Through Her Eyes (Mind's Eye Book 4)

by Deborah Camp

  Trudy glanced away from her, knowing full well what that personal nugget was meant to do. “I’ve never felt pretty – even attractive, really. When I look in the mirror, I see someone who is sort of cute when I get my makeup and hair just right.”

  Dr. McClain smiled and set aside the notebook. “Trudy, I’d like for you to try to recall the first time you felt ordinary or unattractive.” She tapped her wristwatch with her fingernail. “I don’t want to get too much farther into this right now. Take a few days and think about it. Write it in a journal, if you want. That is often therapeutic, I’ve found.”

  “You think this is that big of a deal? Don’t all women have insecurities about their looks, their bodies?”

  “Yes, but the adjectives you use to describe yourself are rather harsh, Trudy. Odd. Weird. Off. Wouldn’t you prefer to have self-confidence and feel more comfortable in your body and with yourself?”

  Self-awareness stirred deep inside her. Like something had been sleeping and was poked to consciousness. It would be lovely not to always think that people were looking at her with disdain or morbid curiosity or, even worse, passing right over her because she was so ordinary looking.

  “Sometimes I look at my sister and I wonder what it would feel like to be her,” she murmured, not aware she was even speaking aloud until the thought was out there. She startled and looked at Dr. McCain, who was studying her with that tilted-head way of hers. “My sister is the pretty one in our family.” She laughed under her breath. “I know I have to stop thinking and saying that. It makes Levi livid.”

  “That shouldn’t be why you stop thinking and saying it,” Dr. McClain said, her tone gentle and soothing like a mother’s touch. “Start a journal, Trudy. Tonight. Promise me.”

  She nodded. “Yes, I will.”

  “Good.” She sat back and tapped her watch again. “We have a few minutes. How are you getting along living with Levi? Is it more harmonious than not?”

  “Yes. We’ve had spats, little dust-ups, but nothing major. I think he’s improving. Getting better, don’t you? He hardly ever has nightmares anymore.”

  “He’s making progress. No doubt about that. But, Trudy, Levi will never be without his demons. He was too scarred as a child to fully recover from all of that. You must understand that he’ll always be fighting inner battles. They aren’t full-out wars anymore, which is fantastic. But he battles himself. Daily, probably. He’s become an expert at camouflage.”

  “He doesn’t seem to simmer with anger like he used to. When I first met him, I could feel it. Seething beneath his skin, ready to burst into flames. He’s more settled. And he laughs!” She giggled at that. “He used to never laugh and his smiles were more self-mocking or sneers. Now he genuinely smiles and I love to hear him laugh. It’s so boyish sounding.”

  “Yes, I’ve noticed that, too. I don’t believe I’d ever heard anything but a self-deprecating chuckle emerge from him until he met you.” She sat forward, her elbows propped on her knees. “You opened him up, Trudy. You convinced him that he’s worth loving and that it’s safe to love you. That’s big, Trudy. Very, very big.” She started ticking off things on her fingers. “And it’s not because you’re weird, odd, a little off, or even because you’re pretty, compassionate, or talented. It’s because you’re you. Uniquely and wonderfully you. Just as I am uniquely and wonderfully me.” She smiled, a bright and lovely smile.

  “And you’re a good shrink,” Trudy said, mirroring that smile. “He’s blessed to have found you. Me, too, I think.”

  ###

  Curled on the long sectional in the living room, Trudy held an e-reader in one hand and sought the slightly soggy tennis ball with her other. Locating it near her thigh, she glanced at Mouse, who was jitterbugging around and whining, then tossed the ball toward the dining room. The gray Chihuahua scampered after it, her paws slipping and sliding on the hardwood floors. She pounced on the ball as it rolled toward the steps leading up to the kitchen. Smiling, Trudy focused on the romantic/suspense novel she was reading.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Wes Statler said, wiping his damp hands down the front of his black and gray striped apron. “But would you rather have creamed corn or creamed spinach with the pork roast and fingerling potatoes and baby carrots?”

  She considered the choices for a few seconds as she accepted the ball from Mouse again. This time she threw it toward the front entry doors. “Let’s go with spinach tonight.”

  He nodded. “Done. Do you know if he’ll be home at his usual time?”

