by Dale Mayer
"Bad." Stefan leaned his head back against the rest and closed his eyes. "She's very powerful. Untrained, not in control and her system surges with physic awareness."
"That's not necessarily bad, though, is it?" he asked cautiously.
As if almost asleep, Stefan murmured, "No, not bad. Except she's keeping secrets."
***
Waking, Kali lay still for a long time. The last few days had finally caught up with her. Shiloh snuffled and rolled over beside her. "Hey girl. You're as whupped as I am, huh."
Maybe it was time to quit. What had Lauren said? It's almost as if my soul says enough. Kali had to admit a part of her felt the same way. She hadn't handled this last mission very well. Finding a murder victim added a definite nasty ending.
She rolled over and checked her clock. Noon. Kali yawned and stretched. Shiloh stretched her paws across the pillows, burying her nose against the blanket. A lady in all ways. Kali laughed. Not.
She hopped out of the bed, opened the glass doors for Shiloh in case she needed to go out. Having an upper deck with direct access to the backyard was a nice feature to the house. So was having a doggy door in the laundry room. Shiloh could take care of her own needs while Kali slept. Enjoying the clear blue sky for a brief moment, Kali walked inside to shower. By the time Kali had finished getting dressed in cotton capris and camisole shirt, Shiloh had joined her. The two trooped into the kitchen, feeling rested and more ready to take on the day. Hopefully without the letter writer. She didn’t dare call him a stalker - even in her mind. That sounded more ominous than she could deal with.
Kali stopped. Energy pulsed from outside her kitchen. Someone sat on her deck, someone in a dark black suit. Grant. Again.
Shit. Her stomach jumped, her aura pulsed in welcome. What the hell? She so didn't need this. Or want this.
And if she kept repeating that, she might actually believe it.
What could he possibly need now? She opened the French doors and stepped into the afternoon sun.
He immediately stood and faced her. Grim lines etched his face.
Her stomach sank.
"Hello. Sorry if I kept you waiting. I gather you forgot to ask me something this morning." She yawned as the fresh air caught her. "You could have just called, you know." She stretched. "I feel so much better. It's amazing what a little sleep can do."
A quizzical look came over his face. "So you should." He studied her expression. "I didn't come this morning, I was here yesterday. It's Saturday."
Kali stared at him in shock. "No way. I only slept for a couple of hours, at the most."
"No, you slept all day and all night. I was here yesterday," he said firmly.
Her stomach growled. Maybe she had missed three meals. She spun on her heels and turned on her laptop. She put on a pot of coffee while the machine booted up. When it was done, she checked the date. Damn. No wonder she felt good.
Grant stood in the open door. "Do you believe me now?"
"I guess I needed more rest than I thought." She shrugged dismissively, brushing past him to cross the deck. "I can't say I'm surprised. These last few days were pretty hellish." Kali walked over to the railing to stare out at her half-wild yard - so different from the dust and grayness of the Sacramento site. She took a deep breath, loving the musky scent of the evergreens, warm and heavy from the hot sun. It was good to be home.
She turned to him. "Will you have coffee? It should be ready soon."
"Sure. Thanks."
Returning with two cups, she held his out. "I seem to be doing this a lot. So, tell me, now that we have the social niceties out of the way, why are you here this time?"
"Stan received another letter."
Kali's stomach clenched. Suddenly she didn't feel quite so well. Carefully placing her mug on the table, she returned to the railing trying to find balance in the craziness. Turning to face him, she leaned back against the wood and narrowed her gaze at him. "Why Stan again, I wonder?" She winced. "Not that I want the letters here. Believe me, I'm happy to put some distance between them and me."
He glanced at his mug and back up at her. "That's not going to happen. And the most likely reason for delivering the letter to Stan is that the writer knew either that you wouldn't be here to receive it or you wouldn't be awake in time to find it." He took a sip of coffee. "Or maybe he's trying to discredit the center. Or direct the suspicion toward it and away from something else? We don't know anything at this point."
Kali rubbed her temple. God, what a horrible thought. "So many people would have known I was out of town. Also, anyone could have watched the house and seen me come home and collapse. And that's just creepy." Shivers rippled over her spine. That had stalker written all over it. She tried to refocus. "Putting that aside for the moment, what did this message say?"
"It said, 'First round to me. Round two begins soon.'"
Kali's knees buckled. Grant hastened over to steady her, his arm curving around her back. "Easy, Kali. Take it easy."
She leaned into him, welcoming something solid to grab onto in a world that had suddenly shifted. Flashes of color flared, sparked between them. She blinked. Embarrassed and more than a little stunned, she pulled away to retreat to the closest chair.
Yesterday she'd pulled away. Today she'd leaned in, then pulled away. She was an idiot. Talk about sending mixed signals. Grant was still speaking.
