by Shutt, Tom
She nodded and led the way, and the chilly air made her shiver as they stepped outside. Wordlessly, Brennan shrugged out of his jacket and draped it over her sweatshirt. Sara mumbled her thanks. Brennan inhaled deeply, and he heard her copy him as she took in a brisk breath. Good, he thought. The air would do her good.
Brennan took the opportunity to look around, particularly straight down toward the street four stories away. The balcony looked out over an alleyway; at night, it would be empty of everything except dumpsters and telephone poles. It was a long way down—or a long way up. There were balconies all the way down, and it wouldn’t take much more than a modest length of rope to climb up to the next level. But to climb four floors, murder someone, and then scale back down the building, all without being detected? The strength and dexterity they’d need would be phenomenal.
A few minutes passed before Brennan realized the silence had turned awkward. Sara glanced anxiously at him before sliding the heavy jacket from her shoulders. “Thanks again,” she said. “I should really be getting the rest of my stuff.”
“Of course,” Brennan said. They started walking toward the front door. “Is there anything I can help you carry downstairs?”
“Oh, no, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”
“You’ve been very helpful, Sara. I’m sorry for your loss.”
She sniffled, and Brennan feared the tears might start flowing again. But she simply gave him a small smile and closed the door behind him. Brennan contemplated the elevator at the end of the hall. That way be quitters, he thought.
He sighed, then turned and took the stairs.
Chapter Eight
Alex arrived back at her apartment just as the sun was beginning to set.
It would have been sooner, but she’d had an essential stop to make. She took a heavenly sip from her cup of java and sighed in bliss. Coffee was just the thing she needed after visiting her mother. She paid the taxi driver and stared up at her apartment complex. A behemoth of a building, it held its ground in the very center of Odols. And somewhere far above, there was a strange man with one serious grudge.
And if I don’t make him stop, I’m never going to get any sleep.
She felt a buzz in the air the moment she stepped into the building. Something, or someone, was different than usual. She searched intangibly with her mind, touching upon the thoughts of everyone in the lobby.
If I work through the night, I can get the project done by—
—wonder if the pool is open—
—isn’t my job to watch a bunch of spoiled—
—I can sense you, you know.
Alex was startled back into herself, and she quickly walled away all of the others. Still, though, she felt the buzzing sensation as she walked stiffly to the elevator. What was that? Nobody had ever been aware of her psychic presence before, not even a whiff. Now, somebody was here that knew about her? Impossible.
She kept her guard up even as the doors closed, leaving her alone in the rising metal box. A deep breath, and she started to mull it over. Another person with powers? It made sense, actually. Her father was ever-young, or as close as could be, and she was a mind-reader. She would be ignorant to believe that she and her father were unique in their gifts. Surely there were others.
The thought chilled her. Ghost stories from her childhood came unbidden to her mind. Sleepers, they were called. They were monsters that invaded the dreams of naughty children. It was a tale that mothers made up to scare their kids into behaving. But what if it wasn’t?
Were these Sleepers just other gifted people? Could so many have the same power? Her father was the closest relation she had, yet their gifts were nothing alike.
More importantly, Alex wondered who had sensed her in the lobby. It was entirely possible that she had wandered right past the man she was looking for, the angry tenant from the sixteenth floor. If that was the case, he was very psychically powerful and held a death wish for someone, a volatile combination.
The elevator dinged loudly and opened onto her floor. Alex walked quickly down the hall and fumbled with her key while opening the door to her apartment. It’s the coffee making me jittery, she assured herself.
Once she was inside, however, she felt another pressure on her mind.
Arthur Brennan.
It was the same kind of red sensation she had felt in the dead of night, a strong psychic presence coming from above her. She hadn’t felt it in the lobby, though, which made her think it was the angry tenant.
But if he’s still upstairs, she thought, then who did I encounter in the lobby?
“Oh shit,” she swore to the empty apartment. “There are two of them.” One roaring red presence of violence and one buzzing mind of polite curiosity. “In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say lobby-guy was bemused.”
Alex shook her head and opened a cabinet, pulling down a bottle from the top shelf. She helped herself to a generous glass of a sweet red wine. She lifted the glass to her lips and paused. “Talking to myself,” she said into her wine. “First sign of insanity. I’ll drink to that.” She toasted an imaginary guest, stared at the open space with heavy eyes, and then gulped down half the glass in one go.
Her mother had gone crazy. Little things at first, small signs of forgetfulness, but it had gradually evolved to where she no longer recognized faces or places. “I wonder if she was like me, once,” Alex said bitterly. She gently swirled the wine before taking another sip. The alcohol did its work over the next couple minutes as she finished her glass and poured another.
Getting drunk just as she was on the verge of being discovered had not been her plan, but she slowly realized that she wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything, not even sleep, while her mind was active with the thoughts of the enraged man. Thus reasoned, she drank a good amount of the second glass.
“And who the hell is Arthur Brennan?”
Her curtains didn’t answer.
She knew it wasn’t a good idea, but the wine had put her in a good mood, and Alex pulled out her phone. Her thumb swiped down through her list of contacts until she reached the S category: Sam was the first in the grouping. He picked up on the third ring.
