Cuff Master

by Frances Stockton

  “If I see her among the B&S guests, I’ll let you know,” Alex told Remy.

  Alex left them, though she didn’t miss the look he gave her. She’d added in the information about Remy and Eve just to throw him off thinking she was on a date with Remy Sinclair.

  It wasn’t a date. Not a romantic one, anyway. Why should she feel guilty for it?

  She felt guilty because she’d hurt Ethan. There were no promises spoken between them, but beneath the light of a full moon, nothing had been more miraculous or spectacular than kissing Ethan Maddox.

  Dammit it all, Morgan wouldn’t be able to enjoy the rest of the evening if she continued to let Ethan think her evening out with Remy was a date.

  “Morgan, are you okay?” Remy asked, touching his hand to the menu to lower it.

  She’d not realized she was staring at it. “Yes, I’m fine. Do you mind if I go speak to Alex for a moment? I just want to ask him something.”

  “Sure, how about I order for us?”

  “That’d be great. Thank you. Whatever you choose will be fine.”

  Alex watched her approach. He signaled to one of the servers, whispered in the young man’s ear and came toward Morgan. It only took a look for her to know to follow him to the alcove off the foyer.

  “What the hell were you thinking to bring your date here, Morgan?” Alex demanded as soon as they were out of earshot.

  “It’s not a date,” she corrected.

  “Isn’t it? You’re dressed in a way that I’ve never seen you. Your hair’s out of your face for one thing and your non-date was checking out your ass when I pulled out your chair.”

  “Remy’s a flirt, but he’s harmless. I should also point out that he was checking out your ass when you walked away from the table.”

  “Since I’m a happily married man, he’ll only be disappointed. Morgan, Ethan’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out about this.”

  Morgan shook her head. “Remy and I are talking business. I need the money he’s offering if I go to work for him and his team.”

  “What kind of consultation would you do?”

  “Basically, I’ll touch objects Remy or his team members bring to me and give them a reading.”

  “If all this with Remy is about business, why do you look so lost? You’re here, but your mind is elsewhere. I’m thinking it’s on Ethan.”

  “My friendship with Ethan is complicated.”

  “Why? He screwed up once and has made amends. He didn’t mean to hurt you. You’ve got to know that.”

  “He doesn’t believe in me.”

  “Yes, he does. Taran, Phalen and Samantha Riley have all said that when you called Ethan to tell him where Michael Donatelli had taken Cassie, he never second-guessed you. He didn’t quite understand, but he knows it was you who saved Cassie’s life with a phone call.”

  “He hates that I’m psychic.”

  “He hates that sometimes you get sick when you’re caught in a vision. The unexplainable is hard to believe for a man who must follow facts and admissible evidence to solve cases. Don’t hurt him by dating someone else.”

  “I’m scared, Alex. All my life men have left me or let me down because they can’t handle my sixth sense. Ethan has a power over me that I can’t explain. I don’t know what to do about it.”

  Alex cocked his head, his brow raising a hair. “Yes you do. You need to have a little faith in him. I learned that with Ryan not that long ago. Don’t keep pushing Ethan away or you could end up brokenhearted.”

  “Already there,” she admitted, recalling the finality of his phone call. If she didn’t call him back, he wasn’t going to call her.

  “That didn’t sound good. He knows where you are tonight, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he was pissed.”

  “Yes he is. If I don’t call him, he won’t call on me again. He’s given up.”

  “Don’t you see? He put the power to have a relationship with him in your hands, Morgan. It’s scary as hell for a Dominant to turn control over to the one person who can break them. For Ethan, that’s you. Call him before it’s too late.”

  “When did you become so wise, Alex Grant?”

  “When Ryan put a ring on my finger. I was too proud to bare my soul to the man who’d never knowingly hurt me. We were both foolish for too long. I won’t repeat that mistake again.”

  “He’s a good man,” Morgan stated. “You know, you should give Remy a chance to investigate this place. I’ve done a little, but his team has the best equipment available. Think about it.”

