Untrained Eye

by Jody Klaire

  UNTRAINED EYE

  Jody Klaire

  The Above & Beyond Series

  Book 1: The Empath

  Book 2: Blind Trust

  Book 3: Untrained Eye

  Book 4: Hindsight

  Book 5: Noble Heart

  Book 6: Black Ridge Falls

  Book 7: Full Circle

  © 2016 Jody Klaire

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be

  reproduced or transmitted in any means,

  electronic or mechanical, without permission in

  writing from the publisher.

  978-1-943837-14-4 paperback

  978-1-943837-15-1 ebook

  Cover Design

  by

  A Mindancer Book

  BInk

  a division of

  Bedazzled Ink Publishing, LLC

  Fairfield, California

  http://www.bedazzledink.com

  CIG boss Ursula Frei asks Aeron for help to prevent a group of children in the Caprock Academy from becoming victims to a life that created the same deep scars Frei herself bears. But this personal request is complicated by Aeron’s dimming powers as a consequence of her actions for healing her mentor Renee.

  Although Aeron enjoys the respite from her burdens, she is forced to fake a vision, not realizing her mother, Lilia, has the same vision and ultimately allows the CIG team to get involved in the mission. Unfortunately, Aeron’s vision sees them rescuing the children and walking away stronger, and her mother sees the three agents implode and their mission unravel under the weight of secrets, misunderstandings, and hurt feelings.

  But Lilia has faith in Aeron, Frei, and Renee and still believes they can get the children out safely . . . even if it means one of the team gets left behind.

  To Sunny (SFH)—Who helped Aeron find a home.

  For:

  Mum and Em who go above and beyond.

  And,

  For anyone who is that little bit different.

  Acknowledgments

  There’re a lot of people who I would like to thank, whether they have directly been a part of writing, editing, or publishing this book. Their friendship, expertise, support, and guidance have made a difference to me. Whether named or not, their time, patience, and warmth feel much like a big cwtch!

  To you, the reader, whether a returning friend of Aeron’s hoping to see how she’s getting on, or a new one taking a chance on her, thank you. I hope that you love her new adventure, welcome in, put your feet up, and grab a slice of cake!

  Fellow Writers’ Workshop people: Katherine Hetzel, John Taylor, Brenda, Julie, all the wonderful people at the festival and online, so numerous that I would need a novel. I love being a part of an amazing community of writers. The Writers’ Workshop team, Laura, Nikki, and Co. Thank you for nurturing, supporting, and running such great festivals.

  The GCLS mentoring programs and the writing academy. A big wave to my fellow alumni from the program and a massive thank you to the staff who work so hard to run a great organization.

  To Liz McMullen, for your continued support, cheering me on and your fantastic show. You’re as cool as pie.

  Thank you to Ann and Salem for your encouragement and support. Ferb sends Lucy a kiss.

  Thank you to Lynn for your patience and hard work on the cover. Welcome aboard!

  To Ian and Pat Griffiths. You really do brighten up my week and keep things moving, improving and your laughter and joy are a blessing.

  To Team Truth: Dani Dixon, Gena Ratcliff and Karen Kormelink. You’re such wonderful ladies to know. I love that you are willing to share your experiences and your knowledge about that big ol’ beauty of a country. You bring me smiles, a lot of smiles.

  Claudia (Bedazzled and Gus Gus!) Thanks yet again, boss, for taking a chance on me, for the patience with my attempt at describing America . . . and Frei says thanks for the Bluetooth headset, it’s working great.

  To Casey (and Meka). We’ve had road trips, snow on warm mountains, deserts in scrub land, and . . . ketchup . . . (mustard, not ketchup . . . right?) Thank you for undangling participles, unraveling what British slang I’ve thrown at you and for your understanding, your patience, and getting it to make sense. I hope you are enjoying it all as much as me. If not, there’s always cat relaxation music . . .

  To Brie Burkeman. You believed in my storytelling and my writing and guided me. (I hope that you still do.) You will always be that person who helped me believe I could and for that, thank you, thank you, thank you.

  To Debi Alper. You are as cool as you look. I’ve learned so much from you, from your workshops and your guidance. You always inspire me and it’s such a pleasure learning from you. Thank you.

  To Revd. Sue and Mr B, Fr. Mike, Revd. Jayne and all those in the CNB parish, you are very much in my heart. A special thank you to Tanneke Berwick for loving Aeron and for listening to me chat about her.

  To Moira Spence, it was incredible being able to journey through the meditations with you. Thank you for the energy and light you give and the patience and guidance. Thank you also for your input and your help with Father James.

  To Sandra Moran (Sunny), your light, your friendship, mentorship, laughter, smiles, expertise, passion for writing . . . I could go on. I am blessed to have known you. Thank you for being so kind, so patient, so caring. You unequivocally rock.

  My family, those here and those in the next room. Your lives and hearts touch mine. Your stories inspire me and your laughter echoes in my own.

