Behind Blue Eyes

by TL Schaefer

  I stared at my clenched fists, not looking at Roney, who’d been my strength when bringing Foudy on board. I was all alone now, as I had been for so many years. I should have been used to it by now. So why did it have to hurt so much?

  “Roney has a lot of it transcribed, but I’ll tell you everything, under one condition.”

  “I don’t see how you’re in any position to make demands, but go ahead, give it a shot,” Davis replied congenially. Uh oh. When he got all grandfatherly, it was never good.

  “If Amy comes in, we interrupt our interview so I can see her, reassure her that it’s okay. I’d like to watch her regression, from the observation room, of course.”

  Davis considered, then nodded. “Don’t see what harm it’ll do. Now spill.”

  So I did. I heard Foudy grunt in assent on some occasions, surprise in others. She’d never heard the full, unadulterated version. Hell, even Brian hadn’t. But I didn’t hold anything back this time, giving it to them blow-by-blow, and as I neared the end, and the inescapable horror of what Green had planned on doing, I felt Brian’s leg press against mine in silent support. It was a nice gesture, but didn’t come close to easing the ball of ice that had formed around my heart. If I’d thought reliving the bits and pieces I’d told Brian was hard, this was pure agony. A phantom surge of electricity curled through me, the sting and bite of the blizzard that had raged that day echoed in my fingers and toes.

  All in all, the retelling sucked majorly, but I felt purged, truly purged, for the first time ever.

  As I finished, Lisa tapped on Davis’s door. “The Singletons are here, Chief,” she hollered through the closed door.

  Davis stood, his expression flummoxed. “I guess that’s our cue.” He walked around the desk. “You and I will be discussing this in Observation One...alone.”

  I greeted Amy with a big hug and a sad smile, which she seemed to understand. Hell, maybe empathy was her talent. I introduced her to Bob Sanders, the psychologist, told her what we needed her to do and that I’d be watching from the other side of the glass. That seemed to perk her up and reassure her father, who’d been watching me with stern eyes. The fact a pastor would trust me, of all people, over the police, was pretty laughable.

  Davis and I walked into the other room and took our seats in silence, eyes trained on Amy and Sanders.

  “I don’t know what to believe, Sara,” Davis finally said, his tone quiet, pensive.

  Like Roney, he called me by what I now considered my real name, and it made my throat clench up. I cleared it with a little cough. “If it’ll help any, I wrote you a very long letter before we left for CASI, and in it was information that I have no right in having. I’d rather not hand it over though, if you don’t mind. It was written in case I died or they discovered who I was and forced me back in. Now, I don’t see that as much of a threat. CASI has changed from what I remember.”

  He sighed. “I don’t even want to know what you see when you look at me.”

  “I haven’t,” I replied, glad that I hadn’t, glad that I could answer everything honestly now.

  “Ever?” He sounded surprised.

  “Ever. I guess it was a respect thing at first, and now I wouldn’t dare. You’re too sharp. You would’ve caught it.” I slipped him a wry smile.

  He nodded, totally serious, but I could tell he was pleased by my remark. “So what in the hell do we do now? If everything you say is true, this Burke could be almost anywhere in a tri-state area, or even down the road in Fort Worth. And we’ve got no way of knowing where. And just so you know, I’ve worked with psychics before, back before it became acceptable, at least to the extent it is today. I’ve known what you are for years, tried to utilize you in ways that would help us, and maybe even you.”

  I grunted. “I’m not psychic, but if Amy can get us into wherever he held her, I might be able to narrow it down.”

  “Hell, Sara, if you’re not psychic, I don’t know what to call it. I’m glad you’re on our side and not still at that place, even if it has changed.”

  Amy was just going under, and I focused my attention on what Sanders was asking as I replied, “Me too, Chief, me too.”

  I returned to my loft totally drained, with Xena panting happily in her carrier.

