Gypsy Hunted: a psychic paranormal book with a touch of romance (The Gypsy Medium Series 1)

by Andrea Drew

  “Er…well, Aaron came by earlier today. He needed a bit of a hand.”

  “I thought you didn’t know anything about this,” said Connor, taking a step closer to Stewart.

  “Well, er, he looked pretty angry, and I figured it was best not to make things worse. He’s got a temper on him. He said he had something important to sort out and he needed Bailey looked after for a while. He was in a bit of a hurry.” Stewart was rubbing his hands through his hair as he paced.

  Ian was poised and ready, one foot set in front of the other.

  “What the hell did he want? Start talking. Now.” Connor had taken a step closer to Stewart, and felt his nostrils flaring as he flexed his fingers.

  “Look, it was said in confidence, okay?”

  Connor launched himself at Stewart. He grabbed him by the top of his tracksuit and lifted him up against the wall.

  “Listen, scumbag.” He spat out the words, doing his best to control his fury. “One woman is dead and another one in critical condition. Aaron's son has suddenly turned up here, and you know nothing about it? Start talking or I swear…” Sprays of spittle landed on Stewart's jumper.

  “He wanted the address of some woman. Said it was important. Some chick called Gypsy, he wanted her details.”

  Connor dropped Stewart and blew out a breath. Stewart fell in a heap, panting, hands splayed across the grimy carpet.

  “DC Reardon, I think it’s time for us to leave,” said Ian rolling his shoulders. However, Connor’s gaze remained fixed on Stewart. “So how are you getting this information to him?” Connors teeth were bared.

  “I said I’d text or call when I have the info.”

  “Right. Well, give him that information and I’ll see that you’re charged with being an accessory to murder. Do we understand each other?”

  “No problem. As soon as he calls, I’ll let you know.” Stewart was shaking now.

  Connor threw his business card down at the man. “Let’s go. Don’t think you’re keeping that child. His mother has been murdered, and he doesn’t belong here. We’ll be back for him, soon.” With that, Connor stormed toward the front door. Bailey looked up at him blankly as he sucked harder on the pacifier in his mouth.

  “Does he have any supplies?” asked Connor. Karen scurried away and returned quickly with the bag, which Connor threw onto the couch. Stewart ran to open the front door.

  “We’ll be back,” warned Connor as he and Ian stepped back outside.

  Ian turned to Connor before opening the car door. “So what they hell are you going to do with a baby? Where did you get that bright idea?”

  “I can take him to Christie's place later if need be, I’ll be damned if he’s staying with a drug dealer. I’ll talk to social services. We need to question her anyway. Get in,” said Connor.

  Connor's phone buzzed, interrupting the stillness. “It’s the Coroner,” said Connor, swiping the screen before holding the phone to his ear. “Jacqui? Any news?”

  “That’s why I’m calling. I heard this case was pretty close to you so I figured you could do with a favor. I thought you might like to go into the lab and take a look for yourself. Reece, one of my techs, has the details. He’s expecting you.”

  “Thanks, I’ll be there soon.” Connor hung up and turned to Ian. “Change of plan. Jacqui has some test results, sounds like she’s nailed the killer.”

  Ian turned his head quickly, his face going an unusual shade of grey. “Huh? What about the kid?”

  “We can work that out later. I’ll drop you back at the station.”

  “What? Hang on a second, Connor.”

  It was too late. Connor had already started the engine. Ian held on as Connor took off at speed, heading toward the central business district.

  “What am I supposed to do, Connor? On your own now? Seriously?”

  “I’ll only be an hour or so.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Ian shook his head.

  “What do you want me to do? This is my fucking nephew, Ian. I need a couple of hours, alone.”

  Ian Robson didn’t reply. They drove for a few more minutes, before Connor pulled up in front of the station.

  Ian opened the door and got out. “The only reason I’m doing this is because it’s family and I know you need time, mate. Let’s get one thing straight, we’re partners, okay?”

