Through His Heart (Mind's Eye Book 3)

by Deborah Camp

  Trudy jumped and her heart leapt into her throat. She looked over her shoulder at Levi. He stood in the bedroom doorway, naked except for a pair of black briefs, momentarily sidetracking her. Did he always have to look sexy as hell? Her gaze drifted down, following his happy trail to the narrow waistband. Rubbing one hand up and down his chest, he squinted at her and then at the microwave’s digital clock.

  “It’s after five?” He swiped down his face and she could hear the whisk of his stubble across his palm. “Shit. I feel like I’m hung over.”

  “How come you’re so exhausted?” She closed her laptop and set it aside, her mind worrying over the new information.

  He opened the refrigerator and mumbled something before grabbing a bottle of water and uncapping it. He drank deeply, his throat flexing and a drop of water escaping to roll down his chin.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said that I don’t sleep well without you.”

  Caught off guard by his confession, she was momentarily rendered speechless. His hair stuck up in places and his eyes were a bit unfocused, but he still managed to make her heart flutter. “Oh. That’s sweet,” she said, wincing when she heard it. “Well, it’s not sweet. It’s not sweet at all. I don’t know what I’m saying.” She twisted around on the bench seat to face him. “I just made another connection and it was very illuminating.”

  “You saw her again?”

  “Yeah.” She sighed. “She has a big bruise on her cheek because she didn’t obey an order.”

  His features contorted into a fierce scowl. “Son-of-a-bitch.” He snagged a gray t-shirt hanging on the pantry doorknob and pulled it on over his head, then finger-combed his hair off his forehead. He sat on the couch across from her. “Are you going to tell her mother about the bruise?”

  “I’m including it in my report and I’ll send it to her, the sheriff’s office, and the state FBI.” She sighed. “I don’t know if any of the law enforcement people are interested in anything I can add. What do you think?”

  “Right now, I’d say they don’t give a damn what you’re doing. But it’s early. When you come up with something on target, they’ll want to talk to you.”

  “I think I hit the target this time.”

  “What? What did you see?”

  “Not what I saw. What I heard.” She scooted to the edge of the seat, eager to tell him. “I’m sure that I heard Rachel’s thoughts this time.”

  “Oh yeah?” He quirked a brow and interest made his eyes glitter.

  “Yes, and it’s freaking me out. I admit it . . . but that’s not the important part.”

  “It isn’t? Sounds important to me. Being able to hear the victim’s thoughts and maybe see what she sees—.”

  “Yes, right, but he said ‘us,’ Levi. Us. There is someone with him.”

  He’d been looking past her at the flat land stretching out behind the motorhome, but then his gaze snapped to hers. “Did he say who? A wife? Another guy?”

  “No, but he said that it was ordained. Her mother was serving God and now Rachel was serving them – us, he said. And he was reading Bible stories to her.”

  “Ordained . . .” Levi looked out the window again and chewed on his lower lip. “He feels entitled, then. This isn’t a kidnapping to him. He’s obeying a direct command from the divinity.”

  They were silent, each transfixed with their own thoughts. The whir of power tools and the clanking of metal on metal drifted to them from Tony’s Tune Up Garage. There wasn’t a place for motorhomes in Cotton, but Trudy had been told by a waitress at Minnie’s Café that the garage had electric and water hookups because Tony used to have a motorhome. She’d struck a deal with the friendly mechanic who had a passion for puns (“Did you hear about the fella who drove his expensive car into a tree? He found out that his Mercedes bends.”) to park her RV behind his garage and pay only $10 a week for his utilities, seeing as she was in town to help find little Rachel. (“I used to be psychic, but I gave it up. Couldn’t see a future in it.”) The garage backed up to flat, farm land, lying fallow now and waiting for the next cotton crop.

  “Did he strike her or was it the other person?”

  Trudy trolled through the conversation again, picking around it for clues. “I’m not sure. I get the feeling, however, that it was the other person and he was backing him or her up. He thought it was justified because Rachel needs to obey her elders.”

  “Did you write down what you heard word for word in your notes?”