  “For your sake, I’ll let him.” Alex inclined his head. “But if he keeps staring at your ass as if he wants to own it, I won’t play nice.”

  “I’ll tell him to back off. He did that to get a reaction from you. You weren’t exactly nice when we came in.”

  “It’s my duty to watch over Ethan’s woman. I’d do the same for Cassie.”

  “You forget that I haven’t called Ethan back yet. I’m not his.”

  “You make that call, you will be.”

  “I’ve got to get back to my table. Please be nice to my friend?”

  “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

  “Thank you, Alex.” Smiling, she went up on tiptoe and kissed his cheek.

  Leaving Alex in the alcove, she returned to the dining room. Remy looked up and grinned. He was a handsome devil, that was for sure. Too bad her heart already belonged to Ethan. And that was what scared her the most.

  Remy stood and assisted Morgan into her seat. “Everything okay?” he asked after returning to his chair.

  “It’s fine. Alex has agreed to let your team do an investigation here. You’ll have to work out the schedule and explain what it’ll involve.”

  “I’ll talk to him after we eat. I ordered vegetable lasagna for both of us.”

  “Great. I’m starving.” It wasn’t a lie. She was hungry enough to eat. Whether she’d taste it was another thing. Her mind was constantly on her small purse where her phone resided.

  The server came over to place a basket of warm breadsticks on the table and refill their goblets with sparkling ice water. Thoughts of phone calls were put on hold as she and Remy thanked the waiter and began talking about the television show.

  Conversation centered on how lockdowns worked, the equipment Remy’s team would use and Morgan’s role. Remy already knew that some antiques and items in so-called haunted buildings or homes were contaminated or replacements of the originals and getting an accurate reading could be difficult.

  The more people who’d owned an object, the more complicated its past. But some things—bullets, bricks, stones, weapons, clothing, photos, shoes and diaries—had stories to tell. They became as vivid to Morgan as reading a book from start to finish. Those were the reasons psychometry was a gift.

  Dinner arrived piping hot, the aromas of tomatoes, cheese, zucchini, spinach, mushrooms and noodles were wonderful. Morgan and Remy were halfway through their meal when she realized she couldn’t stomach another bite if she didn’t reach out to Ethan.

  “Remy? Do you mind if I make a dash to the ladies room? I need to make a phone call.”

  “No problem.” Remy took his phone from his pocket and checked it. “Except the reception I’m getting on my cell sucks. The battery is low too. I just charged it on my way to your place.” He showed her the touchscreen.

  Morgan leaned forward. “The energy I’m getting in this place is weird tonight. Here in the dining room, all’s fine. But I feel drawn to the basement. I can try to get some EVPs after talking to Ethan.”

  “Between the party and the bar, there’s a lot going on down there, Morgan,” Remy said. “The noise will interfere with your findings.”

  “The ladies room is huge and might be soundproof enough to muffle conversations. I’ll tag the digital recording for any explainable sounds.”

  “I’ve got a spirit box in my car,” Remy replied. “Want to take it with you?”

  “No
, my recorder will do for now. The constant radio frequency scanning of a spirit box tends to grate on my nerves after a little while. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  Leaving her purse on her chair, she stood, grabbed her cellphone and small recorder, tucked them into the pocket of her skirt and headed to the stairway that led downstairs. The elaborate restrooms were located on the lower levels, with handicapped equipped bathrooms off the main dining room.

  This past Friday, Morgan and the bridesmaids had taken over the ladies room in order to fix their makeup or hair or check their gowns. Tonight, she rushed down the stairs and entered the bathroom expecting the eight-stall facility to be crowded.

  Only one of the stalls was occupied. The customer finished up her business and rushed out to wash her hands. Coupled with restlessness, the woman was surrounded by an aura of sadness. She was dressed in a navy blue pinstripe skirt, white blouse and coat that screamed practical and sedate.

  The hum of conversations from the bar reached the restroom, setting off low-level vibrations that would make gathering EVPs difficult. Despite that, Morgan felt very strongly that she was supposed to be in this bathroom with this woman right now.

  “Hello,” the woman greeted.

