by D. L. O'Neal
"Going out?" Wolf asked casually.
Kalesia shot to her feet. "Now wait just one minute. You're going out? Now?" she asked, mistrusting the too casual question. Gabriel nodded. "Not without me you're not," she said heatedly, moving to stand in front of him, her arms crossed.
"I wouldn't dream of it." A fleeting grin touched his hard mouth.
Kalesia looked from Gabriel to Wolf. "I think I've been had."
"You have a suspicious nature, witch." Gabriel curved his arm around her shoulders and directed her out the door.
"Hah! Comes from hanging around with you. You'd make a nun suspicious. Where are we going?"
"To see a man about a missing person."
"SNEAKY. REAL sneaky, Steele," Kalesia mouthed in an aside as Gabriel held the glass door open and motioned her inside. "You know I hate these places."
"Tom will be crushed to hear that." Gabriel steered her around an arguing couple, wondering why he didn't have that tight feeling in his chest that being involved in anything remotely resembling an investigation usually gave him.
"Yeah, sure, right. If he's anything like you, it'd take a two-ton boulder to crush him."
"I'll be sure to tell him that. Right after I tell him how much you like the yellow slicker."
"Isn't it illegal to blackmail a person in a sheriff's office or something?"
"Only if you get caught."
"Gabe! Back so soon?" Gary Parker looked up from the report he was filling out, surprise written on his plain face.
"Place grows on you after a while." He squeezed Kalesia's hand warningly when she started to open her mouth. "Harley here?"
"He's here." Deputy Parker grimaced. "He's in a helluva mood, though." He jumped as Harley's door slammed open.
"Parker! Do you have that report read--" He noticed Gabriel and Kalesia, and scowled. "What are you two doing here?"
"We need to talk."
"Why not? My day's already shot all to hell."
Harley settled into the chair behind the desk. "Well? And I warn you, Gabe, I don't want any more murders. I have enough on my plate as it is," he muttered.
"How about missing persons or John Does?"
Harley groaned. "You know, Gabe. A fella could get really tired of seeing your face." He pulled a yellow legal pad toward him, and cocked his head.
"I need to see if you have any matches for a vision Kalesia had about two years ago. You know, one of those I asked you to check into nearly a week ago."
"Don't start. Do you have any idea of the number of crimes that come through this office in a day? This place is like a madhouse. I have more to worry about than possible murders more than two years old." It was the first time Gabriel could remember Tom Harley sound defensive. But, then, being around Kalesia could do that to a man.
"Even after Kalesia led you to a body?" Gabriel queried sarcastically.
Harley nodded. "Even after. Right now we're assisting in the search for two children that disappeared. On top of that, the body of a hiker was found handcuffed to a tree in the Forest." Harley's voice deepened. "Yeah, you could say I had more to worry about." Tom Harley met Gabriel's eyes in a look of mutual understanding of what he hadn't said. Harley cleared his throat. "Any special reason to wonder about that particular vision now?"
"What caliber of bullet was Crump shot with?" Gabriel asked instead of answering.
Harley gave him a hard look. "9mm. Why?"
Gabriel nodded, his hunch confirmed. "The man I want you to run a check on was shot in the head with a small caliber round."
"And that makes you suspicious?"
"Hell, yes. Anything that has even a remote resemblance to what's happening currently makes me suspicious."
"You're grabbing at straws, Gabe," Harley warned.
Gabriel leaned back in his chair and pinned the older man with a hard look. "That's why you sent her to me, isn't it? Because I'm so damn good at grabbing straws?"
Kalesia looked from one man to the other, uneasy at the tension she sensed running beneath the surface. What on earth was going on?
Harley tapped his pencil on the pad. "Give me the details again, Gabe. I'll see what I can do."
"You're sure that's all you can remember?" Harley aimed his question at her though it was Gabriel who'd given him the concise rundown on the details of the vision. She nodded.
"That's it. Even though that vision took place over two years ago, the details are very clear in my mind. It's hardly something I would forget."
