Through His Heart (Mind's Eye Book 3)

by Deborah Camp

  “I shouldn’t. I need to stay here.”

  “You can channel the bastard in Sarasota.” His words were jamming up against each other again.

  “Not as clearly or as often. I need to stick as close as I can. With any luck, the next time I get into his head, I’ll be able to figure out something that will lead us to him. Then we can be in Tulsa for Christmas.”

  “Chrissssmas,” he murmured. “Whenizit?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “You like being away from me?”

  She jabbed the heel of her hand against his shoulder. “You know I don’t. Don’t do this, Levi. Don’t make me feel worse than I already do.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I can’t ax everything. I booked ʾem before I even met you.”

  She squeezed his hand as his confession squeezed her heart. She didn’t want him to cancel his commitments, but she didn’t want to be apart from him either. “Being in this relationship is much harder than I thought it would be.”

  His eyes popped open and his fingers tightened on her hand almost to the point of pain. “You giving up?”

  “Giving up?” She shook her head, slightly irritated that he would suggest such a thing. “No. I was thinking . . . well, I should make more concessions. It seems lopsided.”

  He sighed in relief and closed his eyes slowly. “Jussss don’t leave.”

  She kissed his chin and then his mouth. He tasted like spirits and she wanted to drink him in. She combed her fingers through his hair and kissed him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth, undulating it against his. He groaned.

  “I’m knackered.” He held her away from him, his hands clamped on her upper arms. “Always teasing and tempting when I can’t . . . I can’t . . .”

  She slid out of his lap, and grabbed up the Wild Turkey bottle before he could. It was about half full. No wonder he was bleary-eyed. “Come to bed. To sleep.”

  “To passsssout.” He shoved up from the chair, rocked back and forth a couple of times, and then lurched forward toward the bedroom.

  Trudy gave him as wide a berth as possible and motioned for Mouse to get out of the way. The Chihuahua bounded up on the sofa, warily eyeing Levi as he stumbled past. She put Mouse in her crate for the night and capped the Wild Turkey, placing it in the kitchen cabinet.

  She found him lying on his side on the bed, hugging one pillow and snoring into the other one. He’d kicked off his shoes and peeled out of his sweatshirt, but hadn’t bothered to remove his jeans and socks.

  She undressed and slipped into a flannel nightshirt. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she watched the blue-tinted light from outside glide across Levi’s smooth, muscled back. His lips were parted and he looked achingly vulnerable.

  “I love you so much,” she whispered, and then for no particular reason, other than her devotion to a man who didn’t think he deserved her and thought she would leave him when the going got tough, she cried.

  ###

  Night settled and the RV was quiet and . . . lonely. Trudy closed the laptop, putting aside the information she’d been studying about regional dialects and colloquialisms. She curled up on the sofa with Mouse and closed her eyes, listening to the occasional whistle of the wind. Being without Levi was tortuous. And she’d only been without him for one day!

  The night before he’d left for Florida, he’d had a nightmare – a doozey that had startled her awake. Moaning and thrashing, he’d mumbled jumbled words . . . “gotta tell, leave me alone, stay away!”

  Recalling Dr. McLain’s advice, she’d gotten out of bed and called to him several times before he shot up, his eyes wide and unfocused, his chest heaving with his panting breath. He hadn’t gone back to sleep. Instead, he’d taken a shower and then sat in the living room and listened to music through his earbuds as he stared out the windows.

  He’d insisted that he was fine and that he’d gotten enough sleep. She hadn’t believed him. Not for an instant. When she’d tried to get him to come back to the bedroom, he’d snapped at her and had withdrawn deeper into his shell.

  He’d packed for his trip on Friday afternoon because he had to drive to Memphis later to catch a five-forty-five Saturday morning flight. He’d kissed her goodbye, then lifted the disk hanging from the necklace he’d given her and frowned.

  “This ‘see you soon’ stuff is growing tiresome, Trudy. Parting, for me at least, is not sweet sorrow. It’s just sorrow.”

  “For me, too,” she’d said, but he hadn’t seemed convinced.

