Psycho [and Psychic] Games

by Amie Gibbons

  “What time is it?” I asked, crawling out of bed.

  I grabbed my purse and pulled out my phone, checkin’ the time.

  Ten thirty-three.

  “In the morning!” I asked.

  I pulled on my panties and slipped back on my dress, shoving the heels and bra into my purse.

  Bras are not for Saturday mornings.

  “What are the chances he has something to eat around here?” I asked the air, freezing as I caught sight of myself in the mirror over the dresser.

  “Yikes.”

  My hair was out in all directions like it was fixin’ to escape my head, my makeup was smeared and cakey feeling. My mascara had all migrated under my eyes.

  I hit the adjoining bathroom, shooting the jetted tub a look before getting my face cleaned up quickly in the sink. I used Quil’s (at least it better have been his) toothbrush, and pulled my hair back into a clip.

  My stomach growled loud enough to make me flinch and I headed out.

  “Yeah,” came from the living room.

  I walked out and Quil was sitting on his couch. He looked over and pointed at the phone, mouthing, “Team.”

  I pointed at the kitchen and he shrugged.

  Was that a yes on raiding his fridge?

  I hit the fridge as he said, “Guys, guys, guys… No, we’re not going to solve this today.”

  The only things in the fridge were bags of blood, bottles of wine and some juice.

  Oh, that’s why he shrugged. No actual food.

  Why did I think there’d be food in a vamp’s house?

  “That’s all we can expect to do for now,” Quil said, walking over to me. “No, Stephanie, go to bed.”

  Quil kissed my neck as I closed the fridge and he smiled at me as I turned.

  He frowned. “It’s past ten. We aren’t going to be able to deal with this until tonight either way. Meeting adjourned.”

  He hung up. “I am so sorry, sweets. We have a situation.”

  “What kind of situation?”

  “The witch who made your dreamcatcher? She has ways of sensing and tracking people and we hired her to keep an eye on our borders. She said Carvi crossed into Nashville last night.”

  My mouth dropped. “I thought you said you’d sense it?”

  “That’s what we thought,” Quil said. “We’ve got nothing, but she swears he’s here.”

  “So he has a witch on his side, covering up whatever you guys sense?”

  He nodded. “Must be.”

  “Are you going to be safe? Wait, you sicced him on the queen, right? So you’re not really worried about him being here?”

  “Well, if he can take the queen out and have to deal with the political fallout, it would help me. But he still might go off the rails and go after me or Len, because we’re the ones who set the meeting up.”

  “Did you get any sleep?”

  “No. It’s definitely my bedtime. Any chance I can talk you into joining me?”

  I grinned. “I just slept like eleven hours and I’m starving.”

  He pouted but took my hand. “Walk you out?”

  “Not too out. It’s sunny out there.” I tapped him with my elbow and he managed a smile, but it was weak.

  His tired eyes made me want to tuck him into bed and say it’d all be okay.

  He was so cute with his clothes all rumpled and face grouchy lookin’. He wasn’t as hairy as Len, but did have a light layer of stubble showing.

  “What were you doing all night?” I asked.

  “The usual,” he said as I sat and pulled on my heels.

  “Which is?” I asked.

  “Checking on businesses, making deals with other nests, investigating if anything comes up in our area. I had to hypnotize a human that walked in on Lisa and her boyfriend at her office in downtown. She can’t hypnotize, and the man saw her feeding.”

  “You sound kinda like a babysitter,” I said, standing.

  “Sometimes I feel that way, sweets.” Quil wrapped his arms around me and gave me a peck. “I’ll have food here next time.”

  “I’d appreciate that. So, another question you may not want to hear, since you know Carvi’s here, have you tried talkin’ to him?”

  He shook his head. “I just learned it an hour ago. And I need sleep before I can deal with him. He can’t do anything during the day, so I’m going to call him tonight, but honestly, if he focuses and just goes after the queen, I’m not exactly inclined to do anything about it.”

  “Okay. You get some sleep. Call you tonight?”

