A Song of Redemption

by Lillian I Wolfe

  Meekly, I nodded. “I took pictures, not the documents. I found them by accident in a little cubby hole under the eaves. Afterward, I sent an anonymous tip to the Reno police to let them know they were there. So, technically, the police...”

  I let my voice die as I saw the look on Ferris’s face. His eyes had narrowed, his face had blanched a shade lighter, and his cheeks were a ruddy shade. I figured I should shut up before he exploded. I didn’t think I’d ever seen him that angry-looking.

  He dropped into the armchair to the right of me, leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him, and stared at the patterned rug. My eyes followed his down to the floor.

  From Morocco, the handmade rug bore an intricate woven design in desert shades of rust, tan, sage, and mauve that I found soothing. I figured Gavin had picked it up on one of his several trips to the Middle East. Bringing my eyes up from the rug, I could see Ferris’s hands trembling with his anger. The colors didn’t soothe him.

  Quietly, I stood up and slipped to the kitchen where I scrounged up a beer and a bottle of lemon water from the ‘fridge. Returning, I set the beer in front of Ferris and sat on the far end of the sofa again.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about it. Janna and...” I stopped as he raised his hand with a quick chopping motion.

  “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to hear any details. Christ, Gillian... Breaking and entering?” His disbelief showed through clearly.

  “I actually had...”

  His sharp glare cut me off before I offered my lame explanation that Zoe, the dead wife, had given me permission. Even to me, that sounded bizarre. Taking a deep, calming breath, he latched onto the beer and swallowed a couple of gulps before he leaned his head against the back of the chair and closed his eyes.

  Wisely, I remained silent while I worried on my lower lip with my teeth. I couldn’t tell if Ferris was upset because of what I did, or that I didn’t tell him about it. Or both.

  At least five minutes of dead silence passed before Ferris opened his eyes, rubbed a hand across them, and focused on me. “I don’t know what to tell you, Gillian. I still can’t believe you did either of these stupid things. You are so fortunate you haven’t been arrested.”

  “I know,” I mumbled miserably. But there was an extenuating circumstance, I wanted to scream. I had a dead wife pushing me to do it.

  “For now, don’t do anything more about the email. If we’re lucky, Sarkis will change his email address and write you off as a kook rather than someone trying to extort him.”

  It wasn’t exactly what I wanted to hear, but I feared he was right. Now what? Just sit back and hope Nick didn’t disappear. I worried I might have screwed up anything the authorities had in place to track him.

  After a while Ferris calmed down, then we shifted our discussion to other things and our positions to closer on the sofa. He still wasn’t happy that I hadn’t moved in with him, but he was giving me time to decide when to make that move.

  But we had moments for a little closeness allowing me to snuggle up as his fingers played with my hair, wrapping it around his hand, and enjoying the longer length since I’d been letting it grow.

  Later, Ferris went out to the grocery store to get more beer since he’d finished off the last of it. Not that he had to, but if he planned to stay a little longer, we’d need to either get more beer or drink lemon water, which apart from wine, seemed to be Orielle’s favorite beverage. I made a note to buy more sodas next time I went shopping.

  I went to the bedroom to check my email hoping to hear from one of my team on when we could set up a test. I heard the door open in the living room and turned, a bit surprised. Ferris hadn’t been gone long, and I didn’t expect Orielle back for a couple of hours yet.

  “Ferris?” I called as I started out of my bedroom and almost ran head-on into a man I’d never met before coming toward my bedroom. Medium height and handsome, but with a mean look on his face. My heart jumped to my tonsils as I recognized him from his pictures...Nick Sarkis, Zoe’s murdering husband.

  Chapter 24

  STARTLED, I SHRIEKED and spun away from him, intent on racing to my nightstand. He hesitated for a split second, his grab for me missing by just a fraction, enough that I felt his hand brush against my shirt. I dropped toward the floor, rolling away from him. He lunged a second time, then flew into a tackle, getting his arms around my legs, and pulling me back toward him. I tried to kick, but he had a grip just below my knees, and I couldn’t get the leverage I needed.

