The Collector (Emergence Book 1)

by Kelly Lynn Colby

  Flores’s expression hadn’t changed. “You’re doing fine.”

  A bit of hope loosened the tension. Maybe he wouldn’t lock me in a padded room.

  “I’m not sure I understand it myself. But I can sense the objects that hold these remnants. If I touch one, I experience the memory like it was my own. Their emotions become mine. I hear what they hear, see what they see, feel what…”

  I flicked a tear from my eye. I hated feeling vulnerable. I refused to look up and see pity in Flores’s eyes.

  The vision gave me an idea. “Also, she clawed his arms while fighting. I bet the boyfriend’s arms are clean, aren’t they?”

  His voice all business, Flores had his phone in his hand again. “The M.E. found samples under her fingernails, but there was no DNA match in the system.” He stood up straight, his set face mirrored his now quiet soul. He must have come to some sort of decision. “Did you see the guy’s face? I mean, did she see his face.”

  My head cocked itself at his careful phrasing and almost instant understanding. Did he believe me? It couldn’t be this easy, could it? “She didn’t see anything around the pillow, but she felt betrayal and said that she promised she wouldn’t tell anyone.” I swallowed bile that rose at the memory. “She knew her murderer.”

  Flores typed away on his phone, taking notes like at the other crime scenes. I didn’t even know the girl, hadn’t seen a single picture, but after what happened to her, I wanted to catch the guy. Badly. My arms itched and the vison of Albert’s killer’s scarred arms flashed to the forefront. Could they be the same guy? Surely, there hadn’t been enough time to pass for such wounds to scar over since it was still an active case. Plus, the teenager wasn’t stabbed. But maybe that was where the killer’s scars originated. Which would mean Albert wasn’t his first victim.

  While reaching for the pillow to search for more clues, a tingle near the floor tickled my skin. There was another impression. I couldn’t tell if it was from the teenager or not, but I wasn’t going to walk away without knowing for sure. On my knees, I waved a hand under the mattress honing the location of the remnant. The buzzing in my fingers lead me to the headboard. A flash of gold from a tiny charm on a thin chain swung from a piece of the broken box springs.

  I couldn’t make much out, but I sensed a young woman. It had to be hers. If it wasn’t, this damn place needed to be shut down for underage activity.

  “What did you find? Crime Scene scoured this place.”

  With a folded glove, I pulled the chain free. “Well, they missed this.” I floated it above my unprotected hand. The charm was a simple gold heart, fat and healthy, and heavy with love. After a nod of approval from Flores, I touched it.

  My heart pounded and my stomach felt light. The charm folded into my palm in the same way it had hers. It was definitely the same girl, in much happier times. I wish I could preserve this memory of her and share it with her family. She was so much in love and the joy tickled every nerve even as her hands shook with nerves. She blinked back tears as she smiled at the face of her love, her future.

  While fighting back my own tears, I forced myself to concentrate on his face. It was definitely not a teenage boyfriend. A middle-aged white man with sun-tanned skin smiled with a mouth full of shiny veneers. No way those were natural. His short, cropped, light hair and purple polo screamed teacher. I was pretty sure there was a school mascot on the breast, but she didn’t look down long enough for me to pick it out. The man bent over to kiss her.

  I dropped the necklace onto the bed before I felt his dry lips. A shiver climbed down my spine as my feeling of disgust fought with her feeling of adoration. Why did young girls fall for teachers who obviously only wanted one thing?

  My face flushed as I realized Flores was staring at me expectantly. “A teacher gave her this. His teeth were perfect and he had a full head of blond hair, though it was cropped short. I couldn’t quite make out the logo on the polo, but…”

  The air trembled around Flores, a sensual reflection of his excitement. He held up a picture from his phone. “Is this the guy?”

  That horrible predatory smile took up the screen. “That’s the one.”

  Flores cursed under his breath, as he traded his phone for an evidence bag and plucked the necklace off the bed.

