Saving Grace

by Patricia Rosemoor

“You know, people who don’t like you or what you do? Or maybe you’ve never had that kind of pressure.”

  “Of course not! Now where is that Cornelia?” Mama asked no one in particular. Frowning, she was already on her way out of the solarium. “I’ll go see what’s keeping her.”

  Leave it to Mama to ignore a question that made her uncomfortable.

  “What’s going on?” Corbett asked. “That’s the second time in two days that you asked whether we had enemies. Is that because you do?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Grace Madelaine Broussard, you’re lying.”

  “How would you know? You’re not psychic.”

  Thankfully, or he would know the truth. Or as much of it as she knew. Hopefully, Declan would come through and she would soon have the identity of the blackmailer. Until then, she would keep her own counsel.

  Knowing the only way to get him off the subject was to change it, she asked, “So what about you and Jill Westerfield? Are you going to pursue the woman?”

  “Maybe I already have.”

  Grace studied her brother. That gleam in his eyes told her what he wouldn’t say. “This time, be careful.”

  “No woman is ever going to use me again the way Naomi did. If anyone is going to do the using—and enjoy it thoroughly—that will be me. Do me a favor—if you find out anything about Jill, keep it to yourself.”

  “If I kept what I learned about Naomi to myself, you might not still have a career in politics.”

  While Corbett had been crazy about Naomi, the reporter had slept with him to get information for a story—something she had done with a series of men before. Grace had been the one to get the information on the unethical woman and had immediately shared the news with her brother. Corbett had ended the relationship and had gone to Naomi’s editor—a personal friend of his—who had in turn fired the reporter.

  The reminder of how badly relationships could end made Grace take stock of whatever it was she had with Declan. Unlike her brother’s former lover, Declan was caring and honest. She should be able to trust him.

  So what was holding her back?

  IT WASN’T UNTIL after he’d followed Grace to a mansion in the Garden District and decided she was safe that Declan headed for home. His vigil had been for naught. The creep he’d chased hadn’t returned.

  Part of him was glad because that meant Grace was safe for the moment. Part of him wished he could have caught the guy and put a quick end to the blackmail. Though without involving the authorities, he wasn’t certain how that scenario was supposed to go. Not that he even knew the guy was in on the blackmail scheme. He simply could have been casing the joint—a simple thief.

  Then again, why would a thief have oozed such hostility when he looked at Grace unless it was somehow personal?

  Swinging open the door to his condo, Declan slung his tux jacket over a nearby black leather chair. His mind was already churning over the investigation. Finding answers alone might be possible, but the time frame was tight. If he was going to save Grace from the humiliation she so obviously feared, he was going to need help.

  There were a hundred ways to spoof information to the recipient. Everything on the Internet could be traced back to its original source if the person looking had the time. No doubt the e-mail header had been spoofed. He opened the properties window that held the full header of the e-mail and found the real Internet service provider the blackmailer had used to send his missive.

  If only he had some real skills, he could hack into the ISP and look up the information he needed—he loosely knew the process even if he’d never done the job himself. That would give him the location of the blackmailer’s computer when he sent the e-mail. Unfortunately, the company wouldn’t give up that information without police intimidation, or more likely a court order. And Grace refused to allow him to go to the police.

  If he could get to the receiving mail server, he could look for the logs that would reveal the sending location. Maybe he should try to get to someone at the ISP. More often than not, people were the key to everything. Now he just needed to find someone who knew someone there.

  Believing the six degrees of separation rule usually did work, Declan decided to call his cousin Kevin, the computer nerd of the McKenna family.

  AFTER BRUNCH, her dilemma in mind, Grace went straight to the French Quarter to visit Minny. It was barely half past eleven and a closed sign hung in the door. The shop didn’t open until noon. Grace was thinking about getting a cup of coffee when the door swung wide and Cousin Minny stood there with a big, knowing smile that sent immediate discomfort down Grace’s spine. Minny was dressed all in lime-green today—she looked as if she would glow in the dark.

  “I knew you were coming,” Minny said as Grace entered the store and hugged her cousin.

  “Oh, come on. I’m not one of your tourists.”

  Minny’s red eyebrows arched. “You’re here to tune up your powers.”

  “Read that in your crystal ball?”

  “Tarot.” Minny wrapped an arm around Grace’s back and led her through the front of the store with its magical tourist trinkets to a curtained recessed area near the back room. “Don’t worry, Grace, you haven’t offended me.”

  “Sorry,” Grace said anyway.

  Minny stepped through the gauzy curtains and sat with her back to the wall draped with purple cloth. The little round table was covered in purple, as well. And then over that, Minny had set more gauzy material encrusted with tiny sparkly stars and moons. Not exactly the place to have a serious conversation with her cousin, but objecting would start things off wrong. So Grace sat. Despite what Minny said about the Tarot, she was certain her cousin had simply been expecting her since her visit to the studio.

  “So how is he?” Minny asked. “Declan.”

  “Fine.”

  “Not what I meant, Grace. Is he as good in person as in your visions?”

