Out of Sight

by Stella Cameron

  David gave a single laugh and cleared his throat.

  “We’ve got a problem,” Pascal said. “You understand that?”

  “Of course. And if you don’t want to know anything else about me, I’ll understand and I’ll get lost.”

  “What did you think would happen when you came here to me?”

  “I didn’t know. My mom said you were a really good guy. She always told me that. She said the two of you weren’t meant to be together, and she understood that. But Mom wasn’t sorry to have me. She told me that a lot.”

  “What do you want to happen now?” Pascal said. He couldn’t admit he didn’t remember the boy’s mother.

  David spread his long fingers. “I’m embarrassed,” he said. “I feel like a little kid who believed in fairy stories. Like you were going to throw your arms around me and tell me you’d been trying to find me for years, or something. I’m just being honest but I’ve got it together, so don’t worry. I’ll get a job and a place to live, and now I don’t have to deal with my stepfather anymore, I’ll see about getting into college.”

  “You’re paranormal.”

  David smiled. “Yep.”

  “I’ve been trying to remember who else I know who can follow movement energy patterns.”

  “Sykes told you.”

  “Yeah. He says you’re going to be really good.”

  David looked pleased. Thin white curtains billowed away from an open window, bringing the heady scents of the city into the room. Pascal noticed the appreciative flare of David’s nostrils.

  “You move things but you don’t expect that to last as you get older,” Pascal said, smiling a little. “It may, though. How much control do you have?”

  With his eyes lowered, David appeared deep in thought. Pascal jumped when the wraparound sunglasses landed on his face.

  Impressed, he said, “That’s a permanent thing. You’re a hundred percent in control. Really useful.”

  David took the glasses back from Pascal. “Sykes wouldn’t talk about his talents—except the telepathy.”

  “I don’t suggest you ask him again,” Pascal said, amused. “And you’d better hope you don’t find out because he needs to neutralize you.”

  “He’s a killer?” David said in hushed tones.

  “I didn’t say that.” Pascal decided it was time to move on. “Dr. Cooper wants to do some blood work on you.”

  David’s brow furrowed. “I’m in great shape. This is nothing.” He touched his eye and winced.

  “I want you to get it done.”

  In the silence that followed, they looked at each other.

  “I should get out of your hair.” David laughed and ran a hand over his own scalp. “So to speak. The Y will do until I can get a place of my own.”

  “Do you have a picture of your mother?”

  The kid went still.

  “Do you?”

  “Yes. Three of them. My mom’s a looker.” He got up and went to pull his backpack out of the closet. He unzipped a side pocket and took out a long envelope. When he slid the photos from inside, he looked at them one at a time, his expression closed. Then he handed them to Pascal.

  David’s mother as she must be now: tired-looking but attractive with light brown hair falling straight and shiny from a side part. The hair turned under at the bottom. Her eyes were blue. She wore a floral sundress and had a nice figure.

  It was the earliest picture of the woman, somewhere in her twenties, that made Pascal catch his breath. In baggy denim overalls, a check shirt with the sleeves rolled up and her hair tied back, this girl’s wide smile smote at him. He managed not to blurt out that he knew it had been taken at a Habitat for Humanity project in Alabama, or that he wouldn’t be surprised if David’s mother had never had a drink before that night but that, together, they drank enough to pass out cold. He didn’t tell him that he and the girl had been friends and they had really liked each other. They had gone their separate ways after that night, the last night they had been there, and never been in contact again. Gillian. He remembered her name now.

  Gently, David touched a folded piece of paper to Pascal’s fingers.

  Their eyes met and Pascal took what he was offered, unfolded it and looked at his son’s birth certificate.

  23

  “One instruction,” Nat said. He closed the door behind them in a small, windowless room at the station. “It’ll save time if I can have you all look at what we’ve got together. But hold any comments until I split you up afterward.”

  The door opened again and the Medical Examiner, Dr. Blades, stuck his familiar hollow-cheeked face into the room.

