Extrasensory

by Desiree Holt

  The food arrived at that moment, for which Dan heaved a sigh of relief, but almost no one had any appetite.

  The CSU stopped at the door to tell them they could get into the office if they walked carefully. Holcomb and Rick took Chase and Lucas to see if anything had been removed. After checking drawers and cabinets and Stan’s computer, they both agreed nothing looked disturbed.

  “Stan was a fanatic about his stuff,” Chase said. “If someone had so much as turned on his monitor or ‘borrowed’ any of the binders on the bookshelf we’d know it.”

  Faith sat quietly with Mia, watching the proceedings, catching Mark’s eye now and then. At one point Joy stood up from the table and announced she’d had enough and was leaving. Chase rose also, speaking to her in a low voice, rubbing her arms, stroking her chin, turning her into him and away from the others in the room.

  At length she settled down, dropping into her seat with an irritated expression on her face, attempting to ignore everyone. Once again Dan thought to himself what a strange relationship it was between those two.

  “If you will just let me into the office,” Mia tried again during a temporary halt in the questioning, “I might be able to get an image of something.”

  Holcomb gnawed on his moustache for a moment. “Dr. Fleming. You seem pretty positive that this time you’re on the right track. I’d hate to shut you down if this is one of the times you can really help us. Will you try something for me first?”

  Mia looked at him suspiciously. “What?”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket and removed six photos from it. “Come sit over her next to me, please.”

  She turned to Dan, her eyes questioning.

  “Go on,” he whispered. “Play his game.”

  She settled herself in the indicated chair, hands folded.

  “I’ve been told that true precognitives can tell something just from touching photos,” Holcomb said. “Has that happened to you before?”

  “Yes but—”

  “Then let’s do a little test here, okay? No offense but I don’t want to get burned again. Not with all that media waiting outside to chew us up.”

  “Fine.” She lifted a hand and tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “Let’s do it.”

  In the end, Dan had to work hard not to laugh. Every photo Holcomb pulled out was a fake, a setup for a Homeland Security disaster drill. And his little psychic nailed them all.

  “Are we through with show and tell, Captain?” She had a hard time keeping the smug tone from her voice. “Are you satisfied with my responses?”

  He sighed. “I guess taking you to the crime scene can’t be any more futile than anything else we’re doing.”

  “I’ll go with her.” Dan held out his hand for her.

  Holcomb’s eyebrows lifted but he made no comment. “The rest of you stay here with the detectives. We’re not done yet.”

  * * * * *

  To Mia the day already felt as if it had been a week long. From Nate Wilson’s killing, to finding Stan’s body, to Joy’s outburst, to the grueling session with the police and Chase bouncing off the walls, it had been an unending nightmare. Mia had spent most of the day sitting quietly in her chair in one corner of the conference room, recovered from her fainting spell thanks to Faith. But she was exhausted from the effort of trying to recapture the vision of the knife as she’d first seen it.

  Getting into the crime scene had been a battle but finally Dan escorted her into Stan’s office.

  “They normally would have taken the body by this time,” Holcomb said. “But you’re in luck. CSU took much longer to process everything than usual and they didn’t want the body moved until they were finished. So if you follow my rules, I’ll let you have a minute in there.”

  “Thank you so much, Captain.” She made her voice as neutral as possible. No way would she let him bait her until she’d done what she needed to. “I appreciate it.”

  She stood patiently as Dan bent and tied plastic shields over her shoes and gave her a pair of latex gloves to put on.

  “Watch the numbered markers,” he told her. “They indicate places CSU has marked to photograph and they may not be finished.”

  Holcomb stayed in the doorway with Dan and watched her.

  She nodded and made her way gingerly to Stan’s body slumped in his desk chair. The scene was every bit as gruesome as Dan had described but no worse than some she’d seen in the past.

  Forcing herself to ignore the smell of death and the copious amount of blood covering Stan Forbush’s body, she took a steadying breath and reached out toward the dead man. The moment she placed her hand on Stan’s arm the vision flooded her brain again. She saw the hand stabbing the knife in a downward motion, not once, but twice. Remembering what Ellie had told her, she concentrated on blanking out everything around her and focusing on each detail in the image, trying to retain it as long as possible.

  “Gloves,” she said suddenly. “Whoever did it wore gloves.”

  “What kind of gloves?” Dan prompted. “What color?”

  She pressed her hands to her temples. “Dark. Some dark color. And heavy. Thick.” Then it was gone.

  No, she told them, she didn’t know if it was a man or a woman. No, she didn’t see anything else. She reached out her hand once more, to see if she could sharpen the vision. Suddenly she recoiled, as she was hit by a picture of spurting blood and an arm, making a chopping movement. A feeling of shock surrounded her.

  “What is it?” Dan asked. “Something else?”

  “He was surprised,” she answered slowly. “Either he didn’t expect the person in his office or whoever it was wore some kind of disguise. And he definitely wasn’t expecting the knife.”

  “Why didn’t he yell?” Holcomb asked.

  Mia closed her eyes and concentrated again, then opened them. “The first stab was to his throat and severed his vocal chords.” She felt the blood drain from her face and had to grip the edge of the desk to keep from fainting again. “He was alive when they cut off his thumb and gouged out his eyeball.”