  We’d narrowed down the search circle to a thirty-minute radius around the mall, which left a whole lot of ground to cover. I couldn’t do squat to help the police unless or until they found where Wes had stashed Amy.

  I’d vowed to help her and catch him, but I had to wonder what we were going to do with him when we caught him. With his gift, he could anticipate almost anything, anyone, except Brian.

  That brought my exhausted brain back full circle to the thoughts I’d been trying to avoid since he tipped my chin up this morning.

  I was a survivor—I’d proven that time and again—but what was the use of surviving when you took no joy from your life?

  No, I wasn’t contemplating suicide or any such thing, but I was depressed as hell. A guy like Roney was a once-in-a-lifetime gig. Never mind that I’d fallen for more than the sex. Brian was a good guy, the type you grew old with, raised kids with. Until him, the idea of living that kind of life hadn’t even occurred to me. Now the complete and utter loss of it was all I could think of.

  I freed Xena from her carrier and walked to the fridge. Three wasn’t too early for a beer, was it? Even if it was, I didn’t give a damn.

  I sank into the couch and laid my head against it, beer perched on my knee. Xena hopped up next to me and pushed her cold nose into my palm. As much as I appreciated the unconditional love she gave me, I’d tasted more and wanted it all.

  The thing was, Brian was the type of man to forgive almost anything...but a lie. If I’d popped out my contacts as soon as I saw Wes’s Bureau profile, I’d probably be in the bedroom by now, deliriously venting my frustrations through good, sweaty sex. Instead, I had my dog and a dose of weary anger for companions.

  When the door opened behind me, I went rigid with shock. Hadn’t I locked it? Had I been wrong? Was Wes still in Dallas... Was he here, with me?

  As I dropped to the floor and moved into a better position, I heard the click of heels on the hardwood.

  “Throwing yourself a little pity party, Covington?” Foudy’s voice mocked me from the doorway. “Figured I’d identify myself so you didn’t pop my ass.”

  I stood, disgusted. “What in the hell do you want, Foudy?”

  She strode into the living room and eyed me critically. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of groping for my glasses. I was getting tired of her superiority complex, and there was no way in hell I was gonna feed it.

  “What did you do to Brian?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but she held up a hand.

  “I know you two fucked. That much is apparent. But you both look like hell and I want to know why.”

  “It’s none of your business,” I said as coldly as I could, and dropped into the armchair, allowing myself a split second of pout.

  “It is when he’s my best friend.” She ambled over to the fridge and grabbed a Shiner of her own before settling onto the couch. “Talk to me, Covington. What turned you two from looking at each other all googly-eyed into only glancing at each other when the other isn’t watching?”

  I looked long and hard at her. What did she have to gain from this? Especially after our little knockdown-dragout this morning. The wedge between Brian and me was a chasm, so nothing I said could make it worse. Besides Brian’s feelings, what was in it for her?

  “Nothing,” she said softly, as if reading my mind. Her aura was now a subdued brick, but as hard as I tried, I couldn’t anticipate what she was going to say or do next. “He’s my friend, Sara, and I want to help, even if that means I have to knock your heads together to make it happen. Yeah, we were together a long time ago, years before I was married, but we didn’t click in that way. In friendship, though, I’ve never had a better man watch my back. Here or on the battlefield.
”

  Because of her admission, I told her. I was jealous of the closeness they shared, yeah, but she’d been straight with me, and I could see the truth in what she’d said.

  The words tumbled out of my mouth, stumbling over themselves in their haste to be heard. I told her of Brian’s Nullness, of my unknowing omission when it came to the color of my eyes, of how I didn’t understand what the hell was going on, but I wasn’t going to ask because I was tired of being the odd man out—in life and in love. Of how last night I’d thought I couldn’t be hurt any worse...until I met Brian’s eyes this morning...and heard the finality in his tone. When I finished, tears were leaking slowly down my cheeks.

  I swiped them away angrily. The last time I’d cried had been the day I escaped CASI, when I thought everything was lost and didn’t care one way or another what happened. I stopped in mid-motion. Wasn’t that what I’d been feeling since this morning, really?

