Through His Touch (Mind's Eye Book 2)

by Deborah Camp

  “No. She might have told me, but I don’t remember. So, he came and picked her up. When?”

  “Two days ago, but I just received an e-mail from the center about it. The rehab staff thought she might come back.”

  “So . . . what, she was there for a couple of weeks?” He tipped his head back and stared at the bucket lights in the ceiling, resisting the need to drive his fist through a wall to relieve the anger building within him.

  “Ten days and you paid for three months of treatment. They won’t refund your money.”

  “I know. We went through this the last time, too. Okay. Thanks, Darla.”

  “She’s so ungrateful . . . I don’t understand why—.”

  “I’ll touch base with you soon about my schedule and everything else.” He disconnected the call and Darla’s lecture.

  “More bad news?” Gonzo asked, his brown eyes catching every nuance, every gesture.

  Levi sighed, knowing that Gonzo would want to lecture him too when he told him the latest. “Lizzie skipped out of the rehab center a couple of days ago. That boyfriend of hers – the Hell’s Angel reject sprang her.”

  Gonzo drummed his fingers on the desktop. “Again? She’s a piece of work, that one. I hope you’re going to tell her to fuck off the next time she e-mails or calls you.”

  Levi took a couple of deep breaths, releasing the air slowly in hopes of letting his anger at Lizzie and himself escape with it. “I’m done. I can’t help her.”

  Elizabeth Darwin was his past – a girl he’d known years ago in college. His strange, tenuous connection with her needed to end, he told himself. It had to end.

  “I hope you stick to your guns,” Gonzo said. “She’s a flake and you have enough flakes in your orbit right now.” He stopped drumming. “How about camera feeds inside your place so that—.”

  “No.” He snapped his gaze back to Gonzo. “I want privacy in my own home, goddamn it.”

  “Why does it matter? It’s not like you bring women there and do the nasty with them.”

  Levi gave a half-hearted shrug. Gonzo was right. He took women to hotels or to their places. He could count on one hand the number of women he’d actually allowed to spend the night with him in his home. Eyeing Gonzo, he wondered how much he should tell him, but in the next second he knew he had to tell him everything because he had to keep Trudy safe.

  “That will be changing.”

  Gonzo blinked at him. “What will be changing?”

  “Having a woman there with me.”

  Gonzo ran a hand over his shiny head. “Are you getting a live-in maid? Is Wes fed up with you?”

  Levi smirked. “No.” He decided to talk about the stalker first and Trudy later. “Do we know this nutcase’s name yet?”

  “No, but I’m sure the cops will find out soon enough.”

  “Her husband’s name is Mark. They were in Key West when I was there.”

  Gonzo nodded. “I saw the photo of you and that lady psychic in the newspaper.”

  “Photo? Oh, right.” Levi recalled the shot of him and Trudy he’d seen on the Internet when he’d landed in Atlanta. The stalker had probably also seen the photo and it had fed her sickness. “It was in the Atlanta paper?”

  “It was in a lot of papers. Very cozy. You two dancing close and gazing into each other’s eyes. Didn’t look like you were working with her. More like you were working on her. Can’t blame you. She’s a babe. Not really your type, though.”

  Levi pressed his lips together to keep from saying something he’d regret later. “The picture was snapped at Mallory Square and the stalker was there that afternoon. I called and told you about seeing her. Remember? And I’m sure she’s the one who called my cellphone, too.” He ran a finger around his shirt collar, suddenly feeling like he was choking. “And I don’t have a type.”

  Gonzo glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Anyway, I couldn’t trace the number. It was one of those pre-paid, throw-away phones. You say she’s married?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you never fucked her or anything.”

  “No!” He scowled at him and Gonzo raised his hands as if in surrender. “I don’t even know her name, Gonzo. I think I signed her t-shirt one day at Mallory Square. There were several girls around . . . so I can’t be sure, but I know she was there. I kept spotting her when we’d go into Key West. I know she was spying on us one night at a motel Quintara and I were staying at. She was peeping through the patio doors. I ran into her husband the next day and he told me that it was her. He said she was a big fan of mine and had wanted to get my autograph and she’d taken it too far. He’d seen her looking into the patio doors and he’d shooed her away about the time I noticed that someone was out there.”

