5 The Ghosts in the Audience

by SUE FINEMAN

  She shrugged. “If they don’t, they don’t. You’ll be a regular person like the rest of us.”

  “He is a regular person,” said Hannah. “A regular person with an extraordinary gift that doesn’t work right now. How are you feeling otherwise, Steffen? Are you having much pain?”

  “Not much. I’m glad to be out of the hospital.”

  “I’m sure you are.” She stood. “Donovan, we need to get home. Thanks for trying, Steffen. We’ll see you again soon. If you need anything, call.”

  Hannah was a nice lady, but Steffen didn’t need a psychic vision to know Donovan didn’t like having a strange man living in his daughter’s house.

  His body language said it all.

  <>

  While the snow swirled outside their motel room window, Roland and Phoebe snuggled in bed and talked. Her memories seemed to return in spurts.

  “I remember Ginny Kane. We were roommates in college. Ginny was so pretty, she was popular with the boys. She had guys calling her for dates all the time, but she was picky. Sometimes she fixed me up with someone, but I didn’t meet anyone I liked that well.”

  “No one special?”

  “No. No one special.”

  She didn’t speak about her father’s death or her mother’s illness, and Roland didn’t want to remind her. Maybe it was selfish of him, but he didn’t want her to remember so much about her past life she’d forget her short life as Jane Smith, Roland’s girlfriend.

  He’d called his boss this morning and let her know he’d be back at work in another week. He liked working there and didn’t want to lose his job. Phoebe would be back home with her mother by then, and he’d need something to do with his time.

  “Did you ever have a special woman in your life, Roland?”

  “No. Women like bigger men.”

  “Not me. Big men scare me. When I was in high school, this boy I knew cornered me in the hallway one day and pushed his thing against me. It was so big. Too big for a small girl like me. I’m only five-one and he had to be six-two or so.”

  “What did you do?”

  “Brought my knee up, like Ginny showed me. He never touched me again.” She hesitated for a brief moment, then whispered, “I’m still a virgin.”

  “This might surprise you, but so am I.”

  “Do you think… Maybe we could…”

  Roland could scarcely believe his ears. “You want to have sex with me?”

  “Unless you’re gay or don’t like me that well.”

  He pulled her closer. “I’m definitely not gay, and I’m crazy about you, Jane.”

  “Crazy about Jane or Phoebe?”

  “You’re the same person, sweetheart, but I can’t take advantage of you. If you still want to do it after your memory returns completely, I would be overjoyed.”

  But he was very much afraid she wouldn’t want him around by then. Once she remembered they’d met before, in the library, she’d realize he’d known who she was all along.

  “Could we… Would you like to kiss me?”

  “I’d love to kiss you, my darling.” His lips covered hers in a chaste little kiss, and it felt so good, he did it again. And again. And again. And his erection grew long and hard and almost painful.

  She put his hand on her breast and he rubbed the hard spot in the middle with his thumb. “Oh, that feels so good, Roland,” she murmured.

  <>

  Shortly after Ginny’s parents left, Steffen excused himself and went to bed. His shoulder throbbed with pain, so he took a pain pill, but he still couldn’t sleep. He got up and wandered through the living room and into the kitchen. Staring out the window at the moon shining on the fresh snow, he tried to think of who would want to kill him. Who hated him so much they wanted him dead?

  Some people thought his visions came from the devil, but the Bible was filled with stories about people having visions. Their visions didn’t come from the devil, and neither did Steffen’s. His grandmother had explained that to him when he was a little boy, when she convinced him God had given him a precious gift.

  His great-grandmother had come to this country from France. She had the gift, too, but in those days, many people in this country feared psychics, so she didn’t talk about it. Today, most people were fascinated by psychic abilities, but years ago, in places like Salem, psychics were called witches and hanged or imprisoned.

  “What are you doing up?” Ginny asked.

  He turned to face her. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. Boomer woke me.”

  He looked down and saw the cat rubbing against her leg. “What do you do with him when you have a friend over?”

  “If you mean a lover, he doesn’t like it.”

  Steffen cocked his head. “Possessive, is he?”

  She nodded.

  He moved closer. In the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window, he reached up and brushed the hair off her soft cheek, then kissed her there. “I wish—”

  She took his hand and gazed into his eyes. “That’s not why I brought you here, Steffen.”

  “I know. You’re playing nurse and bodyguard.”

  “And friend.”

  He nodded. “And friend.”

  She leaned into him, hugging him, giving him the warmth and comfort he needed. She felt so good, soft and nicely rounded in all the appropriate places. “You’re not like any cop I’ve ever known.”

  She laughed softly. “And you’re not like any man I’ve ever known.”

  “I’m more handsome, more intelligent, more… appealing?”

  “And more arrogant.”

  “Honey, that comes from being on stage nearly every night.” Having women come on to him boosted his confidence. But Ginny wasn’t coming on to him now. She was teasing, making him feel comfortable in her home.

  Being a friend.

  She made them hot chocolate and they sat by the fire until Steffen grew sleepy enough to return to bed. Ginny tucked a pillow under his injured shoulder and brushed the hair off his forehead. After kissing him there, she went upstairs to her own bed.