  Em, for laughing with me not at me (most of the time . . .) for listening to my ideas, picking up the bits I miss, for keeping vigil through the late night edits and all the little things that make such a difference.

  Mum, for reading at Frei-speed, explaining why my sentence doesn’t make sense, for loving my books, for loving Aeron and company, and all the cool things Mums do without even stopping to think about it.

  To THS, my solid foundation, I hope that this book shines with your light and your love. Thank you for loving me, for blessing me with Aeron and her stories. Love never fails.

  Jody Klaire

  December 2015

  “If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal.

  If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

  Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails . . .

  . . . And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

  —1 Corinthians 13: 1-8 & 13

  Chapter 1

  SIGHT IS A funny thing. It throws up all kinds of meanings. Looking at something and really seeing it ain’t the same thing. There’re different perspectives, I guess.

  Some folks have a vision of success or what love is. They have a way of focusing on how to achieve their goal. They pursue it without resting. It can see them become great or it can drive them to madness. It’s a risk they seem to accept and they go all out for it.

  I guess you could say that I had a unique way of seeing things. I mean, I was pretty different and my ability to see the past and present, feelings and hidden secrets of folks around me meant that I had a lot of responsibility on my Samson-like shoulders. That was okay. I was learning to live with it.

  Thi
ng was, I found it hard when people didn’t see that I wasn’t a machine that spat out answers. The Criminal Investigations Group, or CIG, employed me to be just that. I was there to save them time, or at least that’s how it felt. Even Renee started to act the same way. She didn’t seem to get me at all. Something pretty nasty happened to her which had changed her view on things. Seeing stuff through scarred eyes had narrowed her point of view.

  Renee always had a tendency to be a bit tunnel visioned. Being a protection officer could do that to a person. Her educated, highly-trained eyes seemed to miss that her attitude kinda hurt sometimes.

  I didn’t get how she let me in so close and then pushed me away. Her secrets nearly cost a lot of folks their lives in St. Jude’s. The more I thought about it, the more it got to me. I’d trusted her but she hadn’t really ever returned it. I’d thought all that happened in St. Jude’s had shown her that I was trustworthy, that I was capable of helping.

  Turned out, sometimes I could be as blind as the next person.

  She didn’t know that when I’d healed her, I’d seen it all. I’d seen everything she went through and took on board the pain. I’d been trying to shake it off but it wouldn’t shift no matter how hard I tried.

  Then, there was my mother, Lilia. She was the head of the CIG and a “seer.” I thought she was meddling more than helping. The whole basis of CIG was that we ran around trying to help people fix stuff that hadn’t even happened. I wasn’t fond of her, not after she left me when I was a kid. I had more issues with her than I could cope with so I just came to the point where I thought it best not to think too deeply about it.

  Finally, there was the hawk-like gaze of the CIG’s boss. Ursula Frei was the operational leader. She had eyes as sharp as her tongue and her views on what was acceptable didn’t always match mine. I didn’t know if she liked me all that much but she scared me more than I liked to let on.

  Women, in my humble opinion, were a pain in the butt. I’d been locked up with a bunch of them in a mental institution for eleven years but nothing had equipped me to cope with Renee’s odd mood swings, my mother’s guilt trips, or Frei’s icy glare. Not that I wanted to go back to Serenity Hills but I didn’t get why everyone was being so complicated.

  It seemed like beyond my burdens, beyond my six-foot-five frame, they’d all forgotten I was pretty inexperienced. The more they were shoving me into stuff, the more I didn’t know how to cope with it.

  Aeron Lorelei, the empath, the one who did as told and didn’t make too much fuss about it. They’d forgotten where that kind of attitude got people. I’d spent over a decade inside. There was a burning sense of injustice in my heart from it.

  Maybe one day, I’d unravel the cobwebs sticking all around me and find a way to let it all go. Maybe I’d find my own goal to set my sights on. Seeing was believing, right?

  Sometimes I’d dream I lost all my burdens. I was free to do whatever I wanted to. I wondered what would happen if I woke up and that were true. What would the folks around me act like if I’d lost the skills that made me useful? Would these women, women I’d stuck by, do the same if I got a pass to freedom?

  Would they support me and celebrate it? Would they cheer and give me guidance on how I could achieve my dreams?

  Or . . .

  Was I only good for one thing? Would they be irritated that I couldn’t make life more convenient for them? Would they support me then or would they walk away?

  Chapter 2

  THE STALE SMELL of coffee mixed with moldy sandwiches made my stomach grumble as I sat in the hot sticky confines of a Nevada police station.

  All the blinds were drawn to block out the heat, air-conditioning groaned, every door was open but it still felt like I was being baked in one of Nan’s pies.

  I hated police stations. I mean, really hated them.

  Although nobody took much notice of me, I still eyed the nearest door, ready to make a break for it. The two detectives in conversation with Renee didn’t know me but I was certain that they’d arrest me and haul my butt back to Serenity Hills.

  I guessed I would always feel that way.