  He nodded. “We’ll do something, as long as nothing comes up.”

  “Tell me if it does?”

  “Of course.”

  I gave him a look. “You, mister, have a bad habit of not answerin’ your phone. Yesterday I was so on edge after I couldn’t get ahold of you. I mean I…”

  Crap on toast! That’s what happened.

  I slapped my forehead.

  “What?” Quil asked. “Sweets, you’re worrying me.”

  “In the dream, that wasn’t really a dream, Collins, the snake, I mean, he said I was projecting the other day, but when I just dreamed him, he said I’d stopped. It was you.”

  Quil shook his head. “I don’t follow.”

  “I was worried about you and tryin’ to get ahold of you and couldn’t, and I was wonderin’ what was going on and on edge. I wanted to talk to you, so I think I was tryin’ to contact you psychically, and had an open ended call go out. Any idea how to keep that from happening?”

  “We could ask Sierra.”

  “Who?”

  “The witch in East Nashville. I thought you talked to her.”

  “Ohhhhh, right, yeah. Sorry, lots goin’ on yesterday.”

  “I know.”

  “I’ll have to tell Grant about this, but you have your own issues. Can I help at all with the Carvi thing? Get a vision? Try to talk to him?”

  “Maybe get a vision, so we know what he’s doing?”

  “I can try. Do you have anything of his?”

  “Ahhh, no,” Quil said, covering a deep yawn.

  “Sometimes I can get visions if a person has been in an area. I’ve been practicing. So why don’t we meet up tonight, and we can scour the city together?”

  I met his eyes as I ran my finger down his chin.

  Quil’s dimples flashed even though he managed to keep his mouth closed over his smile. “Deal. We can try to track Carvi, and then play bloodhound after I clear this mess up.” He leaned down, whispering, “I’ll even give you a head start.”

  “Oh. I’ll keep something of yours on me so I can get visions to see you coming. Ten bucks says you won’t catch me in five hours if I don’t want you to.”

  “But you do want me to.” He pushed me into the wall and pinned me against it, kissin’ me like we were gonna start something.

  “Don’t start anything you can’t finish,” I said as we broke apart.

  “Right. Sleep.” He rested his forehead against mine. “Until tonight, sweets.”

  I kissed him goodbye and hit the bright, hot June morning.

  I checked my phone’s GPS to see where the club was. Only about a quarter of a mile. It was a good thing I wore the more comfortable heels, instead of stilettos, but that was still quite a walk in heels.

  I called Grant and he answered on the second ring.

  “Yeah?” he said.

  I rolled my eyes. Someday livin’ in the South was gonna wear down that gruffness and instill some manners.

  Yeah, right.

  “Hi, sir. Sorry to bother you on a Saturday like this, but I figured it couldn’t wait. I’m not bothering you, am I?”

  “Not if you get to the point.”

  “Right. You know how the dream with Truck in it turned out to be real, like Truck was really there?”

  “Like it was yesterday.”

  I growled inside my head, but he did have a point.

  “He said he was there cuz he needed the signal boost,”
I said. “Sir, I think he used me to get a message out.”

  “To who?” he asked after a moment.

  “I… I hate to say it, to even think it, but what if he does have a partner?”

  “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  “Anything matching his MO since he was taken in, sir?”

  “No,” he said; I could practically see him pinching the bridge of his nose. “The partner could have a different MO and have never been tied back to him.”

  “Should we bring him in this weekend, sir?”

  “There’s no evidence he had a partner besides the embalmed girl being found recently, but this whole thing’s stunk from the beginning.”

  “I think that’s the director you’re smellin’ on that one, sir.”

  “Probably, but Truck’s got a look about him. Yeah, keep your phone close. I’ll try to get him in.”

  He hung up.

  “Did I just volunteer myself for working this weekend?” I asked out loud.

  I got to my car and drove home amid Saturday lunch time traffic. I stopped on the way to get a soy latte and a breakfast sandwich.

