The Collector (Emergence Book 1)

by Kelly Lynn Colby

  My curiosity peaked as he continued, “Tía Maria did this with every family member. She would give you a hug when you came into her home, and she’d somehow know exactly what you were feeling and exactly what you needed to hear.” Flores stared out the window. Though he was driving, I felt like he was purposely not looking me in the eye. “I think she was like you.”

  “So, your tía, she’s not with us anymore?”

  His nod, along with pressure behind my eyes, verified my guess.

  “I’m sorry for your loss. It would have been nice to talk with her, to see how she dealt with it all.”

  After everything that had happened this week, I still hadn’t met a single other person like me.

  I blinked and imitated Flores’s stare out the windshield. “You really do believe me.”

  “I do.”

  Tears dripped from my eyes and I didn’t even try to stop them. The anxiety mixed with hope mixed with horror of the last few days was enough to make anyone breakdown. But a stranger truly believed me? That puts three people in the know in less than twenty-four hours.

  Yet, somehow this killer was able to track us down. Though he was wrong about Amethyst. “So, if we find out how he’s finding the cursed...”

  “We could find our next victim.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The next morning, I found my way to Chipped out of routine rather than conscious thought. I’d spent my whole life thinking I was the only cursed one. I was wrong. There were at least a handful in Houston alone. Now a psychopath had managed to root them out, though he did choose wrong once. A psychic and a palm reader might have been logical choices, but why an artist? Was the murderer one of us, and he was called by one of Albert’s statues? If so, why didn’t he know immediately that Amethyst couldn’t sense emotions?

  When I opened the door to the shop, I pushed the existential concerns aside to concentrate on store business. After neglecting Chipped for a few days, there was a ton to keep me busy. The voicemails alone would be daunting, judging by the flashing number on the store laptop. I’d have to remind Jeff that checking those was part of his job.

  I stepped on a half-eaten bag of crackers as I made my way to the back. “Dammit, Jeff. No wonder your wife is always mad at you. If you treat your place of employment like this, what must your personal space look like?”

  Peeking his head around the corner of the break room where he obviously spent the night again, Jeff shrugged, completely unmoved by my reprimand.

  “Come out. It’s tidy-up day. Again.”

  “But I have to—”

  “Listen to your boss before you have to explain all the other stuff that hasn’t gotten done in the past two days.”

  Jeff sniffed and rubbed his forehead. “Okay. Let me take a piss.”

  “While you’re in there, you can scrub the bathroom. You use it way more than I do, and I shouldn’t smell it as soon as I open the door to the back.” It felt good to have control of something again.

  He grumbled, but I knew he’d do it. He never chose to do anything on his own, but if he got a direct order, he followed it.

  I worked through lunch, completing orders and returning calls, without a single walk-in. Slow for a Friday, but I appreciated the quiet after the week I’d had. Jeff had moved on to a server with a nasty virus problem. I left him to it as we approached closing.

  I grabbed the vacuum to clean up the crackers from earlier. The whir of the suction drowned out any ambient noise, which was why I missed the bell at the door. Out of nowhere to my distracted mind, a woman with her hands on her hips blocked my path. I stopped the vacuum before I rammed into her expensive-looking shoes. Struggling to find the off button, I ended up just pulling the cord from the wall instead.

  A stray hair fell over my eye and I pushed it behind my ear, trying to look composed and not startled at all. “Can I help you?”

  She dropped her angry demeanor and took on a desperate expression. “I hope so. My phone has locked up and I really need it.”

  I smiled, trying to comfort her. But I didn’t need anyone else’s emotions right now. My head felt clear and I wanted it to stay that way. “Set it on the counter please, and I’ll have a look.”

  The vacuum wheels stuck a bit in the freshly fluffed carpet as I hauled it away. The woman tapped on the glass of the counter with a perfectly manicured nail. Whatever she did for a living, it wasn’t physical labor with those unmarred hands. I pushed a work order form and a pen at her. “Please write your code in the blank under the phone model name.”

