Into the Abyss: A Psychic Visions Novel (Psychic Visions Series Book 10)

by Dale Mayer

  She found Jericho standing and watching. With an imperceptible head nod she motioned to the house, turned and walked back inside.

  Before the forensic team arrived she had a few minutes. She checked but they were alone. “Did you find anything?”

  “Not much,” Jericho said. “The Ghost’s energy came out of the vehicle, then walked down around the block.”

  “He didn’t go in the house?” she asked in surprise. She turned to study the big empty space, wondering how many man-hours were going to be wasted checking to make sure there was no evidence here. But it was a step they couldn’t afford to miss. Just because psychics had information didn’t mean they didn’t miss it too.

  “Not that I could see.”

  “How far did you track the energy?”

  “A good block away before it disappeared. He seemed to be on foot the whole time.”

  “Strange.” She called the team members who were still at the office. “You need to find a second crime scene. A Robert Greene was killed there, dumped into the trunk of his car. The killer then drove the car to Greene’s house.”

  “Cold. That’s so cold,” Lawrence said. “If the crime scene is here we’ll find it.”

  She didn’t understand what the Ghost was up to. If the girl wasn’t part of the string of cases connected then maybe he was returning bodies to the home.

  She stopped and pondered. The old man died in his house. Gordon died in what passed as his home. She didn’t know what was happening with the woman in the trunk. But certainly in terms of their latest victim he’d been returned home. As if he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he should’ve been at home where he belonged. Which considering the janitor had been killed while he was at work if this man had been killed around the same time, it would imply that he’d been working late – and not home where he should’ve been.

  Then why not take the janitor home?

  With her mind trying to grapple with this new theory she realized Jericho stood close, a curious look on his face. She quickly explained the connections. “For all I know it’s just a stupid theory,” she said. “But we have links to home and to being in the wrong place at the wrong time when they should’ve been home.”

  What about the electrician?

  “Originally – with the crime he saw – he wasn’t supposed to be there. He left to get tools, came back and went downstairs, working without saying anything. The killer didn’t know that,” she said. “Gordon wasn’t supposed to see the murders because he wasn’t supposed to be at the house.” She waved her hand. “We may never know why he was there. If he was just passing by or intended to go into the house.”

  She refrained from saying my house. “And no, I don’t remember ever seeing him there.”

  She motioned at the house around her. “This Greene guy was at the office, likely working late. Depending on his time of death we’ll probably find he was alone and bit of a workaholic. He should’ve been at home where he belonged. So what I’m thinking now is maybe the killer took out the janitor first. Our victim here saw it happen and he had to be dealt with. The killer didn’t have a chance to go back for the janitor so left him where he was.”

  But that has nothing to do with being at home. And he was exactly where he belonged.

  “And maybe that’s why he left him. Maybe the janitor was working that shift and that’s where he should’ve been. Whereas this guy should’ve gone home.”

  Jericho looked at her. So he’s putting people back where they belong?

  “Maybe? It’s a stupid theory, isn’t it?”

  And the woman in the trunk.

  She stared at him. And her shoulders fell. “I have no idea. At least not yet.”

  Sounds like our killer has OCD. He can’t leave his victims in the wrong place, but he’s taking a hell of a chance moving the bodies.

  “Like many OCD people he feels he has no choice.”

  Do you know anybody like that? he asked curiously. I’ve known some people that were anal about stuff but not like this.

  “My mother was pretty bad – except she wasn’t this bad.”

  How old was your mother when she died? He asked so absentmindedly she took no offense.

  “She was coming up on her fifty-third birthday.”

  Older than I expected.

  “Yeah, she had me and Travis just past her fortieth, I think.” She shook her head. “Believe me, it’s not something I ever focused on. Travis and I were the youngest by a good seven years. I’m sure we were quite a surprise at that time in her life.”

  *

  It happens though. He had more questions about her family but knew it was still a trigger point for her.

  “Don’t worry about it. I’m getting better talking about them.”

  Good. He studied her face. She looked better. Stronger, younger. Happier. It looks like the energy shifts in your system were a good thing for you.

  Her laugh was harsh, difficult.

  He winced. Or you are just really good at hiding.

  At that she snickered. “Both but the process isn’t done. I’m still feeling pretty raw on the inside. And I’m seriously exhausted. If I wasn’t running so much energy right now I’d be comatose.”

  I have to ask. Do you think there is anything locked away in the memory of what you went through that would help you to find the killer now? He kept his voice low, soft, gentle.

  She shook her head. “No. I’ve thought about it a lot over the last couple of decades. If there was, I’d have done anything to unlock it. At least I’d like to think so. Chances are I don’t know anything anyway. You have to remember I was only twelve. I was traumatized. And I never really got to see who it was doing this to us.”

  Why is that?

  “Because I wasn’t in the same room as the others.”

  He stopped and stared at her. What? You weren’t.

  She shook her head. “No. For whatever reason I was in a small, dark room similar to where I found Anna, but I could hear everything going on in the other one. Any time he came into my room brought more pain and fear. But it was always in the dark. I never did really understand that or why I was separated, when everybody else was together.”