Harley reclined back in his office chair and steepled his fingers over his stomach. The chair groaned alarmingly. For a moment, Kalesia expected the rickety swivel chair to collapse. When it didn't, she decided it was like Harley, himself: a little used, a little battered, but rather dependable underneath it all.
"Okay. That's enough to get me started. If I turn up anything, I'll give ya'll a holler. What is it?" Harley barked, when Parker knocked once and stuck his head inside the door.
"Senator Morne's on the phone again. Line three." Gary Parker delivered the message and ducked back out.
"Shakespeare was dead wrong," Harley grumbled darkly. "It's the politicians we need to get rid of, not the lawyers."
"I read somewhere that most politicians are lawyers," Kalesia couldn't resist murmuring.
"Which goes to show you, Miss Brannigan," Harley recovered quickly, "what a model of efficiency looks like. By getting rid of the politicians not only do they become an extinct species, but the lion share of lawyers do likewise!"
He made a short, shooing motion. "Go. Get. Let me tend my headache in peace." Rubbing at his temple with one hand, Harley picked up the phone with the other.
"I see you made it out alive, Miss Brannigan," Gary Parker greeted her after a quick check to make sure the door was closed securely.
"Barely." She smiled wryly. "Somehow, I get the feeling your Major doesn't care much for the political system."
"Now, ma'am, whatever gave you that notion?" Gary Parker grinned back. "The boss is a good man, but politicians tend to give him a rash." His expression turned serious. "Morne's been riding the Major pretty hard. Seems like he's been appointed the head of some crime task force. That, along with his bid for reelection, means he's been hanging around here tighter than a tick on a wet hound dog."
"He's finding fault with the Department?" Gabriel asked, taking an interest in the conversation.
"Not really. At least I don't think so. It's just he's asking all kinds of questions and sticking his nose everywhere. Making us all kinda nervous. I'll be really glad when the election's over." Another deputy walked up, a sheaf of papers in his hand.
Gabriel gathered Kalesia with a hand under her elbow and started toward the door. "Bye," she called back over her shoulder.
"See you, Miss Brannigan," Gary and the other deputy called out.
GUT-WRENCHINGLY real images slid through Kalesia's defenses like a thief through an unlocked window.
Unable to move, he waited for the pain.
Ghost-like fingers slithered down his spine, leaving blood in their wake--tiny droplets that turned into a river that welled into a carmine cascade.
Agony exploded and saturated the night....
"Wake up, Kalesia. Damn you, wake up!" Gabriel commanded.
She woke with a start. For a long moment she stared at him, not seeming to recognize him, then she flung her arms around his neck. Underneath his palms an uncontrollable quivering racked her slender form. Her gown stuck to her body. His own skin, he knew, was cold and slick with a thin film of sweat.
Finally, a long moment later, he gripped her upper arms and held her slightly away. "What the hell was that about? You nearly scared me to death with your moaning and flailing about." Gabriel swallowed a hard lump, remembering the tortured groans that had rent him from his own restless sleep. God, he would never forget the sounds. "I thought someone was killing you!" he ground out, unable to prevent his hands from roaming over Kalesia to make sure she was in one piece.
/> "Oh, God, Gabriel! They were torturing him."
He stiffened. "They were torturing whom?" he asked carefully.
"That poor man. The one I saw tonight."
"You had another vision?" he clarified guardedly.
"Yes. No. Oh, God, I don't know," she wailed, tears trembling on the tip of her lashes. Her head fell forward and pressed against his damp chest.
"Calm down and tell me what you saw." He rubbed soothing circles on her back.
Kalesia took a shuddering breath. The sound cut straight through Gabriel. "This poor man was strapped to a table and they were torturing him."
"Who was torturing him?" Gabriel held her tighter as her trembling increased.
"I don't know. I couldn't see their faces. I'm sorry," she whispered.
"What about the man being tortured? Could you see his face?" Inside, he felt ready to crack, to shatter into pieces like a poorly repaired bowl.