"I'm sorry. There was no easy way to tell you." He studied her face intently.
She shook her head, a broken laugh escaping. "It doesn't matter. I would feel this way regardless."
"Maybe."
She considered his strong face. She'd thought he had brown eyes. Right now, they looked as black as the dead of night. She swallowed and leaned back. Grant straightened. He walked away for a moment, then came back.
"Have a drink of coffee. It will make you feel better."
She stared blankly at him. "Coffee?"
He held out her cup. "Here, drink. Do you have any brandy?"
"Brandy? Uh no, I don't think so." Kali accepted the cup, then closed her eyes briefly and took a deep breath. She needed to get a grip. "I'll be fine. I just need a minute."
Grant took a seat beside her, a cup of coffee in his own hand.
It took a few minutes before she trusted herself to speak again. "One more time, what did the letter say?"
Slowly, Grant enunciated, "First round to me. Round two begins soon."
She shuddered.
"Do you think the victim in Sacramento was his first?"
He studied her face. "I don't know. The timing, situation, people involved could all work. However, it's too early to be sure." Turning to look up at the bright sky, he added, "It's also possible there's a different victim. One we haven't found yet."
Another victim? Christ, weren't there enough already? "I can't even begin to contemplate that scenario." She struggled to reason through the message. She'd been so happy to put this from her mind. No longer. "So, if - and it's a big if - this first victim was the Sacramento victim, it would mean the killer was there when I was there - or close by."
"And possibly for the same reason you were - only he had a hidden agenda. So the question now remains who was there with you? Any chance you wrote that list for me?"
"No, I went to bed right away." She sighed. "You said Stan wrote you a list of the workers who went from our center. Besides, those people, there were teams from other regions. And the many volunteers who weren't SARs." She took a sip of hot coffee, hoping it would warm the pit of ice forming in her stomach. "Overall, there would have been more than a hundred people involved. Tracking them would be next to impossible. Besides, anyone could have flown there and done this. We weren't all that far away from home. Honestly, someone could have driven there and back in the time I was stuck there."
Heavy silence settled between them. Kali couldn't even begin to understand the mindset of someone who could do something like that. Why? She had trouble with the center being targeted, but that someone h
ad involved her in this nastiness...well it didn't make sense.
"Think carefully. Do you know anyone who could do this?"
A strangled laugh escaped. "What a horrible thought." She stared up at the sky. "I started a list after I gave you the first letter. I have to tell you, everyone on it is ridiculously normal."
Grant stared at her soberly for a long moment. "So are the worst killers in history."
Frustration boiled deep inside. It festered, turning her stomach sour. "Why is he doing this?" she whispered. "What does he want?"
Grant laid a soothing hand on hers, squeezing gently. Sparks flashed. Amazed, she watched them spark and then be absorbed into both their auras. Why? She couldn't begin to understand the timing. So much was screwed up - and all at the same time - making it hard to sort through and even harder to understand. Acceptance was a long way off.
She released her death grip on the armrest, her knuckles pasty white already. She sighed, relaxing her shoulders. Her stomach burned with remnants of the revulsion slivering through her.
"What matters is that you realize and accept that this is happening. And..." he paused mid-thought, stretching out his long legs, "He knows you very well, which means you know him, too."
That scared the crap out of her. She liked normal. She liked predictable. She liked routine.
She sure as hell didn't like killers who issued challenges. She hopped to her feet.
"I'll be right back." She strode to her bedroom to retrieve her notebook. As she returned, she handed it to him.
"What's this?"
She picked up her cup and walked back into the kitchen, continuing to talk. He followed. "My lists. I tried to think of any known associates that might have a problem with me." She hitched a shoulder. "I don't know how well I did."
He flipped through the pages. "This gives us a place to start. If you think of anything else, call me."
"I will. Is there...anything else I can do?"
"Possibly. We're forming a small task force that will coordinate with several different local law enforcement agencies. The FBI is working with Sacramento police to process the evidence from this latest murder. Time is important. We need to know everything we can before he strikes again. Therefore, we need to know what you know."
"Except, I don't know anything." Kali closed her eyes briefly. "I wish there was a way to predict his next victim...and why?"
Grant loosened his tie. "There isn't yet. We'll know more once we plow through the material collected at this point. Then we'll have to wait. For forensic information. For autopsy results. For the handwriting analysis. For a profile." He stood. "If I need anything else, I'll give you a call. Do I need to remind you to lock your doors, watch out for strange cars and keep your cell phone handy?"
She winced. “I will. Thanks.”
The house felt empty after he left. Empty. Cold. A chill had settled into her soul. Her stomach growled, again. Kali opened the fridge and rummaged for anything that hadn't spoiled. Something wrinkled and brown sagged in one corner and something blue in the other. Lovely. Shiloh barked once.