  There has to be some reason why you were segregated.

  In a voice so soft he could barely hear her, she whispered, “I know. I’ve thought of nothing else over the last twenty years. But I don’t know what the reason is.”

  You do realize if you can ever figure that out we have a good chance of catching this asshole.

  She raised her gaze to him, tears brimming in the corner of her eyes. “I know. I’m so terrified it’s somebody I know. That I was locked up because of it.”

  He shook his head. No, you would’ve been killed like your mother and sister.

  “My mother, sister, and brother,” she whispered.

  “No. Wait. I’ve heard you talk to your brother. I figured I read the report wrong and he survived.”

  With a sad smile she reached down into her pocket and pulled up the phone and handed it to him.

  Not understanding exactly what was going on, but realizing it was important, he studied the phone. It was an older model. Like one of the earliest small pocket sized phones with a flip top.

  When she turned it over and removed the small back panel his nonexistent eyebrows rose.

  There were no batteries.

  The phone doesn’t work? He studied her features, the tears slowly tracking down her cheeks. And then he understood. You talk to his ghost, don’t you? And that made a crazy kind of sense. He’d met Travis in the park but hadn’t managed to put two and two together until now. Even then Travis was looking out for his sister – Tavika.

  Her bottom lip trembled as she nodded. “He was killed the first day. He talked to me right away. As if he knew ahead of time what was happening. He was so angry and devastated. And because we were connected like always, I never really lost the connection. But I learned very quickly people don’t like it when yo
u talk to ghosts.”

  She gave a bitter laugh. “I saw shrinks, counselors, and psychologists. I saw every professional in the book. And finally I learned to watch my tongue. No, I don’t see my brother. No, I can’t talk to my brother. No, I have no idea why anybody would imagine that I could do such a thing. Yes, I understand my family is dead and buried.”

  With a flick of her wrist she gave the phone a shake. “I found this on the ground one day a good fifteen years ago. And I realized I had the answer. It gave me an outlet to talk to Travis without anybody knowing. Without people thinking I was crazy. It’s a habit now. He talks in my head sometimes too, like you and Stefan can, but a lot of the time when I’m with people you will see me pull out the phone and talk to him.”

  As he stared at the dead phone in her hand, it started to ring. And ring.

  Chapter 32

  Tavika walked into her apartment an hour later. More dead than alive. Normally she wouldn’t have left before all work was done, but she was finished physically and mentally.

  Jericho stood in the middle of the room waiting for her. He frowned when he saw the fatigue on her face. “This has got to stop.”

  She dropped her jacket and holster on the table, kicked off her boots and walked to her bed. “I’d love for this to stop but until we catch the Ghost there’s no rest for any of us.”

  She crashed once again face down. She wanted to just nod off and be done with it. Wake up tomorrow and have it all be over with, but she knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. She rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. “This is no life.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that,” Jericho snapped, stepping closer. “Get up and into the shower. I’ll have a hot bowl of soup for you when you get back out then you can crash and burn.”

  She stared at him. “So not happening.”

  “You do it or I do,” he threatened.

  She narrowed her gaze, feeling her temper spike. “Oh, I wouldn’t go that direction.”

  He stared at her, hands on his hips. “You have been running wild for way too long. Burning the candle at both ends until you’re ready to drop, and you do this to yourself day after day after day. How long do you think you can live like this?”

  Just because he was right didn’t mean she wanted to listen to it. But instead of anger, confusion washed over her. She didn’t know if she cared or not. She was hungry – yes. Tired – yes. But her mind wouldn’t shut down.

  Did she want that hot shower? Hell yes. Maybe to confuse them both as much as anything she swung her legs over the bed, stood up and walked into the bathroom.

  There she stripped down and stepped under the hot water. But like everything else today the shower was different. The feel of the water hitting her skin…the warmth…both odd…different. Unique. Refreshing. Soothing. She took her time shampooing her hair, letting her fingers massage her scalp, loving the feeling as her body became reacquainted with nerve endings she’d ignored for so long. She didn’t know how much of this was from Dr. Maddy’s work and how much was just from releasing all the old energy. But it was like she was living in a whole new space. It wasn’t that it was uncomfortable but it wasn’t comfortable. Like she was a visitor in her body now.

  That would improve with time she knew, but at the moment there was such a weird disconnect. She turned off the water and stepped out. Wrapping herself in a towel, she used a second one to dry her hair and feet. She should’ve brought something to sleep in. Then realized she probably didn’t have anything. Walking back out she headed to her dresser to pull out clean underwear and a large T-shirt.

  With her back to Jericho she pulled the T-shirt over her head. He was in the kitchen doing whatever magical things he did in there. She had used the kitchen in the years she’d lived here, but it never produced anything for her like what it did for him.

  “Come and sit,” Jericho called. “The soup is ready.”

  She sat down obediently to a hot bowl of chicken noodle soup. It smelled heavenly. When he popped a few pieces of hot, buttered toast in front of her, she shamelessly moaned in delight.