  Come to think of it, Morgan felt as if she’d known the other woman before, only the person she’d known had been a teenager.

  “Pardon me if this sounds odd, but you look very familiar to me. Weren’t you at the Williams-Maddox wedding Friday night? I’m Alisa Bailey. I attended with my husband, Spencer.”

  Alisa was a petite attractive woman with brunette hair that she’d pulled back into a bun. She looked to be about fifty, though stress had begun to line Alisa’s eyes and mouth. The more Morgan studied Alisa, the more she saw someone else…Jenna!

  The sadness pervading Alisa’s soul grew stronger, draining some of Morgan’s energy. The lighting in the restroom became annoyingly brighter, putting a strain on her eyesight and creating a haloed affect around anything she tried to focus on.

  Aware that the strain on her eyesight meant a headache was looming, Morgan didn’t let it stop her from communicating with the other woman. Alisa smiled, looked absolutely beautiful, but she was empty, lost.

  Rubbing at her temples to keep the migraine at bay, Morgan smiled back.

  “Yes, actually, I’m Morgan Everhart. I was Cassie’s maid of honor. Please forgive me for not recognizing you. Cassie Maddox’s sister Alessandra used to work at Bailey and Stratham.”

  “Oh yes, what happened to Alessandra Williams was such a tragedy. We were so honored to receive an invitation to Cassandra’s wedding. Spencer and I are regular members of her father’s congregation, but we were surprised nonetheless. And such a gorgeous man Cassandra married! Any woman would count herself lucky to have him.”

  “Phalen’s a genuine hero.”

  “Just as his brother is, Detective Maddox, I mean. He and his partner helped my family sixteen months ago. I’ll never forget their compassion after we lost our daughter.”

  “I am so sorry to hear that. But I’m glad Ethan helped you. Might I ask what happened to her?”

  “She ran away to be with a boy she’d met online. Detectives Riley and Maddox tried to find her for us. Sadly, the boy she’d gone to meet was actually a predator. She…she was found in a warehouse with some other girls of similar age, murdered and burnt beyond recognition.”

  “I can’t even imagine such a thing.” Suddenly, Morgan recalled the scent of smoke and apples that’d clung to the tuxedo.

  In her experience, spirits revealed themselves to her in ways that didn’t often make sense until sometime later. Jenna had been giving the only clues she could.

  Two things had been very prominent to Jenna when she’d died, the scent of apples and smoke. Apples had been stronger, leading Morgan to think the girl died near a farm stand that sold apples, not in the fire.

  “Are you all right, Ms. Everhart? You’re trembling,” Alisa said, moving closer.

  “I’m fine,” Morgan insisted. “I’ve a bit of a headache.”

  “Would you like some Tylenol or aspirin?”

  “No, I’m hoping it’ll pass.”

  “I should get back to the party, boring as it is. I’d far rather retreat to my orchard.”

  Alisa looked off toward the bathroom door. It was obvious she needed to get back and wasn’t sure why she made such comments to Morgan. Something within Alisa was compelling her to remain. Morgan knew that something was the woman’s daughter.

  “Wait!” Morgan jumped in before Alisa could escape. “You mentioned an orchard?”

  “Yes, my family owns one of the oldest apple orchards in Massachusetts.”

  “Where’s the orchard, Mrs. Bailey? I’d like to visit sometime.”

  “It’s centrally located off Route 2 near Concord. Andrews Farms and Orchard has long since gone from apples to selling all sorts of vegetables. My sister Maura runs it now. But it’s my solace. I feel closest to Jennifer there. She loved apples, especially apple cider.”

  “Mrs. Bailey, if you’d like to talk further, come see me at my shop in Salem. I know it sounds strange, but I’m psychic and I believe…I believe your daughter was at the wedding reception last Saturday night. I’d thought she’d come for Ethan. Now I think she was there for you.”

  “My Jennifer is dead! Some sicko tried to sell her in an online auction. When the police tracked him down, he killed them all, all those girls! The only saving grace is that vice detectives apprehended Terrence Mills and evidence at the scene helped put him away for life.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s a relief to know the bastard got what was coming to him.”