  “No. I paraphrasesd.”

  Levi shook his head, firmly. “Not good enough. Transcribe them as closely as possible. Every word you recall. Do it now while it’s fresh.”

  She swiveled around to the laptop again and fired it up. “Yes, sir!” She sent him a quick smile – quick because he still didn’t look rested and it worried her. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” He rounded his shoulders in a negligent shrug. “What about you? Have you run into any problems? Any concerns?”

  “No, not really. Everyone’s been cordial, sort of, and – oh yeah.” She remembered when she’d felt like someone’s prey. “Do you have someone following me?”

  For a few moments, Levi reminded her of a kid getting caught stealing candy. His lips parted and his bloodshot eyes rounded, but he paused another few seconds before he answered her. “Yes,” he said on a long sigh. “Frank Henderson has been keeping an eye on you for me.”

  “One of Gonzo’s guys.” She rapped her fist on the table top in a burst of frustration. “I was spooked because I was sure someone was tailing me! If I’d known it was Frank, I would have simply been irritated.”

  “That wasn’t Henderson.”

  She didn’t like the tight smile he tossed her. “Who, then?”

  “Charles Gassaway, private gumshoe.”

  “So, are you saying that Henderson was tailing Gassaway while Gassaway was tailing me? We must have looked like a conga line!”

  His smile softened to something more genuine, but still too taut to be natural. “Gassaway won’t be following you anymore.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I spoke to him about it.”

  While his words were innocent enough, his tone wasn’t and it acted like an emery board across her nerve endings. “You talked to Gassaway on the phone or in person?”

  “In person. I ran into him.”

  “With your car?”

  His sleepy-eyed gaze lifted to hers. “Smart-mouthed witch. No, I simply told him he had no business following you and that he should stop.”

  “Uh-huh.” She punched a computer key to load her case notes. “And I believe that about as much as I believe in fairy dust.”

  He shrugged. “It’s true. I have no reason to lie to you, Tru.”

  He’s right, she told herself. He didn’t outright lie to her. He just withheld certain things. While she was tempted to do the same to him, it wasn’t in her nature.

  “Is it possible that Rachel could hear my thoughts, too? Could she be a sensitive and that’s why I’m able to tap into her mind sometimes?”

  “Wow.” He fell back against the cushions and stared up at the ceiling. “I hadn’t considered that!” His gaze lowered back to hers. “Did she act as if she heard or sensed you?”

  Trudy thought back to the episode. “I don’t think so. But she did seem to be purposefully sending out her thoughts.”

  “That’s fascinating.”

  “Maybe there are more than two people there with her. She might be in some kind of religious cult. You know, what with all the biblical references.”

  “A cult would be on the FBI’s radar. And biblical stuff isn’t unusual around here.”

  “Right, and not just around here. Oklahoma is slap-dab in the Bible Belt’s buckle.” She made a shooing motion at him. “I’m going to concentrate on recording every word I can recall. There’s a roasted chicken in the fridge. Make yourself a sandwich. Take a shower. Go back to bed and get some more shut-eye. You l
ook like you could use it.”

  “And leave you alone,” he finished for her as he stood and stretched his arms above his head, flattening his hands on the RV’s ceiling. “I don’t want anything to eat. I’m going back to sleep.”

  She couldn’t help looking at him in surprise and he mimicked her before grinning.

  “Are you honestly okay, Levi? Are you having nightmares again?”

  The shields came up, clouding his eyes and stealing his smile. It had been awhile since he’d erected them against her and it wrenched her heart to see them. “Some. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Nothing that’s out of the ordinary.”

  “It’s because I’m working on this case.”

  “Don’t make this about you or about that, okay? I’ve been working hard and keeping long hours. No big deal.” His long strides took him from her and she heard his body hit the mattress.

  Leaning forward, she looked down the hall to the bedroom to see that he’d fallen face forward onto the bed, arms outstretched. He shifted his body a little and then let go of a long, labored sigh. Such a horrible liar, she thought, burning him with her narrowed glare. Being near his father was dredging up bad memories and lashing him with long-held resentments. Maybe he could work through them and come out stronger. Or maybe he’d head back for Atlanta in a day or two, back to his safe zone and away from her.