  When I got home, Pyro was stretched out on the couch and his magnetic letters that were usually on the fridge spelled out, “Out past curfew. I’d threaten to spank you but I’m sure Quil already did,” on the floor in front of it.

  “Uh!” I said. “Cheeky little ball of wool. Just for that, I’m not telling you what happened when you wake up tonight.”

  He, of course, didn’t answer.

  I scarfed down my food while I read the paper online. I don’t know what I was looking for exactly. It wasn’t like there was going to be a headline reading ‘Rogue Vamp Loose in Nashville,’ or ‘Serial Killer Still Not Talking.’

  There was the usual political crap, special interest stories, and crime.

  No matter what, the SDF never gets in the papers. If we get any kind of collar, the papers are just told it was FBI agents and don’t get much else.

  The very thought of what the papers could do with stories from our section makes me shudder. My sister Ava’s a reporter and her creativity with the truth makes me question the validity of pretty much all news.

  Grant texted that Truck was refusing to see us today. I scowled at the phone and called Kat.

  I hadn’t seen her in a few days since we weren’t workin’ a case requiring a M.E. We met up for sunbathing on her roof and a late lunch. She had a date at seven so I headed home, a little crispier for wear.

  What are the odds Quil’s up? I wondered as I dropped my purse on the couch next to Pyro.

  Considerin’ he didn’t go to bed till like eleven this morning, not good.

  I pulled out my phone anyway.

  I had five missed calls I must’ve not heard over the stereo in my car.

  Five missed calls in five minutes means badness.

  I swiped the phone on and scrolled through the missed calls. Two were from Jet, two from Grant, and one from the director’s secretary.

  I hit Grant’s name on my contact’s list. “Not good. So not good.”

  “What happened, General?” I asked as soon as he picked up. “Because I missed calls, and I know what the office calling on a Saturday evening means.”

  I took a deep breath. Fear ate at my stomach and made my tongue go all fuzzy. “Is it Truck? Did he escape? Did you find something about a partner? Is there some dead body with supernatural markers? Is one of our people hurt? Or is...”

  “Ariana, calm down!” Jet said.

  My hand clamped down so hard on my phone I was afraid I’d break it. “Jet! Why do you have Grant’s phone? Oh no. Oh no! Tell me he’s n-”

  “He’s fine, girl,” Jet said. “Take a breath. God, Ariana, sometimes I think you should’ve followed in your mom’s footsteps and became a writer with the imagination you have. And Truck can’t escape. He’s in maximum security.”

  I could practically see him dragging his hand over his close-cropped hair.

  “Nothing’s hit the fan,” he said. “No one is dead or injured.”

  Oh thank God!

  “Then what’s with the call-a-thon?” I asked.

  “Truck’s lawyer called up the director. Truck’s demanding to see you tonight. Swears if he doesn’t see you now, he’ll refuse to talk to anyone, no matter what, until his execution.”

  “But we tried to talk to him earlier and he said not today,” I said. “Why now?”

  “Does it matter? Director wants you in, asap.”

  I growled under my breath.

  Now this little stunt? Truck wanting to talk after blowing us off earlier? This stunk to high heaven.

  He was pullin’ something.

  Not that I could do anything about it.

  Chapter nine

  “What the quack, Jet?” I said, plopping my purse on my desk and starin’ my teammate down. “He said he didn’t want to talk today.”

  Jet looked at me and shrugged.

  He was in nice black slacks and a gorgeous indigo Armani shirt.

  Somebody had been out on a date.

  “Right there with you, Ryder,” Grant said, making me jump and turn.

  “Where did you come from?” I asked. Grant was in jeans and blue plaid. Usual Saturday fair.

  At least I’d taken the time to change for this. My Saturday play clothes for sunbathing were shorts and a tank top. I’d changed into a black business skirt and a white button down with plain black flats.

  Grant held up his mug. “Break room.”

  “Sir, I don’t get this,” I said. “He’s up to something. I can feel it.”

  The elevator dinged open and the director walked out, marching across the bullpen straight at us like she was a cruise missile.