“Hey, what’s up?”
He didn’t address her by name. Even with her thoughts muddled, Alex knew he was with somebody. “I’m here by myself and wondering what you’re doing,” she replied. Her words sounded thick, but she preferred to think they came off as sultry over the phone. She heard him inhale sharply.
“Ah, really not the best time,” he said.
Alex heard typing in the background. She also knew that Sam was not a one-woman kind of guy. “Are you on a dating site right now?” she asked, feigning anger.
“Are you drunk right now?”
“Hey, who’s accusing who?” There was a pregnant pause. “Whom. Who’s accusing whom?”
Sam chuckled into the receiver. “I wouldn’t have corrected you on that, I have no idea how those are used. But I guess that answers my question.”
“Can I expect you later tonight?”
“Might need a rain check on that one.”
Alex had no feelings for the man, but she still found herself disappointed. The wine was setting her on fire in other ways, and she hadn’t expected to be turned down.
“Fine,” she said. “But be warned, I might rain check your rain check.”
“Life is fraught with risks,” Sam said, and the call ended.
She looked at her phone for a full minute, and when he didn’t call back she tossed it onto the leather sofa. “Screw him,” she muttered before she started giggling to herself. “That’s what I was trying to do.”
Arthur Brennan.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” she said, raising her glass to the ceiling. She brought it to her lips and finished it off, and the voice died down to a whisper. She couldn’t stop the thoughts from coming, but she could drown them as they arrived. The clock told her it was far too early to sleep, but the alcohol coursing through h
er system said otherwise. Napping sounded like an excellent idea.
As she flopped down onto her bed, Alex knew instantly that she’d made the right call.
Chapter Nine
“Who was that?” Brennan asked.
Sam shut off his phone and set it on the desk. “Nobody with anything urgent.”
Truth.
They were back at Brennan’s apartment, presumably just hanging out again. In truth, Brennan had asked Sam to watch over Greg after his doctor’s appointment, which his friend had agreed to easily. It was that kind of loyalty that made Brennan continue to value his friendship. It was precisely that kind of loyalty which blindsided him as well.
At some point in the day, he and Greg had decided that Brennan needed an online dating profile.
“I’m really not comfortable with this,” he said, even as Sam continued to type away on his laptop. Greg sat on the couch with a smug grin on his face, nursing a mug of hot chocolate that had far too few tiny marshmallows.
“Yeah, well, that’s why we didn’t ask you,” Sam said, offering Brennan his cheeriest smile. “We knew you’d be a big spoilsport about it.”
“I have a serial killer to catch.”
“Whose murders you’re officially not supposed to be investigating,” Sam noted. Brennan raised an eye. “Hey, I have contacts, I know these things.”
“Wally,” Brennan concluded.
“I plead the fifth.”
“Uh-huh. Well I guess I don’t owe him one anymore.”
“Oh, no,” Sam said. A look of dread crossed his face. “You owe Wallace a favor?”
“Yeah, why?”
Sam shuddered visibly. “Man, I’m glad I’m not you. You do not want to owe that dude a favor.” A heavy frown descended upon Brennan’s brow, but before he could ask anything more, Sam finished typing with a keystroke of definite finality. “Voilà.”
Brennan turned the laptop so he could see it. “CopAFeel dot US?”
“Where lonely detectives meet lonelier crime enthusiasts.”
“This can’t be a real site.”
“As real as you or me, partner. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. You wouldn’t believe how many niche dating sites are out there.”
“I’m married.”
“You were married,” Sam said, not unkindly. “I’m sorry about what happened to Mara, but that was years ago. Either you can continue to live in the past, or you can give love another chance.”
“We think it’s time you got on the market again,” Greg chimed in.
“Mara wouldn’t want you to be forever alone on her behalf,” Sam reasoned.
And there it was, the ultimate argument for living after a loss. If he dated someone else, if he removed the gold ring that had encircled his finger for many years, would Brennan be desecrating the memory of his dead wife—or fulfilling her final wishes for him?
It couldn’t hurt to meet new people.
He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he looked back at the website. It had bold, simple colors and pictures of couples holding hands chained together with handcuffs. “Is this…a bondage site?”
“What?” Sam spun the screen toward him. “No, man, not like that. It’s to sell the whole cop-loving theme. These are women who are attracted to men that do the things we do.”
“The things that we do? Are you on here, Sam?”
His friend rubbed at the back of his head. “In the past, yes. Now it’s purely for research, for you!” He made a few quick clicks, and a woman’s portrait came up. “How about this one? She’s a single widow, like yourself, and loves kids.” He nodded toward the couch.
“Hey!” Greg objected. “I’m a full-on adult.”
“An adult with no job and whom still lives at home? You’re a kid.” Sam looked briefly puzzled with himself. “Who still lives at home? Dammit, I don’t know.”
Greg didn’t bother to argue, choosing instead to sip quietly from his cocoa.
“I feel like this is all a bit sudden,” Brennan said, taking the laptop back and closing it. “Besides, CopAFeel seems more like a website for quickies rather than fostering relationships.”