  And he drifted off to sleep.

  <>

  The next morning, ringing jolted Ginny out of a sound sleep. She grabbed the cell phone beside her bed. “Yeah, Kane.”

  “Get your ass in here, Princess. We have another murder.”

  “I need another day off, Captain.” The gang bangers wouldn’t stop killing each other if she went to work. “My friend was shot, and—”

  “The psychic Montgomery told me about?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “For cripes sake, Kane. Tell lover boy to find another girl to take care of him. And people wonder why I don’t want any more female detectives.”

  “But I haven’t had any time off in—”

  “Then schedule vacation time.”

  Before she could reply, he’d hung up on her.

  <>

  Steffen woke with his shoulder stiff and throbbing. The pain pills had worn off. He tried to find a more comfortable position, but nothing worked.

  Ginny tapped lightly on his bedroom door. “Steffen, are you awake?”

  “Come on in, Ginny.”

  “I thought I heard you stirring. Are you all right?”

  “Sure. Just great.” He couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone out of his voice. His shoulder hurt like a bad toothache.

  “Liar.”

  “Now who’s using radar?” he said mostly to himself.

  “I don’t need radar to see the pain in your eyes.”

  He rolled out of bed and walked into the bathroom, shedding the sling on the way. He pulled the bandage off his shoulder and stood under the shower. The hot water felt wonderful, but he still felt muzzy-headed from the pain pills he’d taken last night. No matter how much he hurt, he had to stop taking the pills. He needed to get his visions back, so he could figure out who had tried to kill him and why.

  After his shower, Steffen sat quietly on a stool at the kitchen bar
while Ginny washed around his incision and put a clean bandage on it. Although the doctor had put the stitches under the skin, he’d still have a scar to remind him of the shooting.

  As if he needed a reminder.

  Ginny taped the bandage down. “I used to do this for Charlie when he got injured.”

  “Did that happen often?”

  “All the time. He’s into sports, and he goes all out on everything he does, so when we were growing up, he was always getting hurt.”

  “I never had time for sports.” When he was a kid, he didn’t have time for anything but work and school. Working with the police department and giving readings brought in much needed income. His father was on disability, which wasn’t enough to support the family, so his mother worked off and on doing temporary work. Over the years, the burden had fallen more and more on Steffen, a psychic kid the family exploited.

  Ginny helped him on with a sweatshirt and then put the sling in place. The sling stopped him from moving his shoulder so much, which helped control the pain.

  She made breakfast before making the announcement. “I have to go in to work today.”

  “I thought you were taking a few days off.”

  “Apparently the captain has other ideas.”

  Did she realize the guy was taking advantage of her? Yes, of course she did, but she didn’t want to risk losing the job she loved.

  She gazed into his eyes. “I hate to leave you alone when you’re hurting so much.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m a big boy, and I have my bottle of don’t-give-a-damn pills. I’ll be fine by myself.”

  “If you need anything, call me or my parents. The numbers are beside the kitchen phone.”

  He put his hand over hers. “Ginny, I’ll be fine. Go to work. Catch the bad guys and make the captain happy.”

  “Steffen, nothing I do will ever make the captain happy.”

  “Then find another job.”

  “Doing what? Police work is all I know how to do.”

  All he knew how to do was party tricks, and he couldn’t do them now.

  After Ginny left for work, Steffen went through his journal, reading his notes on the places he and Carson had been and the private sessions he’d held in the past two or three weeks, hoping to find some clue to the person who shot him.

  The last person he’d seen in River Valley was a man whose wife had gone out for cigarettes and didn’t come home. Steffen had held a piece of jewelry and summoned a vision of the woman with another man. This other man had blond hair, light eyes, and a snake tattoo on his left forearm.

  The woman’s husband’s face had turned dark with anger, but the anger wasn’t directed at Steffen. He was livid that his wife would go off with another man.

  Two other private sessions in River Valley revealed the locations of missing jewelry and money. In another session, he helped a man decide to make a change in his career. That one was a no-brainer. The man hated the people he worked with and the nature of the work.

  Steffen read his notes from the shows in Dayton. They’d spent two nights there, but they weren’t noteworthy. No private sessions, he’d written, and he couldn’t remember anyone significant in the audiences there. Certainly no one who would want him dead.

  He sat in the leather chair in the living room with his laptop, reviewing his notes on previous shows, until his shoulder grew stiff and sore, reminding him he was recovering from a gunshot wound and surgery.

  Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure up a vision of the man who shot him, but all he saw was the black SUV with that damn gun sticking out the window.

  His chest burned with anger. Anger at the man who shot him and anger at himself for not being able to see the shooter’s face. He stiffened, then forced himself to breathe deeply and relax to ease the pain in his shoulder.

  <>

  By morning, the snow storm had passed, so while Phoebe finished getting ready to go, Roland packed his suitcase and went outside to see if he could dig his car out. A man with a snow blower and another with a shovel were blowing snow off sidewalks and clearing the motel parking lot.