  “You don’t have to curse quietly. I feel exactly the same way right now.” I re-gloved my hands and tucked them protectively out of touching range. That was enough for one day. Even though I’d experienced more extreme memories that were not my own, something about catching a predator lifted my spirits. I never considered this curse of mine to be a tool to help someone.

  The entire drive home, we didn’t say a word. As I reached for the car door handle, I had to know.

  “A deal’s a deal, right? I helped you solve that case, and you’ll keep me in the loop with the Collector’s.”

  Flores put in an address on his police device. “A deal’s a deal,” he said without looking up.

  As he drove away into the darkening sky, I had a feeling a certain teacher was going to have a very bad day indeed.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The music thumped through to my core as the first couple of shots numbed my abilities. Dancing at a busy club where everyone was tipsy and feeling no pain was my favorite pastime. Usually, human touch came with physical consequences for me, but I never brought my gloves to the floor. Here, with everything spinning from alcohol, the feelings came in bursts, a specialized drug just for me. Instead of torture, I got high from the emotional whirlwind.

  Plus, most of the feelings at this time of night, in this kind of place, revolved around sex. Lust dripped in the air along with the condensation from the air conditioning. After my week of murder and torment, I really needed this escape. Luckily, Amelia and Gina loved the scene as much as I did.

  Amelia’s short hair stuck out in purposeful spikes as her head bobbed from side to side. My bare arms brushed hers, and I didn’t even cringe. My legs could barely move in the tight leather skirt that creaked when I walked—but in the club with the music blaring, a squeaky skirt was not even a blip on the radar—so I did a great deal of bouncing. My muscles welcomed the exertion.

  Gina squeezed her tiny form through the crowd with our fresh round of drinks. Her smooth, dark hair shimmered with glitter which refracted the rotating lights. She always said it would break her Vietnamese mother’s heart if she dyed her hair. So, she chose washable alternatives, glitter being her favorite. I thought it had more to do with all that left-over glitter from class. I hadn’t been to her house since she started teaching, but I bet the carpet sparkled with it.

  We clinked the glasses together and took a generous sip. The cranberry and Malibu blend tasted sweet and sour and refreshing, like sparkling water on the tongue. Though my hangover in the morning would remind me that it wasn’t water, right now, I didn’t care.

  As if the addition of booze to our circle of friendship was an invitation, a smoking hot Hispanic man smiled at me like a wolf drooling over a steak. I welcomed the attention. That was what I needed. I swayed my hips to the reggae-hip-hop blend the DJ had chosen. Mr. Wolf stepped my way so smoothly it felt choreographed. Gina and Amelia found themselves similarly engaged and I let them go to concentrate on my chosen target.

  That was the thing about dancing. I could tell what a man would be like in bed by the way he moved me around the floor. Mr. Wolf pulled me close forcefully, but not violently. Oh yeah. I was on board. His hips forced mine to rotate with him. With his desire strong enough to penetrate my drunken haze, I knew he was as into me as much as I was into him. His emotions got me high, as my lust and his combined and heightened my enthusiasm.

  I stood on my tiptoes to yell into his ear. “Fauna.” There was something so intimate about screaming your name into a stranger’s ear and no one else being able to hear you.

  “Chipped girl?”

  I jumped back at the voice that was somewhat familiar. My neck burned, reflecting Mr. Wolf’s surpr
ise at the interruption. To my left, the man who had been dancing with Amelia had turned his attention to me. His blue eyes glowed through the dim light of the club as if they had a light source all their own.

  It was the guy that picked up the stolen computer. “Tucker?”

  The smile that put all the right creases in the right places made my heart thump my ribs much harder than the bass from the speakers. “You remembered. But I don’t know your name?”

  He had to lean down close so I could hear him. Chills ran down my spine as the smell of him—leather and vanilla with a background of antiseptic—mixed with his simple happiness. I swooned from more than the rum.

  I managed to pull myself together and shouted back into his ear. “Fauna.”

  From over his shoulder, Amelia tilted her head and her hips in opposite directions.