  “Creepy,” Gonzo said.

  “I didn’t think much of it at the time. It seemed harmless.” Levi scrubbed his jawline with his knuckles. “Now I’m worried.”

  “We’ll get it all under control, pal,” Gonzo said. “She’ll be jailed, you’ll file charges, and she’ll be told to stay the hell away from you or off to prison she goes.”

  “I’m worried about Trudy.”

  “What about her? You think she’s going to stalk you, too?”

  Levi stared at him for a few moments and realized that Gonzo really had no friggin’ idea how much Trudy had come to mean to him. He thought it was obvious. It felt obvious because he felt so different – inside and out. He gave a quick shake of his head. “No, dumb ass. I mean, I’m worried she might go after Trudy.”

  “But Trudy lives in Oklahoma, right?”

  “That’s right, but Trudy will be visiting me here – often. If this woman persists once she gets out of jail – and you and I both know she’ll be released sooner than either of us want – she might be deranged enough to hurt Trudy.”

  “Oh, I get it. So, you and Trudy Tucker are going to work with each other on solving more murders and catching more serial killers?”

  “Yes.” He shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable and failing. “And Trudy and I are . . .” Christ, why was this so hard to say? What were they? What was the best word to describe how different she was? How she’d somehow grabbed him by the balls . . . by the heart?

  “Trudy and you are . . ?” Gonzo probed.

  “Together,” Levi blurted out.

  “Together.” Gonzo stared blankly at him as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “Working together.”

  “Yes, and . . . you know, together. A couple.”

  “A couple,” Gonzo echoed.

  “Yes, damn it! Quit repeating everything I say!” He didn’t want to explain this to anyone until he could get comfortable with it himself. Standing, he flung a hand at the laptop. “What else do you have? I want my place to be Fort Knox and I want that woman locked up tight. We need a restraining order. Trudy needs to be included in it. That woman can never come anywhere close to Trudy. You got that? If she so much as lays a finger on her I’ll throw you and your GSI team out in the goddamned street and find someone who can actually protect her!”

  “Okay, okay! Fucking hell, Wolfe, crank it down a notch or two!” Gonzo towered up from the leather chair and patted the air. “I just . . . this is a shock. So, Trudy . . . the psychic . . . you’re serious about her? Is that what you’re telling me? I thought you just met her.”

  “I met her awhile back, but I hadn’t worked with her until Key West. And, yes, I’m serious. About this and . . . about her.”

  Gonzo’s phone binged again. “Whatcha got?” He listened. “Be right over.” He scoured Levi with his dark gaze as if looking for a sign that Levi was joshing him. Not finding what he was seeking, he bobbed his head in a single, decisive nod. “Gotcha, pal. I hear you loud and clear. They’ve found some stuff in the penthouse they want us to see. Then we need to file charges and get the restraining orders sorted out. Let’s go. Oh, and it’s so good to have you back with our merry troupe, sunshine. Life around here is dull and pointless without you.”

  Levi
made a fist and let his middle finger slowly straighten before he turned and left the office with a chuckling Pete Gonzales bringing up the rear.

  Chapter 2

  Walking into his apartment, Levi felt the hair on his nape lift. It was unsettling, knowing that a stranger had been making herself at home in his place. Gonzo turned left, moving toward the hallway that led to the bedroom wing. Levi followed him to the master suite. Two of Gonzo’s guys were rifling through his belongings. Wes Statler stood on the threshold of the walk-in closet, a frown fixed on his craggy John Wayne face.

  “Hey, Wes,” Levi said in greeting. “Thanks for coming by.”

  Wes ran a hand over the top of his head. His hair was pale blond and closely clipped, military style. His brown-eyed gaze swung to Levi. “Of course, I’m here. Where the hell else would I be? This is a goddamned mess, Levi. I’m told she slipped in while I was here.”

  Levi nodded. “She came up in the freight elevator.”

  “We’re going to batten down the hatches, Wes,” Gonzo said, saluting the former navy officer and grinning like a chimp. “Won’t happen again.”

