briefly. "I don't want to leave this place."

  Brandt leaned against the table, trying to give her a chance to express her needs. He didn't think she'd had much time or opportunity to have anyone care about what mattered to her.

  She turned to face him, her hand out in a beseeching way that wrenched his heart.

  Her voice continued the tug. "I trust you to keep me safe, regardless of the problems with your department. But if I go to a safe house, I won't have an easy time of it." Sam reached out, covering his hand with her own. "Brandt I just want this over. I don't want anyone else to get hurt – including me." At the furious look on his face, she backed off slightly. "I think you should use me as bait. Go ahead and involve Stefan. He has a great inner warning system, so use it."

  Seeing his mouth open to protest, she held up her hand to forestall him. "But I will leave that up to you."

  Brandt placed his hand flat on the table and slowly sat down, deep in thought. She had a valid argument in terms of her abilities. She wasn't the same as everyone else. Was it unreasonable to force her to go to a safe house? No. However, it would be intolerable for her. He had his orders, still... He straightened up and looked around the cabin, considering location and the problems of guarding her here. Using her as bait was out of the question. A policewoman now...that was possible. Stefan was also a hell of a good idea. He narrowed his eyes, considering her earnest face.

  He knew what he had to do. Right or wrong.

  "Alright. I'll talk
to the captain. Maybe we can find another way."

  She turned to look at him in surprise. "Really?"

  At his nod, her smile burst free, warming and calming the fear inside him.

  "Thank you."

  He smiled grimly at her. "Don't thank me yet. The captain isn't going to be happy and may order you to be picked up regardless. Even if that means bringing you in for questioning where we can hold you for forty-eight hours."

  She swallowed hard. "I understand and thank you... Thank you for considering my needs." She shrugged. "Maybe, he'll understand."

  Brandt didn't think so, but he'd made his decision and he'd stand by it.

  But he wasn't looking forward to telling the captain.

  ***

  10:15 am

  Sam kept to the rear of the vet clinic as much as possible. It helped that business was brisk and there were plenty of animals needing her attention.

  It also helped her ignore the six-foot-four security guard that stood just inside the door watching her every move. He'd arrived at her house just before seven this morning. Open-mouthed, she hadn't had time to protest. As this guy had walked in, Brandt walked out. Not a good way to start the day.

  She tried to stay focused and give the animals a little extra of her time. These poor things needed a warm, caring voice and a shot of love. She needed to stay away from the chaos in her mind. Somehow, she'd thought Brandt would be the one to stay by her side.

  She stole a glance at the tall, silent ghost beside her. He'd introduced himself, shown her his ID and had stayed quiet ever since. Watchful, ever present, quiet – Sam, so used to silence, found his unnerving.

  Lucy pushed open the door and walked toward Sam. She cast a nervous glance at the man standing silently to the side. "Sam, can you give us a hand? We need another person for a moment."

  Sam nodded and followed her into the surgical ward. There was no animal on the table. She turned around in confusion. "What do you need help with?"

  Three women converged on her.

  "Sam, are you okay?"

  "Why do you have a bodyguard?"

  "Was that you they were talking about on the news last night?"

  Their questions came hard and furious. She stared from one to the other, more than a little overwhelmed. It didn't take long to realize their questions came from a place of caring.

  Dr. Wascott walked in. He headed straight for Sam, where he gave her a quick hug. "I can't stay and talk. But you take care of yourself. That psycho could be after you."

  A wry smile lit Sam's face. "That's why the bodyguard."

  "OMG!"

  The girls' excitement and fear melded and blended until sentiments were impossible to tell apart. It took several minutes of explanations before they finally ran down. They gave her a big hug each and ran back to their duties. Sam stood there bemused, a warm glow inside and out.

  So that's what having friends felt like. She could get used to this.

  ***

  11:35am

  Plans, plans, and more plans. He'd done what research he could. There was little enough to find. He hoped she was enjoying her celebratory status. Because soon he'd make her famous. He could see the headlines now: Psychic Who Couldn't See What Was Coming.

  Serve her right. He preferred to study his victims, to learn everything he could about them. That was the best part. He loved finding out where the women worked, who their friends were, and especially about the lovers they slept with. Every tidbit helped him to know them just a little bit better. Once he'd collected all the little details then he could choose the perfect time and method for her death.

  There was not time for all this now. He couldn't take the chance.