  Gray Fisher had already moved into his usual negative thoughts about the man when he surprised him. “Fisher, a word. I don’t have much time.”

  “Charming as always,” Gray muttered of the man he had dubbed Dr. Death back in the days when Gray and Nat had been full-time partners.

  “Nat?” Blades said.

  They joined him in the corridor outside. Nat had already made the mistake of grinning.

  “Something funny, Archer?” Blades said. His stooped frame was still closer to seven than six feet tall.

  Nat shook his head emphatically. “Not a thing.”

  “Liar,” Gray said. “You didn’t expect my old friend here to want to speak to me. I’m back in the department, Doc. I know that’ll make you happy.”

  Blades’s high, domed head shone. Beneath the bones where his eyebrows should have been, his haggard eyes flashed a hit of humor, something rarely seen.

  “We need a more in-depth discussion but it’ll wait until you can get over to my place,” he said.

  Gray didn’t have to ask what he meant by “my place.” Blades just about lived at the morgue.

  “Sure,” Nat said.

  “Something about our monster friends has been nagging at me for weeks. And something about the way they kill and what happens to the bodies afterward. The chief thinks he’s keeping things under wraps, but I know the Embran gradually deteriorate and the process gets faster after close contact with humans.

  “They could be allergic to us in some way, simple as that. Or complicated as that. You think about what that could mean. Chief Molyneux’s story is that the reason I can’t see any of the subjects you people have captured in past months is because they’ve been quarantined in some secret clinic. That’s shit. Something weird goes on with them. I’ve got to get back now.”

  He sloped away, gray jacket hanging from his hunched shoulders, and never looked back.

  When they reentered the room Gray was not surprised to find Poppy, Sykes and Liam sitting silently on their folding metal chairs.

  “I’d rather not show this to you, Poppy,” Nat said. “It’s difficult to watch, even for some of us who deal with this sort of thing every day. If you start to—”

  “I won’t,” she said, but Sykes scooted his chair closer to hers.

  “It isn’t long,” Nat said, sliding in a disk.

  The camera was trained on the inside of what looked like a front door. Nat had already told Gray that despite poor light the scene was distinct enough to be identified as the foyer at Ward Bienville’s St. Louis Street house.

  The front door opened and a male figure entered with a woman slung over his shoulder.

  Gray glanced at Poppy.

  What was left of the woman’s dress covered little of her body. Her shoes were gone. Rivulets of dried blood showed starkly against the white skin of her legs.

  Liam exclaimed, but didn’t say anything clearly.

  Poppy curled into herself, huddled on her chair, ignoring Sykes’s attempts to hold her hand.

  The man set the body carefully on the stone tiles in the foyer. The dress hung in silver rags attached to the body only by one shoulder strap. Gray was grateful her face was indistinct.

  Gray recoiled from the sight of the man standing back to survey the body. He looked at it from two directions before he loosened his shirt collar, and glanced up
and around, smiling.

  “That’s it,” Nat said.

  “Did you find the murder scene yet?” Sykes asked.

  “Yes,” Gray said. “The victim’s home. She was then brought to Ward’s house.”

  “Let’s go through it again.”

  “Let’s not,” Liam said.

  “D’you want some water?” Gray asked.

  “I want a shower,” Liam said. “We’ve got work to do first, though, right?”

  “The lab got good stills from the surveillance tape,” Nat said. He got up and went toward the door.

  “We don’t need stills,” Liam said. “Or I don’t.”

  “Do you know who that man is?” Poppy asked him.

  “No. At least, I don’t think so,” Sykes said.

  “I do,” she said. “Not his name, but I’ve seen him before.”

  “Me, too,” Liam said.

  Gray saw Nat make the decision to let them talk if they wanted to.

  Liam stared at Poppy and said, “He followed me into a bathroom at that fundraiser last night. I went to one for Ward. Don’t get mad—I just wanted to see the kind of people who were there. I worry about you.”