  “I’m not here to talk about my sex life. Or Declan per se.”

  “Really? Then you are having sex now? I knew it!”

  Flushing, Grace ignored the question. There was no way Minny could be certain of it. “If your tarot told you I was coming, shouldn’t it have said why?”

  “It’s not always that specific. You are here about your gift, aren’t you?”

  “If you want to call it that.”

  Cousin Minny beamed. “I knew you couldn’t ignore it forever.”

  “I’m desperate.”

  “Desperate…but not about Declan?” The beam dimmed and Minny’s expression became oddly serious. “What, then?”

  Grace jumped right in. “Remember the bad-vibes bustier you warned me not to wear?”

  “Black with magenta ribbons.”

  “You were right. I don’t think it would really have mattered what I wore, but that was the one…”

  “What happened?”

  Grace told her. About the photograph…the blackmail…the hidden camera. About thinking Mom’s or Corbett’s political opponent might be behind the scheme. About her having hired Declan and his certainty the guilty person was some low-level criminal out for a fast buck.

  “You aren’t going to pay the blackmailer, are you?” Minny asked.

  Her cousin’s concerned expression wasn’t quite the outrage Grace had expected. “I’d thought to—not that I actually have the money, but I was going to try to find it somewhere.”

  “But not now.”

  “Declan talked me out of it.”

  “Good man.”

  “Except that I still need to deal with the problem somehow. Starting with figuring out who did it and why, which presents another problem.”

  “Which you can solve by using your gift, the reason you’re here.”

  Feeling defeated, Grace nodded. “The problem being I don’t know how anymore.”

  “Have you tried?”

  “Not really.”

  “Then how do you know you can’t do it?”

  Grace shrugged. “I don�
��t get anything off anyone just by touching them. Not a vision into the future, not into their thoughts, not anything.”

  “Except Declan.”

  “Except him.”

  “Hmm. But you haven’t really been trying to tune into your visions, right?”

  “No. I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Touch me and concentrate.”

  Grace touched Minny’s arm and focused on her cousin’s face. “Sorry, nothing.”

  “Concentrate on something specific you want to know.”

  Grace thought about Minny’s upcoming vacation but she couldn’t see Minny anywhere but in New Orleans. “It’s not working.”

  “You just need to practice.”

  “On whom?”

  “On anyone. Practice makes perfect.”

  “So I touch someone and then just concentrate on that person?”

  “Right.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?”

  “It works with Declan.”

  “Without me trying.”

  “Which means he’s the key to everything.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “He can unlock you.”

  Thinking about what had happened between them after he’d brought her home, she said, “Um…he already has.”

  Minny’s eyebrows shot up again and she snorted. “I meant in a psychic way.”

  “So did I!”

  “Okay, keep your cool. Let’s start over. You see visions when you touch Declan.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sexual visions.”

  “Yes.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  So what were these visions exactly? Projections into the future? Declan’s thoughts? Or her own fantasies? That was part of the problem, always had been—her not being able to distinguish what would happen in the future from what she wished would happen.

  “Have you actually fulfilled the visions you’ve had?” Minny asked.

  “Some.” Frustrated, Grace said, “I need to be able to use the damn gift with others, like, now!” Thinking about the past, she said, “And it needs to be accurate this time, to show me what I need to know.”

  “All right. Calm down.”

  Minny reached over and covered one of Grace’s hands with her own. She closed her eyes for a moment, her expression one of deep concentration. Grace felt a little thrill shoot through her. When her cousin blinked her eyes open, her expression cleared.

  “Your ability is wrapped up in emotional responses. The reason you can’t use it is that you’re an emotional mess because you lost trust in a boy who meant a lot to you.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  Minny ignored her impatient tone. “You do trust Declan, right?”

  “I want to trust him.” More than any man she’d ever met.

  “Good. Then try to be free with him.”

  “Minny, I’ve been pretty free.”

  “Again, I don’t mean sexually. When you touch Declan, you’re recognizing sexual energy, but not anything else. So use it and turn it around. Simply channel that sexual energy to recognize nonsexual emotions and truths and future events.”

  Simply…right…

  “Let me get this straight. While I’m having racy thoughts about one man, I can see the truth about another?”

  “No, of course not. I’m suggesting you open yourself fully to Declan first,” Minny clarified. “Think of it as practice. Clearing out the cobwebs and all that. One step at a time. If you can trust enough to open up your mind to one man, opening it to others will follow.”

  Opening her mind to one man was a lot more complicated than it sounded. Grace had done that once and humiliation had been her reward. She didn’t trust men. Never had, not since that fateful day that had changed her. More than a dozen years had passed and still she wasn’t over it. But she really did want to trust Declan McKenna, and truth be told, there was no reason why she shouldn’t.

  Could she do it, then? she wondered. Could she handle an ability that had been too much for her when she’d been young and innocent? And trusting…

  Her pulse fluttered. “Let’s just say this works. How can I distinguish something that will happen from something I’m simply projecting? Or, say, whatever the person’s thinking about at that given moment? You can’t hold someone to a daydream.”

