Vibrations

by Wood, Lorena

  Whitney stared out at the passing desert and thought back to the meeting. Agent Hollerman had already warned about the detective’s attitude but had told her to make it work. He wasn’t what she had expected. Somehow the description had conjured up an old, ruffled and flabby cop with sparse hair and dull eyes. Instead, she remembered the way his dark black hair had contrasted with his deep blue eyes. Waves of energy flowed around him, but didn’t reach far. He kept himself carefully guarded. She had found it hard to not to look away when he looked at her with those intense blue eyes. He was handsome and dangerous looking, and yet totally unaware of the effect he had on women. Something about his dark looks and well muscled body struck a chord down deep that she hadn’t felt for a long time. She kept telling herself it was a good thing that he wanted to keep his distance from her.

  * * * *

  Nick and Teddy were at the address ten minutes before Whitney arrived. Of course, not having to worry about a speeding ticket made it easier. They knew every road and highway that crisscrossed Phoenix and the surrounding cities like lines on a piece of graph paper. The homes in the neighborhood were typical clones of each other with pink clay shingles and peach and tan stucco plastered to the outside. The city had painted the numbers on the sidewalks to make it easier to find the right house. They parked a few houses down from the crime scene and started looking around.

  Nick stopped and leaned against a palm tree when the rental car pulled up. From what he could see, Whitney looked upset or maybe anxious about something. He hadn't been paying attention enough to see if she had any experience out in the field.

  She headed straight to the house and he jogged up next to her. “Look, you don’t have to go in here if you don’t want to. We can let you know all the information we have from the family without having to actually face them.”

  “Get a clue,” she thought. “Don’t worry,” she said to the detective. “No, this is not my first time, and no you cannot give me all the information. I need to go inside. You can wait out here,” she said emphasizing the word you.

  “Wait, that’s not the deal. I have to go with you to be able to catch anything of interest to our investigation.”

  “Fine,” she said briskly. “Let’s go.”

  He took the lead and knocked on the hollow metal door. Teddy walked around the house looking for missed evidence and Sarah stayed in the car.

  Less than a minute later a heavy blonde woman came to the door and let them in as she brushed the hair away from her face. They could see she had been crying and hadn’t taken the time to arrange her hair or clothing.

  Whitney took a deep breath, and began. “I am so sorry to meet you like this, Mrs. Dolan. I’m Whitney Bentley. We spoke on the phone yesterday.”

  The woman nodded in recognition and led them to the living room. Nick took a seat and glanced around. He had been in her home for hours just the day before, searching for something to point them to the boy. The only thing that had changed was the height of the pile of dirty dishes on the dining room table. The television was blaring the local news, and had probably been on all day.

  “Please let me know if he is alive,” begged Mrs. Dolan. “Conner is just a baby. He’s only seven. He loves to play outside with the other kids on their bikes and skateboards. He would never stay away this long. He doesn’t even go to the end of the street. Please!” The last word was almost a moan.

  She started to sob hysterically but Whitney continued quietly speaking to her, too low for Nick to hear. Finally the woman began nodding and her crying subsided.

  Whitney turned to Nick. “Could you help Mrs. Dolan get us some tea from the kitchen? I want to take a look upstairs. I’ll just be a minute.” She could see him debating what to do, but she didn’t give him a choice as she quickly swept out of the room.

  Whitney slowed as she went up the stairs. She slid her hand on the banister and pictured the little boy that was missing. Her stomach was knotted and her head hurt. This was just the pre-event jitters and she wanted to turn and run. It wouldn’t get any better. She knew. It was always the same. She already knew he wouldn’t be found alive. She could feel it. Maybe this time she was wrong. “Please be wrong,” she whispered to herself.

  The first room on the right had a sign scribbled telling all girls to “keep out.” She opened the door. It was a typical boy’s room. Pictures of sports heroes filled the blue walls. Trophies from various sports were placed carefully in rows on the shelves. His bed had a Sponge Bob comforter and Buzz Light Year pillows. There were a few model cars and a gigantic track in the middle of the floor.

