Imprints

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  As a healthy, unattached single woman, I’d spent more than a little time bemoaning the fact that his attraction wasn’t shared by the man at the nearby museum whom I’d been hoping would ask me out for two years. Or perhaps by the handsome repeat customer who came each week to check out my new displays, or the owner of the night club who was fun to talk to during my dancing breaks. Or even the FedEx guy, who was studying law on the side and looked really great in a pair of knee-length shorts. Alas, none of them looked twice at me—well, except to notice I didn’t wear shoes. Nope, these days I wasn’t exactly rolling in admirers or dates.

  Still, I never went out of my way to encourage Shannon’s fascination. Quite the opposite. Early in our relationship, I’d spotted his disdain for me under that placid exterior, flashes of disbelief and anger that he tried to hide. Repulsion. How you could be attracted to someone you suspected of a scam was beyond my understanding. If he really liked me, he should get to know me well enough to realize I wasn’t a kook trying to hurt people. Perhaps if we’d met under other circumstances, things might have been different, but because he couldn’t seem to give up his convictions, and I couldn’t like anyone who suspected me, none of that mattered.

  Besides, we’d met when I still had high hopes for me and Jake, so I didn’t care what Shannon thought of me then. I still don’t.

  I thanked my customer and turned casually in Shannon’s direction. “Slow morning? Or did you drop everything to come and harass me again?”

  “We always take it seriously when someone claims to be attacked.” He gave me a smile that didn’t match those eyes. “Let’s have the story.”

  Before I could begin, the shop door opened again and a woman entered, looking trim and professional in a navy skirt suit and heels. She was in her mid-twenties, with straight blonde hair that looked as if it’d been ironed. I was glad that at least her makeup was sensible and she looked sturdy enough to do okay in a fight, despite the snug skirt. Every cop deserved decent backup, even ones as annoying as Shannon.

  “Your partner?” I asked.

  An almost imperceptible nod. “She was parking the car. She’s new.”

  Definitely an attractive woman—if you liked boring and predictable, which I was sure Shannon did. I knew without his saying it that he was training her. She seemed young for a detective, but she’d probably been on the force for five years, or more if I’d misjudged her age. Maybe she came from a family of policemen.

  We waited until she reached us. “Autumn, this is Detective Tracy Reed,” Shannon said.

  “I’m so pleased to finally meet you.” Tracy offered me her hand. “Everyone’s been talking about what you did last month.” We shook hands, and I found myself warming toward her. Unlike Shannon, who would rather pull out all his fingernails than ask me out, she hadn’t come thinking of me as a fraud.

  Shannon frowned. “We were going over what happened last night.”

  Tracy nodded. “Go ahead.”

  I briefly recounted the events of the previous day, avoiding mention of Harmony Farm, except to say that I’d seen Inclar earlier when I’d been talking to the group by the river. Shannon’s skepticism turned to annoyance when I admitted to calling the police only at Jake’s insistence.

  “Can you give me a description of this guy?”

  Easy enough. “Short, skinny. Graying brown hair. His right eye has something wrong with it. It sort of rolls around in his head. Not all the time, though. Sometimes it looks okay.”

  “Age?”

  “Around thirty, I think. But he looks older, wrinkled. You know, kind of falling in on himself.”

  “Small and skinny, you say, and he attacked you?” Shannon’s voice dripped sarcasm.

  I touched my throat. “He did this.” Several heartbeats passed as he focused on the marks that by my thinking he should have already noticed. “I thought he was going to kill me,” I added, unable to stop the tremor in my voice or the sudden difficulty I had in swallowing. No matter how I’d shoved the emotions aside in the light of day, last night during the attack I’d been terrified.

  A flash of concern chased across Shannon’s face, and I felt an odd satisfaction knowing that every now and then his attraction broke through his stern professionalism. “We’ll need to get a picture of that.” He nodded to Tracy, whom I hadn’t noticed was carrying a camera case over her shoulder.

  At least I was wearing clean clothes. But after a couple of head shots, Tracy focused close on the bruises, so it hardly made a difference.

  “You said he pushed you against the wall?” Shannon asked. “Did you hit your head?” His voice was gentle now, and it threw me off balance.

  I felt my skull where a large knot had formed in the back. “Maybe that’s why I have a headache.”

  He smiled—the first he’d given me today.

  “It’s huge. Want to feel?” Too late, I realized that wasn’t something you asked an officer who had both liked and suspected you. He’d have to reject the offer for propriety’s sake, and besides, it wasn’t as though he had medical training.

  To my surprise, he reached out and placed his hands on either side of my head, his palms over my ears as his fingers gently explored the area on the back of my head. I could feel the warmth of his flesh, the rough patches of calluses that scattered over his palms. Were those from working on his acre of land?

  I was beginning to feel decidedly uncomfortable when he pulled away, his face unchanged. “Good inch and a half long,” he said to Tracy. “And still raised at least a half inch. Remember that for the report.” To me, he added, “You say he left a map? Can I see it?”

  “Ethan has it. That’s the private eye I was telling you about.”

  “The guy you called when you should have called me.”

