Blinded

by Teyla Branton

  “Good, you’re back,” Tawnia said. “How’d it go?” Destiny must be napping again in her crib because she was nowhere in sight as my sister rang up a solitary customer at the counter.

  Before replying, I waited until the customer left with an antique lamp I’d found at an estate sale last week. “Ears check out fine.”

  “What did she say to do?”

  “Rest.”

  Tawnia grimaced. “Sorry. No change with the imprints?”

  I shrugged.

  “You should go see Cody. I mean, since he can also read imprints. Maybe this has happened to him before.”

  “I was thinking about calling him.” Our biological father lived nearly an hour away in Hayesville, so a phone call would be faster than a visit. “But I want to look up something on the Internet first.”

  Tawnia nodded. “It’s about that old woman, isn’t it? Well, I already pulled up everything I could find on her. I left the tabs open.” She gestured to the computer. “I’m sorry to say that I need to take off now. Randa’s here, helping Jake, and she and Thera can keep an eye on things here. You could even go home to rest. In fact, if you go right now, I’ll give you a lift. Better yet, why don’t you come home with me? I only have to stop at work for a few minutes to check in with my creative director. After, I’ll make you a nice dinner.”

  Nice for Tawnia meant something frozen and plonked in the microwave. “Thanks, but I’ve got a date later with Shannon.” I didn’t plan on going anywhere near her house until after this case was solved. I didn’t think she’d be in danger on this busy street, but I wouldn’t chance anyone following me to her quiet subdivision and possibly mistaking her for me.

  “You sure you’re okay?”

  “Yes. You go on home.”

  With a hug and a flurry of gathering up her laptop and baby things, Tawnia left the store with Destiny. I felt nothing as she left, and I desperately missed the disconnecting feeling that I normally experienced. Of the invisible cord between us stretching thin. A cord that appeared to no longer exist.

  Before I could round the counter and look at the information Tawnia had uncovered on the computer, my door rang, and I turned, expecting to see a customer, or maybe even Claire Philpot here to pick up Jazzy. Instead, Kolonda Lewis stood in the doorway in all her elegant beauty.

  I’d thought the day couldn’t get worse, but I was wrong. I stood for a minute staring at my old rival, my face feeling tight and my tongue fat.

  “Hi, Autumn,” she said. “Is now a good time? I was in the neighborhood, and I thought I’d stop by. I have to admit I’ve been curious ever since you called.”

  That’s right, she was here because I’d asked her to come, a call I should have made ten months ago. But I really didn’t want to talk to her now.

  Chapter 6

  Kolonda Lewis was a college teacher who had been raised with all the privileges her wealthy widowed father could provide, and his legacy still supported her in her chosen profession. Ebony hair fell around her face in gentle waves, and her skin was the color of rich dark caramel, her eyes large and brown. As usual, she wore a clingy dress that advertised a healthy bank account and a figure most women envied.

  Now was most certainly not a good time. I’d been rolled in a rug, caught in a bombing, and I had agreed to read imprints for a mobster. Not to mention that I’d lost my ability. I looked worse than Kolonda looked good.

  Kolonda’s gaze wandered the length of me, but she didn’t comment on my appearance. Instead her eyes shifted to the double doors leading into Jake’s shop, and I knew she was more curious about what he’d been up to the past ten months than whatever I might say. Lucky for her both things were connected.

  I’d called her because I wanted Jake to be happy. I called her because he hadn’t. Maybe he thought my feelings for Shannon were a passing thing, and I suppose he could be right, but I doubted it. Not when the world stopped rotating every time Shannon kissed me.

  I’d never had trouble finding dates, and I’d had a few crushes before, but Jake had been the first one to fall for me. He was my first real boyfriend and still one of my best friends. It was hard to give him up even though I’d found someone else, but I knew that for either of us to go on with our lives, he had to let me go. That meant I couldn’t allow him to have hope. He needed to move on.