  Her gray pantsuit made me think of a storm cloud.

  “Director, I’m sorry, but Truck’s tryin’ to pull something,” I said.

  “He’s playing games with us, yes,” she said.

  “No,” Grant said. “He is playing games with her. We’re just gravy.”

  “You aren’t needed tonight, Special Agent Grant. Neither are you, Kowalski. So why don’t both of you go home and enjoy your evenings.”

  “No,” Grant said.

  At the same time, Jet said, “No, ma’am.”

  I gave them a small smile.

  “We asked him to talk earlier, Director,” I said. “He refused. And then suddenly outta the blue we have to drop everything? Doesn’t that seem fishy to you?”

  “It seems like a psychopath who likes to play dominance games is playing one with us,” she said. “Refusing to talk when we want, making us come out here on a Saturday night. He wants to make us dance to his tune. And you know what, if it’ll get you in a position to find the source of his funds, and ID the rest of his victims, I’m willing to play.”

  “That’s why he’s doing it,” Grant said, sipping his coffee.

  “I’m still unclear as to why you’re here, Westley,” the director said.

  “He’s not talking to my agent without me watching, Dir-ec-tor,” Grant said, voice going to that icy, scary place as he stared her down.

  She looked away first, covering it up by straightening her suit jacket.

  “Ryder, they’ll have him here in a minute,” she said. “Same as before. They sit him, you go in.”

  “With all due respect, I don’t think this is a good idea, ma’am,” I said. “If we play his game now, he’ll know he has us, and he will never stop playing.”

  “Your objection is noted. We don’t want him to stop playing. If he does, we don’t find anything. We need to find something. You have five minutes.”

  She turned and walked away.

  We watched her go, nobody talkin’ until the doors on the elevator swished closed.

  “Sooooo,” Jet said, “anyone else’s Saturday night plans get ruined?”

  “I had to cancel on Quil,” I said, digging my phone outta my bag. “I was gonna help him with a vamp problem.”
>
  I’d left a message since he wasn’t awake yet and he hadn’t called or texted back yet.

  “I was supposed to take Cora and some of her friends to the Big Band Dance in Centennial Park,” Grant said.

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “The Saturday dance parties. I love those. I’ll have to take Quil one of these nights. Maybe make it a group thing.”

  Something flashed across Grant’s face and he clenched his fists.

  “What?” I asked, looking between him and Jet. “What did I say?”

  “I just thought of Cora in the same space as vampires. I don’t like it.”

  “They’re not pedophiles, sir,” I said, touching his arm. “No one I’d bring would be goin’ after a thirteen-year-old girl for anything. I wouldn’t put your daughter at risk like that.”

  “I know.” But his fists stayed clenched.

  “Something goin’ on there?” I asked.

  “She’s thirteen,” Grant said. “There’s always something going on. She’s been distant and moody.” He shook his head.

  “So basically, she’s being a teenage girl,” Jet said. “Sir, I have sisters, it’s normal. They get over it.”

  “I had brothers,” Grant said, taking another sip. “They were easier.”

  I snorted. “Yeah, from what you’ve told us, sounds like y’all almost killed each other on a weekly basis.”

  “Nah.” Grant waved a hand. “Just kids roughhousing.”

  “You said you guys decided to have a paintball fight, with nail guns instead of paintball ones,” I said. “And there was one time you guys tried to rig up some contraption to get across the lake and your littlest brother fell through the ice. And another time, you tried to fly off the roof and broke your leg.”

  Grant gave me a look. “How is it you can’t remember one phone number, but that you remember?”

  “Stories are a lot easier to remember than numbers. Numbers are boring.” I sighed, looking at the hall. “I think I’m stallin’.”

  “You are.”

  “We shouldn’t be doing this, sir,” I said. “If we jump whenever he says, we’ll be playing this forever.”

  “If you were a normal interrogator, possibly,” Grant said. “But you’re you. You don’t need his cooperation. You just need to keep getting visions.”