a Touch of TNT (An Everly Gray Adventure)

by Charles, L. j.

  She grabbed her napkin and swiped it across her chin, then grinned. “Guess we know what you’ll be doing this evening.”

  “Um-hmm. I need to keep busy so I don’t get all whacked out about seeing him. I’m going to pay a visit to either North Construction or C. J. Builders, see if anything interesting pops up, maybe touch things and test my fingers. See if it was the heat causing the distortion. What do you think?”

  “Death.”

  A chill skittered along my arms. “Death?”

  “Yeah. Yours at the hands of Hayes and Adam when they find out you’ve been investigating on your own.” Annie’s arms were crossed, and her eyes had that annoying squinty look.

  “Not investigating exactly. I just want to get a feel for the players. No telling what my fingers will pick up, and it would be an opportunity to test the images I’m getting. See if they’re hazy when I touch people, or just stuff.”

  “You could touch me, test out your fingers,” she said, then added an emphatic nod. Probably trying to convince herself it was the right thing to do, but the hesitation in her voice told me otherwise. Annie had secrets.

  “No. That would be disrespectful to our friendship. And, we’re close. I think I need to test it on something…unfamiliar, so I know for sure it’s my fingers creating the image, not my rational thought process.”

  “Makes sense. Still—”

  “Hayes officially added me to the team.” I poured soap in the appropriate compartment, closed the dishwasher and punched the Start button.

  She shook her head. “I’m gonna guess he didn’t authorize any solo events.”

  “Since we didn’t discuss details, I’m free to explore.” I slipped my keys into the side pocket of my handbag and slung it over my shoulder.

  “Okay. What’s your plan?” she asked.

  “Plan?”

  “Yeah. You can’t just go barging in without a plan.”

  I shrugged. “I’ll be lost. Ask for directions. Hayes and Adam will never know I did this, and it’ll give me a chance to play catch up. Adam’s been working this case for a few days. Knows all the players. I don’t. Puts me at a disadvantage. And with the finger malfunction…”

  Her eyes narrowed. “You’re really nervous—make that scared to death?”

  “Well, yeah. What if my fingers are messed up and I can’t do this? It’s the first time I’ve been asked to use my gift—officially. And what’ll it do to my coaching business? I depend on the ESP link to do the right thing for my clients.” Panic zipped along my nerves. I hadn’t thought about the impact on my business until the words slipped out of my mouth.

  She pulled her cell out of her back pocket. “You’re a natural at coaching, could do it with your hands tied behind your back, so stop with the panicked look. How about you check in with Adam?”

  “No. I don’t want anyone to know. I need to do this alone, because the aura surrounding people, all people—it could throw me off even more.”

  She looked suspiciously like she would call Adam no matter how much I protested, so I kept talking. “How about I promise not to do anything but drive by the offices, maybe park, see if anything interesting happens?” Both hands were behind my back, fingers crossed.

  “Do not get out of your car,” she said as she stood and tucked her cell away. “You can test those magic fingers someplace safer.”

  “I’ll be careful. And I can call you if anything looks, or feels dangerous.”

  Annie tried to tuck a curl behind her left ear. It sprang free. “I really don’t like you out by yourself, even for surveillance. You have this way of getting into trouble. But if you have your cell and we’re in touch—”

  I tried not to look relieved. “Great.”

  Annie’s nose wrinkled up. “You know, your experience with surveillance work is limited. I’m not sure—”

  “I am sure. My new phone takes good pictures, so I can document anything exciting that happens.”

  “I’d be a little more comfortable if you weren’t excited.” Her lips clamped together. “It’s not a thrilling task, and I know you. You’ll get bored, add your own excitement, and all hell will break loose.”

  I shrugged, pulled a clip out of my pocket and clamped my hair in an untidy tail. “You’ll be right there on the other end of your cell phone watching over me. What could possibly go wrong?”

  TWO

  Calvin Jacobson’s office was located closer to my house than North Construction, so it won the coin toss. I drove around the industrial complex looking for C.J. Builders, finally found a sign informing me it was located on the second floor of a three-story building. No way to stroll by and look in a window.

