by Lisa Amowitz
“I swear I can explain, but—”
“Go ahead. Explain away. It looks like you’re a killer. Either that, or that you’ve pretty much lost your mind.”
“I’m afraid that’s what you’ll think when I tell you the truth. Which is why I haven’t told anyone else.”
Bobby slid off Coco. Coco got to his feet and began to pace the floor. “Just spit it out, already. Get it over with.”
Bobby exhaled. “Promise you’ll hear me out, okay? After I’m done, you can decide if you want to believe me or not.”
“Okay. But you’d better make it worth all this drama.”
“It’s like…I sense things when I touch certain objects. I guess they’re usually things that belonged to the victim or the killer. I see—I get visions of stuff that’s happened already, and today, for the first time, I saw something that hadn’t happened yet.”
“So you’re telling me you’re a fucking psychic?”
“I guess, if you want to put a label on it.”
“And you’re going blind at the same time.”
“Pretty much.”
“Dude, it sounds bat-shit crazy. Like your whole brain is turning to Gruyere cheese or something.”
“I know, Coco, and I don’t understand it, either. But you’ve got to believe me that I didn’t hurt Dana.”
“So you knew she was in danger and you didn’t tell me?”
“Who would believe me? They’d just think that I had something to do with it. And I couldn’t be sure that my hunch was true.”
“Weird, weird shit.” Coco let out a long breath. “I get it, man. You took a big risk telling me all this. I want to believe you, Bobby. I really want to. But you gotta admit it’s just plain crazy.”
“I’m telling you the truth.”
They lapsed into silence. For lack of anything better to say or do, Bobby said, “Want some coffee? I could really use some right now.”
“Why don’t you let me make it?”
“I have to practice doing things for myself.” Bobby stood and headed for the kitchen.
“So you haven’t told anyone?”
“Not the psychic part.”
“What about your eyes? Will they improve?”
Bobby got the canister of coffee down and shook it to see if there was enough left. Already, he realized, he’d been relying less on his sight and more on touch and feel. “Apparently the doctors think I’m going to go completely blind, eventually.”
“But you can see now, right?”
“If I could open my eyes? Maybe. Yeah.”
“Shit, dude. This sucks.”
“Tell me about it. Max Friend doesn’t trust the diagnosis from the VA. He’s taking me to see a specialist for another opinion.”
“That’s pretty cool of him. Guess he doesn’t want to lose his best busboy ever.”
Bobby swallowed down the lump that stuck in his throat. “Guess so. Or maybe he’s just a good guy.”
“Maybe both. God, I’m tired,” Coco yawned. “But I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep. Maybe nix the coffee, okay?”
“Sure. But promise me you won’t go out there, Coco. You have to believe me. I’ve seen things.”
“You are one very strange guy, Bobby Pendell. The strangest guy ever. Especially with those dark glasses. But for some reason, I actually do believe you.”
Long after Bobby had gone to bed, leaving Coco asleep on the couch, Pete’s barking woke him.
“What is it, boy? What’s wrong?”
Shit. He smelled something burning. Like rubber. Reaching for his glasses, he slipped them on and stumbled out to the living room, daring to open his eyes to slits.
“Coco?”
Greeted by silence, Bobby flipped on the light, praying the sensitivity had lessened. Instead, when he opened his eyes, there was no pain. Nothing. Only darkness.
He took off the glasses. Opened his eyes wider. Nothing. Sniffing around the living room to determine whether something was burning, he wondered if he’d left the coffee maker on.
“Do you smell that, Coco?”
The sound of a car starting grabbed his attention. He raced to the front door, yanking it open. “Coco!” he screamed into the damp air. Gripping the stoop rail, he sank onto the concrete. He had no idea what time it was—if it was even day or still night.
The phone rang and he blundered back inside, heart pounding. Of all the worst times for his eyes to just cut out completely. He wanted to kick the walls in. Knock the whole damn rickety house down and let it bury him in the rubble.