  To give Foudy credit, she didn’t try to console me, but looked at me with pity in her eyes. “Jesus, Covington, when you fuck up, you don’t do it small-time, do you?” She sighed and took a swig from her beer, then absently tapped her wedding band on the neck.

  “Listen, it’s Brian’s place to tell you this, but since he obviously hasn’t, and probably won’t, I guess I get to. He was married, back in the day. She was a cute little ball of fluff, kind of like your dog there. Harmless, had about two brain cells rubbing together, but Brian adored her.”

  Foudy made a moue of disgust that made me smile. It was strained, but she’d done it. She had my undivided attention when she continued.

  “Brian was a cop back in those days, before he cross-trained into pararescue. We were deployed to Iraq, were there for a long time, longer than anyone originally thought. When we got home, we were different. Not in a bad way, but when you see the Highway of Death firsthand, it kind of changes your perspective. And Cara, well, she’d grown a backbone while we were gone. Got a job, become really active in the spouses’ club, that kind of thing. She wanted kids, the sooner the better. She didn’t much care for the changes in Brian, and let him know in no uncertain words.”

  “Post traumatic stress?” I guessed, almost afraid to break into her monologue, even as I wondered why Brian hadn’t mentioned he’d been married...especially before we had sex.

  “No, nothing like that, but Brian was a ‘real’ cop after that, not one who drove around the base looking for speeders, y’know? He’d tasted action, and as much as it tore him up while we were there, he missed it. Cara hated the changes in him. Hated the fact he’d get that thousand-yard stare, probably a bunch of other things too. So she started seeing another man. When she was supposed to be going to school, she was dating.”

  I pressed the cool beer bottle against my swollen eyes. It felt frighteningly good, but my heart ached for Brian. For us.

  “The douche she was banging was one of our old squad mates who was perfectly happy being back stateside. Not one of our friends, mind you, but someone we’d trusted to watch our backs. When Cara finally got the balls to tell Brian about it, I don’t know that he was totally broken up about losing her, but he was despondent over the fact she’d cheated on him, lied to him. Because in his book, that’s the one thing you don’t do.”

  “And by not telling him about how similar Wes and I were, at least superficially, I did just that.”

  “Yeah, because you had to know the second you laid eyes on Burke’s profile it was something important.” Now she sounded as tired as I felt.

  “But it isn’t, not really. We’re not related or anything.”

  “It was important enough for you to let it go, now wasn’t it? Enough for you to lie, even by omission?” She’d leaned forward, forearms braced on her knees, and was eyeballing me like a cop looking for a lie.

  I sat there in the silence, knowing she was right. It had been the last thing that was mine, the last secret I had when I’d never bared my soul to anyone but Wes. I’d held onto it without even realizing why. God, I was such a dumbass.

  “I’m not your biggest fan, Sara, but up until this morning, you made Brian happy, and that’s all that matters to me. Personally, I think you’re spooky as hell.” A grin quirked one side of her mouth, but her eyes remained steely.

  I snorted, feeling inordinately better at her words. At least she never sugarcoated it.

  “I don’t know what you can do to make this go away, or if you even can, but you’d better start thinking, Wonder Girl, if you want him back.” She stood. “Thanks for the beer.” And then she was striding to the front door. I heard it close, heard the tumblers of the deadbolt move as she picked them back in place. Apparently Brian wasn’t the only one with not-so-cop-like skills.

  I reached for my cell and called information for a locksmith. I definitely saw an industrial-strength security chain in my future. As much as I may have appreciated the visit and her insight, I was tired of people dropping in on me.

  That done, I stared sightlessly out the window, knowing nothing I could do, save being me, would heal the rift between Brian and me.

  Talk about being a hypocrite! He’d revealed his deepest darkest fear, talked about horrible things that had happened to him, and he couldn’t trust me with the news his wife was a tramp? Piss on him.