  Whitney stepped in and closed her eyes. She could sense the happiness that had been in this room hovering around the edge, but as she neared the window she could feel the fear. She stood, rigid and unseeing as the image became clearer. Someone he knew was calling him. The person was parked at the curb, just outside the window on the first floor. She followed the sensations and quietly slipped back down the stairs. The back door creaked as she let herself out, but no one seemed to notice.

  Her hands were open and seeking as she walked around to the side of the house. Conner was looking for a friend as he came around the corner. She touched the branches near where the car had been parked and felt a chill as the energy rolled onto her hand. The killer had been here. He had gotten close to the child. And then the child was gone. He had only had a moment of fear before something had rendered him unconscious.

  She knew that wasn’t the end of it. He had suffered somewhere, alone, in a dark and cold place. No clues to help the investigation. No good news to tell the family, just a new memory of pain and fear to drift into her dreams at night.

  Whitney stepped back into the house and closed the door. She took a minute to try to shake the feeling of dread. Now came the hardest part, facing the family again. By the time she entered the living room, her face was calm. It held the look of reflection she had worked so hard to perfect for times exactly like this one. She told Mrs. Dolan she could sense that he was a happy boy and that he liked to laugh. She made sure to keep everything in the present tense. She explained it would take time to consider all the information, but hoped she would soon be hearing news of her son. That part was true. She hoped they found him soon so the family could start to have some closure.

  Once they were outside Nick gave a little snort and rolled his eyes. “Wow,” he said sarcastically, “that was amazing. I am so glad we waited to get all of your deep insights.”

  Whitney didn’t respond. Her mind was too heavy with grief to care what the detective thought. She walked back to her car, anxious to get away from the house, the images, and the irritating man following her.

  Teddy met up with them as Sarah opened the door for Whitney. “Will you be going to the most recent recovery scene next?” He was asking Whitney but she didn’t even acknowledge him.

  Sarah answered curtly, “Yes, we’re heading there next and no, you don’t need to escort us.”

  “We’re coming anyway,” muttered Nick as he got back into his car. This was worse than he thought, not even pretending to give the victim’s family some comfort. What was the madman doing while he was wasting his time following this quack job around to crime scenes?

  * * * *

  Whitney stood at the top of a bank overlooking a small river running through the Navajo reservation. Teddy pointed to a cave about fifty feet below them.

  “That’s it,” he said. “We have to follow the trail down on the right, and then back up from below.”

  They all nodded and Whitney took the lead. As they climbed down the tricky terrain, Nick noticed that she looked even worse than before.

  “She looks like she’s afraid,” Nick whispered to his partner. "It's not like she's going to see the body. It's long gone by now. Why is she doing this if she's so squeamish? She looks like she’s ready to faint.”

  Teddy shrugged. “No idea. Maybe she’s sick.”

  Nick promised himself if they ever decided to bring in anothe
r psychic, he would go on strike. He wanted to refuse to be part of the sham but his captain had given him direct orders. It felt like he was choosing to obey instead of fighting for the victims. He looked up to see Whitney walking right into the crime scene. Sarah rushed up to block him when he tried to follow.

  “She needs to do this alone,” Sarah said sternly.

  Nick couldn’t help laughing. “What’s the fun without an audience?” He stood back and crossed his arms, wondering what useless knowledge the psychic would impart, if she said anything at all.

  As Whitney entered the small cave, the vibrations hit her like a wave. Grabbing the uneven wall for support, she pushed away the unessential memories of the policemen and crime techs that had crowded the scene just days before. The voices outside began to fade as she narrowed in on the lingering exchange she was searching for. Her body grew rigid with fear and pain. The rock held the energy so well. She could feel the recent horror and revulsion from the lawmen that had combed the area after the body was discovered. This boy was named Justice. He was from the projects in the south central part of Phoenix. His mama was a poor woman trying to raise her kids and keep them out of the gangs. His older brother was sixteen and wanted to be a reporter. Justice had been just six, the youngest one yet. He loved to play soccer, football and hockey. Only the rich kids in Phoenix really played hockey. Their parents spent lots of money on the gear and the ice time needed to be on a team. Justice only dreamed about hockey.