  “You need to,” Sykes said. “You’re not the only one, either.”

  “The night before last, at Ward’s.” Poppy nodded toward the now-blank video screen. “He served me champagne.”

  24

  They left Gray and Nat behind and went out to the street. Poppy felt as if she wanted to start touching people, ordinary people, and greeting them just to hear normal voices saying meaningless things.

  She wasn’t sure where to go, but it couldn’t be back to Fortunes.

  “I feel sorry for Ward,” she said.

  “Save it, Sis,” Liam said. “I’ll feel sorry for him when I’m sure none of this craziness has anything to do with him.”

  “Go away!” Poppy said. “You’re so mean. Someone left Sonia’s body at his house to frame him but you’re still picking on him. I’m sick of it.”

  “Tell me this…” Liam caught her by the arm and swung her to face him. “Look at me and tell me you really like the guy. Tell me you aren’t trying to prop him up because you always do prop up the underdog.”

  “Underdog? Ward? He doesn’t even know the meaning of the word. He knew it was nothing to do with him.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Liam said. “Do you really like the guy?”

  She glanced at Sykes whose face was averted. He stood motionless with his hands in his pockets.

  “I don’t have strong feelings about Ward,” she admitted at last. “He wants me to be his friend, and I’m not mean to people.”

  “Thanks,” Liam said. “Now will you admit that he seems to have dangerous stuff going on around him.”

  She felt rotten about everything. “Maybe.”

  “I did my best,” Liam said. “The more I try to persuade you to give the guy a miss, the harder you’ll hold on to him, so I give up. I had lunch with him and I think he’s a self-absorbed boor. I’ll see you later.”

  He walked to the corner, turned left and headed away from the center of the Quarter.

  “Now it’s your turn,” Poppy said to Sykes.

  “You’re a big girl. You get to make up your own mind.”

  She gave him a suspicious stare and stepped out of the way of a woman who was drunk and wearing enough gaudy beads to throw a less sturdy person off balance.

  “I’m going back to my flat at Millet’s,” Sykes said. “Why don’t you come with me? You could check in with Marley to see how she’s doing and say hello to Pascal. He loves to see you and you haven’t been by much recently.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, I managed to make myself unpopular.”

  “The only one who knew that—until you told me—was you. And Willow. Willow doesn’t hold grudges. It’s time to let it go.”

  “You’re so full of platitudes,” Poppy said. She crossed her arms and felt out of control of her behavior. “Why can’t you just be as nasty as you want to be sometimes?”

  “I can. I don’t feel nasty right now. Sad, maybe. And worried about you. But not nasty.”

  “Can you kill people with hypnosis?”

  His expression turned guarded. “Where did that come from?”

  “It’s been on my mind. Everyone knows you’re over-the-top talented, but what it is you do is hardly mentioned.”

  He took a deep breath and moved closer to her, looking down while she had to raise her head to return the stare.

  “You’re not yourself,” he said. “I don’t blame you. The tapes were horrible.”

  She felt tears prickle and blinked fast. “I handled it fine.”

  “Of course you did.”

  “You’re not going to answer my question, are you?”

  He studied her face for a while then said, “I can kill with hypnosis. The brain just stops and the subject dies. I would never use that kind of power except to save an innocent life. Are you satisfied now?”

  She felt her face crumple and bowed her head. The experience of watching that murderer had shocked her terribly. There was no point denying it. “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “There’s something I’m looking for. Ben was helping before he and Willow left for Kauai. Maybe you can come along and try being an extra pair of eyes and ears for me.”

  Confusion scrambled her mind. “I don’t need sops to make me feel needed,” she said. “I want to be alone. Why don’t you just get lost. Leave me alone and get lost.”

  She closed her eyes and covered her face. And she felt him walk away from her. At first she was going to call after him, but then she turned her back on the street and fought to calm her breathing.

  “Sykes,” she said when she could, turning around.

