Chasing Morgan

by Jennifer Ryan

  “You assume she doesn’t already know all that. Nothing has changed. Her father can’t find her. If he could, he’d have done it already. As far as her helping us, I don’t think she will. At least, not any time soon. You didn’t hear her horrible scream. It’s more than the press conference. I think she knows this will lead to something else,” he said without really thinking it through. “Whatever,” he said, frustrated. “Leave her alone. It’s apparently what she wants. It’s what she’s always wanted.”

  With that, Tyler left. He turned his back on Sam and all the Morgan business and headed out to be with Maria.

  Sam called after him. “Don’t you think it’s odd that her father lives here and heard the press conference? Don’t you think it’s odd that it upset her they connected her name to us? What do you think she knows that we don’t?”

  Sam threw his pen at the cubicle wall. With a bounce, it fell to the floor. Tyler was long gone and neither one of them could sort this out, or get Morgan off their minds. Frustrated and angry with Tyler, Sam grabbed his stuff. Time to go home to his wife and get the kiss waiting for him.

  Chapter Eight

  * * *

  MORGAN WOKE UP on the sofa feeling drained and empty. Her throat and eyes hurt from crying herself to sleep. She didn’t know the time, or even care. She just wanted Tyler back. The gaping hole inside her hurt with a pain she hoped to never feel again, but dreaded she might live with the rest of her life.

  “Tyler.” His name was a plea, a prayer that he’d come back to her.

  Morgan closed her sore eyes, calmed herself with a couple of deep breaths, and pictured Tyler in her mind. She used all her talent to push her consciousness into Tyler’s, to find the connection they once shared and feel whole again.

  Like anyone else she tried to read, she caught vague impressions. Something strong shrouded him. She couldn’t push through, but she tried. She called out to him, hoping he’d answer. “Tyler.”

  For a moment, she became one with him. He sat on an unfamiliar sofa, a pizza box lay open on a coffee table, and the TV brightened the otherwise dark room. Barely awake, he sat in a daze, not really seeing or hearing anything around him. He didn’t notice her intrusion on his quiet solitude. Everything about him felt different. The hurt and pain matched her own. She wanted to erase it, but didn’t know how. Even now, the connection to him seemed so tenuous and fragile. It took everything inside her to stay with him.

  His voice broke the silence for the first time. “Make it stop,” he thought.

  She knew just how he felt. She wanted this agony to cease and for them to be together and joined once more in their intimate connection.

  A woman called Tyler’s name, and just like that a door slammed on her, blocking her out of Tyler’s mind and sending her consciousness back to the reality of her spot on her sofa with a massive headache to go with her loneliness.

  She opened her tear-filled eyes and stared at the cold, dark room and realized he didn’t want her anymore.

  Her fault. She’d kept things between them on a purely professional level. Every time he pushed to deepen their relationship, she balked and evaded, despite how much she truly wanted to be with him. He didn’t understand why she did it. She never told him a little boy’s life hung in the balance and she could not, would not jeopardize him for her own selfish desires. Telling him would have complicated things further. He’d understand soon. She hoped.

  Her gift had cost her so many things in her life. She’d given them up willingly so she could be who she was, but losing Tyler hurt. Today, she thought her gift more curse than anything. One day soon, she’d see Tyler again, but she didn’t expect a warm welcome. More than their connection had been damaged; their friendship and whatever else they might have shared suffered. She didn’t know if Tyler would ever forgive her for sharing her gift and taking it away.

  Maybe she should call him. She immediately thought better of it. The raw pain ate away at both of them from the small glimpse she’d gotten. They needed time. She’d try again tomorrow. Maybe then he’d let her in.

  She didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t, because she needed him to survive what came next.

  Chapter Nine

  * * *

  DAMN THAT PSYCHIC witch. If it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be here. He didn’t like the little shop filled with pewter dragons baring their sharp teeth and claws, their crystal eyes staring at him. No matter which way he turned, they followed him. Accusing.