  “So, you’re the troublemaker,” he growled under his breath as he attempted to shift his grip higher up my body to get a more secure hold on me. “You made a mistake butting into my business, bitch.”

  Changing my plan, I yanked myself up, balled my hands, and shoved forward as hard as I could, both fists connecting with his chin as he slipped a hand up to grab at my left thigh. He took the blows with his head jerking back, and his grip loosened enough for me to pull my legs free and kick him in the stomach. Taking advantage, I crawled as fast as I could toward my bed, my thoughts on the gun in the bedside table.

  He was on me before I got very far. I kicked as much as I could to keep my legs free, but he threw his whole body over me, hands grabbing mine roughly and shoving them by my side. I showed my teeth, ready to bite him if he came close enough.

  His mouth opened into an equally vicious look as he spat out, “You little bitch! I got you now, and I’m going to take care of you as soon as you tell me where those files you stole are. I know you’re the one who broke into my house and took them. Greg told me he suspected you. You’re not going to interfere anymore.” He pulled his head back, ready to smash it against mine with the intent of stunning me.

  “You bastard!” I heard a woman’s shriek and glanced behind Nick to see Zoe’s spirit materialize in the room. Looking like a hellcat, her face twisted in fury as she made a dive onto Nick’s back, pounding her non-existent fists into him, literally. Ghost or no, the action caused Nick to jerk his head around in surprise. I thought he couldn’t see her, but his face paled in shock. His jaw dropped wide as he struggled to talk. “Zoe? How—?”

  His dead wife shot a glare that would sizzle a hen at him, her pretty face contorted into a mask of pure anger. “You lying, murdering Sonuvabitch! You’re going to get what you deserve, and I can tell you it won’t be pretty.”

  Out of nowhere, Nygard launched from the bed and landed on his back with all claws out, hissing, and a demon-like mrrow coming from deep in his throat. Sarkis’ head whipped around as he gasped, hands releasing me to make a grab for my cat.

  Nygard withdrew his grip and bounded for Sarkis’ head instead, scrambling on top and digging his claws into his scalp while he made a bite attempt at his ear. Obscenities rolled out of the man’s mouth while his hands flailed, struggling to get something more than a bit of fur from the cat.

  As tough as Nygard was, Sarkis was still bigger and stronger as his hands connected with my cat, catching him around the middle. I screamed a curse at him, trying to break free to get my gun, as Zoe kicked her boots futilely into his rear while she yelled something far more explicit than I had.

  Nygard turned into a screaming, hissing, and wriggling trapped creature, his paws, claws extended, flailing all directions as he tried to strike the fingers gripping him. Scoring a swipe or two, he drew blood from Sarkis’ hands, but the bastard continued to hold the squirming cat. Fear shot through me that Sarkis was going to kill him by squeezing him to death or breaking his neck.

  Without any more thought or regard for what I was doing, I channeled all my fear and anger into my spirit, pushed up on my left elbow, and brought my right hand into a pointed cone, firing a blast of energy light straight into Sarkis, hoping it would be enough to stun him.

  The power hit him full force in the chest. He froze for a moment, his hands sprang open, and he released Nygard, who scrambled away from him and ducked under the bed. Sarkis shuddered all over as if he’d b
een struck by a bolt of lightning before he fell forward on top of me, his body jerking in convulsions.

  Frantic, I shoved at him pushing him off me and wrenched my hips and legs out from under him, sliding back up against the bedside table I’d been trying to reach. I pulled the drawer open, reaching my right hand for the gun, and pulled it out. Leveling it on Sarkis, I held it there waiting for him to attempt to make another move.

  But he didn’t budge...not at all. He’d gone completely motionless. For several long minutes, I sat watching him, gun aimed at him, and waited for him to make a move...any move. Nygard edged out from under the bed and jumped on it, perching on the side, fur bushed out, and tail twitching as he watched me.

  Zoe hovered over the unmoving man, waiting, her mouth tweaked up into a look of smug satisfaction. “Good job, angel girl,” she said. “About time you took care of this piece of garbage. Hmm, it’s taking a while for him to depart.” She cast a wicked grin at me, “I’m going to just go hang by the gate to make sure he doesn’t try to come through it.” She winked at me and vanished.