  “I sure as hell hope it doesn’t,” Wes said, his deep voice dipping to a near growl. “Shouldn’t have happened this time! What if she’d been violent? We could have had a bloodbath in here. Levi could have walked in to his own execution.”

  “That’s a cheery thought,” Gonzo said, slapping Wes on the shoulder. “Thanks for that. I can always count on you and Levi to dive happily into the dark side. No wonder you two get on so well. You’re both about as light-hearted as a double homicide.” Gonzo waved Levi toward the bedside table. “This is something you need to see.”

  Levi moved closer, his attention on the framed photograph that sat on the table. He immediately noticed that something was amiss about it. It was a photo taken about a year ago of Quintara’s Psychic Roundtable participants and himself. It had been the first time he’d met Trudy. One of the other fledgling psychics being schooled by Quintara had asked to snap a photograph of everyone to commemorate Levi’s visit. She’d made copies and had sent one to Levi. It was the only photo he had of Trudy – and it had been defiled. Trudy’s face had been obliterated. Someone – no, not someone . . . the stalker had poked holes through her face until there was nothing left of it and then replaced the photograph in the frame.

  “That was Trudy,” he said, and Gonzo nodded.

  “And there’s this, too,” Gonzo said, moving toward the chest of drawers. All of the drawers had been pulled out, the contents tossed into an upheaval.

  “Did she do this?” Levi asked.

  “No, we did. Looking to see what she left around here. Her clothing, cosmetics, toothbrush, stuff like that,” Gonzo explained. “She went through everything in your study, too, but she didn’t hack your passwords on your computer, so all your personal and business files are safe.” Gonzo motioned toward one of the drawers. “She’s been wearing your shirts, underwear, and t-shirts.”

  Levi swallowed the sourness that filled his throat and mouth.

  “I’ll launder everything,” Wes said. “And I’ll change the bed linens.”

  “No.” Levi shook his head, vehemently. “Give it all to charity. Buy everything new. Please.” He glanced at the mussed bed and cautioned himself to keep a lid on his temper. Being in control of his life and surroundings kept him grounded. When chaos threatened – as it did now – he could feel himself unravel. Gonzo had kidded him about the “dark side,” but to him, it was no laughing matter. It was real. It existed. And he tried like hell to stay out of it because once he let himself go there – be sucked into it – it took all his strength and then some to wrench himself back to the light.

  Gonzo picked up another framed photo from the top of the chest of drawers and handed it to him. Levi didn’t recognize it. The frame was one of his . . . but the photo in it wasn’t. He stared at it, blinking slowly. It was of him and Trudy dancing at Mallory Square, but it had been photo-shopped so that, instead of Trudy’s face gazing up at him, it was the crazy woman’s. Disgust washed over him. He shoved the frame back at Gonzo.

  “Shit,” he hissed, turning away. “She’s sick.”

  “Yeah. Definitely. In her warped, little mind, she’s become Trudy.” Gonzo turned to a couple of his employees as they entered the bedroom. “Whatcha got for me, Reynolds? Henderson?”

  Guy Reynolds nodded at Levi. “Sorry about this screwed up welcome home, Mr. Wolfe.”

  Levi shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and shrugged. He knew Reynolds better than he did most of Gonzo’s other employees because Reynolds headed up security for the office building and had recently become engaged to Darla.

  Reynolds flipped open a spiral notebook. “The police talked to Jeannie McDonnell downstairs in the salon and she did cut and dye the woman’s hair yesterday afternoon at three-thirty. She had a photo of Levi and Trudy Tucker and she asked that Jeannie cut and dye her hair to match Ms. Tucker’s.”

  Levi ran a hand down his face. Jesus, couldn’t he have a normal life for just a few weeks? Was that asking too much? Gonzo placed a hand on his shoulder and then slapped his back as if trying to jolt him back to stability.

  “Awww, hell, Levi. Take it easy. The woman’s in custody now and I’ll make it my mission that she never comes within a mile of you again.” He looked at Henderson. “Got a name and history on the perpetrator?”

