by TL Schaefer
There were only two ways to work out that frustration, and door number one—Brian—wasn’t an option. So I hit the hotel gym instead and ran my frustration away on the treadmill until the wee hours, feeling like I’d coughed up a lung because I’d been smoking too much lately. As a whole, it was monumentally unsatisfying, but there wasn’t much else I could do.
When Saturday morning rolled around, I was determined to do something, anything. Even if it meant flying back to Dallas and getting my read on Davis that way. Because now that I’d had time to think about it, something was definitely amiss. I’d begun to postulate a theory as I sucked down some much-needed caffeine, and if I was right, it answered all kinds of questions. There was also the matter of the background information on the Meece Foundation. It’d been almost a week since Foudy had put in her request, and I had no doubt she had... She was nothing if not conscientious. What we sought would have certainly been routed through Davis first, so why hadn’t we heard anything?
At nine, he saved me the effort of heading back home by showing up at my door.
“Sara.”
“Chief, please come in.” I met his gaze squarely, and awareness flickered though his eyes as he realized I wasn’t wearing my glasses.
His aura was an orange-red that left no doubt he was hiding something. If I closed my eyes, I’d probably be able to anticipate exactly what he was going to do a few hours down the road.
“It’s like that, is it?” His voice was dry, just short of mocking.
I backed away from the door to let him in. “Coffee?”
“No thanks.” He settled into the armchair. “What changed?”
I poured myself a cup and sat on the bed, facing him. “At first it was because you believed in me so easily. Two cops in the same division who buy extrasensory talent? Not likely. I knew why Brian believed in me, but never you, besides what you said about working with psychics in the past.” I waited a beat to see if he’d interject something, anything, and continued when he didn’t. “Brian mentioned you had a boy he was stationed with in Afghanistan. He also said family was very important to you. So important you’d look the other way when you knew I was something special. Maybe even use it, right?”
He nodded slowly, but kept mum.
“Going to make me do this the hard way, huh? Okay, well, if I had to hazard a guess, I’d say someone in your family was like me and Wes.” His face and aura were still a mask, but he’d fisted his hands, as if he was restraining himself. “I can tell I’m right by looking at your aura. Why are you ashamed by it?” I bluffed.
“I was never ashamed of Celine,” he snapped, and his aura swung from orange to shocking red. “I loved my sister.”
“Then what did she do?” I pushed, knowing I’d get an honest answer sooner that way, rather than being a nursemaid. Even if he ended up biting my head off, it’d be worth it.
“She killed herself,” he said coldly, “because she was like you and Burke. Like those kids at CASI.”
I didn’t need to see his aura to know he was being truthful... His words rang with conviction.
“I know you want to burn CASI down, Sara, but people like you, special people, need a place to learn how to deal with their talents. Otherwise they’ll end up like Celine. Even you’ve said CASI has changed. A place like that needs to flourish.” Now the frost was gone from his voice, and beneath it lay a great sorrow.
“So you’ve been using me.” It was a painful, disappointing revelation, and it didn’t stop with Davis. Seemed like being utilized as a tool was the story of my life. I was just realizing it for the first time.
Dammit, I was tired of being a dowsing rod. Davis, Brian, CASI. All of them had used me in one way or another, and even if their motives had been what they considered “right”, it still came down to the fact that I was the one being royally screwed. Hell, only Foudy had been up front in what she wanted from me.
“Yeah,” he admitted wearily. “You’re a lot like her, you know. I could see it from the very first day you walked in. You use your camera to do more than distance yourself from the crime scene. You use it to distance yourself from the world. She was like that too, only with her art. She painted things none of us could understand, at least not at the time. Later whatever she’d painted would happen.”
So she’d been like Wes. And me. Sort of. As much as I wanted to dismiss his assessment of me, or argue with it, he was probably right. It was hard, really hard, to stay pissed when I understood exactly what he’d lost. Even if I didn’t agree with him about CASI, I could make peace with our shared past.