  A grim line settled on my lips. I could almost feel sorry for the man lying on my bedroom floor. I didn’t move, still holding the weapon trained on him until I was positive he wasn’t rising again.

  “Gillian?” Ferris’s voice called from the living room a short time after Zoe had left. I detected a note of worry in it.

  “Bedroom...” I called back, my voice sounding hoarse.

  A few moments later, his head poked through the door, and I heard the sharp catch of his breath.

  “What happened? Who’s...” His words died mid-sentence as he fully took in the scene.

  He knelt beside Sarkis, felt at his throat for a pulse, then turned his concerned gaze to me. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, waved the gun at the body, and asked, “Is he dead?”

  “Yes, I think so. I can’t feel a beat.” He stepped around Sarkis and came to me, kneeling and pulling me into his arms. I let the gun drop to the floor and buried my face against his chest, feeling the tears of relief beginning to flow.

  “He was going to hurt Nygard,” I whimpered. “I had to stop him.”

  “Nygard? What about you?”

  I didn’t understand for a moment, then I realized my shirt was torn, my arms bruised, and I probably looked like a mess. “I was holding my own. But he had grabbed Nygard.” Pulling my head back, my eyes shifted to Jensen’s back where bloody streaks from the claws showed on his shirt and blood had dripped from some minor wounds on his scalp.

  Ferris’s gaze moved from me to Nygard, to Jensen, then back to me. Taking a moment, he ran his tongue over his lower lip, then asked, “Did you shoot him?”

  “Not with the gun,” I said in a monotone. “My power. I killed him with my energy blast. I thought it would only stun him.”

  Ferris hugged me closer, then said, “I’m calling the police. Better get a good story ready, babe. They won’t believe what happened.”

  HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT that. Although I still felt numb, I remained sitting on the bed in my room with the body lying on the floor near me, when the Reno police officer arrived. He glanced at the deceased, pulled on his gloves and reached to feel for a pulse. Sarkis was already beginning to look a little blue, so I thought it was unnecessary. He straightened and asked what happened.

  I tried to tell him everything except for the energy blast. That I couldn’t reveal, let alone explain how I had it. When I got to that part, I succinctly said, “I hit him as hard as I could with my balled fists.” I held up my hands so he could see the bruises on them.

  “Then my cat attacked him, jumping on his back, then his head. He made a grab for the cat, and suddenly, he began convulsing, jerking like he was being hit by an electrical shock and he collapsed forward on top of me. I shoved him aside and squirmed out from under him to get my gun. But he never got up again.”

  Officer Wilkes, a middle-aged man with a slight paunch and a sympathetic manner, made notes the whole time, then asked, “Is that the gun you grabbed?” He pointed to the weapon on the floor. My gun was a woman’s gun, a Ruger LC9 Muddy Girl model in pink and black camouflage. The only place you might look remotely hidden with it was in a pile of flamingoes.

  “Yes sir,” I replied, nodding my head at the weapon.

  He pulled out a plastic bag and slipped the gun into it. “Did you fire the weapon, ma’am?”

  “Not since I last cleaned it at the firing range. That would be about a month ago.”

  His partner, a short, skinny little guy, who looked like he barely passed the height requirement, came into the room and glanced at the body. He’d been talking to Ferris, listening to his story. “Coroner’s on his way,” he told the officer with me.

  “Right,” Wilkes acknowledged. “Why don’t we go out into the living room, Ms. Foster? No need for you to continue to look at this.”

  I slid off the bed, picked up Nygard, and carried him to the suggested room where Ferris sat in the far armchair and waited. I sat at the end of the sofa closest to him and reached for his hand. For all my outward appearance of calm, my stomach felt like a volcano ready to erupt. I’d killed someone with my power.