  “This isn’t an exact science, Grace. Probably most stuff you’ll connect with is the day-to-day garbage that goes through all our heads. That’s how I reel my customers in, because I can get the vibe of the moment. But if you concentrate…really concentrate, you’ll get those flashes into the future that the other person doesn’t even know about. You may already be getting that with Declan in one area. Now explore the others.”

  “If I can…”

  “You have to be open, to give yourself a chance to figure it all out. Lucky you, having a man like that to help you experiment.”

  Yeah, lucky her, Grace thought.

  The very idea terrified her.

  Chapter Nine

  Grace was still pretty terrified thinking about resurrecting her psychic ability when a knock at the door made her start. Even knowing Declan was due to come by that evening, she hesitated for a moment, until he identified himself.

  The moment she opened the door to let him in, the weight of the world on her shoulders grew a little lighter. Her pulse threaded unevenly. He made her feel not so alone in a horrible situation.

  The intense way he was looking at her made her toes curl.

  “You look like you could use some grub.”

  Grace didn’t argue. She was starving. When he took her hand, she wasn’t ready for him. He sent live voltage shooting through her.

  She crawls on the bed on hands and knees with him right behind her. Before she can flip onto her back, he covers her and nudges her thighs open. Shuddering, she lets him in, gasps as he fills her, then moves in her in a rhythm that sends her heart drumming against her ribs.

  “Are you okay?”

  Declan’s words jerked her back to the present.

  “Yeah. Sure.”

  What else would she say—that she’d just had a hot vision with him standing there?

  She’d tried to read various people since leaving Minny that morning, but so far her psychic connection remained unconnected with anyone but Declan. Hopefully her cousin had been correct about him being the key to unlocking her.

  “Before I forget,” she said, “let me get that list of people who work in the Orleans Exchange building for you. I started the list with the names I knew, then stopped by to add anyone I didn’t know from the directory.”

  She went to the counter where she picked up a sheet of paper that she held out to him. He took the list from her, folded it and slipped it into a pocket as she stuffed her wallet and her keys in her pants pockets.

  “I’ll run checks on everyone on the list by tomorrow,” he said.

  “Good.”

  They slipped out to a creole café Grace frequented over on nearby Frenchmen Street. Removed from the glitzy neon lights and blaring music of Bourbon Street, Frenchmen Street was a two-block-long entertainment district where the locals hung out.

  They ordered po’boys and beers. Despite her anxiety, Grace felt herself relax in Declan’s company. The small café was dark, intimate. Jazz played low in the background, the musicians wringing the souls out of their instruments. A handful of people were scattered around the place. It would fill up later, but the café was too low-key for tourists searching for the “real” New Orleans.

  Grace waited until the waitress took their order and left their table before asking, “So what were you able to do on a Sunday?”

  “I’m in the process of tracking down the e-mail the blackmailer sent.”

  “In the process…what does that involve exactly?”

  “Putting my cousin Kevin on the case.”

  “Your cousin?” She tightened up again and pulled her hand free. “I
s he part of the agency?”

  “No, but he has no clue as to why I want the information—he only knows I want to find the person who sent a message. Kevin is a programmer and knows a lot of people in the computer industry. I gave him the name of the real ISP and it turns out he has a contact there. He’ll see if he can sweet-talk her into giving up some information.”

  His explanation of what Kevin was looking for left her baffled. She’d never been a techie. She’d never even bought a smart phone. A simple cell phone and a basic computer at home were more than enough for her to handle.

  “You think it’ll work?” she asked.

  “Fingers crossed that Kevin will have the information we need tomorrow.”

  “Let’s hope he can get something that will help.”

  “At least the address of the computer that sent the message out.”

  The food and beer arrived. Starving, Grace dug in, took a big bite of her oyster po’boy and washed it down with some beer. Her stomach thanked her. In New Orleans, even the dives had good food.

  Waiting until she’d polished off half her sandwich, Grace then asked, “What about the fingerprints?”

  “Tomorrow. If we’re lucky. If it was put in line with all the other requests, getting results could take months, but my partner, Ian, hit up one of his contacts to get it done fast. And again, your name wasn’t mentioned,” he assured her. “There was only one set of fingerprints other than yours on the paper. If we nail them, we nail the blackmailer. I also started researching suspects, mostly using the Internet, but by making a call to several contacts, as well.”

  “And you learned…?”

  “It seems Helen Emerson really is Mrs. Clean.”

  “And Laroche?”

  “He was accused of being involved in a Ponzi scheme with some bankers a couple of years ago, but no charges were ever brought against him.”

  So her instincts about Laroche had been right. “If it’s true, though, that means he’d do anything for money.”

  “If it’s true. Couldn’t find anything on Max Babin. She seems pretty straight up. Raphael Duhon is another story.”

  “Raphael?” Grace suddenly lost her appetite. “Oh, no. How bad?”

  “Years ago he made some bad decisions and posed for suggestive pictures. He was nineteen at the time. I couldn’t find anything else since then.”