  Frank Henderson stepped forward. “Her name is Heather Asher. Married four years to Mark Asher, a CPA. No children. She used to work in a department store in Akron, Ohio – that’s where they live. Her husband said she hasn’t been herself for the past six or seven months – ever since she went to see Mr. Wolfe’s psychic show.”

  “Ring any bells? You know her?” Gonzo asked.

  “No. I just know she was stalking me in Key West.” Feeling a creepy sensation as if ants were crawling up and down his spine, Levi rolled his shoulders and then walked to the closet and looked inside. Two security guys were methodically going through his clothing – every pocket, every shoe, every sock, every cuff. He swung around to Gonzo again. “What are they looking for?”

  Gonzo shrugged. “The woman’s unstable. We’re just making sure she didn’t do something really bizarre like put razor blades in your pockets or attach homing devices to your jackets. It’s a wild, techno world out there. Anything’s possible.”

  “Okay, I can handle this. What I can’t handle is the thought of her messing with Trudy. Trudy’s been through enough. She was almost killed by that goddamned serial killer in Key West.” He drew in a deep breath, fighting back the panic that crouched in his chest. “She must be kept safe at all costs.” He felt an intense gaze and turned his head to find Wes staring at him, surprise lifting his pale brows. Levi shook his head. Not now. Later.

  Wes nodded.

  It was their own silent messaging system, honed over three years of close contact. Wes Statler was one of the few people he confided in. But in truth, the only person he trusted implicitly was his psychiatrist, Dr. Althea McLain, and that was only because she had taken a professional oath not to divulge anything he told her to anyone else.

  “Mr. Wolfe?” A middle-aged man in a leather jacket, white shirt, and dark slacks stepped into the bedroom. He held out his hand to Levi. “I’m Detective Brand. Can I give you a ride to the station so that you can file charges and fill us in on what you know about your intruder?”

  “Sure.” Levi glanced around at the hive of activity that used to be his private home. “Be glad to. Wes, can you stay until everyone clears out?”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be here when you get back.”

  “No.” Levi shook his head and firmed his jaw. “Just lock up behind them and go home to Myah and your girls. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Wes nodded. “You’re the boss.”

  The boss. Surveying the people milling around, the disarray in every room, and the imp
rint of a mentally unbalanced stranger permeating the very air he breathed, Levi shook his head slowly. It didn’t feel like he was in charge of a damned thing.

  ###

  The soft click of a door closing jerked Levi from a dream of being buried cock-deep in Trudy. He sat bolt upright, his eyes blaring open, the scent of her still in his nostrils, the feel of her still like satin sliding against his skin. He blinked and found himself staring at Wes Statler, who was trying to soft-foot it across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen. Levi glanced around and realized that he’d fallen asleep, fully clothed, on the big sectional in the living room. He also had a huge boner.

  “’Morning, boss. Sorry to wake you,” Wes said, moving on to the kitchen. He carried two grocery bags and a net full of potatoes swung from one of his hands. “Why did you sleep out here? I put brand new linens on your bed.”

  “It wasn’t intentional.” He rocked his head from side to side to get out the kinks. Although it sort of was intentional. He kept thinking of that strange woman in his bed, wearing his underwear, and it made his skin crawl. “What time is it?” Stretching his arms over his head, he listened to his spine crack. His eyes felt bloodshot.

  “Just past nine.”

  “Shit.” Levi swung to his feet. “Call Darla and tell her I’ll be in by ten, will you?”

  “Sure thing. I talked to Darla yesterday. She said that Elizabeth Darwin flew the coop again.”

  “That’s right.” Levi propped his hands at his waist and stared at the blue and gray area rug for a few moments, closing his eyes as faint memories floated to him of Lizzie in those briefly halcyon days at Findlay College of Psychic Science in England. She’d been the first girl he’d ever kissed and his first sexual partner. His first girlfriend. But that time was long gone. She’d ended it all with her betrayal. She’d smashed his heart, callously, unflinchingly, destroying every innocent feeling he’d harbored for her.

  “There goes another twenty thou for nothing.”

  “I know,” Levi said, weariness settling on his shoulders, in his mind, through his very soul. “I’m washing my hands of her.” Maybe if he said it enough times, he’d believe it. He turned and headed for his bedroom.