  Nygard settled in my lap, nudging his head against my other arm and purring. He paused to clean his paws for the third time since the battle, appearing quite pleased with himself. The officers remained in the bedroom for a few minutes, then the smaller guy came out to keep an eye on us. Odd, we could have run for it while they chatted in the bedroom, so I guess they didn’t consider me a flight risk. Would they arrest me for murdering Sarkis? It was self-defense, but I didn’t know how this would go down.

  A few minutes later, the coroner arrived along with the vehicle to remove the body when he was done. Great. All I needed was for Orielle to come home in the middle of this.

  What I didn’t expect was Egan Moss to waltz through the open door like he’d been invited. What the heck? This wasn’t his jurisdiction, so why was he here? He went straight to the RPD officer in the room with us and spoke to him in a soft voice so I couldn’t hear what he said. After that, he turned, cast a brief glance at me, then headed down the hall to my bedroom. Ferris and I exchanged confused looks, and I shrugged.

  Silence settled on the room, something I appreciated as I tried to come to terms with what I’d done and realizing I couldn’t actually tell the officers the whole story. Apart from it being a confession that I’d killed someone, it would also be too weird-sounding and might land me in a psych ward.

  Ferris squeezed my hand in reassurance like he was telling me I’d done nothing wrong. Had I? I’d killed someone. I couldn’t dismiss that. Even if I would have shot Sarkis had he come at me again, the fact that I did it unintentionally disturbed me more than anything else. I didn’t think the blast would be lethal against a human. I expected it to shock him or slow him down, but not kill him. It hadn’t killed Saunders, but he’d been possessed by a yiaiwa. Maybe that protected him somehow. Or my power had grown stronger.

  Moss strolled back to the living room, stopping in front of me. “Nice place here, Foster. Roomier than that little house you were in. Mind if I sit?”

  I shook my head and pointed to the armchair on my right. He settled in and leaned forward slightly, folding his hands onto his right knee. “This is a complication, but I think we have the details down. Did you notice the white van about half a block down the street?”

  “I haven’t been out,” I said in a scratchy, dry-sounding voice. ‘So, no.”

  “I saw it when I came back from the store, but I didn’t think anything of it,” Ferris volunteered, then his eyes widened, and his mouth dropped as he connected the van with the one that had been tailing me. “Oh, that van...”

  Moss nodded. “We were keeping an eye on him, but didn’t see him pick up Sarkis. Hernandez slipped a tracker onto the van, so when we saw it was parked near this house and not going anywhere, we decided to take a look. We were just talking to Jensen when RPD arrived
here. Hernandez has Jensen detained, but we got enough from him to know he brought Sarkis here. The question is why he came after you, Foster.”

  I tried not to look too guilty. “Those records I found that I told you about a few months ago. He thought I still had them, and he wanted them back, then he said he was going to kill me.”

  “So, he had Jensen follow you since he’d tumbled to your deception at the storage unit. Once he got back in town, he had Jensen bring him here,” Moss summed up his assumption. “You know, I didn’t think he’d be stupid enough to come back to the country, let alone Reno.”

  Officer Wilkes came out with the coroner, who, with a brief nod at the cop in the room with us, went on out the door without saying a word to us. I had no idea what to expect now, but I suspected it would involve a trip to the police headquarters. Next, the techs wheeled a gurney with the body through the living room and out the front door. Removed.

  Wilkes cleared his throat, then said, “As near as we can tell, this looks like he attacked you, Miss Foster, in accordance with your account. We didn’t see any projectile wounds, but a lot of cat scratches. It appears Sarkis might have had a seizure or heart attack. We have bagged your gun for testing, although it doesn’t appear to have been fired recently.

  “Detective Moss confirms that Sarkis’ friend, Greg Jensen, has been following you for the past few weeks and that you reported it to the Sheriff’s Department. They caught Jensen outside your house. We’re arresting him. For now, we’re done here.” He motioned to his partner, gave a short nod to Moss, and they both left.

  That was it? I couldn’t believe it. What had Moss told him?

  Moss also rose, saying, “We may have a few questions later. For now, the case is pretty much closed. He broke into your house and attempted to abduct you. You fought back; he had a stroke or something and died. That’s about it, isn’t it?”