  “I haven’t heard any different.” She knew the “he” in question was Levi. “He’s been in meetings mostly today. One after the other. He’s trying to wrap things up so that we can head back to New Orleans tomorrow.”

  “You’re anxious to get back there, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I don’t like stopping and starting. Once I step into a case, I want to stay in it until it’s resolved, one way or another.”

  “I’m sure that Levi would prefer to work that way, too, but he has other pressing business he has to handle here.”

  “I know.” Trudy tugged the ball from Mouse’s teeth and bounced it toward the bedroom wing. “Darla told me the other day that Levi’s schedule was ridiculously crammed full. He has so many people needing his advice or instructions or, more often than not, reading people the riot act. It seems he’s exceptional at making impossible demands possible.”

  Wes grinned and she imagined he must have struck a handsome figure when he’d been a Naval officer. With his muscled physique, closely cropped blond hair, and snapping blue eyes, he definitely matched that image more than his current position as chef, housekeeper, and major domo for Levi Wolfe.

  “He’s certainly used to getting his way,” Wes acknowledged, turning on his heel and heading back to the kitchen.

  Trudy grabbed the ball and tossed it into the dining room. “That’s all, Mouse. Give it a rest.” She snuggled deeper into the sofa cushion and started to pick up the e-reader again, but then didn’t.

  Maybe she should write in her journal as Dr. McClain had instructed. She’d started one and had written about the first time she’d felt unattractive. She’d been about ten and had her first big crush on a boy. Sawyer Rogers. He’d been nice to her and built up her hopes, but then had stomped all over them when he asked her to introduce him to Brooke Murphy. Sawyer had just been using her to sidle up to Brooke. Trudy shook off the memory. No. No journaling. It was too depressing.

  She directed her thoughts to the case. Could she enter the salvage yard killer’s mind like she did before? Closing her eyes, she narrowed her focus to just him. Picturing him as Levi had described him, she imagined a long road with him standing at the far end. She began walking toward the stranger, drawing closer and closer until she could see the short beard on his chin and around his mouth. She grew queasy, followed by a sharp pain in her temple. Her mind had been hijacked.

  Opening her eyes, she stared at a blue sky joined by a few white clouds. Music sounded. Rap music. Dust billowed up from beneath her. She looked down, only then realizing that she was sitting on a wide, metal beam. She was in a construction site and she was sitting in the middle of an unfinished building. Below she could see machinery and men in hardhats. Above her, more steel beams. She held a thermos in one hand and a half-eaten po-boy seafood sandwich in the other. Swinging her legs, she examined the dirty brown boots she wore, close-fitting jeans, red t-shirt, and plaid over-shirt. So, she was a construction worker! A hammer drill of some sort sat near her . . . him.

  The metal beneath him shuddered as someone walked on it. He looked up at a man wearing bib overalls, blue shirt, and a yellow hard hat. The man nodded once and hooked his thumbs in the overall straps.

  Pulling the buds from his ears, he switched off his iPod.

  “Nice day. Good breeze up here.”

  “Yeah.”

  The man squinted down at him. “Hey, are you kind?”

  Now what? Can’t a guy eat his lunch in
peace? “Yeah. What’s it to you?”

  The man flicked a finger at him, motioning him to come along. “Thought so. Come with me and I’ll show you.”

  “Can I finish my lunch?” He held up the sandwich and thermos.

  “Sure. Where’d you get that sandwich at? Domilise’s?”

  He nodded and kept eating, then took a swig of black coffee from the thermos.

  “Man, they’re the best, ain’t they? I eat there sometimes, but my wife usually packs a lunch for me.”

  “Good for you. My old lady mostly packs a punch, not lunch.”

  “Ha! I hear ya. Finished? Okay, come on.”

  He got to his feet and walked easily and confidently along the steel structure. Higher, the better. Away from all the assholes. Looking up at the fleecy clouds, he chuckled to himself. Closest I’ll get to heaven, that’s for damn sure.

  Trudy flinched and jerked out of the man’s mind. She stared at big gray eyes and a pink nose. “Mouse,” she groaned, pushing the dog aside and wiping the remnants of the dog kiss off her cheek and chin. Mouse picked up the tennis ball and dropped it on Trudy’s face. “Stop that! You’re so bossy!” She tossed away the ball and Mouse took off after it.