“Okay,” I said, and switched to our more immediate concerns. “Is there anything else I should know?”
He nodded and a wry smile lit his creased face. He understood what I was saying, and that I didn’t want to get all mushy with him. “The report on Meece finally came back. It was hard to get. They’ve hidden themselves deep. I left a copy with Foudy and Roney. We should all get together in my room, in say, half an hour?”
I took the manila folder he’d withdrawn from his briefcase. “I’ll be there,” I promised.
Davis had rented a suite, and we converted his living room into a makeshift war room. Papers were scattered across the table, taped to the walls, and Foudy’s laptop was connected to the Net.
I forced my mind away from my conversation with Davis a few minutes ago and concentrated on the hard data before me. I could get worked into a lather later, when I was alone, about how I’d been turned into a tool after all...just like Green had wanted.
The dossier on the Meece Foundation and CASI was comprehensive and made me wonder what favors Davis and Foudy’s chief had called in to obtain it.
I had indeed been one of the first students there. The building had been purchased from the estate of a silver magnate and put into service six months before I arrived. Just enough time for the inevitable cliques to form and for Green to get comfortable.
The Foundation itself was the brainchild of Hugh Meece, a Timothy Leary type who hadn’t tipped quite over to the other side. He’d made his fortune in pharmaceuticals, and had a documented fascination with the workings of the human mind. Meece had died shortly before seeing CASI come to fruition. The current Foundation administrator, Heath Farrell, was an ex-NSA agent. Beyond that, his previous experience wasn’t noted. But there was nothing else. Nothing that explained how my classmates had been used, how the children who’d followed me had ended up.
In perhaps the strangest quirk of fate to date, Monica knew Farrell. Not well, but her husband and the spook had been college classmates back in the day. She’d met him a time or two socially, and obviously, from her expression, hadn’t cared for him all that much. If nothing else, it gave us an entre into Meece if we needed it.
I looked up from my reading. “Where in the hell did you get this? There’s no way you could’ve done it without raising some kind of alarm.”
“Hacker,” Davis replied without looking up from whatever he was scribbling. “That’s why it took so long. The usual channels weren’t working.”
I gaped, and when I looked at my companion’s faces, it was like looking into a mirror.
“You hired a hacker?” Foudy’s voice was aghast.
Davis glanced up impatiently. “It’s not like we’re going to court with any of this. It was a means to an end, Detective.”
“It’s still illegal,” she shot back.
Davis took a moment before answering, his voice so neutral it sounded like it was computer generated. “I guess you need to decide if you’re in or out, Foudy, because we’ve already started down the road. Using Sara’s talent isn’t exactly toeing the line, even if we are being careful about what’s admissible and what’s not. Especially now that we know you’ve met the guy running all this.”
If nothing, Monica was a realist. “I’m in, but I’d like to know when we’re heading into gray areas. My acquaintance with Farrell may be something we can use, but I’m not willing to involve my family in this.
Yet. Joe would want to know why I’m so interested, and we’ve been married too long for him not to see through a lie.”
“Fair enough,” Davis answered. “But if we need Joe to stop Burke, I’m not going to hesitate.”
I stifled a snort, then continued reading. Seeing the two of them go head to head was amusing, if nothing else. It was nice, in a perverse way, that I wasn’t the only one being used.
“I hope to God your hacker can keep his mouth shut,” I mumbled.
“Oh, he will,” Davis promised. “My son is nothing if not discreet.”
“You pulled Arnie in on this?” Brian sounded as appalled as Foudy had, and it took me a minute to remember that Roney knew him from Afghanistan.
“Hell, he wanted to help. He’s been dogging me to give him casework since he got home. This was perfect.”
“I hope he got in and out of their databases cleanly,” Roney muttered, doubt and worry clear in his voice.
The ring of Foudy’s cell saved Davis from his answer.
She held it to her ear. “Foudy.”
We’d all looked up, expecting something on the case.