She shook her head, long strands of her hair catching and clinging in the dark matt of hair covering his chest. There they gleamed like strings of silken fire against the ebony darkness. "His face was too covered in blood and bruises for me to see any details of his features. I'm sorry," she whispered again, her tongue touching a tiny drop of blood on her bottom lip.
"Shh, don't apologize. You can't help what you do or don't see." Gabriel rested the side of his face against the top of Kalesia's head, before he dipped his head and kissed her. The sharp tang of blood flavored the kiss. He broke the kiss and tucked her head under his chin.
"There was so much pain, Gabriel. I could feel waves of it." He could barely understand her. She lifted her head suddenly.
"Gabriel?" she paused. He waited, a deathly stillness inside him. "I could almost swear it was the same man as the one I told you about previously. You know, when I saw Crump's death?"
He began breathing again. "I thought you had finally decided it was Crump all along."
"I know, but now I'm not so sure. There was something very familiar about that man in my vision tonight." She inhaled. "It sounds crazy, doesn't it?"
He hesitated. "Maybe it was Crump both times. Maybe the familiarity you're sensing is because you saw him in the earlier vision."
"How do we find out for sure?" Kalesia smoothed a finger almost absently over his nipple, before tracing the wickedly curved scar that stretched from shoulder to ribs. Gabriel caught and stilled her fingers.
"I'll ask Harley tomorrow for the result of the autopsy."
"He's not allowed to give you that information," she protested.
"I have no scruples about blackmail, remember?" He forced a slight smile, all too aware it didn't reach his eyes. He was getting that closed-in feeling. Gabriel shook himself, focusing on what Kalesia was saying.
"If the man in my vision isn't Crump that means someone else is in danger, doesn't it?"
"In danger? Not dead?"
Kalesia went absolutely motionless. "In danger." She spoke slowly. "I did say that, didn't I?"
"Whoever it is, he's not dead, is he?"
"No," she said softly before her voice gained strength. "No, he's not dead."
"Yet," he amended.
"WHAT DID Harley say?"
At Kalesia's impatient query, Wolf Devlin looked up from sorting stacks of official looking paper into manageable piles. His glance, bright with interest, slid from her to Gabriel.
"Crump wasn't tortured before he was killed. At least, not physically." Gabriel ran a hand behind his neck in frustration. "It seems that no sooner do we find a lead to follow than it sprouts ten more shoots."
"Am I missing something?" Wolf asked quietly.
Sam and Badger looked at each other in puzzlement and then turned toward Gabriel. "If you are, so am I," Sam said in his soft, southern drawl.
"I wasn't sure until I talked with Harley that I had anything to tell you." Gabriel met each of his friends' eyes.
"Now that you've talked to Harley?"
"I'm just as mystified."
"Let me explain, Gabriel." Kalesia crossed and sat next to Wolf on the sofa, careful not to disturb the papers. "Last night I had what might have been a vision." She stuck her hands between her knees and rocked back and forth. "I say might have because it was different from usual. It was as if I were seeing through the victim's eyes, but I couldn't get a sense of anything else. But what's so confusing is that I think I've had a snatch of this vision before. The same night I saw Crump get killed."
"Jesus!" Badger shot to his feet. "Kalesia, why didn't you say something this morning?"
"Because I couldn't be absolutely certain that it wasn't Crump. Ever since I had the vision of my own death, my visions have been erratic, strange. Before, there was at least a consistency in the manner they occurred. Now, sometimes I see through the victim's eyes, while at other times it's like I'm watching from the sidelines. Don't you see? The last time I saw this man I believed he was a fragment of the Crump vision. One blurry and out of focus because I was fighting it so hard. I didn't want to--I didn't dare say anything until Gabriel checked it out with Harley."
"So now we have another body to find." Sam's voice was grim.
"No. Now we stop the person behind the threat before the man in Kalesia's vision becomes a body." Gabriel's voice was even grimmer.
GABRIEL AND his friends had disappeared into Kalesia's old bedroom where the computer was set up, each man carrying a stack of client files, their faces filled with the somber realization that time was running out.
