Portrait of Rage (The Marcel Experience Book 1)

by Cynthia H. Wise

“She’s going through therapy, but she’s doing great. She’s at home and happy. It’s amazing how resilient kids are.”

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “I suppose Tom’s filled you in on what’s been happening?” Winward’s gaze swept the room before resting on Jonathan.

  “Yeah. We were just discussing it. It’s incredible how things turned out. But what about Robert Manning? Were you able to find out what part he played in all of this?”

  “It’s obvious he was after the Rage collection, but as you know, he escaped before Hayes and I could really get to him. Since we had nothing concrete to hold him with anyway.” He shrugged. “We’re still looking for him, but I doubt we’ll find him. We discovered that Robert Manning wasn’t even his real name. It was only one of several aliases.”

  “How’d you find that out?” Jonathan asked.

  “Interpol. Apparently, our thief’s been practicing his trade all over the world.”

  “And you let him get away?” Marsha sniggered, then grimaced with her hand over her abdomen to support her surgical stitches.

  Winward gave her a hands-up shrug. “How were we supposed to know? We were busy playing ghosts and goblins with Tom here. And we didn’t exactly let him get away. He escaped from a secure police cruiser. How does a person do that and not be seen by a half dozen cops milling around?”

  “What about the company the van was registered too? What’d you find on it?” Tom asked.

  “It’s a privately owned company specializing in investigative work, but you won’t find an ad in the yellow pages. Apparently, they’ve earned a reputation on the down low and are very good at finding missing persons and executing extractions. They even have their own lab. It’s pretty impressive really. In fact, they came to us. They have a unique tracking device on all of their vehicles. Imagine their surprise when they found it impounded and being held as evidence.” Grinning, he put his hands in his leather jacket’s pockets and shook his head. “To be honest, I don’t think they’re involved, but we’re still digging. So far, we’ve only come up with a sole owner: Marcus Hillyerd. Ring any bells?”

  Everyone shook their heads.

  “So, you have no idea who Manning was working for, if anyone,” Tom said.

  “Well now, I didn’t say that. There was one surprising development to come out of it.”

  “Which was?”

  “Hayes and I went to pay a visit to Mr. Craig Raymond and his son, Michael. When we got there, it was obvious Raymond senior was having a hard time controlling his temper. He was very evasive and abrupt with our questions, so on our way out we talked to a few employees.”

  “And?” Tom pressed when Winward paused to draw out the suspense.

  Winward’s dark eyes twinkled. “Raymond junior was nowhere to be found. Apparently, Michael skipped town the night Manning was apprehended. We went by his residence and it had been cleared out. Empty.”

  “I still don’t understand why the Raymonds would want the collection badly enough to try and steal it,” Kelly replied.

  “Did Tom tell you of the conversation he had with Merideth Chandler regarding Craig Raymond?”

  “Yes, he did.”

  “Emmy was the illegitimate child she referred to. Her mother was Craig Raymond’s mistress, as well as Carson’s mother. After she committed suicide, Raymond fell into a deep depression. He became unbearable. That’s when his wife finally left him.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Tom asked.

  “Raymond admitted it.”

  “And how did you get him to do that?” Jonathan asked.

  “After we found out about Michael, we went back to have a little chat. I told him if he didn’t come clean he would be charged as being an accomplice to his son’s illegal activities.”

  “So,” Tom said, “he lost a child, a mistress, and a wife all within days of one another.”

  Jonathan shook his head. “I’m surprised his wife put up with it as long as she did. Can you imagine sticking by a man through years of infidelity and then one day, you wake up to realize he was in deep mourning for the other woman?”

  “Did Michael know about Emmy?” Kelly asked.

  Winward nodded. “Raymond told me he got drunk one night and told the boy all about it. He even had a picture to show him.”

  “That explains why Michael was so interested in seeing the Rage collection the day he came to the gallery to pick up the paintings his father had purchased,” Tom stated. “Raymond had been adamant about buying the collection. When Michael saw Emmy’s portrait, he understood why.”

  “It would seem your Rage collection made a huge impact on a lot of people, Tom,” Jonathan replied.

  “On Russ Carson most of all,” Kelly said, claiming a corner of Marsha’s bed. She shook her head. “I’ll never understand what could drive a person to do such horrible things, especially to children.”

  Marsha gave a helpless shrug. “For the most part, the brain and the mind within it are still a big mystery, Kelly. For some people, being grossly abused as a child destroys them. Some grow up to become abusers themselves. Others take it a few steps further to create an existence of hatred where all other emotion is void. The only thing they feel is that tangible part of them that relishes lashing out at the weak. On the other hand, others who suffered the same degree of abuse fight to hold on to their sanity. Therefore, they learn to accept themselves and what happened to them and become a stronger person because of it. They’re survivors.”

  “But children shouldn’t have to suffer. They shouldn’t have to try to survive.”

  Marsha smiled sadly and shook her head. “No, they shouldn’t. But until our society stands up and takes notice, things aren’t going to change.”

  “I don’t know about that,” Tom said. “Just think about what happened. Those little girls manipulated Kelly and me to get closer to Carson, then they decimated him. They were allowed to have their revenge. But who allowed it? God? Nature? The cosmos? I don’t think change is going to wait on society, I think it’s happening now.”

  “What are you saying?” Winward asked.

  “Think about it. In the past few weeks, I’ve seen and done things I would’ve said were impossible six months ago. We all have. We can no longer turn a blind eye to what’s termed the paranormal.”