  She sighed fretfully as she recalled how weary he’d looked. “I need to re-think this whole setup, Mouse,” she said, stroking the dog’s soft, gray coat. “This arrangement of ours isn’t working.”

  Her inability to connect psychically with the kidnapper or Rachel added to her feelings of melancholy and unrest. She had tried several times to reach out mentally and had gotten more convinced that she was losing her abilities. She’d even been tempted to call AmyLynn and quit. Taking money for sitting around and doing nothing wasn’t her style. If she didn’t make something happen soon, she’d –.

  Something inside of her shifted, unsettling her. Mouse issued a low growl and the hair down her back roughed up. Trudy’s gaze darted to the window beside her. A shadow slithered along the edge and she heard a whisking noise as if someone had brushed along the side of the RV.

  She bounded to her feet, automatically looking at the door to make sure it was bolted. Her heart clambered into her throat and she bounced a little on the balls of her feet to release the adrenalin that flooded her bloodstream. Mouse barked, making her jerk all over.

  “Shhh,” she hissed, pointlessly as it only made the dog bark more. Hitting the wall switch, she killed the lights and lifted one of the mini-blind’s slats to peer outside.

  The floodlight at the back of Tony’s Tune-up divided the night, giving enough illumination for her to see a bulky, round-shouldered man dart around the side of the building and out of sight. Trembling, she dared not breathe for a few seconds. She waited three or four minutes before moving away from the window, satisfied that whoever had been outside was gone.

  Could it have been one of Gonzo’s men? No. They would never scare her like this. If one of Gonzo’s security guys was out there and realized he’d spooked her, he would have immediately made himself known and apologized. Whoever had been outside didn’t want her to see him because he shouldn’t have been there.

  Someone was spying on her. Watching her. Again.

  Keyed up and nervous, she made herself a cup of tea and tried to settle down for the night. When she finally dozed off around dawn, her dreams were of shadowy figures and someone chasing her, grabbing for her, his fingers sliding down her skin and leaving bloody trails.

  ###

  The next day her head had felt like it was stuffed with cotton. She’d met AmyLynn at the Comfort home at the edge of town. It was an old, two-story farmhouse that had been completely modernized and renovated and Trudy knew that Levi would have been impressed – grudgingly, but nonetheless, impressed. The grounds were meticulously landscaped. A barn had been turned into a six-car garage.

  She’d spent an hour alone in Rachel’s beautiful yellow and white bedroom and had tried, unsuccessfully, to channel the child or her kidnapper. Looking through Rachel’s belongings, she’d gleaned very little that she didn’t already know. Rachel was a normal seven-year-old who loved Barbie and baby dolls and picture books. She loved to color and she wanted her own pony one day.

  By the time Trudy had left the house, she was good and truly depressed. The thought of another meal alone with Mouse in the RV had her phoning Sam and pleading with him to join her for lunch at a barbecue restaurant that had opened last week on the north edge of town. He was one of the few people in town she felt comfortable around and she needed human company.

  Sitting across from him at the restaurant, Trudy was about to take a bite of her food when she noticed that Sam had bowed his head to give thanks. Trudy ducked her head, too, and felt warm color f
lood her neck and cheeks. She chided herself for feeling like an ingrate.

  Sam had ordered the combo plate that consisted of every meat under the sun – chicken, turkey, pork, beef, baloney, and hot links along with a mountain of baked beans and three Texas-sized squares of toast. Trudy had settled for a pulled pork sandwich and coleslaw.

  While Sam shoveled the food into his mouth, Trudy glanced around and realized that people were looking at her – and not too kindly. Maybe she was imagining it, she thought, telling herself she was being paranoid. But it seemed that people were glaring at her. One man even frowned mightily at her.

  “Did you hear about the next prayer vigil here in Cotton?” Sam asked, wiping grease from the corners of his mouth with a paper napkin.

  “No. When is it?”

  “Wednesday night at nine, after church lets out.”

  “There are church services on Wednesday night?”

  He looked at her as if she were daft. “Sure. Sunday morning, Sunday evening, and Wednesday evening services.”

  “Oh.” She hunched her shoulders, feeling oddly conspicuous. “Is it my imagination or are the people in here glaring at me as if I’ve done something wrong?”