  He played football with the kids in the schoolyard almost every day. He was amazing for six. Everyone talked about “the little quarterback”. She stood silently waiting for the energy of the recent days to fade and concentrated on the growing fear of a child. She could feel it. Her chest tightened as the vision flowed around her.

  A small boy was pleading, “No, please. I’m sorry. Whatever made you mad, I’m sorry.” The boy was curled against the back wall of the cave. His face was covered with dirt and tear streaks. “Maybe my Mama can fix it for you. She’s good at fixing things. Please,” the small voice begged. She heard his scream as the knife connected with his flesh.

  The blade sliced across his right thigh, then his chest. The boy was losing consciousness. Whitney fell to her knees and grabbed the rock wall. The scene changed and she was seeing it from different eyes. She felt the killer smiling and heard him singing. His voice sounded like a small boy himself, but his hands were larger and stronger than a young boy’s. “Take me out to the ball game. Take me out to the park. Buy me some peanuts and cracker jacks.” He kept humming as he used the knife. She could feel the anger growing as he started to stab harder at the boy’s legs and stab at his eyes and genitals. “You aren’t such a good boy now, are you?” She heard his voice in her head. “Not Mama’s perfect little boy. Now you can’t hurt any other little boys.” The voice was screeching and cracking. The knife whipped across the boy’s throat and blood sprayed in the killer’s eyes.

  Whitney tried to break away as she felt the boy dying. She had to get out. She stumbled back and fell out of the entrance to the cave. Sarah grabbed her and steadied her.

  “Just need to sit for a minute,” she whispered. Her voice was raspy like she’d been screaming. She had tried, but didn’t think any sound had made it out. Sarah helped her to a boulder a few feet away and gave her a sip from her water bottle.

  Nick and Teddy watched quietly, not sure what was happening.

  “So did she see something?” Nick asked.

  “Just give her a little time to catch her breath. I’m going to take her back to the room now and she can call you a little later to let you know. I’ll be available for any questions. Now get out of our way!”

  Sarah looped Whitney’s arm around her shoulder and started toward the top of the rim. Whitney was trying to help, but she didn’t have much strength left to climb. Nick sprinted up and reached out to help, but she twisted away.

  “No! Please. I can do it myself. I’ll be fine.”

  Nick sat back and watched her just about crawling by the time they reached the top. He and Teddy followed to make sure they made it. As soon as her assistant got her to the car, it looked like she passed out. Sarah hopped in the other side and then tore down the two-lane road and back toward the motel.

  Nicked yelled to Teddy as he sprinted for the car.

  “Get in!”

  As soon as Teddy had both feet in the car they were on the road and following the little white Honda toward the city.

  “Whew” said Teddy. “What was that?”

  “I don’t know. She either lost it in there, or just finished an Oscar performance of The Walking Psychic Dead. This day just gets better and better.”

  “Think she actually saw something?”

  “If she did, it wouldn’t be pretty. She already knows the condition the bodies were in, so she can make up any story she wants. She could make it sound like she actually saw something.” Nick shook his head in disgust. “Why does she have to make it such a show? I hope this is it and she can just sit home now and write her report.”

  “If you don’t believe this stuff, why are we following them?”

  “Well, she may have noticed something or maybe even “felt” something. She sure didn’t look so good when she came out. It looked like she might have passed out in the car. I just want to make sure she lives to tell us what the hell just happened.”