  I mouthed, “Mine,” then gestured with a slight nod behind me to the hot Hispanic man, “yours.”

  With a shrug, she danced behind us and took my spot in the arms of Mr. Wolf. He didn’t even look back at me, as his gaze was captured by Amelia’s cleavage. She preferred the smoldering hot kind of guy anyway. I just did her a favor.

  As the song changed to a more frantic tune, Tucker scratched the back of his neck and watched with an almost panicked expression at the gyrating bodies around him. I took his hands, the nervousness swimming within him crawled along my scalp.

  This was obviously not his scene. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

  “What was the first clue? My stiff hips or my lost boy look.” He tried to dance like the fluid man in leather pants next to us.

  I couldn’t remember laughing so hard at a club that didn’t feature a comedian. “So why tonight?”

  He gestured to a couple rowdy men near the stage trying to get the DJ to change the song. “It’s one of the resident’s bachelor party. I tried to get the late shift to avoid it, but…” He waved his hands around his head like a drunk sorority girl.

  I had to help the boy out. “Relax. It’s not that hard.”

  My hands found his hips and pulled him against mine. As I swayed, his rhythm improved greatly. His nervousness faded, and his cheeks flushed. His fingertips brushed hair out of my face, and his desire enhanced my own. My grin had to engulf my face as I felt that itch morph into a throbbing in my lady bits. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him. All of the talking sobered me up too much, I needed another drink to keep everything dulled enough to stay in control.

  On my tiptoes to get my voice as close to his ear as possible, I pressed my body against his, feeling his excitement. He might not be a regular member of the club scene, but he was certainly having a good time now. “Want another drink?”

  After swallowing so dramatically, I felt it in my chest, Tucker nodded emphatically.

  Unwilling to peel myself away from his warm body, I nevertheless forced myself to pull away to find my girlfriends. “There’s one more thing I need to do.”

  Spotting the two a couple feet away with their perspective prospects, I navigated the crowd to get close enough to grab Amelia’s and Gina’s hands. I kissed the tops, as was our preassigned signal for the end of our evening as a trio and the beginning of my night as a duo.

  Gina pouted, like one of her students. “But we just got here.”

  “Have fun!” Amelia spun Mr. Wolf around.

  After adjusting my top to make sure the girls looked perfect, I turned around to find Tucker so close, my swirling hair hit him.

  My heart stopped as my arms crossed protectively. His blue eyes shadowed from the lights of the stage reminded me of Albert’s last memory, of the psychic’s last view. My legs froze in place or I swear I would have run away screaming. All of the heavy petting and sexy innuendo faded to cold fear.

  He pushed sweat from his forehead, seemingly oblivious to my change in demeanor. “Are you ready for that drink now?”

  His forearms glimmered as he motioned toward the bar. Unmarred, perfect—though pale—skin reflected the neon lights. It was my turn to swallow heavily. He wasn’t the guy. Thank God, because I had to see the naked chest attached to those strong arms. Now more than ever. This whole murder investigation was really getting to me. Suspecting every blue-eyed white guy I met would lead to a world of paranoia. Plus, Tucker was blond, and the killer had dark hair.

  I twisted my fingers into Tucker’s and led him away from the dance floor. He followed as I wove between the rest of the clubbers, his hand never leaving mine. I was impressed. Sometimes, the man I chose refused to let me lead at all. This was going to be a good night.

  I stumbled a bit. Tucker caught me with an easy confidence. I had never taken home the same man twice. Sex was fun. Relationships were painful. I admit, it was a bit weird considering a man I’d met at work. As large as Houston seemed from the outside, it felt much smaller when I continuously ran into the same people over and over again.

  Even though I was certain he was not the nightmare that attacked Albert and George, it didn’t mean he wasn’t some other sort of malcontent. Of all people, I knew full well that the inside didn’t always match the outside. Before I went home with anyone—even a man who stopped by after work to do a favor for his sister—I needed to safety check first. A woman could never be too careful.