  Chapter 9

  “I’m a jack of all trades,” Sam Hart declared as he reared back in the office chair and hooked his thumbs under his bright red suspenders. “Whatever AmyLynn or the Lord calls me to do is what I do. Sometimes I’m booking airline tickets for people and then the next thing I know I’m driving AmyLynn to Cape Girardeau to visit her mama or into Memphis to take a gander at a fur coat or a pretty necklace.”

  Trudy felt her brows rise up into her bangs. That wasn’t what she’d expected Sam to say. Furs? Jewels? Wonder if AmyLynn would approve of the particular errands he’d decided to share with her?

  “That’s what I love about the job. I never know what I’ll be doing.” He brought himself up short, jolting a little as if he’d been caught flat-footed. “That and doing the Lord’s work.”

  Trudy smiled. Yeah. The Lord’s work. She’d spent the morning speaking with key staff members and realized that phrases like “the Lord’s work,” “it’s ordained,” and “answering a calling,” wouldn’t help her pinpoint Rachel’s kidnapper. Everyone in Comfort Ministry talked like that. She liked Sam, though. She appreciated his twinkling brown eyes and ready smile. He was obviously tickled with his lot in life and thought AmyLynn was an earth angel.

  “I’ve taken up enough of your time.” Trudy stood and extended her hand as Sam lumbered to his feet. “You’ve been very kind.”

  “Not too helpful, though, huh? I wish I could tell you something that would help you find Rachel. We’re all praying for her to be brought home.”

  “And there are a lot of people looking for her. No one is giving up.”

  “I feel in my heart that Jesus will guide us to her. I pray to him every day and night and he tells me to be strong in my faith. My mama always told me that God answers every prayer, but sometimes we might not understand his answers at first.” He spread out his hands. “All any of us can do is leave it in His hands.”

  It wasn’t all she could do, but she clamped down on saying that aloud. Instead, she nodded and smiled. “Thanks again for your time.”

  “I’m happy to help and always ready to make a new friend.” He ushered her to the door of his closet-sized office tucked next to AmyLynn’s spacious one. She had a sneaking suspicion that it had been a supply closet or maybe a room for copiers and printers before becoming Sam’s office. A small desk, office chair, folding chair, and a two-drawer file cabinet barely fit in it.

  Trudy checked the time by her wristwatch. She planned to meet Levi at Minnie’s Café for lunch at twelve-thirty and it was noon now. Might as well head—.

  “There you are,” Michael Poe said, stopping mid-stride in front of her. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to talk to you.”

  “Yes. I’d like to talk to you, too.”

  “In my office?” He looked every inch a VP in his navy blue suit, bright white shirt, and blue and yellow patterned tie

  Trudy led the way. Although she hadn’t been to Michael’s office yet, she was fairly certain it was on the right of John Comfort’s and across the hall from AmyLynn’s. He stepped around her to open that door, affirming her hunch.

  “After you.”

  The office was also as she expected – masculine, modern, large, and . . . huh. She glanced around for something religious – a crucifix, a painting of Jesus, a Bible verse. Even Sam’s tiny office sported a wall calendar of religious paintings and a framed nativity scene hanging beside the door. Nothing pious jumped out at her. Not even a Bible.

  “Have a seat, why don’t you?” Michael said in his clipped, impatient way.

  Sitting in one of the wing chairs in front of Michael’s cherry wood desk, Trudy spied a framed picture on the credenza behind him. Before he sat down in his chair to block her view, she recognized John Comfort’s image. No pictures of Jesus. Just one of the boss. Did this say something about his priorities?

  “How much time do you expect to spend here?” he asked. Although his facial expression bordered on polite, his tone had an edge to it.

  “No more than what’s necessary,” Trudy replied and was proud of her evasive answer. “Is there a problem?”

  “We run on a tight schedule. There’s a lot to do and never enough time. Every minute someone spends with you, takes that person away from important work.”