  Bounding up from the sectional, she went downstairs to the office and gym area. At her laptop, she jotted down details about what she’d just experienced. A construction worker! That was something. He was working on a tall building. Maybe even a skyscraper. That gave them something to locate, somewhere to look for him. She tried to recall if anything had been written on the hard hats, but could only remember a blue square with a slash of red across it. There were words, but they were tiny. She couldn’t read them.

  She was finishing up her notes when she heard the sweet-voiced, electronic door locking system.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “Lucy, I’m home,” Levi called out, which always made Trudy smile.

  She raced upstairs, through the dining room, and straight into his arms. Kissing him soundly, she grinned, brimming with pride. “I saw him again. He’s a construction worker! He’s working on a tall building that’s probably near a sandwich place called Domilise’s.”

  “Hot damn, baby.” He kissed her smile. “Let’s book a flight back to the Big Easy.”

  Chapter 16

  The antique shop at the Soniat House smelled like Murphy’s Oil Soap and incense with a hint of mothballs. A tingling bell sounded Levi’s arrival as he stepped inside. Trudy had visited the place several times, drawn to all the old objects it contained, but he’d had no desire to explore it. Until now.

  The proprietress emerged from the shadows in the back of the shop. Her blond hair was gathered in a sleek French braid and her smile was bright and radiant. “Good afternoon. How are you today?”

  “Fine, thank you.”

  “Are you browsing or can I help you find something in particular?”

  “We’re staying at the Soniat House and my fiancée has been in here a few times. I was wondering if you might have noticed what she’s been interested in? She comes up to about here.” He demonstrated by tapping his fingers against his shoulder. “She has short, dark red hair, almond-shaped green eyes, and a dusting of freckles across her nose and cheeks.”

  “Trudy.”

  He blinked, surprised by her quick response. “Yes.”

  She nodded. “I’ve met her, yes. We’ve shared some stories about antiques and collectibles we’ve come across.”

  Of course, he thought, easily imagining Trudy and this woman deep in discussions about Tiffany lamps, early scrimshaw pieces, and tramp art. “I wanted to surprise her with something. Did she linger over anything in here?”

  “Several things, but she’s particularly fond of this . . . right over here.” She brushed past him, her scent a combination of cedar shavings and floral notes. Near the front window, she motioned at objects on a drop-leaf table.

  A vase of peonies – fake peonies – sat in the middle and several other objects surrounded it. An ivory-carved elephant, cat-shaped bookends, a big, hand-painted platter, and a doll-sized tea service. He took a wild guess and pointed at the platter with its vibrantly colored flowers intertwined with bumble bees.

  “No.” The woman laughed lightly. “This.” She picked up something he hadn’t even noticed. A squat, green glass container of some kind. Knives, forks, and spoons had been placed in it, their handles poking up.

  “What is it? An old vase?”

  “It’s a silverware holder. It’s real Depression glass, not reproduction. Very thick. See?” She offered it to him. “Trudy said her grandmother had one like it that always sat on the kitchen table and she put cutlery in it just like this. It was common practice before we installed cabinets and drawers in our kitchens.”

  He took it from her. It was heavy. Kind of clunky. There were some bubbles in the glass. “Trudy likes this, huh?”

  “She never comes in that she doesn’t admire it. It reminds her of her grandmother and happy times, I suppose. Isn’t that why we love vintage items and antiques? Because they make us recall our carefree childhood or when we first fell in love?”

  He arched a brow, but didn’t contradict her, although what she’d said was bunk to him. His childhood had been anything but carefree and his first brush with love had been one of betrayal. He looked at the dangling price tag and huffed out a laugh. Thirty-five dollars. Trudy had admired this and hadn’t purchased it for a lousy thirty-five dollars. God, that was just like her. “Okay, so I’ll take this, but do you have any antique jewelry?”

  “I do. Right over here.” She took the clunky glass thing from him and led him to a counter where an array of necklaces, bracelets, brooches, pins, and earrings were on display. He scanned them and then pointed to a collar of small pearls interspersed with emeralds. “May I see that one, please?”

  “Certainly. It’s quite lovely from the 1880s. As you can see, there are twelve rows of small pearls interspersed with cushion set emeralds.”