Kalesia wondered around the house. When she'd offered her help, they'd told in no uncertain terms that she'd be more hindrance than assistance. She had neither the training nor the objectivity needed. Protest, Kalesia discovered, was futile.
She couldn't help but feel a bit resentful. It was her life that was in danger. She should be helping, not twiddling her thumbs. She stalked into the living room, the silver unicorn on her ankle tinkling gently. She would go stir crazy if she didn't find something to do.
Kalesia looked about her. Really looked about her. The first night she'd been in Gabriel's home, the bleak austerity of his home had disturbed her on a very basic level. She'd been too distracted since staying here, however, to pay the decor much mind. Now, the urge to ruffle the severe lines of Gabriel's home made her palms itch.
A wicked smile curved her lips. If Gabriel didn't like the results, well, he had only himself to blame. It was his fault she had time on her hands.
Kalesia studied the prosaic furniture and the neutral painted wails. What this place needed was a little bright, splashy color and clutter. So did Gabriel. It couldn't be healthy to be this neat and...and mundane.
She mentally weighed the result she pictured in her mind against Gabriel's initial outrage. She shrugged. He'd get used to the effect. She began exploring to see what she could find.
Tucked away in the attic, Kalesia unearthed some throw pillows--elated to find them in her favorite bold yellow--and a few brightly-colored paintings, and spent several minutes arranging them to her satisfaction. She couldn't imagine Gabriel buying the eye-popping items, and came to the conclusion that they belonged to former owners of the house.
Two hours later, Kalesia stopped to survey her handiwork. Not bad. Not bad at all. Of course, it would be better if she could retrieve some knickknacks from her place, but on the whole, not bad.
The pillows added life to the living room, she decided. As did the painting of the ocean at sunset. It wasn't a masterpiece by any means, but it was cheerful. She'd hung an old quilt behind the couch. Now, Kalesia admired the effect. It added a homey touch. Kalesia's mouth quirked. She'd love to have a camera handy to capture Gabriel's reaction. The expression on his face would be priceless.
Out of the corner of her eye, Kalesia saw a plume of dust race down the road, and recognized the mail truck. Walking out to the box, she sorted through the mail automatically.
Odd. One of the letters was addressed to her, a large manilla envelope. Kalesia tapped the legal size
envelope on one thumb nail. Perhaps Tom Harley had found some information he believed useful and sent it along.
Back inside the house, out of the broiling heat, Kalesia studied the envelope closer. There was no return address, but it was postmarked yesterday. Opening it, she shook out the contents.
Several black and white photographs drifted to the floor before she could prevent them. Kneeling, she reached out a hand to gather them only to use it to cover her mouth instead. Nausea rose, threatening to choke her at the vile images.
Scenes of graphic images of torture and death were scattered like confetti on the floor. Sinking down until she was sitting on the wooden surface, Kalesia's mind vehemently denied what it was seeing. Dazedly, she remembered the envelope.
She reached for it and opened it again. Inside she found several reports. Bitter bile rose, clogging her throat and making her eyes water. Or was she crying? Kalesia shook her head. It didn't matter. What mattered was what she held in her hand.
Kalesia reread the reports a second and then third time, forcing herself to understand the typed words. They didn't change. She wasn't aware of rising. Stooped and bent like an old woman, she gathered the damning evidence. She made herself look at the pictures, one at a time. Kalesia shook her head as she tried to refute the evidence in front of her eyes.
Yet, it was undeniable. The truth was spelled out in black and white.
There was a slight sound. Kalesia looked up from the horrifying pictures. Gabriel stood at the base of the stairs. From his stillness, Kalesia knew he realized something was drastically wrong.
He had been lying to her all along.
Gabriel Steele hadn't been a police officer, undercover or otherwise.
"You were an assassin."
Chapter 9
A SHUTTER dropped like a stone, veiling the grey eyes of all emotion. Gabriel glanced at the reports and photographs clutched in her hand. Kalesia hadn't the faintest idea what was running through his mind. It was almost as if she were back at their first meeting, confronted by a stranger who eyed her with cold dispassion.