  Her left hand continued to drum on the glass while she filled out her information. “It’s very old school for an electronic repair shop, don’t you think?”

  “Sometimes, those things fail us. Which is job security for me.” I tried to lighten the mood, but Heather, from what she wrote on the form, was not in the mood for levity.

  Her shoulders rocked as her hand moved to rubbing her forehead. “There’s just a lot of vital stuff on there like my meetings and contacts and I never backed it up because I couldn’t figure out how to do that and…”

  From under the counter, I grabbed my Bluetooth keyboard and the proper cords for her phone. “It’s alright. That’s what we’re here for. Hopefully, it’s just the screen which is true in most cases, and we’ll get you settled in a couple hours.”

  Her phone didn’t respond to my fingers at all. I tried turning it off and back and on and the screen remained frozen.

  As I went through my usual diagnostics, Heather dropped the pen on the paper and took to pacing a line in the freshly vacuumed carpet. “I need my calendar. I can’t function without it.”

  “Is it a Google calendar or attached to your Outlook account? You can access it from your email.” After making sure he didn’t have anything inappropriate open on his browser, I turned Jeff’s laptop around for Heather to login to her accounts.

  Heather smiled at me for the first time. “I didn’t think of that.” Her fingernails clicked in rhythm on the keys. “Yes! It’s in Google. Oh, thank god. You just saved me.”

  My fingers or toes didn’t tickle, which told me her voice sounded happy, but she wasn’t feeling it. The reduced tension in my neck, however, reflected Heather’s lessened stress. At least I was somewhat helpful.

  Her phone looked to be functioning under the broken screen as well. “And it does look like it’s just the screen. We can have this ready for you by the morning.”

  “I’ll be back first thing Saturday then.” Her hand landed on top of mine before I saw it coming. “Thank you. I could probably use a phone-free evening anyway.”

  My body flinched, but, luckily, my gloves served their purpose. Yanking my hand back, I hoped my immediate reach for her paper to give her the pink copy hid my obvious discomfort. Why did people think they could touch anyone they wanted?

  Heather seemed to be too relieved to notice my agitation. She waved exuberantly as she left, completely changed from the anxious customer who had entered. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Jeff came out of the back, tucking in his shirt. He nodded at Heather’s retreating back. “I heard the bell and thought—”

  “She needs the screen replaced on her phone.”

  “Ah, our bread and butter.” Jerry stopped at his laptop and scrolled. His eyebrows moved closer and farther apart, but the rest of his face remained unmoved.

  “Oh, I had her check her email because she needed access to her calendar immediately.” I searched the boxes behind the counter for the proper screen.

  Jeff shook his head. “I can see that. This woman is way over scheduled. I’m surprised she didn’t stand here pacing while you fixed her phone. Ooh, and she has some sort of secret rendezvous.”

  Scoffing at his nosiness, I turned his laptop around so I could log Heather off. “Seriously? She’s a customer and we don’t have the right to…”

  Calendars. Something clicked into place in my head. Albert had a calendar with Friday marked every week. I
closed my eyes and pictured the kitty calendar on the wall at the fortune teller’s house. Definitely the same day was marked on her calendar as well. I couldn’t remember what it said. If the psychic, George Martinez, had the same day marked, maybe that was the connection.

  “Here.” I slid the phone to Jeff. “Get this done for me. I have something to take care of.”

  “Again?” Jeff asked. “I’ve closed the store for the last three nights.”

  “And I haven’t charged you rent for your bed in the back.” I had Flores’s number ringing on my phone before the store door banged shut.

  “Flores.”

  “Hey, I just thought of something. Did George have a calendar with every Friday marked?”

  “Let me look through the crime scene photos.” A loud keyboard rang through the receiver. “I don’t see a calendar on any of these shots.”

  “What about on his phone?”