  Dumb, that it had been a year since I’d been released. Even without being cleared, I would have served out my sentence and then some. It didn’t matter, I was still an ex-con. If they knew who I was, what I was, then I doubted they’d be interested in my opinion. In fact, they’d have stuck me on their huge suspects list.

  “Aeron, you want to come over here?” Renee beckoned to me across the cramped office space and I sighed.

  What could I say? No, not really. No, I didn’t want to touch pieces of jewelry that victims had left behind. I didn’t want visions of what they’d been through. I didn’t want to go through all that pain.

  What I wanted didn’t seem to matter no more and I couldn’t just stand there staring up at the notice board.

  “Comin’.”

  Trying to navigate the tiny space in the heat made me feel crankier than usual. I couldn’t quite fit in between the desks so I had to do a kind of sideways shuffle. Not the coolest impression to make on two pretty harassed-looking officers.

  They welcomed me with tired smiles. I felt for them. They wore that same exhausted, beaten expression my father once had. He was the police chief back in Oppidum, my home town, and he’d had to investigate the killings that everybody thought was me. These guys looked much the same, like they’d aged years in the months they’d been on the case.

  “They found this one last.” Renee held up an evidence bag with a wedding ring in it. Back in Oppidum, she’d have looked concerned. She would have been thinking that some poor lady had once worn it. Now, she just acted like it was another number, another case.

  I swallowed the bile gurgling up from below. I didn’t need to touch it. “Blonde hair, black roots, Caucasian. Mid-twenties. Her name was Lou-Ann.” I fought back the tingling sensation in my hands. “Strangled. The guy had a scar on his right wrist. Some kind of mark from getting burned.”

  The detectives exchanged a glance.

  “Yeah, him. Take a look under his garage.” I turned away, my hands starting to sting. It had been a month or so since we’d left St. Jude’s and Renee had been working me at every opportunity.

  I understood that she needed to block out all that had happened to her there and before it. Only, if she didn’t let up, I was pretty sure I might buckle. I’d had a headache for days. In fact, that morning I’d passed out in the shower and nearly removed my brain cells on the taps.

  My heart pounded, my hands poured with sweat and I knew I needed to get out. I needed to be anywhere but in a police station living some poor woman’s pain.

  The detectives were mumbling questions my way but I didn’t hear them. I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I felt like I was drowning. I clattered my way outside to the waiting CIG vehicle. Frei was in the driver’s seat, as always, looking happy as a bear woken from a good sleep.

  “You’re getting faster.”

  “Need a cold drink,” I mumbled, clambering into the back and slumping down into the seat.

  Frei handed me a can of ice cold pop. We’d figured I needed sugar after seeing stuff. “You look like crap.”

  “I feel it.”

  Her eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Then we’re done with this.”

  Not sure I’d heard her right, I cocked my head.

  “You’ll be no good when you do have a job if you keep going like this.” Her icy blue eyes met mine before she slid on her aviators.

  “She won’t like it,” I managed between shuddering breaths. My heart was doing weird fluttering things.

  Renee stepped out of the station on cue and Frei shrugged. “She’s not in charge.”

  No, she wasn’t but Renee was still in charge of me. She was a proper agent while I was just a nobody who bundled around reading people.

  It felt like she was mad at me for it too.

  “They’re bringing him in. They’re going to see if they can get a warran
t for the guy’s arrest.” Renee climbed into the front with Frei without so much as a glance at me.

  I’d noticed she’d begun to separate me from every part of her day and it hurt. Maybe in logic, she was trying to find a way to do her job. I closed the door to the back, telling myself that again and hoping it would help.

  Frei pulled us out onto the dusty highway. I could feel her watching me behind her lenses somehow. She saw more than any of us did. She saw an over-arching picture that none of us had a clue about. I couldn’t explain why I felt that way but I was glad she had that burden, not me.

  “Hopefully, they can stop him now,” Renee said, slipping on her own sunglasses.

  “They will if they listen to Lorelei. It’s up to them now.” Frei glanced to the left before switching lanes.

  I sipped my can, trying to hide my surprise at her praise.

  “What do you mean?” Renee frowned. I felt her anger rumble off her.

  Here we go.

  “Lilia wants us back at the base. Lorelei needs to rest.” If Frei had noticed the frown dipping below the line of Renee’s glasses, she wasn’t showing it.

  I was glad somebody was taking notice though ’cause I was ready to curl up and sleep where I was.

  “But—”

  “We’re heading back. Deal with it.” Frei’s tone was cutting and Renee flinched.

  “Lilia have a vision?” Renee asked, her shoulders sagging.

  Nice to know that she cared for my welfare.

  “No.” Frei sped up as we hit the open road. My stomach rolled with it. “She doesn’t want Lorelei run into the ground.”

  “She’s fine,” Renee muttered without so much as a glance at me.

  “You guys realize I’m back here, right?” Great way to make me feel inconsequential.

  Renee stared out at the scenery as if I hadn’t even spoken.