“Hello?”
“Bobby? Is Coco there? It’s Jerry. They found Dana.”
“Is she—is she okay?”
“Bobby,” Jerry’s voice choked off in a sob, “sh-she was left at the edge of the reservoir, her… Someone had stuck her in a tattered party dress. What kind of animal would do something like this?”
Nervous energy leapt from nerve ending to nerve ending. The grisly image that had popped into his mind yesterday had returned to haunt him.
“Animals don’t torture their kills,” Bobby muttered between clenched teeth.
CHAPTER
15
“Is Coco with you?” Jerry asked.
“I think he just drove off.”
“Bobby, you don’t sound so good. Want me to come get you?”
“N-no, I’m okay. Just tell me what time it is.”
“You sure you’re okay? It’s four AM. Why don’t you get some more sleep and I’ll swing by to get you later? A-man misses you something terrible.”
Bobby’s stomach swooped. He wasn’t sure if he was ready for Aaron to see him like this. Though he wasn’t tired, he curled up on the couch with Pete and tried to sleep, praying that, when he woke up, he’d be able to see something.
Pete’s barking roused him. He sat up, groggily opened his eyes wide, and was met with sudden pain. Shoving on his glasses, he was relieved to find that his vision, what little he’d had, had returned, light sensitivity and all.
“Phew,” he said, patting Pete’s head. “Close call.”
Pete barked, tail wagging wildly, and sprang from the couch at the rumble of a car crawling up the driveway. Bobby hurried to the door.
Seen through the filter of his glasses, the sky overhead was a long swath of deep blue spotted by cotton-white fluff, the fields a smeary wash of green and yellow. It was beautiful in a painted sort of way, like some of the art in Mr. Cooper’s office—pure color and form. Abstract, he thought Mr. Cooper had called it. Bobby wanted to soak them in and carry them with him. If he lost the colors, the carton of old photos, the torn lace curtains in the old house, the gentle swell of the mountains in the distance, would the memories of Mom fade along with them?
When the car drew closer, Bobby realized it wasn’t Coco or Jerry, like he’d expected. It was Gabe’s truck. She jumped out and ran up the steps, right into his arms.
“You heard, right? Oh, God, it’s awful.”
He pressed her head to his chest, slowly stroking her hair, breathing her in. Feeling her ribs under her thin shirt, her heart under that. Alive. She was wonderfully and beautifully alive. He didn’t want to let go, but she pulled away. Bobby squinted, the dark contour of her silhouette all he could see.
“Poor Dana,” she said.
“I know. You shouldn’t be out here now. What if—” His hands balled into fists. “Gabe, I’ve got to talk to you. I need—I need you to help me with something.”
“Can it wait? I came to tell you, Dad’s closing the restaurant today, out of respect for Dana. But at the same time, Dr. Constantine’s office said they could fit you in early this afternoon. Dad wants to drive us down. How fast can you get dressed? We can eat breakfast in the car.”
“To the city? Today? You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all.”
“What about Coco? Have you seen him? Is he okay?”
“He’s fine, now. He kind of lost it, so Jerry had to get the doctor to give him s
omething to calm him down. He’s sleeping now. Poor guy.”
“I should go to him.”
“Bobby, there’s nothing you can do for him at this very moment. You need to take care of yourself. You can call him later and see him tonight.”
“He’d be there for me. Besides, I was supposed to see Aaron. He misses me.”
She clutched him by the arms. “Bobby, the opportunity to see this doctor may not come again for a long time. It’s very hard to get an appointment, and you can’t afford to wait. Besides, I think you should avoid being anywhere near the sheriff. They took him off the case because of his erratic behavior. The man has a gun, Bobby, and he’s convinced you killed his daughter.”
Bobby stood stiffly, fists tight. Without being able to see Gabe’s face properly, it was hard to read her. Her touch, the feel of her skin, was a soft, warm blanket tossed over the jagged tangle of his frayed nerves.