“Just a minute,” she said tightly, and walked to the far corner of the room. Even though her voice was quiet, I could hear every word she said.
“I’m on a case, Joe. No, I don’t know when I’ll be home. Yeah, sure, whatever. Give Tori a kiss for me.” She disconnected and returned to her seat.
“Men,” she said, rolling her eyes, but in her aura, I could see there was more to it than that. There was anger there, and frustration, and more than a hint of despair. So much of it, in fact, that I had to wonder what the hell was going on in Monica’s home life, because it sure didn’t strike me as being related to this case.
When we broke for the evening, I grabbed a bite to eat from room service and allowed the slow burn of anger that had sparked at Davis’s admission earlier this morning to go nuclear. There wasn’t much I could do about the fact I’d become the human dowsing rod CASI imagined all along, but I could do something about Brian.
I stomped next door, mad as hell. No way was I attending a pity party by myself.
He answered after a moment, hair rumpled and eyes red, as if he hadn’t slept since we arrived. He was wearing another pair of ridiculous boxers (puppies this time), and a T-shirt that hugged his body like a lover. Was he trying to kill me?
I pushed past him and stood in the middle of the room, hands on my hips.
“What do you want, Sara?” He settled heavily into the sole armchair, sounding as tired as I was amped.
To hell with it. “You were so quick to judge me, but it’s not like you’ve been fair about this. You sleep with me, and by the way, win both office pools, and then walk out the door without even giving me a chance to explain. And because I have serious abandonment issues, I let you walk and blamed myself for it. For three freakin’ days, before I pulled my head out.” My breath was coming fast and hard now, and even if he’d tried to stop my rant, I would have steamrolled right over him.
“You talked about trust and all that, but you let me in, made me trust you, used me to further this investigation and then you turn your back? I don’t think so. You’re a Null, Brian, the only person I’ve met who I can’t read. And still I gave you everything, knowing I’d probably get my heart stomped on because of it. Hell, I didn’t even know you’d been married until after I slept with you. It’s not like it was a storybook marriage, so how’s that for trust?”
He ran a hand through his hair and blew out an angry breath. “I know I blew it, all right? I haven’t been with a woman ‘seriously’ since Cara, and she fucked me up pretty good. You’re not the only one with issues, Sara. I screwed it up because I was afraid, okay? And we both know you entered into this voluntarily. Well,” he admitted grudgingly, “as voluntarily as you could considering the circumstances. I may have used what only you can give us, but don’t tell me you didn’t want to, once you knew what was at stake.”
With that statement, he took all the steam out of my argument—and me. I crossed the room on shaky legs and sank onto the foot of the bed.
“Jesus, we’re a pair, aren’t we?” My voice sounded as exhausted as his.
“Yeah. So where do we go from here...or do we?” He buried his face in his hands for a long moment, then raised it to look at me, and I saw right into his soul. Brian Roney was as scared of me as I was of him. Just as terrified of what we could be if we allowed it. For all his pillow talk and overt sexuality, he was afraid to let someone in. But it was too late because, from the expression on his face, I was already part of him.
I shot him a crooked grin. “As much as part of me wants to use hot sex as a bridge, I think we’re both too screwed up for that. Look where it got us in the first place. I have feelings for you, Brian, and you know it. What do you say we take it slow? Let’s catch Wes and lock him up so he can’t do any more damage, and we’ll see how it goes.”
I paused, considering my next words, but they had to be said. He had to know. “When you touch me, everything tones down, becomes manageable, so I can feel, rather than go along for the ride,” I said, clenching my hands in my lap. “I’ve never had that before.”
“Ah, Sara,” he said, his voice that deep basso as he folded my hands into his. “We’re so well matched.” His eyes took on a distant look, as if he were viewing the past. “After Afghanistan, everything inside me seemed dead, like I’d lost something more than my voice up on that ledge. Hell, to be honest, I did. I even lost my instinct, my gut. It was a miracle we didn’t get our asses fragged on the recovery op for Arnie Davis. But the first time I saw you, my intuition returned, and I had to talk to you. Then when I touched you, out there on the street, I started seeing colors again, as if you were somehow giving me that color. And every time I touched you, it got better and bigger and brighter. Freaked me the hell out at first.”