  Chapter 2

  They arrived at the motel in time to see Sarah jump out of the car and run to the other side. She opened the door and started dragging Whitney toward the building. Nick slid the car to a stop and paused in disbelief. The woman was dragging her by her shoulders, her legs flopping and scraping the ground like a rag doll. Teddy jumped out and yelled for her to stop, but she ignored him, threw open a door, and continued pulling her into the room. Teddy looked back at Nick in amazement. Nick shrugged his shoulders and waved at Teddy to follow. They stepped through the motel door and stopped dead in their tracks. Sarah was ripping off Whitney’s blouse and attaching electrodes to her chest.

  “Is she okay?” Nick asked. When she didn’t answer he grabbed her wrist and said it again.

  “I don’t know yet. Let me do this!” Sarah yelled, yanking her wrist back. She started the machine and watched the lines. She seemed to calm down. “Her heart is still beating.”

  Nick felt numb with confusion. Had she hurt herself in the cave? “What is wrong with her?” he demanded.

  “She saw something, and sometimes it takes a toll.”

  “Are you gonna tell me that it takes so much out of her that her heart could stop, and she keeps coming back for more? That just doesn’t make sense.”

  “Shit.” Sarah jumped back and checked the machine. It was screeching and the lines went flat. “Shit, Shit, Shit. I told her!” She started getting the small paddles ready to give her a jolt.

  “Wait!” Agent Hollerman burst through the door and grabbed the paddles from Sarah. “Just wait a minute,” he said a little calmer.

  Nick couldn’t believe he was standing here waiting for her heart to start. That was just too crazy to be true. Actually, it was so crazy he was starting to believe this all had to be for real and that worried him.

  Suddenly, the monitor started beeping quiet, rhythmic sounds again and the agent and Sarah both let out sighs.

  Nick strode over to Agent Hollerman, and growled, “Somebody better start explaining fast before I lose what’s left of my sanity. What was that?”

  Agent Hollerman’s brows rose in surprise, but he took Nick’s arm and led him to the door. “Let’s talk outside and I will explain. Sarah, please pack your things and head out. I know you were concerned, but your total lack of faith in Whitney and inability to follow orders risked her health and possibly her life.”

  Nick stepped outside, followed by the agent and then the fuming assistant. She threw her bags in the rental and took off in a cloud of dust.

  “I’m so sorry that you had to witness that,” the agent said apologeticall
y. “I knew I should have made her wait but she was anxious to get out into the field. I should have known she’d go ahead without me. I was on the way when I heard you contact dispatch. I knew what happened.”

  “Well, I was there, and I still don’t know.” Nick glared at the man, hands on his hips.

  “Sarah should have known better than to try using that defibrillator on her.”

  “You mean she should have been calmer when her friend’s heart stopped beating?” Nick was incredulous. Psychic or not, this wasn’t making sense.

  “I know it is a lot to accept for you at this point, but Whitney was not in danger of dying. I don’t think.”

  Nick growled in frustration. “Agent, I’m losing my patience not to mention my mind.”

  “She has a rare ability to interpret the vibrations of energy around her so that she is able to see, feel, hear, and experience what happened in the past, and sometimes what’s happening at the present in some other place. When her system starts to collect too much of these vibrations, or too many violent ones, she seems to shut down to protect herself. She never knows exactly what will happen. Her heart’s stopped before but it always starts back up in a minute. She says her body is trying to clear out the other energy and reset itself back to her own internal rhythm. If that didn’t happen, she would go crazy with all those experiences flashing through her brain and we aren’t sure what would happen. It seems to be a built in mechanism that comes with her abilities.”

  Nick stood for a moment trying to digest what he had just heard. It did have some logic to it. Why would the FBI make up such a crazy story and lead them on this goose chase if they didn’t believe it? Nick felt a little like he was going to be sick. If this was all true, she actually stood there and watched that little boy die. She would have felt and heard and experienced it. Nick paced away from the building to give himself a moment to think. His mind was having difficulty processing the day’s events. One didn’t change their belief system in a day, and his world didn’t include real psychics.