  He and Jake should get together, have a party, and talk about what I should do the next time I was attacked by a madman. “Hey, don’t complain,” I said. “You were better off out somewhere with your girlfriend.”

  He gave me a look that was both reproachful and questioning, a glimpse of his true feelings. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”

  I didn’t need to know that. I don’t know what it is about me and most of my single girlfriends that we have to find out the personal relationship status of every ringless guy around us, even when we’re definitely not interested. Yet if pressed, I’d reluctantly admit to a strange sort of satisfaction in Shannon’s attraction, especially given the grief he’d put me through during the kidnapping case. Even so, it wasn’t like me to probe.

  “So, we’ll need to dust the envelope and map for prints,” Shannon was saying in clipped tones.

  “I have the envelope in my bag, and Ethan will be here with the map at lunchtime.”

  “I’d rather call him and see if he can drop by the station before then. Do you have his number?”

  “That’s also in my bag.”

  He hesitated. “Is there anything else you can tell me?”

  “No, but you might want to visit the guy’s house. I doubt he’s there now, but you might find a reason for his attack. Or some other evidence.” Hopefully something incriminating on Harmony Farm.

  Tracy gaped at me. “You know where he lives?”

  “I guess I forgot to tell you that part. I know his name, too, but I think it’s a fake one. I’m pretty sure his wife was called Sarah.”

  Shannon gave me a long-suffering glare. “Why don’t you tell us again? From the start. This time don’t leave anything out.”

  “Okay, but you’re not going to like it.” I bit my bottom lip.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because I was reading some objects for a couple. The Fullmers. Their daughter disappeared, and I was trying to help them get an idea of where she went.”

  Tracy leaned forward eagerly, awaiting more, but Shannon stared for several seconds before asking, “Did you find her?” His words mocked me.

  I sighed. This was going to be a long morning. Too bad I don’t believe in taking aspiri
n.

  I told them everything. Well, everything except my plans to join the Harmony Farm commune and about the key. The minute I heard they were going to raid the farm, I would turn it over, but for now I might need it worse than they did. I wondered idly if I could soak the key in anything to remove the imprints. It was worth some thought. Probably baking soda and vinegar, my most common cleaning agents, wouldn’t do the job.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Shannon asked after I told him how I’d followed Inclar. But was that a glimmer of admiration behind the disapproval?

  I shook my head. “I was curious why he’d left the commune, but I really didn’t want to get involved. I wanted to help from a distance.”

  Now, thanks to Ethan and his sister and Tawnia’s new ability, I was heading in even deeper. Maybe that explained how alive I felt. It wasn’t a bad trade-off. Focusing on Victoria and Marcie had given me a purpose, a destination. Some way to concretely help others. Maybe I wasn’t that different from Shannon after all.

  “With you as an eyewitness,” Shannon was saying, “we’ll have all the testimony we need, once we pick him up. Even so, I’d like to see if we can get his prints outside your apartment or on your door. That would seal it. We’ll need to get inside the lobby.”

  In other words, my testimony meant nothing to him. My motives were still suspect.

  I’d already given Shannon the envelope—minus the key—and Ethan’s cell phone number, but now I fished in my bag for my keys, removing the house set that were on a separate ring from the others. “The big one is to the lobby door. The little one is to my apartment in case you need to go in. Main floor on the left. There’s iced tea in the fridge.”

  Shannon stared at me as if I’d given him access to my bank account.

  “What?” I said.

  He sighed. “Never mind. I’ll return these to you later.”

  “No hurry. I have another set.” I kept several around and had given others to my neighbors and friends. Saved me from getting locked out when I misplaced my keys, as brilliant people are apt to do.

  Tracy was smiling at me, an almost vulpine eagerness in her expression. “I know you probably get this all the time, but I’d really like to see you read something.”

  I eased away from the counter, subtly putting space between us. “Sure, any time.” I didn’t mean it. I didn’t want to read anything for a while. A long while. Except the comforting imprints from my parents and my antiques.

  “Let’s go,” Shannon said sharply, his voice a clear reproof.

  I smiled at him perhaps a little too gratefully. His eyes met mine, and for that instant, for once in our brief relationship, we were in complete agreement. Giving a curt nod, he turned away. I watched him leave.

  Tracy waved at me as the door shut, calculation in her eyes, and I wondered how long it would be before she brought me a piece of evidence to read. Maybe disbelief and mistrust were better than having my ability accepted outright. I don’t know why I’d ever thought of Tracy as boring. Obviously, there was more to her than I’d realized.

  My legs gave out, and I pushed myself up on the tall stool. Underneath the pounding of my head, I felt a sadness I couldn’t name. I didn’t even know what caused it. My customers were all gone now, one having taken an antique to Jake’s store to tally up with her herbs. She would be long on her way by now.

  I stared toward the windows facing the street, for a moment blissfully seeing and feeling nothing.

  “I’m sorry,” Jake said in a low voice.

  I focused on him. He’d passed in front of me to come around the desk, but I must have been too distracted to notice. “Didn’t we just do this?” I said.

  “Yeah, but I’m sorry again. Well, not about making you call the police but about the fact that we argued.”