  That was something men didn’t seem to understand. It wasn’t that women didn’t want sex. My soaking wet panties were indication enough. Women hesitated to go home with a guy, because they were afraid he would hurt them. That was one thing I could always discover—my chosen partner’s intentions. I never failed to check before I left with one.

  I waved the bartender over. “One more shot, Jim. For me and Tucker here. Then close me out.”

  Jim gave me a thumbs up and waggled his thin eyebrows at my chosen. I winked at the bartender. His arm muscles flexed as he rubbed cut limes on two shot glasses. He salted the tops and attached the citrus to the sides. After pouring generous portions of Milagro in each, he slid them along the bar to Tucker and me. If Jim wasn’t gay, I would have shown him a good time already. As it was, I had to settle for tipping generously, which I did.

  Tucker cocked his head at me.

  Oh no, he better not be judging me now, just when he was about to see it all. “What?”

  Tucker’s grin melted my anger like it had yesterday. “You look much more comfortable here than you did in your own store.”

  Interesting. He actually took the time to register my mood yesterday. Most guys barely note more than surprise that a woman runs a computer store. I held up my shot to clink with Tucker. “Welp. A bit of magical elixir and a hot guy on her arm tends to relax a girl.”

  His face flushed. “Hot, am I?”

  With my whole body pressed against his, I lifted my glass to my lips. He stopped my wrist and bent down and licked the salt off my glass. I laughed as his playful mood tickled my toes. It made me forget all the horrible things I’d seen in the past couple of days. He used my hand as a handle and leaned down to dump the shot down his throat, then sucked on the lime for an obscene amount of time.

  My turn to put on a show. I hiked my skirt up enough to hop onto a barstool. I took his wrist as he had mine and brought it slowly to my lips. Electricity sparked into my fingers from his heightened excitement. The feelings of his lust and my own intermingled created a much more intoxicating effect than the alcohol. My tongue lashed out and rimmed the glass of its salt. Taking the shot from his slack hand, I downed the tequila. My chest thrust out as the burn barreled down my throat. I moaned as I sucked the juice out of the lime, soothing the heat of the alcohol.

  Tucker’s muscles radiated heat as he braced his weight on the bar top on either side of me. “I don’t know what it is about you, Fauna, but I’m ready to get out of this bar.”

  I wrapped my ankles around the back of his knees and pulled him closer. “I feel it too.”

  Now for the final test. As he pressed his lips to mine, his muscled chest rippled against my breast. My tongue welcomed his atten
tion as the heat of tequila and the sour lime twisted together in both of our mouths. My nipples were on fire. No amount of tequila would dull this strong of a feeling. For a moment, the sensations swallowed me whole, and I almost forgot I was supposed to get a deep reading.

  With my hands woven behind his neck, I curved my stomach up to meet his and dropped what little barriers I had up. Though tempered by the alcohol I’d consumed, his emotional being opened up to me. Right on top was lust, hot and needy. Underneath was desire, not of sex, but to please. It took me forever to identify that one; I’d not experienced it as often as I would have hoped. This was going to be an incredible night, just what I needed. But I needed to go deeper.

  As I breathed through my nose, because my mouth was completely locked down, I concentrated on Tucker, blocking out the music and the emotions in the air and my own needs. Within him, I felt no anger, no violence, a little self-doubt—which surprised me coming from this hunk. Oh, heartache; he needed a pick-me-up too. Something had happened, whether a breakup or a job loss or a death in the family, I couldn’t tell. Something harsh enough to leave a fresh scar. I took one more moment to make sure there was nothing deeper, angrier.

  Sometimes, I wished I could read minds. There would be so much less interpretation. But this wasn’t my first rodeo, and I’d sensed all of these conditions before, though not in exactly the same way. No one’s inner self was ever identical to anyone else’s. Yet, I made my living for a few years with these deep reads. I was damn good at it.

  After a thorough investigation that I might have let linger a bit longer than normal due to his expert kissing, I was confident Tucker had no ill-will toward me. And if I learned anything, he needed this as much as I did.