  He’d loved Kolonda once, and I knew he still harbored special memories of the time they’d had together. Years ago, she’d ended their relationship by her father’s command because he said Jake wasn’t good enough, and she’d loved and respected her father when he was alive the way most children didn’t these days. Her heart had been broken, though, and she’d regretted her decision all these years.

  Of course, things might have changed in the ten months since we’d last met. For all I knew, she might be engaged and head over heels in love with some new teacher at her school.

  I glanced around to make sure we were alone. “It’s about Jake. I wanted you to know . . . well, I’m dating someone else now. Jake and I aren’t together.”

  “Oh.” She caught her bottom lip in her teeth, white against the darkness of her skin.

  I could have told her on the phone, but I’d meant to chat her up first, maybe touch something of hers to verify that she still had feelings for Jake. With my ability MIA, that was out of the question now.

  Kolonda glanced again to the adjoining doors. There was something more in her delicate face now: hope. I hadn’t been wrong. I should have called months ago.

  It was still hard to let go. Right now I had Shannon, but in a very real way I still had Jake, watching me from the sidelines, ready to step in and mend any possible broken heart. Always ready to catch me if I fell.

  Okay, maybe I called Kolonda as much for me as for him. Until this moment, I thought I was being unselfish, but now I knew the truth. I didn’t even have to learn it from an imprint. If Jake didn’t go on without me, I wasn’t sure I could let him go entirely.

  “It’s his busy time now,” I said, “but he’s free tonight. Isn’t there some college lecture or concert you can invite him to?”

  She reached out and touched my arm. “Thank you for calling me. I really appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.” I hoped she could look beyond our last encounter when she’d clung to Jake but he’d chosen me instead. Strangely, that same day had marked the beginning of my relationship with Shannon.

  It was also the day I’d made my questionable deal with Russo.

  I turned from Kolonda, not wanting to share the emotion I couldn’t hide. I’d done the right thing, and now I had to get back to work and find out who was trying to kill me—or at the very least kidnap me. It made sense that JoAnna Hamilton had a hand in my abduction this morning, given her proximity and Russo’s request, but that didn’t mean it was true.

  I went behind the counter and sank onto a stool, my muscles protesting at the effort. I’d sustained bruises, that was for sure, but I wouldn’t know how bad they were until I had time to examine myself thoroughly. I pressed a key to bring the sleeping computer to life.

  “Uh.” Kolonda still hesitated in front of my counter. “What if he . . . what if he says no?”

  She was fearful after the last time, which I could well understand. Jake wasn’t one to wear his emotions out in the open, and it had taken us a long time to go from friendship to something more. I thought for a moment. “You still own those apartments, don’t you? The ones you asked his help with the last time? Isn’t there something you could ask his opinion on?” Jake had once worked construction and he’d have contacts who could help. He loved to play the hero. Come to think of it, maybe that’s why he was still holding onto hope about me.

  “I do have mold growing in one of the bathrooms. I hired a guy who said he’d have to demolish the whole room, but that seems rather severe.”

  “There you go then. Ask him about that, and see what happens. You’ll know if the spark is still there.”

  I clicked a tab on t
he computer. Only when I was sure she was leaving did I let my eyes follow her a bit wistfully before I settled down to work.

  JoAnna Hamilton, recently turned seventy-six, was harked as a self-made billionaire who built up a software business out of nothing. Deeper examination revealed that in her early years Hamilton had received support from a nameless donor—probably her father, who’d apparently abandoned the family when JoAnna was a baby. Of JoAnna’s half brother, Ralph Shatlock, ten years her junior, there was little information, except that he’d taught science at two eastern universities and had received several grants to research nanotechnology. All mention of him dropped off the Internet about three years ago, but I couldn’t find an obituary, so maybe he’d opted for a private company or early retirement.

  Maybe he worked for his sister.