  Connor took a deep breath. “Okay, mate, understood. I shouldn’t be longer than an hour or two.” As Ian slammed the door, Connor took off, heading toward the forensics lab on William Street.

  Although Connor knew Aaron had gone into hiding, he was certain his nephew wouldn’t end another human life. Seeing the evidence would bring some closure.

  The forensics lab was separate from both St Kilda headquarters and the Coroner's office, which Connor was thankful for. He’d unfortunately become familiar with the tiled walls and floors in the morgue, but he’d never quite grown accustomed to the decomp odors that the technicians didn’t seem to notice, smells like sewage and rotting garbage combined with disinfectant. At least in the lab there would be no dead bodies or offensive stenches to distract him.

  It was easy to find a parking place, and Connor entered the elevator, heading for the fourth floor of the building. He used his ID to grant him entry to the lab, the elevator doors giving way.

  He walked onto the level, the hushed voices and the carpeted offices bearing signs to the laboratory. At the end of the corridor, a woman sitting at a desk looked up at him expectantly. He fished out his identification.

  “Connor Reardon, Homicide. I’m here to see Reece, one of the technicians.”

  She gestured through the glass doors. “Go through, he’s expecting you.” She went back to reading her report and Connor headed in.

  He saw a young man standing at a console perched on top of a very long white counter, and he made his way over.

  “Reece?”

  The dark-haired, cocoa-skinned young man looked up. “Detective Reardon? Jacqui mentioned you’d drop by. She fast tracked this one. Apparently, it’s a fairly sensitive case…”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Reece clicked on the computer screen. “We’ve analyzed the scrapings from under the victim's nails, and compared them to a second sample we took from a hairbrush. Apparently, there was some suspicion that the killer was the victim’s partner?”

  “That’s right,” said Connor quietly, looking across at the display as he rubbed his chin. He saw multi-color images combined with technical jargon at the bottom of the screen.

  “Well, as you can see here, the match is pretty conclusive. It’s a 0.001% probability that her partner did this. The skin scrapings taken from under the victim's nails are not a match. We’re still conducting further tests.”

  The gravity of the news hit Connor. He sagged against the bench and pressed palms to his eyes. He couldn’t speak. His nephew was telling the truth.

  “Detective Reardon?” The young lab technician said his name and he brought his head up out of his trance.

  “Sorry, lost in thought. Can you say that again?”

  Reece put down the report and turned to face Connor.

  “Very low possibility that Tiran’s partner murdered her. Not a match.”

  “Can you forward a report to me over at the station? I’m at Carlton.”

  “No problem, I’ll fax it over just as soon as I can.”

  “You’ve been a great help. I appreciate this being rushed through.”

  “I’ll let Jacqui know you were here.”

  “Thanks,” said Connor, his mind racing ahead. He’d suspected for some time now that Aaron had been a party to the crimes, but now the killer was unknown, unnamed. Connor would need to begin the search again. Aaron was most definitely a kidnapper, but not a murderer.

  “Please thank Jacqui for fast tracking this. I know how busy you guys are down here.”

  “Will do,” said Reece, and Connor made his way back out of the building, heading back to the police station to c
ollect Ian Robson and give him the news.

  *****

  12

  Today the rehab room didn’t feel quite so much like a torture chamber. Lyndall still stood at the end of the bars, smiling encouragingly, but my legs and arms didn’t hurt like hell every time I moved them. In fact, I could pretty much work as I used to, other than the pathetic limp on my left foot. My speech was getting there too, so all was right with the world.

  “You’re making fantastic progress, Gypsy, well done!” Lyndall's brown hair flopped across her cheeks as she stood.

  “I agree, definitely worthy of a reward of some description.” I glared as I got to the end of the bars, and leaned against them with arms crossed.

  “That’s true. Sounds like you have something in mind.” Lyndall was smiling at me.

  “A discharge from the hospital soonish would do it. I could always come back for regular outpatient appointments.” I looked at her, trying not to sound too hopeful.

  “That’s a point. You are making record progress. I’ll need to talk to your care team, though. Would you like me to talk to your doctor and see what he thinks?” Lindy was rubbing her chin now.