"You're hungry too, aren't you girl. We both lost a few meals." Kali opened cupboard doors. "Yours is easy enough." She would prefer to feed Shiloh a raw food diet, but the constant travelling and rough conditions made that impossible. Kali opened a can of food and portioned out crunchies to go with it. Putting them together, she gave the mix a good stir before offering it to Shiloh. "There you go, Sweetheart. I added a little extra to help with those sore muscles."
Rummaging for ingredients, she rustled up a quick cheese omelet and toast. She'd have to go shopping before she could eat again. Taking her plate outside, Kali sat in the sun and slowly ate her first real meal in days.
Knowing the letter writer might be watching her even now, she tossed her hair back, and took another bite. She refused to let the thought of him drive her away from the simple joy of being home and sitting on her deck. That didn’t make her stupid. Her cell phone sat beside her coffee cup.
She sighed and leaned back, grateful to be home.
People were funny. She'd seen what people called home all over the world. Some were gorgeous million dollar houses on the ocean with private waterfalls and their own airstrips. Most often the homes were commonplace, four walls and a roof with a middle class family trying to make a living and enjoy life while they were doing it. Then there were the rest. The smile slid from her face. She'd seen cardboard boxes sheltering complete families. She'd seen platforms with big leaves for walls and she'd seen dugouts into the sides of hills that held multiple families. In every case, the shelter meant just as much to those people as the million dollar homes did to their owners. Usually more.
A shelter represented home, security, and a place to call their own.
When Mother Nature destroyed homes, she didn't discriminate. They all fell to her will.
Disturbed by the sad memories, Kali took her empty dishes to the sink. In a few quick seconds, she had the kitchen clean. Drying the last dish, she paused.
The painting.
She'd forgotten about it.
Finishing up quickly, she walked down the hallway. The door was closed again. She couldn't remember if she'd left it that way or not. Damn she hated the shakiness that slithered through her.
Stupid. She pushed it open and strode in.
Christ.
Power streamed toward her, waves pouring off the canvas. The force of it stopped her in her tracks. Determined, she stepped forward a couple of steps. She frowned. No way. She leaned closer. She studied the detail, the accuracy, the emotion. The life. She shook her head. No. It wasn't possible. Digging into her memory, she compared those images with the painting. She blinked several times. There could be no doubt. Grim foreboding slipped down her spine.
The picture took on a new ugliness.
The panicked finger marks scraped into the dirt wall as if the victim had tried to dig his way out hadn't looked odd before. She'd seen this countless times. It was a natural reaction for anyone buried in rubble.
No, it was the tiny cylinder tucked into the image that made her blood run cold. As did the faint tube running to the victim's nose.
There could be no doubt.
The person in the painting had been buried alive - intentionally.
Kali knew there were too many similarities to discount, regardless of how ludicrous. The painting, the scene with a dead body and the oxygen tank, depicted the murder victim she'd just found in California. Not a similar scene but that same one.
Kali lifted a hand to her aching temples. That meant she'd painted this before the murder had happened. Wait. She thought about that for a moment. Was that right? Did she know when that poor man had been buried? No. Grant hadn't offered a time of death or a timeline of any kind.
One thing she did know was that this painting would be hard to explain, particularly if anyone knew when she'd created it. On impulse, she bent forward to check something else. No, there was her signature.
So, she'd actually created this. Now if only she knew how? And what should she do about it?
CHAPTER NINE
Kali avoided the center on Saturdays if she could. Today, Stan had called an hour ago asking if she could come help with the accounts. He'd been snowed under since Sacramento and as usual, his bookkeeping had gotten out of hand. The parking lot was half-full when she arrived. With mixed emotions, she parked at the front by the stairs. Chaos reigned, making her tired and energized at the same time. Dogs could be seen and heard everywhere. And that was comforting. Normal.
This really was home.
Shiloh barked and bounced from side to side in the back. Kali opened the door of her Jeep. Gathering the leash and her purse, Kali walked toward the front door.
"Hi, Kali."
Elizabeth, a regular visitor at the center, stood at the top of the stairs with a tongue-lolling Newfoundland pup slouched against her leg.
"Hi, Elizabeth. Isn't the place chaos today?"
Elizabeth laughed. "That's Stan's doing. He organized weekend training classes for those of us that work. I signed up Jefferson." Elizabeth motioned to the dog at her side.
"Hey, Jefferson, when are you going to grow into those feet?" Kali grinned, then couldn't resist bending down and hugging the beautiful teddy bear. Jefferson took immediate advantage, swiping her face with his huge tongue. Kali laughed and used her sleeve to dry her face. "How did he do?"
Elizabeth winced. "He's the biggest suck of the class. Does anything for a cuddle and remembers none of it five minutes later."
Kali grinned. She could just imagine. "Have you seen Stan?" she asked, her hand scrubbing Jefferson's thick black ruff.