  “You didn’t make me do anything, Jake. I knew I should call. That man tried to kill me.”

  Jake’s jaw hardened, but the anger wasn’t directed toward me this time. “You are not going home tonight.”

  I was about to retort that what I did was none of his business, but then he continued. “Please. It would really make me feel better if we could figure something else out. I won’t be able to sleep at all, if you’re alone. In fact, I’ll come and stand guard outside your door.”

  He’d do it, too. This was part of why I was so helplessly in love with him. “Okay,” I said, my melancholy vanishing. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  He nodded and added briskly, “First things first. I brought a comfrey salve for those bruises.”

  I hugged him then, and he hugged me back. Whatever happened in my life, at least I knew I could depend on Jake.

  Chapter 9

  The people from Harmony Farm were at the river again. I didn’t know if I should be glad or afraid. Director Dar was dressed in the same brown pants and white shirt with the long, old-fashioned cuffs, his broad face accentuated by the ponytail. He recognized me immediately and waved a handful of flyers in greeting. After finishing his conversation with a potbellied man in a suit, he strode in my direction, smiling. I couldn’t help thinking how different he was from his scrawny brother. He was tall and strong and healthy, even a little too fleshy. I wondered what he would say if I told him his brother had tried to kill me last night.

  “You’ve come back to buy something?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t eat anything unless I know how it’s made. I’m a little bit of a fanatic, I guess you’d say.”

  That didn’t seem to faze him at all. “We use all natural ingredients that we grow ourselves, or for the things we can’t grow—like bananas—we buy from respected organic providers. The only exceptions are the muffins made with white flour. Those I can’t vouch for, but all the others, I can personally attest to the nutritional value.”

  “You use milk from grass-fed cows? Eggs from free-range chickens?”

  “Yep. And no preservatives.”

  If that was true, joining the commune, however temporarily, might end up being a vacation for me, especially if, as I really hoped, Dar and his followers were what they seemed to be.

  I shoved Tawnia’s drawing of Marcie to the back of my mind. There might even be a way to explain that. Maybe Marcie had been ill. Maybe the dark solitude had been her wish. Maybe Tawnia had an overactive, hormonal imagination.

  I pulled out a few dollar bills from my pocket. “Okay, I’ll have a wheat muffin. It’s three dollars, right?” A steal for the size if they were really organic.

  “I think you’ll particularly enjoy the banana nut ones. Or the oatmeal raisin.” Dar motioned to one of the youths in the royal blue T-shirts. A young man this time, homely looking, with black hair and crooked teeth.

  I gave him my money and bit into an oatmeal raisin muffin. “Wonderful,” I said with real admiration. “It took me six months to learn how to make anything this good.”

  “You cook?”

  “Oh, yes. I love cooking.”

  He seemed pleased with that so I added, “I grow herbs, too. Well, not a lot. My father had an herb store, but he’s gone now, so I do the best I can.”

  If anything, Dar’s gaze became more interested, but was it because I knew herbs or because my father was dead?

  “I grew up working in the shop,” I continued. “But it belongs to someone else now.”

  “I’m so sorry. That had to be hard, losing it after losing your father. I suppose he left it to you?”

  I knew what he was after. “I sold it to pay the bills. But the new owner is nice.”

  “You still work there then?”

  “Every now and then when they really need someone. He has two other employees, and they can mostly handle the business.” The truth meant less fabrication to remember.

  “I’m sure your sales experience must come in handy in your new job.”

  I had no intention of mentioning my antiques store. Not only did I want to appear to have nothing holding me to Portland, but according to Ethan, the organization would want everythi
ng I owned upon joining, and my shop was not on the bargaining table. “It’s been difficult to work since my dad died,” I said instead, shrugging. “I’m sort of drifting right now. I do need work, though.” Let him read what he wanted into that, hopefully coming to the conclusion that I was hurting financially. Maybe they wouldn’t expect much from me. But would they trust me to give up my assets on my own, or would they expect to delve into my financial matters themselves?

  Dar had asked another question. “Excuse me?” I said.

  “I asked if you still knew a lot of health remedies.”

  “Are you kidding? I could prescribe herbs before I was eight.”

  “What about headaches? One of our members suffers from them.”

  “There are a lot of things to take for that.” In fact, I’d just treated myself a few hours earlier. “Feverfew, skullcap, ginkgo biloba, melatonin, cayenne, and even peppermint oil. Not to mention magnesium and B vitamins. It really depends on what kind of headache you have—tension, migraine, or whatever. You sometimes have to experiment to find what works.”

  “That’s amazing,” Dar said. “I’ll have to get you to write all that down.”

  I laughed. “Most people think I’m weird.”

  “Not me. We grow a lot of herbs to sell to different companies, but we haven’t been very successful at using them for our own people. That’s a real gift.”

  I tried not to feel good, knowing his intention was likely to flatter me, to make me feel useful. “I’d love to have a bigger place to grow herbs. Right now I have a frame I built that stands in front of the kitchen window. It’s kind of tiny, but it works.”

  “I bet your mother and your other relatives appreciate your ability,” Dar said.