The Collector (Emergence Book 1)

by Kelly Lynn Colby

  My gloves slipped on easily as he stared at my odd behavior. “I just need to make a phone call first,” I said.

  “For why?”

  “I always report stolen goods.” The old-fashioned receiver felt cold and refreshing against my ear.

  “But…I…” he stammered as he considered the door, then the laptop, then the door again.

  I slipped the computer under the counter as an authoritative female voice answered on the other end. “HPD, how may I assist you today?”

  “Yes. I’d like to report a theft.”

  That was it. He took off out the front door, almost losing a shoe as the carpet transformed to cement under his feet.

  Amelia laughed on the other end of the phone. “Did you catch another one?”

  “I did. Thank you for being my officer-in-waiting.”

  “Anytime. Even though I don’t know how you can always tell.” Amelia’s voice brought me peace. I wanted to confess all of the things that happened since we went shopping. Was that just two days ago?

  “We all have our burdens to bear.” More than I could even explain.

  She chuckled. “Speaking of burdens, Gina’s driving me nuts about Wednesday. Are you feeling well enough to go?”

  “Much better.” Which was a total lie, but some shots and a hot guy to make me forget about Albert Johnson sounded like a little touch of heaven. “It’s scheduled and non-negotiable.”

  “Good.” I didn’t need the curse to tell Amelia sounded skeptical. “Gina’s ready for one last school night party before returning to the land of the second graders when school starts.”

  “I’ll text so she’ll leave you alone.” My gloved hands rubbed the warm laptop. “First, I need to find out who this laptop really belongs to.”

  “Talk at ya later.”

  As I hung up my work phone, I noticed the $50 bill still on the counter.

  “Lunch is on me!” I shouted to Jeff in the back.

  After ordering, I dug through the all-the-cords drawer. I’m sure I had a plug that would work for this model. The back of my hand stifled a yawn. The pop of the soda can promised a dose of caffeine to get me through until lunch arrived.

  The stolen laptop had an admin password of admin. Amateurs. With little effort, I found the owner’s phone number and called her to come pick it up. She was so excited she said she’d send her brother, Tucker, to come get it since he worked close to the store. Maybe I did have superpowers.

  When I hung up, a popup notice flashed from Jeff’s laptop. I’d left it open on the gallery page. The ad announced the tragic death of the Collector and the auction of his last pieces Tuesday night. That was today. I’d spent the last dime I didn’t have on that blasted statue, but I had to know everything I could about Albert Johnson.

  I hadn’t heard a thing from Detective Flores today. It was time to do some of my own investigating, but I didn’t want to go alone. Amelia would hate a stuffy art exhibit. Gina might get a kick out of it though.

  A few texts back and forth later, I had a date. Gina would come with me to the gallery tonight. It wouldn’t be weird at all to show up after having found the man’s dead body, now would it? I mean, who would know anyway?

  To get my mind off the ridiculous decision I was probably making, I pulled up the customer tickets and got to work.

  The rest of the afternoon flew by as the high from helping someone carried through the next job of reinstalling the operating system of a college student’s virus-laden laptop. I had to find a way to show the kid how to surf the net for porn without killing his machine. If only his mom hadn’t dropped it off for him.

  Jeff waved goodnight to me before I realized it was closing time. The clock on the laptop said it was 5:30pm. I needed to book it if I was going to get ready in time for the auction. Surely, I should wear something more formal than my Chipped polo and a pair of khakis.

  I followed Jeff to the door. “Good luck with Linda tonight. Bring her some flowers or something.”

  He shrugged as he unlocked his late model Nissan. “They just make her sneeze.”

  Poor Jeff, I thought as I put the key in the door lock.

  A man’s voice called from the open door of a royal blue Audi S5 coupe. “Wait. Don’t close yet please. My sister will kill me.”

  My shoulders tensed, and I thought about ignoring his call. Then the word “sister” registered, and I realized who he must have been. “Tucker, I assume?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sorry I couldn’t get out of work any sooner,” said the disembodied voice.