  Holcomb and Dan both looked sick.

  “Are you telling me the truth?” Holcomb asked. “You know you’ve missed the mark before, Dr. Fleming and this is pretty bizarre.”

  “Does this sound like something a person would make up?” she snapped at him. “I’m not wrong this time. The vision wasn’t fuzzy. I swear to you, that’s what I saw happen.”

  “But you can’t tell us who it was,” he pushed.

  “No.” She shook her head. “I wish I could. But the vision is sharper each time. If I keep working at it, concentrating on it, maybe it will come to me.” She wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “I don’t have as much control over it as I’d like. But I’ve had…some instruction in how to deal with it recently. So we’ll see.” She looked at Dan, feeling completely drained. “Is there any chance I could leave now?”

  He glanced at Holcomb.

  “Yeah, she can go. But you stay. Working with these people is like herding stray cats. They’re your clients. You keep ’em in line.”

  “Fine. Just give me a minute here.” Dan took Mia’s arm as she backed out of the room. “Faith will take you back to the hotel,” he said quietly. “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I think. When he touched her the spike of electricity stabbed through her again. She wondered which was more dangerous—the situation or the man? “I just hate bothering Faith so much.”

  He grinned at her, a smile that warmed her entire body and chased away the chill that had gripped her. “Maybe she’ll put you in her next book.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Chase had turned on the television again, regretting it almost at once. Someone had put together an attention-getting story, leading off with shots of Mia’s bombed car, followed by the latest details of Nate Wilson’s murder. Then came a shot of the Carpenter Techtronics building and the news of Stan Forbush’s death. They closed t
he piece with a file head shot of Mia and a nasty recap of her history with the SAPD.

  “That’s it,” Dan said. “Mia, you’re out of here. Now.” He turned to Faith. “Can I ask you for one more thing today?”

  “Of course,” she smiled. “I’m more than happy to get Mia away from here. But leaving isn’t going to be that easy.”

  “Even if we get out, they’ll follow me,” Mia said. “These people are like vultures. You just have no idea what it’s like.”

  Mark turned to Holcomb, who radioed down to the cops he had outside trying to keep the media and the public at bay.

  “It’s just getting worse,” he told them when he clicked off the radio. “There’s more media and curiosity-seekers than we had when the mayor announced he was resigning. They’re watching every vehicle that leaves here.”

  “When do we get to leave?” Chase asked. “I’d really like to go home and have a drink. And I know Joy wants to get out of here. Badly.”

  Tell me about it, Dan thought to himself.

  “We all do,” was what he said instead. “But we need to do it in some kind of order. Let’s wait until all the other floors are empty. Then we’ll send you out one at a time with a trail car to make sure no one’s on your tail. And just to be safe, don’t go straight home. Spend a few minutes on the 410 Loop. With all that traffic, if anyone’s behind you, you’ll lose them there.”

  “They can’t follow us all,” Joy said. “Not unless they have an army out there. Do you think that’s possible?”

  “Anything is possible,” Dan told her. “However, I’m just being cautious. They’ll be concentrating their efforts on Mia. She’s their hot button. What I’d like to know is who leaked all the details they’ve been putting out on the air? Especially about Stan’s death.”

  Holcomb made a face. “They can sniff out a stale bagel but face it. Their information could come from anywhere. They all have police scanners. Detective Aragon said a television van arrived at the airport this morning not five minutes after he did.”

  Rick and Mark looked at each other.

  “This isn’t rocket science,” Rick said. “It was easier smuggling people out of Afghanistan.”

  “I could just hunker down in the car again,” Mia suggested.

  Mark shook his head. “Someone might recognize Faith’s car. Okay, here’s what we’ll do. Rick, you need wheels anyway. Is Grace Donnelly still supplying our vehicles?”

  Dan nodded and a slow smile softened the grim look on his face. “I see where you’re going with this. I’ll get her on the phone.” He pulled out his cell and speed dialed a number.

  While they waited, Holcomb took another call from the detectives investigating Nate Wilson’s death and gave everyone an update.

  “So right now,” he concluded, “our best bet is to hope the perp left something on the cell phone he had with him. Or that someone, somehow, saw him with whoever it was he met at that lot.”

  “Isn’t that a long shot?” Ladd asked.

  “You’d be amazed how often long shots pay off.”

  They’d been releasing Carpenter employees one floor at a time, as their questioning was complete. They were all told if approached by any reporters to say nothing, just refer them back to either Lucas Grant or Ladd Tolbert. Uniforms cleared the way for them out of the garage. They did their best to hold back the media lying in wait and make sure none of the cars were followed but it was hit or miss at best. All they could do was hope.

  “Maybe it’ll put a little excitement in their lives,” Lucas joked but no one smiled.

  “I don’t think they’ll find it quite so exciting if they get trapped by reporters,” Rick said in a cold voice.

  Fifteen minutes later Holcomb got a call on his radio from one of his men at the barricades and told Dan, “Your driver is on the way up.”

  “Thanks. We’re ready.”