  More heavy clicking came through the phone. “Tech hasn’t gotten to it yet.”

  “Dammit.” I thought I’d found a connection.

  “Why are you looking for a calendar?”

  It sounded silly now. “Albert Johnson had Friday’s marked on his desk calendar, and Amethyst Redmayne had the same days marked on her kitty calendar.”

  “You’ve got a good eye.” He paused for a minute. “Maybe George Martinez had a calendar in another room? I’ll go back and see what we missed.”

  I shook my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me. My mind scoured my memory of George’s house. The lampshade and post-it were the only calm bit in the entire scene. “Wasn’t there a note on the nightstand about a date with someone? I think it said Friday.”

  “Yep. It’s right here: 7pm Friday Tracy Gee.”

  I pulled my car keys from my purse in defeat. I needed to get home and open a bottle of wine. I’d really thought I’d found something. But why would all three victims have a date with the same woman? “Okay. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

  “Fauna, wait.” Flores’s voice was laced with excitement. “Tracy Gee is a community center. That could be the connection between the victims.”

  Closer. I was closer to having answers. “They were all meeting there on Fridays?” Could there be others?

  “There’s only one way to find out. Do you have plans for tonight?”

  My keys jingled as I unlocked my car door. “I do now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  It was a bit after 7 p.m. twilight had begun, but the parking lot lights hadn’t turned on yet. My leg bounced on the floorboard of Flores’s car. He wanted to get here after meeting start time so we didn’t frighten anyone from entering the building. It was the smart move, but it didn’t curb my anxiousness to find answers.

  Flores parked in a space by a chain link fence behind the one-story brick building. Collins pulled in beside us.

  I repressed a groan. “Did he have to come? He doesn’t like me.”

  “He doesn’t like anyone, but he’s a good detective.” Flores opened the car door. “Collins, will you run license plates to see if we can find anyone associated with our victims?”

  Collins wiped sweat from his brow. “Sure. Keep the old man in the sauna while you two head into the air conditioning.”

  Flores ignored his partner’s sarcasm and motioned me to the door of the community center.

  Alone most of my life, it was weird to trust someone else. To get to the truth, I had to start somewhere. “How do we know where to go?”

  Flores held the swinging door open for me. “You’re the one with this special ability. You tell me.”

  My eyes widened as I considered using my powers on purpose. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time this week, but I didn’t think it was necessary here. “I’m pretty sure it’s an AA meeting. Maybe there’s a schedule posted?” If others drank as much as I did to drown the curse, I could totally believe that was where they’d find each other.

  Before I changed my mind, I walked into the building. Mildew floated in the air from the threadbare carpet, like in every other building older than a decade in Houston. A corkboard posted the schedule and room reservations. I didn’t see anything that said AA meeting. An HOA meeting for a neighborhood I’d never heard of, a Girl Scout meeting, and a club of some sort were the only things posted for tonight.

  Flores took the hallway of closed doors while I headed to the larger room.

  The big open space with those old-fashioned pull-out walls was divided into three sections. One held the HOA meeting with mostly older couples arguing over something they felt very passionately about. The next one held a half dozen people who huddled together in a tight circle of metal chairs.

  At first, I thought they were praying, but one of the ladies sat straight up and made eye contact with me. Her head tilted and she smiled in the most welcome grin I’d ever seen. A white woman dressed in a business jacket and tight pencil skirt turned around. She looked familiar.

  She asked the old woman with the welcoming smile, “Are you sure, Belinda?”

  In response, Belinda stood from her chair and patted the back. She seemed to be inviting me to sit down. Something very strange was happening.

  I contemplated calling for Flores, but thought I’d get more answers before frightening them with a cop. “Is this the AA meeting?”

  “Not exactly,” the professional woman said. “Though we are a support group of sorts. And judging by Belinda’s reaction, I know you belong here.”

