Through His Heart (Mind's Eye Book 3)

by Deborah Camp

  “You’re staying here, huh?” AmyLynn examined the RV. “Is it comfortable?”

  “I like it.”

  “He’s very handsome. More handsome even in person.” AmyLynn wrinkled her nose. “He has a few of John’s features, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.” Trudy shrugged and toyed with her engagement ring.

  “I like his voice. It’s so whispery.”

  Trudy smothered the caustic retort that burned in her throat. Yeah. Whispery from when he was a child and screamed for hours while he was locked in a root cellar with rats that nibbled on him. All thanks to your heartless hubby.

  “Anyway . . .” AmyLynn forced another smile that never made it to her eyes. “I’m going to be in Denver for a couple of days. There’s a revival there that John and I are taking part in. I don’t want to be away, but . . .” She examined her fingernails as if she didn’t want to look at Trudy and see her reaction.

  “How can you manage it?” Trudy asked before she could stop herself.

  “Manage what?”

  “Just . . . you know, going on about your business as if nothing’s wrong. Surely, no one expects you to show up at those things, what with your child missing.”

  “Of course, they’d understand if I didn’t attend.” She flung out her hands in a silent plea. “But would you have me refuse God’s directives? He has told me to continue spreading the Word and that He will take care of Rachel.”

  “Oh, I see.” Trudy’s attention was caught by Hannah, who had shifted from one foot to the other and was glaring at her mother as if she’d like to wallop her. “Well, when you put it that way, I guess you have to go. Are you taking Hannah with you?”

  “Yes.” AmyLynn lifted an arm, intending to place it around her daughter’s shoulders, but Hannah was having none of it. She moved away, out of arm’s reach. “I wouldn’t – couldn’t leave Hannah. I want her with me. She’s not going back to that boarding school until Rachel is found and . . . maybe not even then. I’ve missed her so much and she’s misses me when she’s away. Don’t you, Han-han?”

  Hannah bobbed one shoulder. “Yeah. Sure. I guess.”

  Being around grieving and scared family members wasn’t new to Trudy, but AmyLynn was different. Most strove to hold it together in front of strangers or the media, but the masks fell away when the spotlight wasn’t on them. AmyLynn kept the mask in place, always donning the brave face and allowing herself to break from character for only a minute here and there. Hannah seemed to be cut from the same cloth. Hers wasn’t a mask of bravery, but one of boredom. One could label it “typical teenager,” but it was more acute than that. Her boredom was edged with resentment and betrayal.

  “We’ll be going . . . have to pack and everything,” AmyLynn said, motioning Hannah to the ivory Lincoln that purred beside Tony’s garage. A man sat behind the wheel. He lifted a hand in greeting. “You’ll keep in touch while I’m away?” AmyLynn opened the car door and the interior lights flickered on.

  Trudy waved back at the man before she recognized him by his red suspenders. Sam Hart. “Certainly. If anything happens, I’ll contact you,” Trudy assured her. Tell her about the man at the school! Turning away, she hurried up steps and into the motorhome. Levi sat in one of the easy chairs and stared at the TV as images flickered one after another under the command of his thumb on the remote control.

  “Who’s driving the car? A chauffeur?”

  “Sam Hart, her assistant.” She dropped onto the sofa next to Mouse. “I didn’t tell her about my latest experience. I should, though, right?”

  He switched off the TV. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

  “She’s worried sick already! What good would it do to worry her more? And I didn’t see Rachel, so . . .” She shrugged. “I’ll tell her about it later.”

  “You’re going to send a report to the sheriff and FBI, right?”

  “Sure. I’ll do that in a few minutes.”

  “Send her a copy of the report tomorrow or the day after.”

  “She’s leaving for Denver tomorrow. She said she’ll be gone for a couple of days. Hannah’s going with her.”

  “What’s in Denver?”

  “A revival.”

  “She’s continuing to work through all of this?” He stood and gathered Mouse in one hand. “You ready for a walk, peanut?”

  “I’m surprised she’s able to keep her head on straight and curb her emotions enough to appear in front of crowds. You’d think that their followers would find it odd, too. Doesn’t it make her seem detached . . . even uncaring that her child is missing?”

