by Angel Smits
Then the woman’s voice grew clear, the fog seemed to thin. “Please. No. David. I . . . I love you.”
The man’s voice was clearer now, too. “No, my dear treacherous wife, you don’t love me. You just love my money and position and everything it gives you.”
“No, David. No.” The woman’s screams exploded through Clarissa’s mind. She heard a gunshot followed by cold, empty silence.
“Now, my sweet, you can’t hurt me anymore.”
Clarissa stared at a woman’s fallen figure. A bright red stain pooled on the front of her creamy, satin jumpsuit. Then, as the image faded away, she heard the faint notes of a music box. Its high-pitched tinny notes faded away, leaving Clarissa cloaked in dark silence.
The blackness should have felt good, but it didn’t. It was cold and lonely and she wanted to escape, but it trapped her as if she were buried alive.
Fighting the heaviness in her lungs, she tried to suck in air. Slowly, much too slowly, the darkness lifted and it grew lighter as the moments passed. She pushed herself toward it, longing to see light again.
“I think she’s coming to.” A woman’s voice sounded in Clarissa’s ear, and she jerked away from the sound, fearing the return of the angry voices.
“Miss Elgin? Clarissa?” David’s voice was a deep rumble, and she turned her head, wanting to hear the familiar sound again. Slowly, she lifted her eyelids and found her sight filled with his alarmingly handsome face.
“What happened?” Was that whispery voice really hers?
“You passed out in my office.”
“I’m sorry.” Clarissa tried to sit up, but found her strength gone and her limbs shaky. Though visions often left her depleted, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this physically drained.
“Do you want me to call a doctor?” The question came from a middle-aged woman who hovered near David’s shoulder.
“No, I think she’ll be fine. It’s probably the heat. I’m surprised we don’t have more people keeling over in the lobby.” For an instant he turned away from Clarissa and faced the woman. “You can go back to work. Call maintenance and see if they’re making progress on fixing that damned air conditioning. I’ll take care of Miss Elgin.”
“I, uh, must be going.” Clarissa tried again to get up from the couch where David had apparently laid her. Instead of helping her, she found him leaning over her, his warm, strong arms on either side, blocking her escape.
“Oh, no you don’t. I want some answers.”
He was so close she felt the hard edge of his hip pressing against her thigh. The scent of his spicy cologne filled the air around them and drifted into her lungs, taunting her, teasing her with its subtlety.
Reluctantly, she relaxed back against the cushions. Exhaustion tugged at her, and she wanted to sleep, to curl up into a ball and retreat from the world. What little sleep she’d gotten lately had proven painful. That was probably why the simple vision had drained her so completely today.
“I don’t normally have this strong a reaction,” she explained, a weak smile tugging at her lips.
“Reaction to what? Heat? Or being interrogated?”
“Neither. To a vision.”
“Let’s not start that again.” He stood and strode away from her.
She wasn’t fooled. He wasn’t letting her go. He could move with lightning speed. She sat up, taking several long seconds to adjust to the swaying of the room. There was no way she’d get away from him now, and they both knew it.
He paced back and forth in front of her like a caged animal longing to escape but knowing it had no means to leave. Every few steps his hand shot up and slid through his thick hair, leaving narrow tracks that disappeared with the next angry pass of his fingers.
“Look, I can see you don’t believe in my abilities. There’s really no sense in my staying here. I gave you my card. You know where to find me.”
“Wait a minute. You come in here demanding to see me. You know something no one else knows about in my bank. Then you say you know nothing. You expect me to believe that’s the end of it?” He reached out and snagged a chair from a nearby table. Turning it backward, he settled into the seat, resting his arms across the back. “Nothing doing.”
His dark, angry gaze bored into hers. His wide brown eyes widened even more and his nostrils flared as he breathed in. His shoulders hunched, and with his head lowered, he looked angry enough to charge. She leaned back against the couch, putting distance between them, only slightly reassured that the slim chair back stood as a barrier.
The deep breathing exercises she often used suddenly seemed worthless. Her heart pounded against her ribs, wanting also to be free. Forcing her mind to focus on something besides the anger in his eyes and her own reaction to it, she reluctantly recalled the images she’d just seen. “Are you married?”
Her question came from out of left field and the startled look on his face told her she’d taken him off guard. “Am I what?”
“Married.”
Surprise softened his features, and she found herself wanting to erase the anger from his eyes.
“No. My wife died a couple of years ago.”
“D . . . died?” Clarissa looked down at her hands in order to hide the fear gripping her. “How?”
“I don’t think that’s any of your business.” Tension and grief cloaked his voice.
“It’s just that . . . in the vision I heard people arguing.”
“Who? What were they arguing about?” His voice was patronizing.
How much did she dare to tell him? Was he . . . a killer? How fast could she run?
“I asked you a question. Who was arguing?”
She thought for a minute. She didn’t know who they were or what they had argued about. The strongest impressions she’d received were about where they had been. She sensed the familiarity they had with their surroundings. Their home. She shivered as the image became clearer in her memory.
“He was angry with her, but I don’t know why.” She paused, unsure what his reaction would be to her next words. “He shot her. I heard a music box.”