  He clenched his sweaty palms. What if she knew his real reason for being here? Would she do the reading, or call the police and have him arrested? The longer he waited for her to speak, the more nervous he became.

  He scoffed at the little potion bottles on the table near him. One for love, wealth, health, and wisdom. As if purchasing a glass bottle of some stupid liquid with a cork in it could bring you love, or make you a fortune. Not likely.

  Little leather pouches hung from silk cords you could wear around your neck to ward off evil, or bring harmony to your aura. Glass and stone spheres in every color imaginable sat atop ordinary pedestals, and some so ornate they were more interesting to look at than the spheres. Candles made the colored glass orbs sparkle and cast eerie lights in the dark room.

  The overwhelming scent of sandalwood and jasmine incense really bothered him. Hot and stuffy, the scents filled the air in the small room to the point of suffocating him. He sniffled and wiped his running nose on his sleeve.

  The woman, wrapped in a long purple flowing hooded robe decorated with astrological signs, sat across from him chanting some sort of nonsense. The large clear crystal ball sitting on an elaborate stand between them mirrored everything in the room in inverted reflection.

  Suddenly, she stopped and stared across the table, her gaze penetrating and intrusive. A bead of sweat made a track from his hairline down his temple until he wiped it away from his cheek.

  “Do you have the donation?”

  Donation, my ass. She wanted payment before she told him what he wanted to know. A simple question. He needed a simple answer. He passed over the twenty-dollar bill and wiped the sweat from his brow again. His shirt stuck to his back.

  “Ask your question of the universe? Madam Sarina will provide your answer.”

  “Does she know who I am? Can she find me?”

  If Morgan saw that man take those women and identified the ship he kept them prisoner on, she could see him. He had to stop her—and all the others—before he ended up on the news too.

  Not a lot to work with, but Sarina had been doing this gig for a few years and made decent money selling her trinkets and passing out contrived information to those seeking answers. Some came looking for fun and a cheap thrill. Others were desperate.

  Desperate didn’t begin to describe this guy. If her instincts were correct, he wanted to know more than he asked. His eyes constantly moved over the room, and he shied away from the dragons on the shelves. He seemed to be afraid of the answer he expected to hear.

  She didn’t know which answer would satisfy him and make him leave. She had an overwhelming need to get him away. Slight in build, short for a man, nothing particularly threatening about his appearance, but something about him made her apprehensive. His presence, something in his eyes, those always-moving eyes were dark and shadowed with something she couldn’t name. When she looked at him and those eyes, she thought of death. A chill ran up her spine like someone stepped on her grave.

  That had nothing to do with being psychic or seeing what others couldn’t. She wasn’t gifted in that way. She read people well, and her innate interest in others created the perfect job for her. With a little help from some books on body language and how to tell if someone was lying, she was pretty good at figuring out what people wanted to hear. When she couldn’t read them, or the question was too specific, she winged it and made up an answer general enough to cover most anything.

  She didn’t care what they asked, whether for themselves or someone else. She m
ade sure they had a good experience in her shop and they left satisfied. On rare occasions, she even told them she just didn’t know. When that happened, they sometimes were upset, but most of the time they were content with her honesty. Better that than insincere, vague answers.

  On this particular night, the customer wouldn’t be satisfied with the universe has left your answer clouded in mystery. He wanted an answer to his question. And for him, this was serious business. She hoped she said the right thing. Because the guy looked like he held onto his patience and sanity by a thread.

  “Madam Sarina is in contact with the spirit world. They want you to be more specific. Who do you want to know about?”

  “Morgan. Does she know who I am? Is she going to cause trouble for me? She gave me the information about the job, didn’t she?”

  The guy leaned so far forward on his chair she thought he might topple it and the table. Intent on her, she got caught up in those eyes. Usually, she’d drag out the reading and give the customer a good show. Not tonight. Tonight, she wanted this guy gone.