  Hamilton’s company, Innovation Software, had a half-dozen subsidiaries, the most prominent being HealthTech, which made software for medical schools, doctors, and pharmacies. Another subsidiary, VisionGames, created a line of surprisingly successful video games. While the companies had raked in the cash in previous years, rumor now had it that Innovation Software had fallen on bad times, barely repulsing a hostile takeover last year when their stock had plummeted. I wondered if Russo had anything to do with either their downfall or their survival. The bottom line was that, even at a reduced price, the company was worth millions.

  In her personal life, JoAnna had been less successful, plagued by a series of quick marriages and equally quick divorces. Unfortunately for her former spouses, her prenuptial agreements held up in court and her fortune remained safe. No children emerged from her unions, and her heir apparent was Winston Drewmore, the grandson of her cousin Marribel Hamilton, all of whom lived together in a twenty thousand-square-foot lakefront mansion with an indoor pool and tennis court. A picture of the house in Lake Oswego filled a sizeable corner of the screen.

  No mention of organized crime, Nicholas Russo, or In Loving Memory. I hoped Paige had better luck at finding something useful. Of course, being a police detective, she had a lot more information at her fingertips than I did.

  I had no idea how much time I’d spent staring at the computer screen, but my headache was considerably worse, making it difficult to concentrate. I have to do something, I thought. I couldn’t just sit around waiting for my talent to kick in—if it ever did.

  Shannon wouldn’t want me to go anywhere. He’d want me buttoned up safe inside my store, protected from any further attack, and with Peirce playing watchdog, I wasn’t likely to make it far without him calling reinforcements. I loved Shannon, but I wouldn’t live my life in fear.

  Well, maybe I would cave into fear just for today.

  Swallowing the sudden lump in my throat, I rifled through the drawer under the counter, coming up with a long-expired bottle of pain pills. Downing two without water, I reached for my phone, pressing the icon of Cody Beckett’s face.

  He answered after only two rings, which told me he’d taken to carrying his new phone around as he worked on the oversized statues he carved in one of his fields. Some of his projects took more than a year to complete and went for a steep enough price to keep his agent happy.

  Tawnia had suggested the phone, after trying a week to contact him so she could take Bret and the baby to Hayesville to meet him. I suspected Tawnia and I were Cody’s only contacts.

  “Hi,” he said, sounding out of breath. “What’s up?”

  “Did I get you at a bad time?”

  “Nope, just working. But I need to get down and find a drink anyhow. And it’s probably lunch time.” Rustling came from his end, crackling almost like static.

  “Hours past lunch, actually.” I imagined him climbing down the tall stacks of straw that helped him reach his latest carving—a boat bursting from a huge log. He was at the point of adding color to the carving, or so Tawnia told me, but I couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said about his process.

  “So what’s up?”

  “I have a problem.” No use pretending I’d called for any other reason. Though I’d forgiven him for what he’d done to my biological mother, we didn’t have anything near a normal father-daughter relationship, and probably never would, despite Tawnia’s determination to invite him to every family gathering. My father was Winter, the man who’d adopted me. Cody understood that, and we were both fine with letting each other live life any way we saw fit. That meant not a lot of forced talk or meetings, connecting only when the mood hit, as it sometimes did, often late at night.

  “What is it?”

  I could hear nothing but silence on the other end now—no rustling or uneven breathing. “Did you ever lose your ability to read imprints?”

  He didn’t answer right away. My heart began pounding as loudly as my head.

  “How’d it happen?” he said finally.

  “I’m not sure. I got stuck in an imprint loop, and then there was an explosion nearby. Not a big deal.”

  He chuckled without mirth. “Is that the version you told your sister?”

  “Okay, it was horrible. I kept waiting to see these feet, and I pulled this rug so the person would tumble down some stairs. I think it was a man’s imprints, and that he murdered someone. I—I couldn’t breathe.” I was having a hard time breathing now, my panic rising at the memory.

  “What about the explosion?”