He finally agreed to the trip after Jerry Woods called, explaining that both Coco and Aaron would understand and that he owed it to them to go.
Though Max attempted to distract them with crazy tales from his early days in the restaurant business, the car ride was long and tedious. With Gabe in the front seat, Bobby slept for most of it—or at least tried to. Each time he closed his eyes, Dana’s mutilated body flashed in front of him. But the view out the tinted glass of Max’s car window was too murky and indistinct for him to see much of anything, so out of sheer boredom, despite his eagerness to see New York City, he finally slept.
He woke to Gabe’s gentle prodding. “We’re here!”
Heart thudding, Bobby climbed out of Max Friend’s BMW, and after a long walk through the dark tunnel of the parking garage, stepped into the bright noise of a New York City street. He clutched Gabe’s arm, weak from the shock of it.
“I know. It’s an adjustment.”
Bodies jostled past them in a wash of color. The noise seemed to roar inside his skull. Buildings, monumental slabs of gray forming canyons of shadow, hemmed them in on all sides. He felt exposed, a weed about to be crushed under the foot of a giant. Above was a crack of blue. Bobby started to shake as people brushed against him. Close. Too close.
“Oh, shit,” he muttered.
Gabe placed something in his hand. The telescoping white cane. “I brought this. I thought you might need it.”
The white sparkle of the sidewalks hurt his eyes, his own feet a blur.
“People will give you space if you use this. And it will help. There are curbs, obstructions, whatever. This isn’t Graxton, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
By the time they found refuge in the hushed dimness of the doctor’s building, Bobby’s nerves were shot.
“There,” said Gabe. “You made it. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“It was horrible. I can’t stand this place. It smells. It’s noisy. Too many people.”
“Country bumpkin.”
“So what if I am? I can understand why you left. This place is a huge, swarming shithole.”
“It’s just new. You’d get used to it, in time. After the doctor’s, I know of a blues concert in a nice, quiet park. Something to take our minds off things. We can have a picnic lunch while we wait. Dr. Constantine has agreed to see you again after the test results come in, so you’ll know where you stand by the time we head home.”
Clinging to Gabe’s arm like a drowning man, Bobby’s heart stuttered inside his chest. The results. Today, he’d learn his fate once and for all.
He glanced at the soft blur of color shifting and moving around him like a kaleidoscope in a blender. His head throbbed dully. He had to wonder how much of it was the constant motion of the city, and how much was from stray impressions he was picking up from passersby. Were there murderers among the endless throngs? The time to return to Graxton couldn’t come soon enough. With his murder sense, living amid this many people would do him in.
In the hushed waiting room, the colors were muted and soothing, the fresh cleanness of the air like a balm. Light streamed in through tall windows, throwing squares of brightness across the beige carpet. Gabe squeezed his hand.
“You okay?”
“Fine.” He turned to her, his insides contracting. What he learned today was going to be the final verdict. He could live with seeing only the broad strokes of Gabe’s red-gold hair, only the oval of her face, the curve of her neck. But losing that, too? He wasn’t so sure.
“The doctor will see you now.”
Bobby was led into an examining room. A circle of light floated toward him through the darkness. A cool hand gripped his firmly.
“Welcome, Bobby. I’m Dr. Constantine. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. All good.”
“Nice to meet you, too.” The doctor’s hand was smooth and soft. Bobby doubted it was a hand that had ever split a log or hooked a worm.
“I’m going to ask you to keep your glasses on, for the moment. Lean forward, look at the wall, and tell me what you see. If you can read any of the letters.”
“There aren’t any letters. Just a white square.”
“Hmmm,” said the doctor. “I see. Bobby, this vision loss you’ve been experiencing came on very rapidly, is that true?”
“It all happened since this past Sunday.”
“This must be very tough on you.”
“I’m managing okay.”