  “Obviously your headache is causing you to say such outlandish things.”

  “It’s not my headache, ma’am. I saw Jennifer. She had long dyed black hair set in pigtails, dressed in Goth clothing and looked much like you, very pretty, with kind eyes and intelligence.”

  Alisa raised her eyes. Her sadness had been replaced with self-loathing. Drawing back, Morgan felt the onslaught of negativity and guilt.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Mrs. Bailey.”

  “If I hadn’t hired that witch Erica White, my daughter would have been found alive. Detectives Maddox and Riley wouldn’t have focused so hard on my husband, my husband, as the primary suspect in her disappearance. They’d have found Terrence Mills before it was too late!”

  “Where is Erica now? I could talk to her for you.”

  “I hope to God she’s dead somewhere in a ditch for all the pain she’s caused me and my family. Excuse me…”

  Alisa Bailey’s voice trailed off and she left. It wasn’t until after the door closed that Morgan felt goose bumps shiver over her skin. The room’s warmth had been invaded with a coolness that couldn’t be mistaken.

  Even though no one else was in the bathroom, she wasn’t alone. Sharp pain sliced through her skull, creating the headache she’d known would come if she continued to use her gifts.

  The lights flickered rapidly, adding to the discomfort. Time stood still.

  Reaching out to God to be certain she wasn’t communicating with something other than Jenna, she remained very still, listening and praying. The most frightening thing about talking to the dead was the ability for evil to mask itself as something innocent.

  Children were frequently the devil’s greatest trick. When she felt protected by God’s goodness, she opened herself further to Jennifer.

  “Jenna, if you’re her, please show yourself. Use me if you must.” She turned on her digital voice recorder by rote as a vague impression of a girl slowly manifested in front of the door where Alisa had gone through.

  Just as she’d seen last Saturday night, Jenna presented herself in her favorite clothing, combat boots, a lot of black, a dog collar and dyed black hair set in pigtails. This was what she’d been wearing when she died.

  “See this device in my hand? You can talk to me and others will hear you. Let them he
ar you. Nod your head if you understand.”

  The teenager inclined her head, her image shimmering.

  “Was I just talking to your mom, Jenna? Or do you prefer Jennifer?”

  Jenna, the girl said, nodding.

  The pain lancing through Morgan’s head became harsher, threatening to make her pass out. Refusing to cave in to pain, she took it, used it.

  “You weren’t a runaway, were you?”

  No. I only wanted to meet a boy. I’d never been on a date. He understood me.

  “Was I talking to your mom?”

  Yes.

  “Is there something you want me to tell her? Is she the one you want to save?”

  Cops weren’t wrong. Father’s the liar, not Erica. Mom needs to know the truth before it’s too late.

  “Do you know what happened to you or where Erica is?”

  The girl shook her head, possibly unable to answer because she didn’t understand the question or didn’t want to understand. She faded some as she turned to reveal a deep crimson gash in the back of her head.

  Blood rained down Jenna’s back, covering her, covering everything it had touched.

  Morgan feared she’d be ill for days after this, but it was well worth the sacrifice if she could help Jenna. “Your father hit you in the head?”

  Not my real daddy, second father. He bought me, held me down, she struck me. Wasn’t strong enough and he finished the job. Help her, please. Help my mom before it’s too late to save her.

  “Your stepfather is Spencer Bailey?”

  Jenna nodded. The smell of apples and smoke became cloying. Morgan grew weaker. The pain in her head grew sharper. Her strength wouldn’t be enough for the EVP session to continue.

  Turning off the recorder, Morgan lowered her hand. “You did well, Jenna. Thank for being in my presence. Go and rest.”

  On instinct, Morgan punched a number on her cellphone. The signal was weak and it had very little energy left, but the call went through…straight to voicemail.

  All she could do was ask for his help. “Ethan, it’s me. I need you. Hurts, my head hurts. He hit her in the back of the head, blood went everywhere. He killed her. Please come.”

  The phone went dark, drained of its battery just as the lights went out.