  Roland unlocked the car door and fished his ice scraper out from under the front seat. Minutes later, he had the engine warmed, the ice scraped off the windows, and the inside of the car not warm, but tolerable.

  Phoebe carried her suitcase outside and he put it in the trunk with his. After staying up talking half the night, they’d gotten a late start this morning, but they were on their way again. With any luck, he’d have her home by tomorrow night.

  He pulled on the highway, which had been partially cleared, and headed east. The sun glared off the mounds of snow beside the road, making driving difficult at best, but he had to get this woman home to her mother. Her dying mother.

  Roland regretted taking Phoebe out of River Valley, but he wasn’t thinking about her the night he found her. He was thinking of himself. If he’d known about her mother’s condition at the time, he would undoubtedly have made better choices.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked her.

  “I’m fine, Roland. Just anxious to get home.” She sighed deeply. “I wonder if God planned for me to lose my memory.”

  Keeping his eye on the road, he asked, “Why would you say that?”

  “How else would I have met you?”

  She’d given him the perfect opportunity to confess he’d met her before, but he couldn’t tell her in the car. Not now, when he had to focus on his driving. “I’m so glad I went into the bar that night, so glad someone else didn’t find you first.”

  “So am I,” she said softly, and his heart broke a little. He was half in love with her before he found her sitting alone at the bar that night, lost and needing a friend. Each day they spent together, he loved her more.

  Her memories were returning, but she still didn’t remember him from the library.

  With any luck, she never would.

  Chapter Seven

  The dead kid couldn’t be more than twelve or thirteen, stabbed and left to die in a puddle of his own blood. The boy had been stabbed so many times, he’d bled out right here on the sidewalk in front of his home. From the position of the body – head and right arm on the step – he was trying to get home, where he might have been safe.

  “This makes me sick,” Karen said. “He should have been in school today instead of standing out here selling drugs.”

  “He wasn’t selling drugs, he was buying them for his mother,” Al said. “According to the building super, dear old Mom is a junkie who stiffed him on the rent.”

  Ginny felt sick to her stomach. This dead boy reminded her of her nephews. If Conner and Michael had stayed with their natural mother, they could have ended up like this, living in a dumpy little apartment in a bad neighborhood, skipping school so they could buy drugs for their drug addicted mother. She’d abandoned them years ago, before they were old enough for school. Billy and Kayla adopted them a few months later. Now they had a little girl, too, one who’d been in foster care for most of her life. They were good parents, unlike the woman who’d sent this boy out to buy her drugs.

  “I’d like to take this kid’s mother and knock some sense into her,” said Karen. “People like that have no business having kids.”

  “You don’t think seeing this is enough?” Ginny asked.

  “No. She knew what could happen, and she sent him out here anyway. She put more importance on her drugs than she did on her son’s life.”

  Ginny and Karen went inside to speak with the distraught mother. Two skinny, hollow-eyed babies in sagging, smelly diapers sat on the cold, dirty floor. The apartment was a total disaster, filthy and roach-infested, with clothes strewn on the floor, urine stains on the furniture, and an unbelievable stench. Ginny opened the refrigerator and found it empty. The woman had money to buy drugs, but she couldn’t buy food to feed her hungry children.

  “Child Protective Services is on the way,” said Karen.

  The woman would be charged with
child neglect and child endangerment, and she’d lose the children she had left. She didn’t deserve to be a mother.

  “The press will be all over this.”

  Karen covered her nose. “They’re already here, talking with the captain.”

  The captain didn’t go out on calls unless he knew he’d get some publicity. Captain Pierson expected to be named chief of police when Chief Britton retired, which was one reason he didn’t like anyone taking time off. The more cases his detectives solved while under his command, the better he looked.

  Bob Pierson shouldn’t even be captain. The detectives worked so many hours, they were making sloppy mistakes, ones that could get them or someone else killed.

  CPS took custody of the victim’s baby sisters, his mother was taken to jail, and the victim’s body was removed from the blood-stained sidewalk in front of his home.

  After spending three hours interviewing neighbors who might have seen or heard something, Ginny and Karen returned to the station. Days like this, Ginny wondered why anyone would want to go into law enforcement.

  She didn’t have a chance to sit down before Charlie called. “Hey, Sis. I’m at the gym. I have two boys here in the office who have information about Marcus Wilson, the boy who was killed this morning.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “Here’s Jeffrey. He’ll tell you.”

  “Hey,” the boy said softly.

  “Hey, Jeffrey. Did you know Marcus Wilson?”

  “Yeah, we was classmates, but his old lady kept him home today to buy her drugs.”

  “I’m so sorry you lost your friend,” she said gently.

  “Yeah, me, too. Marcus was one of the good guys. He told me he was gonna keep back some of his old lady’s drug money so he could buy milk and diapers.”

  “Do you think that’s why they killed him?”

  “Yeah. I told him not to mess around with those guys.”

  “Who do you think killed him?”

  “The Dogs: Snoopy, Scooby, and Underdog. Snoopy, he’s the leader.”

  “Do you know their real names?”

  “Nah, just their street names.”

  “Thank you, Jeffrey. I know it took courage to tell me.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t want no more of my friends killed.”