“Were there any other symptoms? I’ve been told about your headaches, extreme light sensitivity, quickly deteriorating visual acuity. Anything else, like odd smells or sudden total vision loss?”
Bobby debated telling him about the terrifying premonitions and ruled against it. The man would think he was nuts. He just wanted to keep from going blind, not end up locked in a mental ward.
“I thought I smelled something burning yesterday.”
“Ahh, I see. Okay, then. I’m going to have to ask you to remove the glasses. I’m afraid this may not be pleasant for you.”
What followed was the worst ninety minutes of Bobby’s life. After a session of stabbing lights, prodding, poking, burning drops, MRIs, and a lot of apologizing, Bobby was delivered to the waiting room, his eyes tearing, glasses off, unable to see a thing.
“It’s only temporary, Bobby,” the doctor reassured him.
“We’ll go to the park,” Gabe said cheerfully. “I have a blanket and I bought some delicious sandwiches for us from this great Italian bistro.”
The blanket on the grass was an island in the middle of a stormy sea.
“Bobby? You haven’t said a thing. Was it that bad?”
“I’d rather not talk about it. You said there’s going to be music here?”
“In about an hour. I found us a good spot. Not too close to the speakers, but not too far away. They’re setting up right now.”
He reached for Gabe’s hand. “Would it be okay if you just kept holding my hand?”
“It would be fine, Bobby.”
They ate, and Gabe was right. The sandwiches she had gotten for them were amazing. “Max should serve these at the Grill,” Bobby said.
“He’s planning on it.”
After they’d finished eating, Bobby lay down on the blanket, the sun’s rays hot on his face. Gabe talked softly, describing their surroundings. He let himself drift, more interested in the notes in her voice he’d never noticed, the beautiful, warm textures he vowed to capture with his guitar. Her smell. The rhythm of her breathing beside him.
Her. So close to him.
“He knows how I feel about you,” she said suddenly, the bluntness of her statement pushing through the dreamy haze of his attention.
“And how exactly is that?” he murmured.
Gabe squeezed his hand surprisingly hard. “If you haven’t figured that out, you’re an even bigger blockhead than I suspected.”
Bobby lay still, almost tasting the crush of her lips pressed to his. Then he sat up suddenly, faced her, and smiled, seeing only the barest glimmer of light. “That’s why they c
all me Bobby the Blockhead.”
Gabe giggled and leaned into him, her lips to his ear.
“Daddy knows,” she whispered, “and he hasn’t fired your ass, has he? He likes you.”
Bobby rubbed the bridge of his nose, the pressure building inside of him. “Wonder if he would still like me if he knew exactly how I’m feeling right now.”
“What are you feeling right now, Bobby?”
The force of his want prickled hot beneath his skin, her contours forming in his mind’s eye. He imagined her pressed against his chest, the thump of her heart against his. The hell with everything else. He wanted her. He wanted her now.
“Why did you leave the city to come to Graxton?” he blurted.
Gabe leaned in closer, her mouth hovering inches from his, butterfly soft. He bit down on his lower lip to keep from crying out.
She nuzzled against him, fingers raking through his hair. “I needed to find out who I really am. Not who Mother thinks I am.”
“So, did you find out yet?” he gasped.
And then, all at once, her lips were on his. His will to resist was gone, lost in the rush of her heat. He drank in the taste of her—spice and salt—irresistible. He could live like this, he decided, locked forever inside a kiss with Gabe.
“I’m working on it,” she murmured.
They kissed, slowly, deliberately, his reservations gone, the need burning inside him barely contained. It made no sense to deny how their bodies curved into each other. How they were meant to fit together.
But the urgent sweetness of kissing Gabe as the band tuned up was interrupted by a sharp tug, a splinter in his conscious mind. An insistent energy pulled at him, and try as he might, he could not ignore it. Abruptly, Bobby stood, white cane in hand, and pivoted toward the source of the disturbance.
“Bobby, what on earth are you doing?”