I shook my head, amazed. Somehow, some way, I’d passed something on to him, but he’d remained a Null to me. The best of both worlds. Fate. So why did it seem almost too easy? I snorted. Like anything about this had been simple. In all honesty, the transfer of power Brian and I had going should have bothered me more. But when I thought about what he’d been through, it seemed like a pretty trivial thing to bemoan. I had to wonder, though, if his Nullness was fading.
I stared hard at him, but he still remained a mystery. God. How much that mountainside in Afghanistan had cost him. If he wasn’t such a remarkable man now, after having lived and persevered through that adversity...
He stood, his T-shirt drawn tight against that amazing body, his muscular thighs straining against his ridiculous boxers, and my pondering went right out the window. Even though I was committed to what I’d said about slowing down, I still wanted to test out the springs on his mattress. Right this second. Preferably multiple times.
“I guess your forgiveness is more than I deserve. I’m sorry, Sara.” He held his arms open, and there were absolutely no reservations as I stepped into them, into the smell that was uniquely his, the feeling of absolute security nothing could take away.
And then he guided us to the bed and cuddled me from behind, knowing it was what I needed without saying a word.
The next morning I got up early and eased out of Brian’s bed, heading next door for a quick shower and change of clothes. I needed time to think...alone. I sat in the deserted coffee shop, mulling everything over. The air around me was distinctly chilly, and in a nod toward the temperature, I wore jeans and a light jacket rather than the shorts and T-shirt I would’ve donned in Dallas.
I thought of the words Brian and I had spoken last night, of the possible future we might have together...if and when we stopped Wes. Burning CASI down was still at the top of my list, but dammit, after last night, I’d do it with Brian by my side. Or not do it at all. The thought didn’t sit well, but I had a choice to make. To pursue a vendetta that didn’t seem to have a foundation in the here and now...or grab on to my future with both h
ands. It wasn’t a hard choice to make. I had to make sure I clued Brian into that little nugget. Make him understand the whys and wherefores of my choice. Because if nothing else, he had to know how important he was to me.
Five minutes into my latte, my life took a turn for the surreal.
“Christie Jenkins?” A polite, bland governmental voice addressed me.
I barely held back a flinch. I’d known it was coming, on a subconscious level, hadn’t I? Now that things with Brian were back on an even keel, and I’d come to grips with my past and present, this was the kind of shit I should have expected. It was my life, after all.
I ignored the voice at the head of the table, hoping he’d take my lack of response as a clue I wasn’t who he was looking for. That was dashed as he slid into the booth opposite me.
“Excuse me? Can I help you?” I raised my eyes to his. One of the quintessential men in black, he was stone-faced as he regarded me through mirrored sunglasses. The bulge of a shoulder holster was there...barely noticeable, but evident if you knew how and where to look. Talk about a stereotype. And worst of all, he had talent. Not one I could put my finger one, but he was gifted, nonetheless.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a shield. “Max Pardo, NSA. You’ll be coming with me.”
My acting skills were rusty as hell after being out of CASI for over a decade, but I’d be damned if I went down without a whimper.
“I’m sorry.” I let my eyes go round... I didn’t need to fake the alarm, though. Thank God I’d put my contacts in, almost absentmindedly, before I came down. With eyes like mine it would have been a dead giveaway. “You must have the wrong person.” I laughed nervously. “My name’s not Christie.”
“Not anymore.” He leaned against the seatback, seemingly at ease. “Now you go by Sara Covington. We know all about you. It’s time for you to come home.”
My options flashed before me, flicker-quick. I could deny what we both knew to be the truth and buy time...but time to do what? Or I could admit he was right and try to talk my way out of it.