  He admired it, already able to envision it around Trudy’s elegant neck. The price tag was right. Five thousand-four hundred. “I’ll take this, too. You can ship them, can’t you?”

  “Indeed.” He handed over his credit card and his business card. “Here’s the address.”

  “Thank you.” She ran his credit card through and had him sign the receipt. “She’ll be overjoyed.”

  He was fairly sure she’d be more pleased with the ugly green glass thing than the necklace, but he liked giving her lovely things to wear. His woman had little to nothing in the way of good jewelry. Her engagement ring and a necklace he’d given her . . . oh, and a pair of diamond stud earrings he’d given her at Christmas. Trudy Tucker was frugal to a fault.

  The hair on the nape of his neck rose and he glanced up from the display case, his gaze snapping to the windows. A man stared back at him. A tall man with black hair, cropped mustache and beard. A man he’d seen committing cold-blooded murder. Fuck!

  By the time his thoughts jelled with his reaction, the man had bolted. Levi gave chase, barreling out of the antique shop and sprinting in the direction of the French Quarter. He saw the guy a block ahead of him, weaving around cars and people. He looked back over his shoulder, spotted Levi, and kicked into a higher gear. Cursing profusely in his mind, Levi sped up, too, trying to not plow into people as he zipped around them. He ran several blocks down Chartres before he saw “A.J.” veer off somewhere around Barracks Street. When he got to the place, he saw that it was an alley lined with trash bins. He turned into the shadowed lane and heard the pounding of feet ahead of him. A cat hissed and ran across in front of him, a streak and then gone. Dogs barked behind high fences. Someone shouted, “Shaddup, Hercules!”

  He saw his quarry up ahead when he sprinted through a shaft of sunlight, then he heard a scuffle, the skidding sound of rubber soles on pavement, and a grunt. Levi gunned it, gaining ground. Half a block ahead of him, A.J. pushed up to his feet, glanced back at Levi, and then got his
legs moving again once he’d hopped over the packing crate that had tripped him up.

  Clearing the crate with ease, Levi focused ahead again at an empty alley. Where the hell had the fucker gone? He slowed, peering ahead, searching for a doorway, an open gate, a ladder he could have scaled. Leaves and twigs snapped behind him, but before he could swing about, something solid collided with the back of his head, knocking him forward onto the debris covered brick path. A boot slammed into his ribs and he grabbed it and the attacker’s ankle and gave it a twist, making him stumble and almost fall. In the seconds it took for his assailant to regain his balance, Levi was up, one hand clutching the guy’s throat and the other fisted and connecting smartly against his cheekbone.

  A.J. rammed a knee into Levi’s groin, backing him off, and broke Levi’s hold on his neck. He got in a good hit, landing a punch on Levi’s chin, making bells chime between his ears. Levi slammed a fist into A.J.’s midsection and another on his chin, but A.J.’s uppercut seemed to drive through Levi’s chin and up into his skull. His vision blurred and he stumbled backward against a wood fence. A.J. bent, picked up something, and swung it. A pipe. Levi lifted his arm to protect the side of his head and the pipe whacked against his forearm. Levi made a grab for it, but a red mist covered his eyes and he missed. A.J. danced away from him.

  “Sick mother fucker,” Levi spit out along with drops of blood, glaring at the man, who was still in retreat.

  A.J. flung aside the pipe and clutched at his ribs where Levi had buried his fist a couple of times. He grinned and pulled something from his back pocket. Snick! A blade snapped out of the handle and he cut the air in front of him. Crimson seeped out of his mouth and his nose was bloody. “See this? I could fillet you, man. Next time, I will. Fuck you, freak. And your bitch!” He closed the knife and took off again. He shot around a corner, heading for Esplanade Avenue.

  Levi shook his head, trying to clear it and make the bells stop clanging. He straightened and wiped the mist out of his eyes before stumbling into a trot and then a sprint, but he stopped again on Esplanade. The wide avenue was divided in the center by rows of trees. Buses rolled along, their brakes puffing and screeching. A.J. was nowhere in sight. Watching a bus glide past him, Levi would have bet money that A.J. was on it – or the one that was moving along the other side of the Esplanade in the opposite direction.