  Dammit, I’d completely forgotten about the stolen computer. With a twist of the key in the opposite direction, I yanked the door open and waved the guy in behind me. “Let’s make it quick. I’ve got somewhere to be.”

  I was behind the counter before the doorbell chimed on his entrance.

  “Thank you for this. My sister has been livid about that laptop.”

  “No worries,” I replied, even though I considered that old saying no good deed goes unpunished. I unplugged the laptop in question and stood up. “Can I see some ID? I don’t want to hand it over to…”

  My brain forgot how to words as it tried to translate the vision before me into reality. Tucker reached for the wallet in the front pocket of his scrubs while I tried to catch my breath. His straw-colored hair, short in back and long on top, begged me to run my fingers through it. His nose might have been called obtuse except for its strong masculine effect on his softly rounded cheeks and flawless warm ivory skin. When he looked up, with his eyes as blue as the mountain sky, I had to bite my lip to make sure my mouth wasn’t hanging open.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he waved his license at me.

  My eyes blinked as I resisted the urge to shake my head to clear it. As I studied his Texas driver’s license, I was relieved he couldn’t sense my emotions. “Tucker Wickman. As expected.”

  “Thanks again,” he said as he accepted his sister’s laptop. Then he offered me a folded-up bill. “And please take this for your trouble.”

  Well, that snapped me out of my trance. “No, no, no. It was my pleasure. Just remember Chipped if you have any tech issues.”

  His eyebrows crinkled and his lips parted in a sweet smile that formed a perfect little dimple in his left cheek. “We will.”

  He sort of saluted as he rushed out the door.

  Wow. What was that? I gave him a moment to drive off before I headed out myself. I couldn’t remember ever reacting to a man like that while sober. I must have been weak from the emotional up and down of the last few days.

  And here I was about to torture myself more by hitting that gallery. Yet, I had to know. I’d lived through emotional turmoil before and never for a better reason than discovering answers about this curse. It was time to take a chance.

  Chapter Nine

  Through the open gallery door, the murmur of the well-dressed crowd bounced off the empty walls as Gina and I waited to be let in. Hesitant to be tormented by waves of impressions in the air, I smoothed my thin black dress with my velvet black-gloved hands. Usually I wore this dress out clubbing, the one place I didn’t wear gloves. Yet, tonight I suspected I’d be surrounded by statues like Walter and people I might accidentally touch. I hadn’t wanted to fight both of these attacks on my sanity simultaneously, so I scrounged around the back of my closet for something more protective and found the gloves I’d worn to my mother’s funeral. I had no idea why I’d kept them, and they were much too warm for the setting, but it was better than nothing. I wasn’t sure how much I’d learn if I was drunk before attending the auction, and that was my only other option, the only thing that kept the curse quiet so I could relax around people.

  My stomach twisted and turned as the tuxedo at the door handed Gina and I paddles with numbers on them. I almost handed it back—I didn’t have anything left after purchasing Walter—but I had to blend in if I was going to find any answers. With my tongue between my teeth, prepared for the onslaught of emotions, I b
reached the barrier between the outside and the gallery floor.

  The Loblolly Gallery had floor to ceiling white walls and polished cement floors. The entire place was a blank canvas awaiting art to bring it to life. The track lighting offered the most movement with multiple possible positions, depending on what needed to be highlighted. At the moment, a couple walls had floral oil paintings, but the majority of the space was filled with Collector statues and incredibly well-dressed patrons.

  Oh no, I couldn’t face the attack of all of these creations. I’d pass out right in front of all these people. I stepped back and almost ran into Gina.

  “Where are you going?” she asked. “This stuff is amazing. It’s like the statue you paid a crazy amount for.”