  Marsha held up her hand. “I never saw the girls.”

  “Maybe not,” Tom said. “But you sensed them. You’ve got your own woo-woo going on with your clairvoyance thing.”

  She opened her mouth and Jonathan shook his head. “Don’t try to deny it, darlin’,” he said. “Tom’s right. You might call it intuition, but it’s more than that and you know it.”

  “Why would you deny it?” Kelly asked. “It’s a gift. You should develop and use it.”

  “In my profession?” Marsha shook her head. “Too many clinical, closed minds.”

  “Why would those old fuddy-duddies even have to know?” Jonathan asked.

  Her eyes went to Tom. “I’ll never tell,” he said.

  She looked at Winward. “Tell who what?” he asked.

  Marsha’s gaze shifted to Kelly and she scowled at the smirk she saw. “And what about you?” she asked.

  “I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you want.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it. I’m talking about your gift,” Marsha said. She watched Kelly and Tom exchange glances. “Ha,” she said, pointing a finger at Tom. “You know what I’m talking about.”

  “I’m glad somebody does,” Jonathan said, looking at Winward. “Do you know what she’s talking about?”

  Winward shrugged, shaking his head. “Not a clue.”

  “I bet you don’t even need that sling, do you?” Marsha asked Tom, ignoring Jonathan and Winward.

  Tom opened and closed his mouth, then looked at Kelly. Her half-stricken expression dissolved into one of resolve as her gaze fell on Marsha.

  “I understand why you have to keep it secret,” Marsha s
aid. “If you didn’t, you’d have desperate people lining the streets wanting your help. But it’s just us here, people you can trust.”

  Kelly bit her bottom lip as she held Marsha’s gaze, then she sighed, looked at Tom, and nodded. He took off the sling and raised his arm above his head.

  “What the hell?” Winward exclaimed. “I saw your wounds, man. You shouldn’t be able to do that yet, at least not without screaming.” His eyes narrowed on Kelly, then went to Marsha. “Are you saying she healed him?”

  “Why not? She’s been healing me all week.” She chuckled, then grimaced as her hand went to the sutures in her abdomen again. Kelly removed Marsha’s hand and replaced it with her own, closing her eyes in concentration. Marsha relaxed, releasing a sigh. “Thank you.”

  “What? You mean she’s doing it right now?” Jonathan asked, staring at Kelly’s hand.

  “Yes. The heat feels wonderful,” Marsha answered with a serene smile. She looked at Winward and her smile widened. He stood like a statue, staring at Kelly slack-jawed. “I’ve baffled the doctors, you know.” Winward twitched like he’d been poked, meeting her gaze. “They told me I died from my injuries during the operation, and that my recovery would take weeks. I should be in the ICU right now, hooked up to machines. Instead, I’m sitting up in bed, walking the halls, and taking showers.” She laughed and her eyes widened as she looked at Kelly. “I barely felt that. Laughing didn’t hurt.” Marsha rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “Thank God, I can sneeze now.”

  Everyone chuckled in a half-hysterical way. Kelly withdrew her hand, leaning into Tom as he wrapped his arm around her.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “Yes. Just a little tired,” she said, smiling up at him.

  Tom kissed her brow. “I love you.”

  “When you heal, you have to share your energy, don’t you?” Marsha asked.

  “Yes, but it’s worth it. It won’t take me long to recharge.”

  “How long have you been able to do this?” Winward asked, a look of wonder on his face.

  “I think I was seven the first time,” Kelly said. “Our cat caught a chipmunk, but didn’t kill it. I cried as I held it and wished with all my heart that its injuries would go away.” She laughed. “They did. My mom almost fainted when it jumped out of my hands and scampered away.”

  “I’ll bet,” Jonathan said, looking at Kelly like she was an exotic bird speaking Swahili.

  Kelly grinned, shaking her head. “Not because I had an ability,” she said. “That was no surprise. My family history is full of people with different gifts. It’s just that healers are rare. They have to be protected, kept secret.”

  “Some people would argue that you have a responsibility to the masses that are sick or injured,” Jonathan said.

  “If I took on that responsibility, it would drain me, and I would die,” she told him.

  Silence fell around the room. Winward cleared his throat. “Well, that’s not going to happen, is it? If you ever need me, I’ll be there.”

  Kelly stood and walked to Winward. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you,” she whispered. “Same here.”

  Winward tightened his hold and gave her a squeeze. “Deal,” he said.

  Marsha raised her hand like she was in class. “I’d like in on that deal.”

  “Me too,” Jonathan said.

  Tom nodded. “Ditto.”

  Jonathan snickered. “Damn, what a team,” he said, slapping his thigh. “So far, we’ve survived a psychopath, ghosts, and a freak snowstorm.” He lifted Marsha’s hand to his lips. “We’ve accepted psychics and healers. What’s next? Shape-shifters, maybe? Vampires?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Aliens?”

  Winward snorted. “Get real, Fields. Little green men, maybe, but not shape-shifters and vampires.”

  Tom chuckled. “Yeah, and a month ago, I would’ve sworn there were no such things as ghosts.” They all shared startled, speculative glances. Then their heads started shaking and a chorus of voices said, “Naw.”

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cynthia H. Wise was born and raised in Georgia. She resides with her husband, Cliff, their two dogs, Jake and Sadie, and their cockatiel, Sam.

  Learn more about The Marcel Experience at

  CynthiaHWisebooks.com

  COMING SOON IN

  SERIES

  EYES OF AUTUMN

  SIFTING THROUGH SHADOWS