  So I did the only thing I could. I went back to being me, rather than the pathetic, sniveling fool I’d been for the past ten hours or so.

  Once I’d made up my mind, I dove into everything I could remember Wes telling me about the gift of anticipation. I scoured my memory for what I’d felt in the times I’d correctly projected something, even if I hadn’t known I was doing it at the time. What I’d felt, who I’d been with, everything. As I remembered, I wrote everything down, until my hand was cramped and my scribble covered page after page.

  When I was done, it was past midnight. I crawled into my lonely bed, smelling Brian all over the sheets, and fell into a deep, dream-filled sleep.

  I woke up the next morning, sexually frustrated as hell, but thinking a whole lot more clearly. As I looked at my chicken scratch over a mug of coffee and a smoke, patterns began to fall into place.

  Everyone, I don’t care who you are, has a “tell”. That little quirk that gives you away, be it in a poker game, or the bigger game of life. Mine was goofy as hell, especially given my “enhanced” perceptions. I played with my hair. How girly is that?

  I’d touched on it last night while thinking of the fourth victim’s site, had actually seen my hand reach up to fiddle with the hair hanging over my shoulder, and had written it down, not realizing the importance at the time.

  But this morning, it was crystal clear. I could see myself, way back when, screwing with my hair as a child, when I signed the papers on the loft, when I became Sara Covington, even when I’d walked into that damned blizzard.

  So now all I had to do was hone in on my new talent and try not to concentrate on it so hard I overanalyzed. Because who knew who was going to die if I was wrong?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Before

  I’m not quite sure how I survived the jolt Green sent through us. Maybe I’d been inured to it. Maybe my cognitive functions had shut down enough to resist it. All I knew was that I’d regained consciousness and Green hadn’t.

  Carl found us moments later, drawn by the good doctor’s scream of agony, I’m sure.

  “Jesus, oh God,” the orderly moaned, wringing his hands in despair. Then he stood ramrod straight. His aura changed from the sickly hue I was used to seeing to a charged, glorious red. “Enough. This is too fucking much.”

  He moved to my bedside, unstrapping the restraints with sure fingers. He picked me up, cradling me in his arms, and hesitated. His aura spiked as he lashed out with a foot and kicked Green, first in the head, then the ribs.

  My consciousness ebbed and flowed as we wound through the labyrinth corridors of the basement until we were on the loading dock. Biting cold wind slapped at me, bringing me around enough to realize
he’d propped me against the wall and glued himself next to me, his hand clamped over my mouth.

  “Don’t move, otherwise they’ll see us,” he whispered in my ear. I dipped my head infinitesimally and he removed his hand.

  I looked into the darkness, seeing nothing but a brilliant, cascading curtain of snow. How long had I been in the basement? It seemed like it had been late fall when Wes and I tried and spectacularly failed to bring everything crashing down.

  A movement caught my eye. The infirmary door opened and two men exited, carrying what looked like a big Hefty bag. I took a closer look and realized it wasn’t that at all, but a body bag. Neither of the men had seen us.

  “Who is it?” I leaned in and whispered.

  “Listen, kid...” Carl’s voice was strained and just as quiet.

  I never took my eyes off the men dragging their secret through the snow. “Don’t bullshit me, Carl.”

  Now—Thursday, 10:00 a.m.

  The four of us—Brian, Davis, Foudy and I—descended on an abandoned florist’s shop. A confidential informant had come to Davis after the DPD put out feelers because something about a sleek black Lexus and the run-down neighborhood didn’t quite mesh. Nobody parks a luxury car in that kind of neighborhood without establishing some serious clout with the inhabitants. Not unless they wanted their car stripped down in about two minutes. But that kind of arrogance was in keeping with the man Wes had become. He wouldn’t be caught, so he didn’t care.

  He’d laid down some coin, knowing he wouldn’t be keeping Amy that long anyway, and that no one cared as long as any screams weren’t loud enough to draw the cops.