  I parked in a shady spot, rolled the window down and waited, because hey, I’d promised Annie I’d stay out of trouble. Birds chirped and a light breeze whispered along my neck ruffling my hair. Dust motes danced in the early afternoon sunshine. Peaceful. Idyllic, even.

  And wrong.

  An itchy twitch crept along my ankles. Not good. My curiosity kicked into overdrive, obliterated common sense, and rendered null and void any promises I’d made about staying out of trouble.

  I stepped onto the concrete and scanned the parking lot. Everything seemed unusually clear and sharp, a direct contrast to the foggy images I’d picked up at the construction site. ’Course I was using my eyes, not fingertips, but still stuff didn’t usually look so…stark. Made me regret not touching Annie for comparison, but it’s a personal rule I have not to trespass in my friends’ lives.

  Except for Mitch. We touch. And we still haven’t faced the resultant security issues, which was a big part of the reason I was nervous about seeing him. As soon as I touched him I’d know where he’d been and what he’d been doing. We had to talk about it, and it could mean the end of our relationship if he insisted that I get a security clearance. No way could I do that. The government keeping track of my fingers—no way. I shuddered and shoved the thought aside. Mitch later, Jacobson now.

  I took a minute, just standing there, to adjust to the crystal clarity of the heat waves and how the birdsong sparkled in the air. And then I tossed my handbag over my shoulder and casually circled the building a couple times, observing entrances and exits while I worked on my cover story—a hopelessly lost, somewhat ditzy redhead.

  By the time I entered the building, I’d managed to convince myself that finding Calvin Jacobson would be my salvation. Hey, whatever works.

  The lobby was spacious with skylights that allowed sunlight to filter through and nourish the potted ficus trees. They cast leafy patterns against the walls and the pale marble floor that looked a lot like modern art.

  I wove through several conversation areas with sofas and chairs—all done in muted shades of mauve that reeked of boring—until I reached the far wall. According to the directory that was mounted between the elevator and stairway, C.J. Builders was located in suite 207.

  The elevator dinged open, and a line of cold ran up my spine. Apparently my spidey sense didn’t think it was a good idea to get on the elevator. I ducked into the stairway and slowly made my way to the second floor.

  I pushed open a heavy wooden door and peeked around the edge. A long parquet hall that screamed Expensive Building opened in front of me. The marble in the lobby was normal, but most businesses went for cheaper carpeting on the upper levels.

  The numbers on the doors indicated that Jacobson’s office was at the far end. I strolled along the corridor, noting the impressive glass doors that showed off busy receptionists and plush waiting rooms.

  Not so, C.J. Builders. The door to Jacobson’s office was tucked into an alcove at the end of the hall and was made from solid wood that left me guessing whether to knock or try the knob. He needed a decorating consultant to upgrade his curb appeal. I leaned around the edge of the alcove wall for a quick look into the hall. The muted sound of telephones and conversations blended into silence. No one was around.

  My hand hovered an inch from the knob. I jerked ba
ck and sucked in a couple deep breaths. Energy had licked at my fingers, strong enough to feel without touching. Odd. Inanimate objects didn’t usually have such a strong field. People, yes. Things, almost never. Unless…

  My curiosity on overdrive, I reached for the doorknob again.

  Footsteps sounded from down the hall.

  I jumped back, listening to the bits of soft conversation that disturbed the silence. I had three choices: knock, open the door, or leave. I didn’t want to be caught loitering in the hall. Too hard to explain.

  I curled my hand into a fist, rapped against the wood, and the door clicked open.

  The metallic scent of blood assaulted my nostrils.

  Panic clawed at my belly and a rush of adrenaline scraped along my nerves.

  Damn it all to perdition.

  I sucked in another breath and forced my fingers to touch the doorknob again—held them there until a single image slammed into my head—a gloved hand turning the knob.

  Dead.

  Body.

  Sure as anything there was one on the other side of the door because whoever had touched the knob had been intent on murder. No doubt about it. The picture was sharp in my mind—no cloudy edges—but more importantly, the passionate need to kill was razor sharp in my brain.