  “You don’t think she is those things?” Skepticism was evident in his expression and tone.

  “No, I don’t. She’s genuinely distraught and she’s crazy about her daughters,” Trudy said, feeling that she should come to AmyLynn’s defense. “She’s trained herself to control her emotions and present a public face. Something you know all about, Mr. Wolfe.”

  He arched a brow. “I could control my emotions until you came along. Now you seem to control them.”

  She shook her head, laughing softly. “That’s how you see it?”

  Bending over, he leveled his gaze with hers. “That’s how it is.” He leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips. “You’re the boss.”

  “Bull.” She leaned away from him. Was he serious? “You might let me have my way a lot of the time, but we both know who’s the bossiest man on the planet. You still bark commands at me from time to time, even though you know it infuriates me.”

  He tilted his head, considering. Slowly, he straightened, tucking Mouse closer to his side. “You’re right. It just feels like I have no control when I’m around you because you’ve somehow managed to make me feel things I didn’t know existed in me.”

  Tears pricked her eyes. The man could say things that simply slayed her – and he didn’t even realize it!

  “AmyLynn seemed okay about going to Denver? The whole business as usual thing?” he asked as he hooked the leash onto Mouse’s red harness.

  “I got the feeling that she really doesn’t want to go, but she said that God told her to, so she has to obey.”

  Levi’s gaze slid slowly to her and a wicked grin tipped up one corner of his wide, expressive mouth. “She calls him God now, does she?”

  Chapter 10

  The next day Trudy sat across a metal table from FBI Special Agent Eric Wannamaker, having been asked to stop by the sheriff’s offices to discuss her latest vision. She’d filed a report about it yesterday afternoon and Wannamaker had sent her a text to set up the meeting. He flipped through his e-notebook and scowled at the screen, his dark, winged brows making her think of Levi. Of course, he wasn’t anywhere near as handsome as Levi. The agent was older – probably mid-forties – and shorter. His hair was probably brown, but he had so much product on it that it looked black. He’d slicked it back with no part. She checked out his hands. No wedding band.

  She looked at the closed door. Beyond that door, she could almost picture Levi pacing and fuming. They’d asked him to wait outside and he’d agreed only after Trudy had assured him that she could handle the meeting with Wannamaker.

  “You have no description for us of this man you think is a sex offender?” Wannamaker asked as he touched the screen of his e-notepad, flipping from one page to the next.

  “No. Like I’ve explained, I can’t see any faces unless they look into a reflective surface.” She sighed, wishing Wannamaker would excuse her or at least act as if they were working on Rachel’s case together. He obviously was interested enough in her visions to ask her for more details, but at the same time, he was blatantly dubious.

  “Your information isn’t much help.”

  “Well, I’m sorry. It’s the best I could do. I file reports, whether they’re useful or not.” She glanced at her wristwatch. Just after three. She’d only been at the FBI’s temporary office at the sheriff’s for less than an hour, but it felt much longer than that. She folded her arms
and closed her eyes for a few moments against the white light of the florescent ceiling fixtures.

  Her thoughts frayed around the edges and darkness engulfed her a few moments before she winced against the bright sunlight. Looking down, she saw that her large, cowboy booted feet were spattered with flecks of slush and snow.

  Not hers. His. His.

  He ran his rough-skinned hands against his jeaned thighs. The skull and crossbones tattoo on the back of his right hand had faded from black to gray. Got it . . . how many years ago? He’d been out of the joint for almost two years and he got it when he first went in . . . ten years. He’d served ten of his fifteen.

  Shifting on the hard bench, he hunched against the stiff wind as he surveyed the children. Should have worn a jacket. The wool shirt wasn’t enough.

  There! There she is!

  Excitement zigzagged through him like a bolt of lightning and his balls tightened.

  Goddamn, what a beauty. Bet her hair feels like silk. Her skin . . . Jesus that white, pure skin. Nobody’s touched her. I’d be the first. She’d like it. I know she’d like it. I’d be careful. Always careful. They make a fuss and bawl a little, but I never hurt them. Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. Help me . . .