  The elevator dinged as the door opened and a trim woman in green slacks, a uniform shirt and a ball cap that said Private Car Service on it emerged. She hugged each of the Phoenix men in turn, then looked up at Dan.

  “Okay, papa bear. What’s up?”

  Dan turned to the others. “Here’s the way we’ll do it.”

  And he laid out the plan for them.

  * * * * *

  The process was nerve-racking mostly because working with amateurs was always fraught with danger and anything could go wrong. Dan walked to a corner of the conference room to make a call on his cell phone, speaking in low tones. Then he turned back to the others.

  “Time to get moving.”

  They started off with Joy and Chase.

  “I want to get rid of the troublemaker first,” Dan told Mark and Rick in a quiet voice.

  As soon as Holcomb received word that Chase’s car had left the private section of the garage, they sent Lucas down in the elevator.

  “People tried to chase the car on foot,” Holcomb said, “but no one seems to be riding their tail.”

  Lucas’ job was to roll down his window as he pulled out of the garage, tell whoever tried to question him no comment but if they’d just back off, Carpenter Techtronics would have a statement in the morning. And assure them that yes, Friday’s announcement and demonstration was still on. They’d be holding a very short press conference in the building’s rotunda tomorrow morning.

  Ladd and Faith left at the same time. The cops directed them to turn down the side street next to the building, where they had barricades ready to pull into place to block the road. After a long day of the chaos around them, the cops were pretty much turning a deaf ear to all the yelling and screaming.

  Dan slipped the key card for the hotel suite into Mia’s small hand. “I’ll get another one from the desk. Do it just like we said.”

  “What about the news helicopters?” she asked. “They’ll be keeping an eye on things.”

  Mark and Rick grinned at each other. “Don’t you worry a minute about them. We’ve got it covered.”

  Wearing the clothes she exchanged with Grace, Mia took the elevator down with Rick, who gave her a reassuring smile. “It really will be okay,” he told her.

  “If you say so.”

  They exited at garage level and Rick directed her to the black SUV Grace had delivered. Mia climbed into the driver’s seat, waited until Rick was buckled in, then backed out into the street.

  “There’s someone,” she heard a voice yell but the police were hauling the barricades across the street again.

  “Never mind,” she heard a man shout. “The copter will pick them up. We’ll see if it’s her or the other woman.”

  At that moment, Rick’s phone rang and he spoke briefly before hanging up.

  “Dan and Grace are out. They just pulled out into the street in Dan’s car. When the media tried to stop them they were mighty disappointed that the woman in your clothes is Miss Grace Donnelly of the Private Car Service. They aren’t too happy with the fact that they’ve been snookered. Dan said he’d meet you back at the hotel but to go ahead and eat without him. He has some things to do.”

  “Rick, did you hear what that man shouted? The news helicopters are chasing us, so what good did it do to go through this whole charade?”

  “Just hang on, honey. It bought us some time and I promise you. They’ll be out of our hair in a minute.”

  Mia kept driving, eyes straight ahead. When she heard the whapping sound of the helicopter rotors overhead her hands tightened on the steering wheel.

  “Just hold on,” Rick told her again.

  Suddenly she heard another sound overhead. Glancing in the rearview mirror she saw the biggest, blackest helicopter she’d ever seen doing an aerial dance with all of the news choppers. No matter which way any of them turned, the pilot in the black bird was in their face.

  “Thank you, Mike,” Rick breathed.

  “One of yours,” Mia guessed.

  “Our ace flyboy. Dan’s brother also flies for us but Mike’s the king of the chopper. When Dan called me to
come out here, he said to roust out Mike and have him bring the big bird in case we needed it. It’s a good thing we did.”

  Mia shook her head. “I feel like I’m in a spy movie.”

  “Honey, you aren’t all that far wrong.”

  * * * * *

  For the killers everything was falling into place even better than they’d hoped. The escalating chaos only worked in their favor. In a situation like this there was safety in numbers. The longer the list of suspects, the less likely the spotlight was to shine on them.

  At the beginning of their planning they’d stocked up on disposable cell phones, programming them and making a list of their numbers. They’d used them in order, disposing of them after each use—the battery in one place, the phone in another. Now, later in the evening, after watching the final news broadcast of the day, they were having a brief conversation.

  “Taking Forbush’s thumb and eyeball was a brilliant idea.”

  “Thanks. I knew it would get those assholes wrapped up in the biometrics. Send them off on a false lead.”

  A sharp laugh almost like a bark snapped across the connection. “You talking about the security consultants?”

  “A fancy term. They’re just mercenaries with expensive, custom-tailored suits and more hardware than brains.”

  “Don’t take them too lightly. Phoenix has a tough reputation.”

  “Fuck ’em. We’re smarter than they are.”

  “I’m just saying, don’t let your ego screw this up. Is everything else on track?”

  “No problem. Khalid knows the first payment is due on Thursday or no deal.”

  “You have a backup list in case he wimps out, right?”

  “Are you kidding? Everyone in the world would like Oscar. But don’t worry about Khalid. He’s solid. He’s practically drooling over the power it will give him.”

  “Well, you can pat yourself on the back for this one. He was your contact and you worked him from the get-go.”