  She also didn't fall into the same category as the other women. They were chosen. She was just an irritation to be taken care of.

  He smiled. Cutting her brake line would be too easy. He already knew that she owned an old Nissan truck. He'd found that out within minutes of hearing her name. He used that method sometimes, just not with the chosen ones. Besides he couldn't guarantee the success like he needed to.

  Many people deserved death. Not every one of them deserved his personal attention. Sometimes, men needed killing too. His old boss was one of them. The asshole had the audacity to fire him. Bill hadn't liked the damn job anyway. He frowned. That reminded him. That asshole had escaped. His damn girlfriend had borrowed his Mercedes, dying in his place. His stomach soured. Now, he'd be sure to take care of that bastard personally. But there were more pressing issues to take care of first.

  Parksville was only a few miles away. The psychic wouldn't know what hit her.

  The cops were particularly stupid. She'd be placed under police protection and the cops would be waiting for him. Bill was too smart for that. His mind spinning with ideas, he couldn't help but appreciate the extra challenge. It definitely added a little spice to brighten up his day.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  5 pm, June 24th

  Sam slowly found a level of comfort with having a constant companion. Her daytime watchdog changed shifts regularly, and Brandt stayed for the nights. There'd been a suggestion of a policewoman moving into the house in Sam's place. She'd nixed that. What if the poor woman were killed? Sam didn't want that on her conscience.

  Sam still looked over her shoulder at odd times. At unexpected moments, she felt eyes on her. No matter how fast she spun around, she could never find her stalker.

  Still, as time passed, she adjusted.

  The detectives were busy doing their thing. They'd found out where Brooker was staying. He'd denied anything to do with the media, and hadn't planned for Sam to identify that the picture shown on television had been taken during her time in Nikola County. He'd blustered for hours, but Captain Johansen, paired with Brandt and Sam's evidence, convinced the overweight bully into giving them a cowering confession. Kevin wanted him to confess for trying to run her off the road, but Brooker wasn't going for it – yet. A crew had gone to her cabin searching the area for evidence where Soldier had been shot, in an effort to pin that on him, too.

  Sam didn't ask for the details. The asshole was a minor blip in her life now.

  Brandt's mother was having an easier time of it, too, now that the colonel had woken up. He couldn't remember what happened, which wasn't unreasonable considering his injury and age, but he knew her. She'd stayed at his side these last few days, only leaving for showers and changing of clothes. Brandt would be heading over tomorrow to take both back to the care center.

  As for Sam, she was surrounded by friends and her bodyguards were reserved, yet friendly. That suited her. Best of all, Brandt came home every night and slept on the couch he'd moved into her room.

  She hadn't invited him into her bed again and he'd never mentioned it either. The unspoken word 'later' hung in the air. There would be time down the road to talk and sort through their convoluted relationship. Not that she didn't wake up in the night and reach for him, because she did, then hugged her pillows close when she found herself alone. The temptation to go to him often overwhelmed her. It was the knowledge that her advances wouldn't be welcomed that stopped her. He considered himself to be on duty.

  She planned to present him with a ready dinner tonight. Return some normalcy into their lives. Not that they'd had a chance to experience such a commonplace thing yet. That was for other people, other relationships…

  By the time she'd made pork chops with a creamy mustard sauce and stuffed tortellini on the side, with slices of cucumber and tomato in apple cider vinegar, she was feeling quite proud of herself.

  Brandt arrived just in time, only stopping outside to speak with the guard briefly. Sam's heart lifted at the sight of him. Sam walked to the front door. "Hi, how are you doing?" There, that was just the right note, casual and friendly. She waved good-bye as the guard hopped into his car and drove off.

  Brandt walked in, sniffing the air. "Whatever it is, it smells wonderful." He dropped his coat and laptop bag on the end of the
couch and walked over to sweep her into his arms, where he twirled her around so he could check out the pots bubbling on the stove.

  Laughing, she squeezed him before stepping back. "It's ready. Wash up."

  "How was your day?" he asked, walking over to the kitchen sink.

  Sam started serving the plates. "The same as usual. Yours?"

  "Same old. How's Soldier?"

  "Not impressed." Soldier had objected strenuously to the added male presences. One of the guards had made the mistake of walking too close. Soldier had barely missed snapping his hand off. Sam had been horrified, apologizing profusely and had gone to calm the dog down. The guard had been wary ever since and had passed the word on.