  “Finding Rachel isn’t important?”

  “Of course, it is, but the chances of you finding her are infinitesimal. We’re cooperating fully with the proper authorities. Adding you to the mix?” He puffed out a laugh. “Well, honestly, it’s too much.”

  “AmyLynn hired me. She told me I would be given access to anything I need.”

  “We’re sensitive to AmyLynn’s needs, but we don’t want her to be taken advantage of.”

  “Neither do I. You’re not suggesting that I’m doing that, are you?”

  Michael folded his hands and leaned slightly in her direction. He pieced together an indulgent smile as he studied her. “We’ve shown you mercy and forgiveness, even though we believe that what you do is an abomination. I think it’s best if you find somewhere else to practice your – er, trade.” He sat back. “We’ve reached our limit.”

  “Your limit.” Trudy realized that she was gripping the chair arms as if she meant to tear them off and pummel him with them. Ugly, spiteful words crowded onto her tongue, but she pressed her lips together to keep from voicing them. Throwing a hissy fit in front of this pompous bag of wind would only puff him up more. “AmyLynn told me to come to her if you gave me any trouble, but I’m not going to tattle on you, Michael.” She stood and hitched up her chin to look down the bridge of her nose at him. “I’m going to ignore you. Do you think you’re the first close-minded person I’ve dealt with? I encounter people like you all the time and I’ve learned to step around you as if you were dog poop on the sidewalk.” She winked at him, admiring the ruddy color infusing his neck and face. Then she repeated what she’d heard countless times since arriving in Cotton. “You have a blessed day.”

  ###

  Levi sat on a bench in the park across the street from Comfort Ministry and waited for Trudy. He was supposed to meet her at Minnie’s Café, but he’d decided to grow bigger balls and surprise her by showing up within rock-throwing distance of his father’s place of business.

  Eyeing the simple, rather ugly structure, he pictured his own company’s headquarters in Atlanta. He’d rehabbed twin buildings – one to house his business enterprises and one as an apartment building. His penthouse took up the top floor of that one. The Wolfe buildings were classically beautiful, sitting across from the magnificent Olympic Park in an exciting, multifaceted city. This cinder-block
lump could have been an old city jail or utilities company. Nondescript. Unimaginative. It was as if the reverend didn’t want to compete with anything – even a building.

  Maybe the interior had more personality. He’d ask Trudy because he sure as hell wasn’t going inside. He suspected his reaction would be the same as when he entered a church – within minutes he’d be hyperventilating and having a full-blown panic attack. Part of his inheritance from dear, old dad.

  A movement off to the side caught his eye and he tensed, thinking it might be Frank Henderson skulking around or even that blowhard Gassaway. Instead, he caught sight of Hannah, Rachel’s big sister. His stepsister. God, that sounded weird. Did she think it was bizarre, too? He thought she’d shy away when he spotted her, but to his surprise, she sauntered toward him. Black leggings encased her long, thin legs, ending in chunky, red boots. A gray tweedy sweater and black pea coat engulfed her top half. She tossed her head and the ends of her shiny, brown hair fanned across her shoulders. Walking right up to him, she stopped no more than a couple of feet away.

  “Hey.”

  He nodded at her. “Hey.”

  “I’m Hannah.”

  “Yes, I know. I’m—.”

  “Levi Wolfe.” She met his gaze boldly. “You’re his son.”

  He suddenly felt stripped, laid open. Crossing his arms against his chest, he looked away from her. What was there to say? Nothing. Being his son was nothing. “You’re allowed to roam around alone?” He surveyed the area. Sure, it seemed safe, but her sister had been kidnapped!

  “No way. I’m supposed to be with either Mrs. Fuller or Miss Marshall all the time. But I gave Mrs. Fuller the slip a little while ago. She’s probably still looking for me.”

  Typical. She didn’t understand the gravity of it or that she was adding more worry for her mother. Still, in the depths of her eyes and the taut set of her mouth he could see anguish and grief.

  “She’s been gone a long time now. Rachel, I mean,” she clarified.

  “You don’t have any inkling as to what happened to her?”