  “She gave you the answer you needed.”

  “She did. She was right. She’s always right. It’s the other. Will she tell?”

  She didn’t know what the ‘other’ was, and she didn’t want to know. This guy wanted to keep his secret. Better to tell him what he wanted to hear. Maybe then he’d be satisfied and leave.

  “She told you what you needed to know. The spirits assure me she doesn’t have anything else to tell. She won’t cause you any problems.”

  “You said she doesn’t have anything else to tell. That’s because she already knows. She knows. Do you know too? Can you see what I did?”

  She had no idea what he meant and shook her head no, leaning back to put some distance between them and the dangerous vibe that made her want to run.

  He leaped across the table and grabbed her around the throat and they both fell to the floor. The chair and table toppled, and the crystal ball clattered across the floor. She gasped for air, choking, and desperately tried to call out for help.

  “Can you see what I did?” He squeezed harder and slammed her head against the wood floor. Her feet kicked and scuffed behind him. “Can you?”

  She stared into his dark eyes, saw the madness and her own death. She didn’t know what he’d done before; it didn’t matter, he was going to kill her now.

  She’d worked more than fifteen years in the psychic-reading business without seeing anything. She hadn’t seen her own death coming. Maybe this was her due for cheating all those people into believing she saw something they didn’t.

  The world around her turned black as her killer’s eyes.

  Now she can’t tell.

  He’d rid himself of the psychic, Madam Sarina. He’d get rid of all the psychics. A clear purpose took hold inside of him. He’d kill all the psychics. He’d eliminate Morgan. Then, none of them would see. There’d be no one left to tell.

  He slipped out the back door and into the acrid-smelling alley behind the shop. Garbage cans overflowed. Foggy, the eerie smoke-like mist swirled around him as he quickly made his way down the dark alley. The streets weren’t very busy in this part of town at this time of night. More homeless people than tourists or residents. This part of town catered to the keep-to-yourself-crowd rather than to people who were likely to notice him leaving an alley in a hurry and report a suspicious person in the neighborhood.

  He made his way to his small, cramped apartment above a bank of storefronts. Old and musty, most nights it smelled of fried duck and ginger from the Chinese restaurant downstairs.

  Quiet, no one bothered him. That’s what appealed to him.

  He tore off his jacket just inside the door and sat on his old faded brown plaid couch. Sagging in the middle, worn fabric, but it was his. He could sleep on it, eat on it, and do whatever he pleased without anyone telling him to keep his feet off the furniture.

  His mother had ruled his world and nagged and fretted over every little thing he did until he couldn’t take it. He’d taken care of her during her illness. She’d suffered and made him suffer for it. Every ache and pain caused by the cancer had worn away what little happiness and love she’d had for him, until she’d become even more temperamental and accusing. She’d blamed him for ruining her body, her life, and leaving her in writhing pain. Of course, before the cancer she’d blamed him for every man who’d ever left her. She’d blamed him for not being strong enough, smart enough, or enough of anything and everything.

  He leaned his head back against the couch and gazed up at the dingy ceiling and thought about how powerful he’d felt with his hands around Madam Sarina’s throat. He’d been enough then. Enough of a man to take her life. He’d silenced her. She’d never tell his secret.

  He pulled his head away from the couch and looked down at the coffee table and the phonebook open to the listing of San Francisco psychics. He’d start with them. He’d rid himself of the seers. Then he’d be safe. He’d find Morgan too. Once he found her, he’d make her pay. His mother always accused him of never seeing anything through. He’d see this through.

  Morgan started this. He’d finished it.

  He picked up the pen next to the phonebook and scratched out Madam Sarina’s shop. The Psychic Eye wouldn’t be open for business tomorrow.