  A black man with red-rimmed eyes crossed his arms. “I don’t think we should be inviting strangers, not after… “

  Something about his demeanor and the immediate inclusion of Belinda made me realize I was in the right group. I knew what to say, “Albert Johnson’s death.”

  “Murder, you mean,” interjected an African woman in a kaftan and glee, whose bright colors contradicted her dark anger. “I agree with Rodney. Now’s not a good time.”

  My butt touched the cold metal before I’d decided to sit. “So, you do know him. Albert Johnson.”

  I studied the group of mixed race and gender. Their grief floated in the air like fog with fear just on the outskirts. Each of them, except for the woman in the white pencil skirt, wore gloves.

  That woman with fair skin and very short, blonde hair introduced herself, her voice soft but confident. “My name is Debra, and you are?”

  “Fauna.” I thought about Flores again, but hoped he’d give me time. I wasn’t ready to share this revelation.

  Debra’s gentle face made me want to confess all of my pain, everything I’d been through in the past few days. Instead, I just listened as she talked.

  “We are all—special—here. Albert brought us together through his art. That’s why he called himself the Collector.”

  “That’s how I found him. Through a statue that screamed at me from the many remnants that made it.” I scanned the faces as they all turned to me. “You’re all cursed?”

  Debra tapped a foot. “Cursed? You’ve been alone a long time, haven’t you?” Amusement and concern took turns crossing her expression. I couldn’t feel them though. Come to think of it, everyone felt a bit muted. “We prefer the term empath as it describes both our unusual gift and our sensibilities.”

  Gift? She called this horrible ability that tortured me my whole life a gift?

  A Latinx man, who appeared no older than a high schooler, crossed his legs and leaned over them. “We can all sense the emotions of others. Some of us, however,” he nodded to Belinda who stood by a window, “can do much more.”

  “Enrique is right.” The group seemed to be comfortable with Debra speaking for them. “Some of us can read emotions if we’re close enough.” She raised her hand and so did a few others. “Some of us can read them if we have skin-to-skin contact.” Others in the group raised their hands. She indicated Belinda. “One of us can sense others of our kind without any physical contact.”

  Holy shit. All of these people really were like me. “I’m not�
�”

  The entire group spoke together, “…the only one.”

  My cheeks burned at the implication. “Can you read minds too?”

  “No,” Debra rubbed her own leg.

  I knew that move. I did it myself when I wanted to physically touch someone else but didn’t want the emotional baggage that came with it.

  She continued, “We’ve all said that exact phrase upon meeting the others.”

  My toes tingled and my fingertips went numb. In less than a week, I’d gone from thinking I was a freak, a weirdo, from believing no one would ever understand, that I’d have to hide this part of me forever so they didn’t lock me up in an insane asylum, to finding myself welcomed by a group of strangers who understood me better than Gina and Amelia, who had known me all of my adult life. My brain was on spin mode as I moved from one set of eyes to the next, unable to form any real thoughts. Then I remembered where I’d seen Debra before.

  “You were at the precinct talking to Detective Flores about Albert.”

  She looked puzzled. “I was. My husband and I had been at his show the night before. Ron reacted like a true cretin and confronted Albert in front of everyone. I had to assure the detectives investigating his death that my husband had nothing to do with the Collector’s death.”

  “Ron? Ron Elstin?” More pieces plopped into place, as the angry man at the gallery being arrested by Detective Collins flashed to the forefront of my mind. “Your husband thought you were having an affair with Albert. But you weren’t, were you?”

  “I don’t know how you know this, but I wasn’t having an affair.” Debra leaned back and crossed her arms. “My husband doesn’t understand. He thinks I’m a talented psychiatrist. I tried to tell him one day, but let’s just say he couldn’t wrap his mind around what I was explaining, so I caved and told him I was trained to read people. I met Albert at one of his shows where he always brought along Belinda, just in case. She gave me a pink rose when I came in, which was the symbol between the two of them.” She smiled weakly at the older woman. “Belinda doesn’t talk, you see.”