  Her red, floor length dress clung to her petite frame, the only fold a slight cheat at her chest to imitate the curves she didn’t have. Her four-inch heels, which elevated her to my height, clicked delicately on the concrete floor as she practically dragged me to the nearest piece. I envied her light step when my heavy feet sounded like clogs. Luckily, the crowd absorbed the sound by sheer density. However, that same density offered threats of its own. I pressed the paddle against my chest to make sure I didn’t touch anyone.

  Then I realized, I was fine. The crowd exuded a mixed bag, though it was all pretty muted. As I passed different mingling groups, my body was treated to sensations instead of being assaulted by them. Apparently, this particular gathering had learned to control their emotions. If I was in charge, that skill would be taught in school. My life would be so much smoother then.

  As for the art, the air didn’t vibrate with the energy of connected impressions like it had at Finishing Touches or in my living room if I took the layers of blankets off Walter. Were these statues made of normal junk instead of remnants? What if Walter was the only piece Albert had ever made of a full conglomeration?

  If that was true, why would he have so many individual pieces stored at his condo? I was supposed to be finding answers, not more questions. It was time to suck it up and see if any of these statues called to the cursed.

  There was a tingling as I approached the piece Gina gawked at. So, there was definitely at least an impression tied into it. I leaned toward the creation of a dolphin arching through a wave. Driftwood and broken glass and pieces of old wire were all connected in a swirl to imitate movement in the water. The sea animal itself looked to be an old piece of crystal. Oddly enough, the emotional remnant didn’t seem to vibrate from the dolphin, but from the carved rock sticking out of the water underneath it. I couldn’t tell what the memory held, but after what I’d experienced the last two days, I didn’t want to chance a closer inspection. I didn’t hear his voice either, the one that sent me to his apartment.

  Gina’s tight, dancer’s bun didn’t move as she cocked her head at me. I just knew she was trying to read my mind. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that look. “Why did you want to come to this event again?” She waved a hand at the milling audience. “You usually make fun of me for my appreciation of the arts.”

  I wished I could tell her the truth. If I confessed, she’d immediately drag me out of here and call Amelia. I did not push myself this far outside my comfort zone to walk away empty-handed. “Okay. Full confession. I looked up the artist, Albert Johnson. He was so good-looking I had to meet him.”

  Gina’s hip cocked the opposite direction of her head and I knew I had her. “But isn’t he, like, dead?” The last word slipped out in a whisper.

  I led her away from the stares that turned in our direction. “Which is why I had to come see his final pieces. I don’t know why, but I felt an immediate connection with Albert Johnson, the Collector. I wasn’t ready to let that go.” To my own surprise, a tear escaped my eye as the truth in those words struck deeper than I’d intended. At least, this was my emotion.

  “Oh, Fauna, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you felt so much for his art.” Gina retrieved a tissue from her purse and gently patted my cheek of moisture.

  I didn’t flinch. Her concern warmed the cold emptiness of the loss I hadn’t expected to feel. After all, I hadn’t even met the guy. “Want to keep browsing?”

  “Of course.” Gina squeezed my gloved hand and then let go. I could see her reluctance to do so, but she knew I didn’t like to be touched.

  Everyone should have a friend like Gina.

  As we cruised through the exhibit, each piece was wholly unique while still obviously connected to the mind of one artist. Even for people who couldn’t sense the impressions, I understood their appeal. My mood depressed as I realized the loss of this artist wasn’t just on me but on the community. He made beauty by adding life to dead and useless things. Even more reason to find his murderer and bring him to justice.

  Every statue we came across had one section I could sense was a remnant, but none of them called to me in Albert’s voice. I wondered if he had found another method to find other cursed people. Or if he never found any others and gave up. The back of my eyes started to throb. Someone nearby was feeling the same sort of sadness. I needed something to drink or all of these people so close together was going to force me out.

  “Let’s head to the bar.” I gestured toward the cart set up next to the desk near the front.

  Gina perked up. “Yes, please.”

  The very pretty bartender with his shiny almond skin, high cheek bones, and contagious smile made me feel better as soon as I set my card on the bar top. “Two margaritas please. Easy on the mix, heavy on the Cointreau.”