  “Glad to hear you’re enjoying this.”

  “It’s wonderful. I could feel something changing, sharpening inside, but everything has been so chaotic I haven’t had time to analyze how or what.”

  “And it’s likely to take you several more days to figure it out.”

  She nodded, not wanting to waste time or effort on words. Her energy was fading, and she wanted to get through the soup and toast before she completely collapsed.

  That was something else she was struggling with – she couldn’t judge her energy reserves. It was as if she expected to have more than there was and came up empty. She didn’t like that.

  She just needed to make it through this. She did not want to get caught short again.

  Finally, she pushed the empty bowl away and looked up at him. In a heavy voice she asked, “Now can I go to sleep?” Not waiting for an answer, she stumbled to her feet and still in her T-shirt and underwear, walked back to the bed – and collapsed. She barely had enough time to notice he’d pulled the bedcovers back so she landed on the sheets, not on top of the bedding.

  She appreciated the gesture. At another point in time when her brain was actually functioning, she’d tell him so. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep with Solomon comfortable on her belly. When a heavy weight joined her on the bed she barely murmured. When an arm crept around and tucked her up against a warm, solid chest she just snuggled deeper.

  She woke several hours later to find a furnace at her back. One of the reasons she slept on top of the bed fully dressed – besides exhaustion – was because she didn’t get hot or cold that way. Her body had found a comfortable level of temperature and just maintained it. But tucked under the covers in minimal clothing with Jericho beside her, her body had overheated to the point of waking her up.

  Solomon must have gotten hot too, he’d retreated to find somewhere else to sleep.

  She rolled over onto her back and studied the sleeping man at her side. Who knew the sexy man who walked into her office several days ago was a big marshmallow? He did nothing but look after her. She didn’t understand how that worked because she’d never had anybody do it for her. Especially when she’d done nothing for him. She hadn’t even thanked him for putting on soup. She’d just accepted it, eaten, and then gone to bed.

  “I didn’t do it to get thanks,” his deep gravelly voice whispered close to her ear. “I sure hope I misheard that nickname. You did not just call me a marshmallow, did you?”

  She laughed. “You’ve done nothing but be a caregiver to this lost soul. That makes you a pretty big marshmallow in here.” She poked his chest. Instantly his hand reached up and covered her fingers, flattening them against the smooth warm skin.

  Remembering his words upon their initial meeting about them going to bed together, she understood she’d taken that sexual reaction and stuffed it down deep inside. She hadn’t known or trusted him then. It was as if she walked in some kind of dead zone at the time.

  Had that energy been released with all the rest? Because it felt different now, she felt different now. There was something so very attractive about all that power and control. But to know he had a softer side…that was seriously sexy.

  Instead of that initial urge to jump his bones was a wish for something gentler, tender. Like a shoot of a fresh flower in spring. Hopeful as it opened to the sun for the first time. Trusting that this move would take her someplace she needed to go. To fulfillment, to joy. To a life best lived.

  His eyes were closed and he lay there just breathing gently. She knew he wasn’t asleep but neither was he pushing.

  As always he was accepting of her choices.

  She let her fingers wander across his large chest up to his shoulders, finding tiny little scars there. They whispered up to the five o’clock shadow on his chin. She smoothed over the rough texture, smiling at the rasping sandpaper sound.

&nbs
p; He growled lightly. She let her fingers slide down across his shoulders, to his massive bicep and forearm. His hand was curled up on the bed between them.

  She slid her fingers between his.

  He squeezed her fingers gently and then released them. She let her head rest on the pillow beside his, a smile at the corner of her mouth. This was special. She’d jumped plenty of men’s bones. But it was an animal mating. A ritual giving way to physical need. She didn’t know what this was.

  But she wanted it.

  And she knew he wasn’t going to push either way. He’d let her make the decision. With a cheeky grin she smiled, closed her eyes and jumped into his mind.

  And found him waiting for her. A blending of minds like no other.

  Have you ever made love with another psychic? She asked.

  When it came his answer was like a warm wind brushing down her spine from the inside out – heartfelt. No, you will be the first.

  He slid his hands up to the side of her face and tugged her close for a kiss. But it wasn’t just a kiss, it was…something new. Like all the old energy had disappeared and taken the old experiences away with it. The impressions, judgments, the criticisms – were all gone. She was starting new.

  And the touch of his lips, the warmth of his tongue…the sexy slide of those long fingers against her scalp…the heat coursing through her…the shivers all over her skin…

  It was almost too much. He rolled her over to lie on her back and smiled down into her eyes.

  In her mind, he whispered, And yet it’s not enough. He lowered his head and kissed her.

  Loving, caring, it was like being enveloped in a warm hug. Tenderness and passion rolled into one. Inside and out. The kiss started at her lips and went to her toes, leaving her barely capable of thinking. He deepened the kiss, a gentle stroke of his finger wiping away the tears rolling down her cheeks.

  Tears she had no idea were even there. She opened her eyes. “Everything feels so different.”

  He smiled. Perfect, then I am the first. The one person you’ll remember after this.