  Sam’s gaze darted left and right before he gave a little shrug. “Rev. Comfort’s sermon on the Sunday broadcast was about seers and how – well, how they prey on the weak of spirit. It might have stirred the pot.”

  “Oh, that’s great.” Trudy dropped her sandwich into her plate and wiped her sticky fingers with a couple of paper napkins. “I’m surprised you’re here with me, Sam. You’re very brave – or maybe your spirit is strong enough to resist my evil ways.”

  He laughed under his breath, but he also looked embarrassed. “I know what it’s like to feel different.” He shrugged, still seeming to be a little uncomfortable. “I love my family, but I was always the odd one – the one with his nose in a book or finding time alone so I could just think about stuff. I swear, if I’d been raised Catholic, I would have been a priest.” He chuckled and ducked his head in a bashful gesture. “But you’re here to help find Rachel and there’s nothing wrong or evil about that. AmyLynn believes that God sent you here.” His smile was genuinely warm. “Come to the prayer vigil. My family organized it. AmyLynn’s mother is friends with my mother.”

  She took in a calming breath. “So, you’ve known AmyLynn for a long time.”

  He shrugged. “I’m older than her, so we weren’t in school together or anything and then she married Caleb and moved off to Tennessee. It wasn’t until she married Rev. Comfort that I got to really know her. I was working for Comfort Ministries and we just hit it off.” He chuckled, his brown eyes dancing with light. “Like we were family. We even finish each other’s sentences.”

  “What will they do at the vigil?”

  “Pray. Light candles. The power of prayer can render miracles. It would be good for folks to see you there praying with them for Rachel to come back to us, safe and sound.”

  She nodded, smiling. “I’ll be there, then. We need a miracle.”

  “We surely do.”

  “I’d like to meet your family.”

  “I’m not sure if Mama will be there. She’s been feeling poorly and she doesn’t get around too good these days. My brother will be there, though.”

  The man who had frowned so darkly at Trudy paid his bill and came toward their table. Sam noticed when she glanced at the man. When he spotted him, his grin grew wider.

  “Hey there, Mr. Bracken! This barbecue is right tasty, isn’t it?”

  “It’s edible,” the scowling man said. He tugged at the bill of his Allis Chalmers hat. “Whatcha doing here with her?”

  “Uh . . . having lunch is all.” Sam looked from him to Trudy, clearly uneasy.

  “I’m Trudy Tucker,” Trudy said, putting on a brave face. “I don’t think we’ve met, Mr. Bracken.” She extended her hand. He stared at it and when his watery blue eyes lifted to find her face again, pure disgust blasted her. She let her hand drop back to the table.

  “You ain’t helping being here,” Mr. Bracken said. “Just wanted to tell you that.”

  Trudy refused to show a smidgen of the discomfort she was experiencing at being glared at as if she were less than human. “Thank you for sharing.”

  He stared at her for another few moments, his frown deepening, then he stalked away, shoulders hunched, his dirt-caked work boots slapping the pea-green linoleum floor.

  “Well, that was unpleasant,” Trudy murmured, pushing away her plate. Her appetite had been effectively doused. “What bug flew up his butt?”

  Sam slapped his napkin against his mouth and his eyes grew large as he tried to squelch his belly laugh. Trudy laughed with him and some of her nerves settled.

  “Well, really,” she said between chuckles. “Who asked for his opinion of me? And who gives a hoot and holler about it?” She shrugged. “I didn’t even know he existed until a minute ago, so I don’t understand why he assumes I’d care about what he thinks of me.” She was proud of her confident tone, although inside she cringed at being singled out and publicly shamed.

  “There are queer folk everywhere,” Sam said, softly as he sliced off a chunk of baloney. “Mr. Bracken is just set in his ways.”

  “I know I’m not a popular person around here, Sam. That’s why I appreciate your kindness toward me.”

  Red tinged his cheeks and forehead, matching his suspenders, and he gave a little shrug. “My mama taught me manners.”

  Trudy found herself studying Sam’s rounded shoulders. The man she’d spied last night had the same body type as Sam’s. She shook her head and told herself she was sniffing along the wrong trail. Sam wouldn’t be sneaking around her RV at night!