  There was nothing else to do but tell him the entire unvarnished story, so I did—the rug, the kidnapping, nearly smothering to death. “The police were following and shooting at them,” I finished, “and they crashed and tried to dispose of the evidence by exploding the van. But I’m not sure if evidence refers to the van and the rug. Or also me inside the rug.”

  “But you’re okay? Other than the imprints, I mean?”

  “I’m fine.”

  He sighed. “No imprints.” For the first time, envy laced his words. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to get rid of this curse?”

  No, but I could guess. “I thought I wanted that, too, but it’s not like I thought. It’s like . . .” How to explain?

  “Like having an arm cut off. Like being blind. Like knowing something important is missing.”

  “So it has happened to you.”

  He hesitated. “When I took drugs, yes. But it was only temporary. That’s why I did drugs so much when I was younger. I used to think anything was worth getting rid of it—until I learned it wasn’t.”

  This was something new, something I hadn’t known about him. Not the drugs, but the reason he’d used them after his mother had died in a sanitarium and left him an orphan. He’d tried to escape who he was. With no guidance or purpose in life, it wasn’t hard to see how he’d spiraled downward. But he’d pulled himself out after the incident with my mother and claimed he’d been clean ever since. I believed him.

  “How fast did it come back?” I asked.

  “Right away. A few hours after I was sensible again.”

  Not a lot of help. “I’m sensible.”

  “Yeah, but to get rolled up in that rug, forced to repeat that imprint.”

  “I’ve been caught in a repeat before. I usually just pass out.”

  “Then maybe it’s the combination of the imprint with the explosion. It’s upset your system. Or put it to rights.”

  “Permanently?”

  “I don’t know.” He felt sorry for me, I could tell by his tone, but the envy hadn’t quite left, either. Maybe I was better off and I’d eventually come to terms with my loss and be happy for it. He’d experienced imprints for a lifetime longer than I had and could know better.

  “What am I going to do?” I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly to push my panic back into a manageable lump in my chest.

  “Well, there’s this guy,” Cody began. “Easton Godfrey. Lives up by you in Beaverton. When I get back to the house, I’ll text you his number.”

  For some reason that struck me as amusing. “You’re texting now? Really?”

  “How else am
I going to keep in contact with your sister without spending all my time yappin’ on this phone? She’s rather persistent. Anyway, you have to be really careful with this Godfrey. He ain’t nice, and he doesn’t care who he hurts, but he might be able to find you some answers. You can tell him I sent you, but don’t give him any personal information, including your name, unless you want him hounding you for the rest of your life like he does me. Appears on my doorstep at least twice a year. Have to run him off with the shotgun.”

  “Who is he? How can he help?” Unless the man shared my talent, I failed to see how he could be of use.

  “Didn’t I say? Easton’s one of them scientists.” He spat the word like a curse.

  A scientist. Since my ability had a scientific name, it followed that someone might be studying it. Had they found others like me? Could this man figure out what was wrong with me before Russo decided I was holding out on him and take revenge on my friends and family?

  “Believe me,” Cody went on, “he’ll be more than happy to give you a few tests. In fact, if he could, he’d lock you up in a room, plaster you with electrodes, and never let you go. Then I’d have to rescue you before he zaps you with too much electricity or whatever to make you tell him about Tawnia and the baby. He’d love to have a baby who might have our ability. You know, to train her from small. Don’t worry, though. I got my gun and I could take him, even if that meant going back to jail, which is almost worse than anything.”

  I shook my head, stifling a groan. Even if I didn’t know Cody was our biological father, his stories would alert me to his relationship with my twin. Their creative side didn’t seem to know when to quit. But where Tawnia’s exaggerations were usually amusing and had no basis in reality, Cody had already once come to my rescue with a gun in hand, so I didn’t find his story in the least amusing. “I won’t tell him anything about Destiny or Tawnia. I’ll be careful.”

  If this man could help me, I’d be able to get rid of Russo. Maybe I could stop feeling like a vital chunk of me was missing.