  I started to sink down, to sit before I collapsed, but the voices from down the hall grew louder. Laughter. Probably not the killer. A door clicked. Open or closed? Silence filled the hallway. Sigh of relief? Or was that panic shuddering through my chest? I should run for help. But where? What if the killer was behind one of the glass doors passing himself off as an innocent receptionist?

  I dried my sweaty palms on my skirt, gulped in some air, and swallowed the fear churning in my belly. I reached out, fingers trembling, and touched the metal knob again. The same image flooded my senses. Still strong, but fading slightly. Okay. Not a fluke. Same image. Twice. Probably the real thing. But a fading image meant the killer was probably gone. Didn’t it? That made inside the safest place for me. I pushed the door open with my toe. Just a smidge. Enough to listen for any untoward sounds.

  It was dead quiet.

  The odor was stronger—that necrotic, musty scent that clings to your throat with gagging intensity. I’d smelled it once before. Would never forget. It triggered a figment of my common sense, and in one smooth move I dug out my cell and pressed speed dial for Annie.

  No answer. Where the hell was she? This wasn’t the sort of thing to leave on voicemail, but my choices were limited to one. “Hey, it’s me, El,” I whispered into my phone. “I need you here. Now. I, um, think we have a dead body to deal with, and I don’t know what to do. This is going to be a crime scene and…I don’t know what to do.”

  It took three tries to end the call. Shaking fingers are not adept. Running away would be good, except my knees were still on the shy side of functional, and I couldn’t seem to get my feet to move.

  I used my shoulder to nudge Jacobson’s door open a little wider. Still quiet.

  A sharp clack echoed from down the hall, voices drifted in my direction, and a brain malfunction pushed me inside C.J. Builders. Yep, I’d passed from mildly unhinged to certifiably crazy. And the day wasn’t even over.

  It was a tidy reception area. A soft beige sofa sat along the far wall with two upholstered chairs in a contrasting print placed at right angles. A modern sculpture sat on a dark wood table separating the entryway from the secretary’s desk. No receptionist-slash-secretary. Maybe she, or he, was the dead body, except no bodies at all, living or dead, were in evidence. I pulled my t-shirt over my nose and inhaled, deep. Gagged. The smell was stronger. Someone was definitely dead.

  A short hall opened off the main room. I took a few steps in that direction, and then thought better of it. Everyone knows traipsing through a crime scene is a bad plan. Up to this point, I hadn’t touched anything except the outside of the door, so probably hadn’t done too much damage. Chief Hayes had just hired me. It’d be a really bad plan to get on his black list.

  My phone was still in my hand. Should I call nine-one-one? Nope. Terrible idea. Explaining about the ESP fingers would be bad for everyone, and I didn’t want to put Adam in that position. I could call Chief Hayes directly, but it was my first day as a consultant for the department, and I didn’t have permission to be here. Annie was right about that. This field trip was probably my worst idea. Ever.

  My thumb found the speed dial number of Annie’s former partner, Tynan Pierce. I jabbed at it. Took a few tries, but I lied to myself and called it a muscle spasm. Calling Pierce was dangerous. Still, he was the perfect choice. Worked under the radar, never explained himself, knew how to kick butt, and would protect me from…whatever. Best of all, he and Annie often worked with Chief Hayes, so I wasn’t trampling on any official toes. I’d be forever thankful he answered on the first ring.

  “El? What’s wrong?” First thought that hit my rapidly deteriorating mind: he must have caller ID.

  “I found a body. I haven’t actually seen it yet.”

  I was creeping down the hall. Stopped. Shook my head to clear it.

  “I don’t know if I should go looking for it, if I should back out of here and go sit in my car, or maybe I should just start screaming, uh-huh, that would work.”

  “Stay right where you are and give me the address. Do not move, not a muscle.”

  I was almost to the end of the hall. Still no dead body.

  “Okay.” I rattled off the address. “Pierce?”

  “Yeah, I’m here.”

  And there he was. Jacobson.