  “Miss Tucker!”

  Pain sliced through her head and she cried out. Whirls of color whipped past her eyes and her stomach did a slow roll, pushing bile up her throat and into her mouth. She swallowed reflexively and became strangled.

  “Miss Tucker!”

  Someone gripped her upper arms and shook her – shook her hard, making her head wobble. She blinked and Eric Wannamaker’s face came into view. Her throat burned and she realized she was coughing, sputtering, striving for a decent breath of air. The door crashed open and Levi strode in and unceremoniously pushed the FBI agent aside.

  “Get away from her,” he growled. Whatever Wannamaker saw on Levi’s face made him hold up his hands and back away. Levi dropped to his haunches in front of Trudy and closed his warm hands over her cold ones. “Tru? Take it easy. Breathe. Breathe.”

  “Here’s a glass of water, if that will help,” Wannamaker said, sliding a red plastic cup across the table toward Trudy.

  “Just what the fuck do you think you were doing, shaking her like that?” Levi demanded.

  “She was out of it. I was trying to bring her around.”

  “Don’t ever touch her like that again. Is that clear?”

  “Check yourself, Wolfe. You don’t want to get on my shit list.”

  Levi straightened to his full, six-three height so that he could look down at the shorter Wannamaker. “I don’t give a rat’s ass about your shit list,” he said, his tone low and steady as a heartbeat. “When someone is channeling, you don’t shake them and yell at them. You leave them the fuck alone. You got that, chief?”

  “I wasn’t sure what she was doing.” Wannamaker jerked at the lapels of his suit coat.

  “All the more reason, you should keep your goddamn hands to yourself.”

  “Levi . . . don’t.” Trudy took a few swallows of the water, soothing her raw throat and clearing her head. “We don’t have time for this. The man . . . he’s at the elementary school again. He’s sitting on a bench across from the school yard. He’s wearing a red plaid, wool shirt, blue jeans, and black cowboy boots with white stitching that have mud splattered all over them. He has a tattoo on the back of his hand – a skull and crossbones. He’s been in prison before. He was looking at a little girl and thinking about what he would do to her.”

  Levi looked from her to Wannamaker. “He’s probably still there.”

  Wannamaker strode from the room, barking orders to the other agents and sheriff’s deputies. Levi cupped Trudy’s elbows and pulled her up out of the chair and into his arms.

  “Did he hurt you?”

  “No.” She rubbed her cheek against his sweater and breathed in his clean, citrusy smell. “It startled me, that’s all. Coming out of it like that – it’s like mental whiplash.”

  “Stupid motherfucker.”

  She closed her eyes to keep from rolling them at him. “I’m okay. If they hurry, he’ll still be there. Then we can know who he is and where he’s hiding Rachel.” She sighed. “And then we can go home.” An image of Levi’s penthouse in Atlanta floated into her mind, bringing her up short. Why did she picture that place instead of her own house?

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Levi cautioned, interrupting her inner quandary. He ran a hand over her short hair, ruffling it like he did when he was at a loss as to how to touch her, how to comfort her. “Was he thinking about Rachel?”

  “No. He was watching a little girl . . . the same one as before, I think.” She squeezed her eyes shut tighter and burrowed closer against him, needing his strength. “That bothers me, Levi. What if . . . what if Rachel’s g-gone? What if I’m too late?”

  ###

  Within an hour deputies entered the building with a man wearing a red plaid shirt, jeans, and muddy boots. His hair was black, heavily streaked with white, long and shaggy. He’d pulled it into a ponytail that dangled down his back. His eyes were close-set slits; the pupils glittering darkly as he glanced around. Frowning, he glared at Levi and Trudy as he was marched past them and into the interrogation room that Trudy had been in with Wannamaker.

  Trudy stared at him in open fascination and revulsion. It was so odd to see someone after you’d sorted through the dirty attic of his mind and uncovered his depravity. Did he know? she wondered as he passed her. Could he tell that she’d been mentally tied to him? He showed no sign of it as he walked on by, shoulders hunched, his frowning mouth almost hidden by a white mustache.