  For the first time in his life, he felt calm, almost happy. He tossed a frozen dinner into the ancient microwave and set the timer. He’d eat and he’d plan. His mother had always told him, if he only made a plan and followed it through, he could accomplish anything. Maybe, just maybe, she’d been right on that one point. He knew what he had to do. He had a purpose.

  Chapter Ten

  * * *

  A WEEK AFTER the press conference, Tyler realized he hadn’t accomplished anything at work. At first he found himself waiting for that sultry voice in his mind. When he didn’t hear it, he got angry. His head wasn’t in the game, and Sam had to cover for him more times than Tyler wanted to admit. Sam finally had enough and told him to take a few days off, get his head clear, and get back on the job. Tyler would have normally told Sam to take a hike off a cliff and mind his own damn business. But in this case, he found the vacation idea tempting. More so when he factored in Maria and a trip to Hawaii.

  A few days turned into ten, but he’d needed the time off and to prove to himself he could make a relationship with a woman work.

  He and Maria hadn’t bickered in all of those ten days. They would talk over dinner, or spend a quiet evening enjoying the food with few words between them. If she preferred he kept the conversation away from the topic of his job and the many horrors he saw on a daily basis, he couldn’t blame her. His type of work didn’t fascinate everyone. Frankly, he was tired of talking about it himself. He lived it every day. He could keep work and his personal life separate.

  Sam called him several times the last couple days of his vacation. He ignored every call and message. Whatever had been going on at work, he didn’t want to know. Sam had told him to clear his head, and just when Tyler took his advice, Sam tried to suck him back into work.

  When they returned late Thursday night, Tyler asked Maria to stay with him at his apartment. Afraid of breaking the spell, sending his life back to the way it had been, he didn’t want to go home to an empty apartment and an empty bed. It wasn’t even the sex. The island vacation proved they didn’t need to make love every night. Just being together was enough.

  At least that’s what he thought, until his first day back at the office when he walked down the aisle to his cubicle and caught Sam kissing Elizabeth. They clung together so tightly that every inch of her pressed to him. The intimacy of the embrace struck Tyler in the heart. Nothing else around them mattered. Caught up in their love for each other and their desire to express that love blocked everything else out.

  He hadn’t realized he’d stopped outside his cubicle and stood staring until a high-pitched voice brought him back to his senses.

  “Up. Up. Up.”
>
  Little Grace held her arms up to him and waited to be picked up. He obliged the angel and kissed her soundly on the cheek. She patted his shoulder and laid her head on his chest for a rest while she sucked her thumb. She smelled of baby powder, soap, and just sweet baby.

  “Hi, Gracie. Did you miss Uncle Tyler?”

  She didn’t answer, and based on the weight of her head on his shoulder, she was pretty well on her way to a nap. He snuggled her closer and held her tight as Sam and Elizabeth broke their embrace. A soft blush colored Elizabeth’s cheeks. Beautiful as always, the swell of her belly reminded him the second addition to their family was on his way. He felt the familiar pang of jealousy. He almost wished he’d been the one shot and drugged in front of her house. Maybe then she’d be kissing him and the baby girl in his arms and the one on the way would be his. Sam’s happy life would be his. It wasn’t, though. Elizabeth belonged to Sam in a way that transcended their simply being married. They were connected to each other. You could see it, feel it.

  He glanced at Sam and ignored the disgusted glare. “You got her. Can I keep this one?” He indicated the sleeping Grace in his arms.

  “You can’t have either of them. If you weren’t holding my daughter, I’d deck you.”

  Sam turned to his wife and kissed her again. Long and soft and so full of love that his heart ached. He hadn’t seen her in three days and he missed her. “I’ll see you tonight. I hope.”

  He ran his fingers lightly over Elizabeth’s cheek, down her neck, and over her shoulder and down her arm. He hated to leave her. He’d only gotten to see her and Grace for a few minutes in between meetings, and now he had to leave. They had to come all the way to his office so they could see him. He felt badly that Elizabeth had finally given in and come after him.