  Sitting in his chair, his shirt soaked with blood.

  A scream rumbled in my chest. I slapped my free hand over my mouth and bit down hard.

  “Hhhah. Dead. Jacobson. T-Throat slit. B-blood.”

  My knees gave out.

  “What the fuck, El?”

  I grabbed at the wall, barely stopping before my fingertips touched the surface, and slowly backed down the hall.

  “Okay. I’m o-okay.” My voice shook, badly enough to create a minor earthquake in my muscles. I bit my cheek. Do not faint, El. You’ll leave trace evidence. Or whatever.

  “Okay. Backing away n-now.”

  “Don’t move.” He was pissed. I could tell by the sharp edges jabbing through his Irish brogue. “In the car. Ten minutes out. Fill me in while I’m driving.”

  I backed myself all the way into the reception area while I told him the whole sordid story. The chief’s request that I consult for the department, working with Adam, and how I managed to be standing in the reception area of an office with a dead body down the hall. I was still babbling when I smelled him, hot and spicy, behind me. He took the phone out of my hand, pulled me into his arms, and planted a kiss on the top of my head. “Stay here.”

  Fat chance.

  My feet moved and didn’t stop until I was so close behind Pierce I could feel the heat from his body. He turned, his hands landing heavy on my shoulders, dark blue eyes probing my soul. I planted my palm on his chest, pushed, and the image of Jacobson’s body tore through me. Death scenes apparently leave an image like double-edged razor blades. This one cut right through my already bruised mind and left shards of pain behind. Pierce gave me a shake then spun me around. “Go back to the reception area. Now.”

  I backed off a few steps, keeping my fingers curled into tight fists so I wouldn’t inadvertently touch anything else, and I counted breaths until he came out of Jacobson’s corner office.

  Twenty-three.

  He was talking, cell phone to his ear, describing what we’d found. He pointed at me. “Anyone see you come in here?”

  “No.” It came out as a croak. I cleared my throat. “I circled the building twice before I came in. Someone may have noticed, but no one looked up when I passed the other offices, no one followed me down here.”

  Pierce relayed my answer to whomever he was talking to, then turned to me. “Go back to your car and stay there. Annie should have cleared
the perimeter by now so you’ll be safe. Lock yourself in and wait for me.”

  I gave him a shaky nod and hustled outside. I slid behind the steering wheel and hung on. Hot. Car. Good thing I’d parked in the shade, or it’d have been like sitting in a blast-furnace while I waited for Pierce—especially if he planned to look for clues.

  Annie’s truck was parked next to my Bug, but I didn’t spot her wandering around. After draining a bottle of warm water, I tried to call her but by the time the phone kicked into ring mode, she was standing next to my car. “You okay?” she mouthed before I could open the window.

  I unlocked the door, pushed it open. “Yeah, I’m okay. I called Pierce after I left the message for you. He’s upstairs now. Where were you?”

  Her eyes flashed. “Bathroom break. Gotta ask. Why’d you call Pierce and not Adam or the Chief?”

  “ESP fingers don’t belong in a dispatcher’s report. I’m trying to stay on the down low, keep my private life private. Pierce is so far removed from official that calling him felt…safe.”

  “I would never put my former partner and safe in the same sentence, but I see your point. If you’re okay, I’m going in to talk to him.”

  I managed to nod but I was a long way from okay. I sucked it up. Being the newest member of the department it was a seriously bad timing for a meltdown, especially when they were going to ask what I saw when I touched the doorknob. I should make like a law enforcement professional and jot down some notes. I dug my iPad out of my handbag and started typing as the images flashed across my mind.

  The car door clicked open.

  Fear slammed into my gut, and if it weren’t for Pierce’s hand over my mouth I would have let out a scream to, um, wake Jacobson from the dead. He hunkered down next to me. “Sorry. I’ve got the situation covered. Go home. Stay there. Don’t let anyone in but me, Adam or Annie. Are you okay to drive?”

  “Yeah. I’m okay.” It had become automatic to spout off the lie. Scary. “How long will you be? I’m not good with waiting.”