  Levi curved an arm around her shoulders and hugged her closer to him in a protective gesture that she welcomed. She glanced up and saw that Levi was staring hard at the man. He furrowed his brow, obviously perplexed by something. She nudged him with her hip.

  “What’s wrong?”

  His gaze slid to hers, then quickly away. “It’s nothing.”

  “It’s something. What? Do you recognize him from somewhere?”

  “No . . . well . . . maybe.” His arm slid away and he gripped her hand. “Over here.” He led her across the room that held half a dozen desks and humming computers to a bulletin board on the far wall. Newspaper clippings, photographs, and handwritten notes were pinned in an organized fashion and Trudy realized that everything on it had something to do with Rachel’s kidnapping. There were several photos of men . . . mugshots, obviously taken when they’d been booked in jail or prison. Levi jabbed a long index finger at one of the photos. “There. That’s him, isn’t it?”

  She peered at the face in the photo. The man had darker hair and it was blunt cut to just at his earlobes. No mustache. But the eyes . . . close-set slits. “Yes!” She looked at the name typed beneath the photo. “Donald ‘Donny’ Endicott. Convicted Sex Offender.”

  “They have his photo up here because he’s a registered sex offender. He must live near Cotton, so he’s on their radar.”

  “They knew about him? Why weren’t they following him and arresting him before today?”

  He shrugged and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “They probably had him under surveillance and you tipped the scales so that they felt confident in bringing him in for questioning.” He looked over his shoulder at the closed door of the interrogation room. “They’ll book him because he’s violated his parole by being at the school.”

  A commotion at the building’s entrance divided her interest in the man’s photograph and she turned to see AmyLynn and her assistant Sam enter the room in a bluster of wide eyes and wild gestures. Clutching a pale pink coat around her, AmyLynn clung to Sam’s arm and panted as if she’d run a marathon. Sam also looked frantic. Sweat beaded on his forehead although they’d just come in from outside.

  “Where is she? Have they found her yet? Trudy! Is Rachel here?” AmyLynn walked jerkily in her white designer boots toward Trudy, shoving away the helpful and detain
ing hands of a worry-faced Sam and thunder-faced Michael Poe, who had also stepped into the squad room.

  Spotting Trudy, Poe didn’t try to hide his aggravation at seeing her. He muttered something under his breath and then said something to Sam that made Sam shake his head. Trudy wished she could read lips, but she had more pressing concerns as AmyLynn’s long nails ground into her wrists and the back of her hands.

  “No, AmyLynn, Rachel isn’t here. They’ve brought a man in for questioning – that’s all.” Looking past the woman to exchange another glare with Poe, Trudy’s heart hurled itself against her ribcage as she stared, slack-jawed at the tall man striding purposefully toward them. His very presence made the noisy squad room fall into an eerie silence.

  John Comfort’s hair was snowy white, combed back from a widow’s peak. His build reminded her of Levi – broad shoulders, trim waist, slim hips, long legs. A good-looking man, she thought, but he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous like his son. His features were rounder and fleshier, his lips thinner, and his eyes an icy pastel blue. Levi was blessed with higher cheekbones, an aquiline nose, a square jaw, and dangerously dark blue eyes.

  Levi!

  She shook off AmyLynn and pivoted to him. For a few heart-wrenching moments, vulnerability and intimidation shone in his eyes and dipped the corners of his mouth, but then his features hardened and that tell-tale muscle in his jawline began to flex. Trudy gripped one of his hands and gave it a little shake to bring his attention away from his father.

  “Levi, you can go ahead and leave,” she said, softly. “I can handle this.”

  “Excuse us, but who’s in charge?” John Comfort demanded.

  “Revered Comfort,” the sheriff strode up to him, hand outstretched. “Good to see you again, sir.”

  “Sheriff, Haney, good afternoon. We were told that an arrest has been made. Someone in town saw a man taken into custody and told my wife that it had something to do with Rachel.”

  “Well, sir, it’s possible. The FBI agents did bring someone in and they’re questioning him right now. As far as I know, there isn’t anything to tie him to your little girl’s disappearance.”