Sam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Baby steps, kemosabe. You need to crawl before you can walk.”
“I thought I was already up to baby stepping. Now I need to crawl?”
“I’m mixing metaphors here, give me a break.”
“As long as you’re my ever faithful sidekick, Tonto, then I think I can allow that.” Brennan grinned, but Sam just shook his head and pulled on his jacket.
“All right, give me everything you have on the serial killer case,” Sam said.
Brennan was caught off guard. “I thought you didn’t have any time to work on the case. What happened to being on retainer for two days?”
Sam touched the tip of his nose. “That’s why you collect up-front, in cash,” he said. “I finished early, and I could always use extra cash from the department.”
“I can’t pay you,” Brennan reminded him. “Officially, I’m not on the case.”
Sam waved his hand. “I’ll dig something up and convince Bishop to commission my services…and then commission my services,” he added, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“She’s still going to wonder how you got involved with the case to begin with.”
“Wallace,” Sam said instantly. “He technically did tell me, unprompted, to keep you away from the case. He opened the door for me to be involved. I’ll just say he piqued my interest.”
“Perfect. I don’t have it all down right now, but I’ll send you a file later tonight.”
“Sounds good.” Sam slapped him on the back. “I’ll talk to you soon. See you later, Greg!”
Greg waved as the apartment door shut behind Sam. Brennan contemplated the closed laptop and looked at his nephew on the couch. “You really think this is a good idea?”
“He’s good at his job, right? Seems like the police could use his help as much as yours.”
“Not that,” Brennan said. “I meant the online dating. I haven’t been with anyone else since your aunt died.”
Something shifted about the way Greg held himself, because a moment later he was as serious as Brennan had ever seen him. “This is exactly what Sam and I were talking about. You need to stop thinking about your life in relation to hers. It doesn’t mean you can’t remember her, but honoring her memory and holding on to a ghost are two separate things.”
Brennan stared at him for a long minute. “You’re entirely too mature for your age.”
Greg laughed. “I’m just a kid, remember?”
“That’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Brennan said. “Have you given any thought about college? Or a job?”
“I thought you were cool with me staying here.”
“I am, of course. But you don’t want to be that guy who sleeps on a sofa his entire life. You’re missing out on crucial experience by being cooped up in here all day.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “What if you want to bring a girl back to your place? Because you sure as hell aren’t doing it on the couch.”
Greg remained silent.
“Or my bed,” Brennan added, and a smile cracked across Greg’s lips. “What I’m saying is that you’re almost nineteen and still don’t have any solid goals. You need to have action in life to make it meaningful.”
“So with your sex life on hold,” Greg said, “how meaningful has your personal life been recently?”
It was Brennan’s turn to hold his silence.
“I’ll make you a deal, Uncle Arty. If you agree to expand your dating life, I will agree to start looking around for a job.”
Brennan frowned. “This isn’t really a negotiation.”
“No, it’s not. This is me forcing you to do something for your own good,” Greg said pointedly.
“Touché,” Brennan said. “All right, it’s a deal.”
Greg grinned. “Excellent. I’ll start in the mornin
g.” He hid his mouth behind a hand as he yawned widely. “Wow, what time is it?”
“Not late enough for you to be tired yet,” Brennan said.
“Maybe it’s the drugs the good doctor gave me to fight the patch. I’ve been feeling out of it all day.”
“Hold on, so that means that your scheme with Sam to get me into dating was just a side effect? That all of your advice was just the drugs talking?”
The largest grin spread across Greg’s face. “A deal’s a deal,” he said merrily.
Brennan wiped a hand against his mouth. “Yeah, I suppose so. Go on, get ready for bed, then.” He collected his laptop and retreated to his room as Greg made his way to the bathroom. He sighed gratefully as he sat down on the king-sized bed. After a long day of hoofing it around town and being blindsided by a dating plot, it felt good to just relax and let himself melt into the pillows.
But I can’t relax yet, he thought. He pulled up a writing app and quickly typed up all of the salient notes he’d picked up on his visit to Kelsi Woodill’s apartment. There admittedly wasn’t much to report. “Cast a wider net and see what you pull in,” Brennan mumbled, speaking his final message to Sam aloud. If anyone could find something the police hadn’t, it would be Sam. He sent the notes and message and nearly closed the laptop when the other open tab caught his eye.
He clicked through, and CopAFeel asserted itself on the screen. The widow’s hazel eyes stared at him through the screen. Clara Thompson. She had lost someone, too, just like he had. But there she was, putting herself out there. What if she was struck with tragedy again? Wasn’t she worried about being exposed like that?
Why is she more courageous than me?
Brennan opened the chat box and composed a message.
Chapter Ten
Alex swore violently as soon as she regained consciousness.
She was roused from her wine-dreams by the incessant pounding of a jackhammer inside her skull. The blouse she had passed out in was soaked through with sweat, and the sheets beneath her legs felt equally damp. Thankfully, she had had the good sense of mind to set her wineglass on the nightstand before surrendering her body to its drunken slumber. The last thing she needed was to replace wine-stained bedsheets. Fuzzy and buzzing, her mind communicated slowly with the rest of her body.