  “That would be great. I miss my flat something fierce. I’ve practically read every book available on the reading trolley. There’s nothing quite like my own bed.” I fussed with my shirt, pulling it down toward my hips.

  “Okay, Gypsy, I get the point, I know you’re miserable in here. I’ll have a word with him and see what we can do. Although I’m a bit nervous about sending you home to your flat—you live on your own, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but my sister has agreed to have me stay with her for a while when I’m released…” Thank God, I think. I’ve got more chance of being sent home this way, thanks to Renee’s suggestions.

  “Great. Well, let’s head back to your room, and I’ll let you know how I get on with the care team.” Lyndall headed toward the exit and I shuffled beside her.

  As we headed toward my room, I realized that Renee and Leah were probably there waiting. My bond with my niece was getting stronger, thanks to her newly discovered abilities, which would definitely come in handy. Sure enough, as I squeaked open the door, there they were. However, this time, Leah had a genuine smile plastered across her face, a refreshing change.

  She was sitting in the chair beside my bed, and her face looked bright. Considering this was the first time I’d seen her since we both said what we needed to, I was surprised. Interesting what a confrontation with your sister could achieve, I guess.

  Renee rushed over. “Gyp! You’re walking so well now, you look great!” Her eyes were shining, her cheeks rosy.

  I ran my hand over her silky hair. “It’s good to see you, Renee. I feel great.” And I smiled, a real smile, feeling it broaden across my face.

  “Gypsy.” Leah stood up in front of me, light highlighting her blow-waved hair.

  “Yeah, I feel pretty good, actually. My walking is getting better, and they’re talking about sending me home soon. Bet you’re excited about having me at your place.” I couldn’t resist.

  Leah laughed. “Yeah, right. I want to keep my daughter happy. She’s decided you’re moving in with us. We’ll see how long we last before killing each other, I guess.” She looked at Renee, who had perched on my bed. As I sat down, she grabbed my walking stick, which she had taken a liking to.

  “They might be discharging me in the next day or so, Leah.” I studied her to judge her reaction.

  “Tomorrow? Seriously?” Leah’s smile had fallen from her face. “That soon?”

  “Maybe, it depends on what the doctor says. I’ll still need to come in for outpatient appointments, but yeah, they might send me home tomorrow.”

  Leah didn’t seem quite so keen, given the rush, and the blood had drained from her face.

  “Look, it’s okay if you can’t do it…” I extended a hand, wanting to give her an easy out.

  “No, it’s all right. I don’t think it’s safe for you to go home while this madman is still on the loose. I thought I had a bit more time to prepare, that’s all. When will you know for sure?” I noticed the lines on her face.

  “Later today, I guess.”

  “Just let us know as soon as you know. I was going to pick up a few of your things to make it more homely. Jerry says hello.” A ghost of a smile appeared.

  “Poor kitty, he must be lonely.”

  “Actually, he’s been with us for days.”

  “He has?”

  “Yes, he’s settling in well. We couldn’t leave your cat alone.”

  At this point, I’d just about had enough. I wanted to bask in the thought of going home soon, and I’d rather not have company. All I could think about was settling in for the night with that which was always comforting, the home shopping network. After suffering with insomnia for years, I had become addicted to it on late night TV. It wasn’t something I liked to tell many people, but my cupboards were filled with exercise equipment, slicers, knife sets and juicers. It was where I felt most at ease. It was my zone. I knew the hospital phone wouldn’t allow me to dial 1-800 numbers, but there was always the laptop, and I had my trusty credit card ready to go.

  “Sorry, guys, don’t mean to be rude, but I’m feeling a bit tired.” I gave them my best tired, pitiful patient look.

  “Oh, I understand, of course. We’ll be back to take you home with us. Come on, Renee, let’s go.” Leah zipped up her handbag, hoisted it over her shoulder and headed over to pat my hand. Renee hugged me, gave me a look, and said, “See you soon, Gyp. I can’t wait to bring you home.”