  She looked up and down Royal Street, stood on the curb staring in the direction of the Millet’s antique shop.

  Sykes had done as she asked. He’d got lost.

  It took Poppy twenty minutes of pacing up and down to admit just how ridiculous she felt but only another two to decide what to do about it.

  She arrived at J. Clive Millet out of breath from running and hurried into the shop.

  Pascal was there, a tray of fabulous jewelry on top of the counter while he explained each piece to a teenage boy with a black eye.

  “Poppy!” Pascal saw her and his pleasure showed. “Hey, it’s a long time since you came to see me. Come and look at these.”

  His trainer, Anthony, stood behind him looking even more cheerful than usual.

  Poppy looked down on pins and lapel watches, bracelets loaded with diamonds and enamel, and unusual dress rings.

  Pascal went into his office and took a ring box from the safe. When he brought it back he said, “Look at this one,” and pushed it onto the middle finger of her right hand. “It’s got a secret compartment for carrying your poison in.” He laughed.

  Poppy smiled. “It wouldn’t hold much mad money.”

  “With a ring like that why would you need mad money?” Anthony said.

  “Maybe it was for carrying hartshorn,” Poppy suggested. “Isn’t that what ladies sniffed if they felt faint?”

  “Clever girl.” Pascal beamed. “That’s what I was told. But I’ve always thought it was for poison. Makes a better story, too, only nobody can figure out how to open it. Those are old rubies, and they’re good. Hold them up to the light. Oh, sorry, this is David.”

  The boy beside him, who also had a shaved head, smiled at her and held out his hand. She shook it thinking that the multiple piercings he wore looked out of place—although his clothes were all black and visibly old.

  “Hi, David,” she said. “I’m Poppy Fortune.”

  “She’s a family friend,” Pascal said. “David is my son, Poppy.”

  Her smile fixed and she glanced at Anthony, only to find him grinning like the boy’s other proud parent.

  “It’s super to meet you,” Poppy said to David. “Now I look at the
two of you, I can see the likeness.” Apparently Pascal had made an exception with at least one woman.

  “I know,” Pascal said, laughing. “He’s going to be taller than me but when he’s had a few weeks of eating properly, you’ll see just how much he’s like me.”

  David seemed overwhelmed.

  “Are you looking for Marley?” Pascal said. “She’s in her flat.”

  “And madder than a wet hen at Nat for luring Gray back into the department,” Anthony added. “Rotten timing.”

  “I, um, wondered if Sykes was here,” Poppy said.

  Pascal and Anthony’s quick look at each other wasn’t quite quick enough for Poppy to miss.

  “Yes, yes,” Pascal said. “He came through a while ago.”

  “He did,” Anthony echoed.

  “He looked pissed,” David added, and all became silent.

  Poppy cleared her throat. “Thanks. I’ll go find him.” And she scuttled toward the French doors that led to the courtyard. “Oh, the ring,” she said, turning back.

  “Wear it,” Pascal said, waving a hand. “It’s lucky. I’ve always been told that. You wear it as long as you like.”

  Poppy hesitated, but decided she’d give it back before she left rather than refuse Pascal’s kindness. “Thank you. I feel luckier already,” she said.

  The first thin membrane of evening had slid a grayish fuzz over the courtyard. Poppy stood still and took in the beauty of the place. In a city filled with beautiful courtyards, this was the loveliest she had seen.

  She looked up toward Sykes’s flat, then at Marley and Gray’s. Her resolve wavered. Sykes wouldn’t be unpleasant but he might be cool and she didn’t think she could handle that today. And if she went to visit Marley and he heard about it, he would know she had really come looking for him.

  “Would it be okay if I got found now?”

  She jumped at the sound of Sykes’s voice, then had to smile. “That’s why I’m here,” she said. “To find you and apologize for being a worm.”

  He emerged from a dense stand of bamboo, the same one where she had found him on that day, months ago, when she had decided to confess how she had meddled in Ben and Willow’s relationship.