  “You don’t like your sandwich?” Sam asked, breaking into her musings. He stared at her half-eaten lunch.

  “No, I like it.” She took another small bite. “Will the Comforts be back in town for the vigil?”

  “Hope so. That’s the plan anyway. It’s going to be filmed so that we can put it on the show and let people see how the town supports them in this dark time.” He sighed and tears sprang into his eyes. “It’ll be a beautiful thing. There’s nothing in this world more wondrous than the true fellowship of God-fearing Christians.”

  Trudy patted his arm, touched by his sincerity and feeling a little guilty for imagining even for a few seconds that he’d been the man messing around her RV last night. “AmyLynn is lucky to have a good friend like you, Sam, and I’m certain she knows it.”

  ###

  An hour later Trudy was back at the RV, pacing and more determined than ever to connect with Rachel’s kidnapper. Just one more time, she thought, and sent up a quick prayer. One more time and she was certain she’d see enough to zero in on her location or on who had her.

  Her cellphone buzzed and she grabbed it, hoping it was Levi, but it was Darla Holmes, his assistant. “Hello, Darla,” she said, wondering what Darla was doing calling her on a Saturday.

  “Sorry to bother you, Trudy, but is Levi there?”

  “Here?” Panic arrowed up through her. “No. He’s in Sarasota, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, he probably is, but he isn’t answering his phone. I suppose he’s in a panel discussion or speaking. I just thought I’d take a chance to see if he might have decided to head back to Missouri earlier than expected.”

  “No. I hope nothing’s wrong—.”

  “With Levi? No. Don’t worry, please. He does this when he’s busy and doesn’t want to be interrupted. He’ll call back when it’s convenient for him.”

  Trudy pushed up to a sitting position as Darla’s frazzled emotions bled through to her. “What’s going on?”

  “We have a couple of minor disagreements about how to proceed with certain projects and we need Levi’s direction. I’m used to having him here more and it’s . . . well, it’s a big adjustment for all of us. But we understand that we’ll have to learn to deal with it. I just don’t want anyone to make the w
rong decision and have Levi’s wrath come down on them for it.”

  Levi’s wrath! Jeesh. “Why are you working? It’s Saturday.”

  Darla gave a little laugh. “Holdover problems from Friday, I’m afraid. Sub-contractors arguing with contractors about some revisions Levi made at the construction sites. A couple of crews are working today because they’re behind schedule and Levi docks their pay if they don’t meet his deadlines.”

  “I’m sure he’ll get back to you soon, Darla.”

  “Yes, I . . . hold on a moment, Trudy . . . yes? Oh, good. Thank you!” She sounded utterly relieved. “Trudy, Levi’s on the other line. I’ll let you go.”

  “Okay.” The line went dead.

  Guilt poked at her again. It was becoming a common occurrence – feeling guilty for disrupting Levi’s formerly ordered existence.

  That’s how I work. I make order from chaos.

  He’d said that to her often. Order from chaos. Can’t work in a turmoil. Have to organize my thoughts and notes. Yes, that’s how he worked and that’s what he liked in his life. Order. Orderly closets. Orderly kitchen. Orderly bedroom. Orderly office. He hired people to bring order into his life and keep it that way.

  Then she’d barged in and he’d been picking up after her ever since. She sighed. Get off the pity horse, Tucker. It’s not that bad . . . but it wasn’t entirely untrue, either. He’d canceled appointments, meetings, public appearances, radio and television guest spots – to accommodate her life, her career, her schedule. What had she sacrificed? Thanksgiving with her family. That’s about it. Not a huge sacrifice. More like a little disappointment. After all, she’d spent Thanksgiving with Levi and Quintara and it had been lovely. Not a bad tradeoff.

  A decision needed to be made and she was ready to make it. It wouldn’t be universally popular, but it was the right one. Of that, she was certain. She wouldn’t allow Levi’s various businesses to lose steam because of her. She could fix this – and she would.

  The phone rang again and she picked it up, certain it was Levi this time. It was Quintara, her mentor and lovely, wise, nurturing friend. “Hey, there! I was just thinking about you.”