  The door closed behind them and I breathed a sigh of relief. I turned on the television, switched the channel to the home shopping network, fired up the laptop, and settled in for a relaxing night of shopping.

  *****

  Connor’s niece, Christie, opened the door, her mouth forming an O in surprise.

  “Uncle Connor? What’s going on?” Her gaze moved to Ian Robson, and back to Connor.

  “Sorry to just show up, but it’s a bit of an emergency. Can we come in?” Connor had already turned his shoulder and was moving across the threshold.

  “Of course.” Christie opened the door wider and stood back to allow them entry. “Can I get you a coffee?”

  Connor stepped into the lounge, which was decked out with chrome and modern white leather furniture. “Coffee would be great. Strong, black, no sugar.”

  Ian followed Connor, taking a seat next to him. The leather couch made a rippling noise as he sat down, and he detected a smell of lilacs and roses coming from a large glass bowl of dried flowers on the shelf above the fireplace.

  In the kitchen, cups readied, he heard the flick of a kettle switch and water slowly bubbling. Christie came back with coffee steaming in large black mugs, which she set on her black coffee table.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” she said, her blonde curly locks falling forward as she leaned forward in the armchair.

  Connor pulled at his earlobe. “It’s about Aaron. I haven’t been able to get in touch with him for nearly a week. There’s been some bad news, I’m afraid.”

  Christie’s fingers touched her parted lips and she gasped. “What sort of bad news?”

  “Tiran was found murdered yesterday, and Bailey’s been taken. We found him at Stewart’s place—that's Aaron’s old drug dealer; apparently Aaron was there earlier visiting him, asking for information.”

  Christie’s face turned from slightly pink to a pale grey. “Tiran’s been murdered? Oh, my God, I don’t believe it, Bailey. It can’t be true…” She covered her face with her hands.

  “Christie, I know this is all very sudden, but I need to talk to you about Aaron’s younger years. In particular, the bullying…” Connor looked at her intently.

  “Well, that was a long time ago, Connor…”

  “I know, Christie, but this is important. It may give me the answers I need. I need some idea where he’s gone.”

&nbs
p; Christie set her mug on the coffee table, and rubbed her forehead with one hand, deep in thought. “Things were pretty rough there after Mum and Dad died, especially after the house burned down.”

  Ian looked across at Connor, adjusting his glasses.

  “Christie, I understand it’s difficult, but I need to know about the time Aaron tied you up. Can you tell us about it just once more? It’s really important.” Connor reached across to touch Christie’s hand, and she looked up at him before letting out a sigh.

  “That was years ago. You know what he’s like. He always struggled with his temper.” Despite her uncle’s close proximity, Christie’s gaze flitted from wall to wall and she blew out a few short breaths in an attempt to gain control. “That day, he was worse than usual. He’d been teasing me since the night before, telling me I was soft, and punching me in the arm, hard. I hadn’t seen him that bad before. I raced home from school and locked him out of the house. He went berserk, screaming and beating on the windows and doors so loud I was worried about the neighbors reporting it, so I let him in. When he did get into the house, he scared me. He looked different, really mad, like crazy mad. He disappeared for a minute, and then came back with a line of twine.” Christie paused for a moment.

  “It’s all right, go on,” said Connor, leaning forward and urging her on with a nod of his head.

  “Well, he grabbed me by the arm, hard. He pushed me down onto a kitchen chair and tied me up. I cried and begged him not to, but it was like he wasn’t there. He couldn’t even hear me. When he had me tied up, he stood there yelling at me, how I was soft, how I needed to toughen up. That was when he pulled out a metal bar from the garage and threatened me with it. I didn’t mention the bruises that formed on my arms the next morning where he hit me with the bar.” She had her face in her hands now, shaking it from side to side.

  “I had no idea about the metal bar,” said Connor, his face changing color.

  “I know. You were in the force, and I realized straight away that the metal bar made things more serious and I didn’t want to get Aaron into trouble. He was all I had left.” She pulled her hands away, the tears forming lines through her make up.