  Gina raised a delicate finger. “No salt for me please.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he practically sang the lines. I wondered if he had show experience. I could see the pretty boy on the stage garnering the attention of the entire audience whenever he opened his mouth. “Would you like to keep a tab open?”

  Gina and I replied simultaneously. “Yes.”

  While we sipped our drink, I searched the crowd wondering if I was really going to find out anything else or if I was wasting my time. I wasn’t sure what to look for. I was great at troubleshooting—fixing a misbehaving laptop or a behind-in-updates cell phone—but investigating was beyond my skill set.

  As if the word summoned him, I spotted Detective Flores with an elderly woman, who couldn’t have weighed more than a cat. Her remarkably thick mop of gray hair was piled on her head, held back with pins that were pieces of modern art. Her clothes hung from her petite frame, looking as comfortable as a bathrobe though in much more expensive fabrics. She looked distracted and rather annoyed until a tall, handsome gentleman interrupted the detective.

  The older woman smiled with a welcoming look as she tried to shoulder Flores from her immediate vicinity. To his credit, the detective simply offered his hand to the man who shook it back with a large rubied ring prominent on his finger. I cocked my head at the handsome middle-aged man. I was pretty sure it was the same guy from the precinct Monday. I guess it made sense for Albert’s fans to be in both places.

  Before Flores spotted me, I took advantage of the tailored guy’s distraction to steer Gina toward the door. “You know, I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re right I can’t afford a thing here. Let’s go get some tacos and call it a night.” The last thing I needed was more suspicion aimed at me.

  Surprise blossomed on Gina’s face. “Seriously? But we just got here. And you haven’t closed out your tab.”

  “Dammit.” I positioned my body awkwardly for the bartender but at the best angle I could get to avoid eye contact with Flores.

  As I waved to the bartender for my card, my abdomen cramped so fiercely, I involuntarily bent over. This anger seemed out of place among the sedate crowd. The fury of Albert’s murderer flashed through my mind, and I almost vomited on the concrete floor.

  Thank god for Gina. “Oh, you do look a little green.” She took my purse and put my card from the bartender in it.

  When she wrapped her free hand around my waist to guide me toward the door, I couldn’t m
ove. I had to know if the murderer had entered. With a calming breath in and out, my mom’s hymn eased the pain in my gut.

  “Just one more thing,” I managed to say.

  Without a clue of what excuse I’d give Gina and without any concern for Flores spotting me, I slowly turned to follow the trail of anger.

  A tall man, in business attire much too casual for this fancy event, carried a large package wrapped in butcher paper to the front desk. His face was flushed, but I doubted it was from exertion, because he looked to be in good shape. His dark hair and light blue eyes sent renewed shivers through me. I still hadn’t been able to piece together an accurate image of Albert’s murderer, but these preliminary clues fit.

  “Wow,” Gina said beside me. “I can see why you’re feeling better. Shall I leave you two alone?”

  Fear flushed my skin at the thought of being alone with the angry man. “No,” I retorted.

  Maybe a bit too harshly, because Gina crossed her arms just like Amelia always did when she was calling me on my shit.

  “I’m sorry,” I quickly added. “I’m curious about what he brought to a gallery in the middle of an auction.”

  “Hmph.” Gina turned, pulled my card back out, and ordered another drink from the bartender.

  Relieved that I’d avoided one crisis, I moved closer to the desk to verify my suspicions. Anxiety tried to freeze my feet, but logic reassured me that he wouldn’t attack me in front of all these people.

  The numbered paddle pushed air around my face as I subconsciously used it like a fan. If I could get him to roll up his sleeves, I’d know for sure. Those scars from Albert’s memory were unmistakable.

  Gina startled me with an offer of another drink. Her cheery smile was back on her face. She was so understanding with my mood swings. If I discovered nothing with this little field trip, I’d have wasted her time and used her friendship. And she didn’t even know why we were here.