David went ghost-white pale. The eyes that had sparkled with anger filled with the dullness of grief. What nerve had she touched? Guilt?
Jumping to his feet, he flung the chair away. It clattered against the wall. “Get the hell out of here.”
The level of his voice hadn’t risen, but its tone implied leashed anger. Hatred and pain emanated from him. He turned his back to her, curling his left hand into fists, which he shoved into his pockets. “Now! Before I throw you out.” His arm extended, one long finger pointing to the exit door.
Clarissa rose to her feet, stumbling slightly. When she reached the door, she couldn’t stop herself from looking back at him one more time. He stood there, ramrod straight, every muscle in his body taut and rigid. She couldn’t see his face, but she knew his eyes were closed and his jaw clenched painfully tight with a soul-deep pain.
Agony, vicious and cold, ripped through him. She felt it pulsing and alive as it spread around him. She thought she almost saw it, reaching out toward her. Then something icy slid past her, almost a shiver but not quite. She didn’t have any idea what it was, and she turned and ran, hoping, praying, to outrun its evil touch.
Three
FLICKERING WHITE light provided the only illumination in the small security room. The closed-circuit cameras positioned directly behind each teller and at each exit broadcast views of the lobby. David slouched in a chair, his gaze skipping back and forth across the monitors, seeking some sign of anything out of the ordinary. Nothing.
Nothing unusual had happened today—or any day—in weeks. Not unless he counted yesterday’s visit from Clarissa Elgin. That had definitely been unusual. But he’d yet to find any connection with her and the bank other than the fac
t that she was a business customer. How had she found out about the embezzlement . . . or the murder?
As memories of her warnings seeped into his thoughts, he slammed the door on his emotions, an act he’d perfected over the past three years. He would not think about the past. He’d left that all behind.
He rubbed his eyes, glancing away for an instant. What he wouldn’t give for a good night’s sleep. Looking up at the monitors again, he watched an elderly woman shuffle through the brass and glass front door.
Everything looked normal, as usual. He yawned, waiting for time to pass. Then the older woman he’d only been half watching bumped into the doorman. Lionel caught her arm and steadied her. Was she all right? She smiled vaguely and continued on her way. He kept an eye on her, making certain she didn’t fall.
Light from the chandelier reflected faint blue highlights when she patted her neatly coiffed hair as she passed the large plate glass wall mirror near the door. Slowly, in that shuffling step, she walked to the table where blank forms were kept.
Painstakingly, she removed the white gloves from her hands, revealing curled arthritic fingers. Clasping the chain-mounted pen in an awkward grip, she meticulously wrote on a blank withdrawal slip.
As she wrote, she stopped to fan her face with the gloves she held crumpled in her gnarled fist. Her hand went up to her face, as if testing for a fever. He was just about to alert the staff to the fact that the woman might be unwell when suddenly she looked up.
Her gaze met his. She stared directly at the camera, at him, with sheer malevolence in her eyes. It was as if she knew he was watching. The power of her stare seemed hauntingly familiar, and yet he knew he’d never seen this woman before. Surely she didn’t know he was watching her. Scorching, prickly heat broke out on the back of his neck.
Breaking the stare, the woman slowly picked up the paper and turned to stand in line. David continued to watch as she moved to the teller and punched the personal code in the keypad on the counter. The teller counted out the bills and the old woman lifted her purse onto the counter. She neatly slid the two fifty dollar bills in next to a pile of embroidered hankies.
She turned, casting a final challenging glance into the camera, and shuffled out the door. The bright afternoon sun quickly swallowed her.
David rewound the tape to the point where the woman entered the bank. Something didn’t feel right, and he’d learned to trust his gut long ago.
Once again the old woman shuffled across the floor in her awkward gait. She walked past the forms desk, and David stopped the tape. Slowly, he advanced, frame by frame.
What the hell?
The woman didn’t go to the forms counter. She never looked up at the camera. She simply walked to the line and conducted her business.
Again he rewound the tape. Again she walked directly to the line. At the point where she put the bills in her purse, he paused the tape. Two twenties.
Was he going crazy? He’d seen the old woman go to the desk and fill out a withdrawal slip. What had happened to the tape?
He swore and slammed his fist down on the console. The pain came swiftly from the impact, from frustration, and from the curse that he’d almost learned to live with. He stabbed the intercom button. “Send Jackie in here as soon as she finishes with this customer,” David instructed the security guard who answered. He saw the guard on the monitor nod even before his words of agreement came through the phone link.
The guard walked over to the teller who had waited on the old lady. She quickly concluded the next transaction before sliding the “Next Window Please” sign in place.
It took only an instant for the teller to tap on the outside door of the observation room since it sat directly behind the teller stations.
“Come in.” David didn’t look up, but continued to watch the monitor tape of the old lady.
“Jackie? What was this woman’s business?” His finger pointed to the frozen image of the old woman.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
“She was in here only a few moments ago. How can you not remember?” He spun the chair around and glared at the young woman who stood hidden in the shadows just inside the door.
“I don’t know, Mr. Lorde. I’ve been busy today.” Her voice shook, and she didn’t venture farther into the room.
“I’m sorry to snap at you, Jackie.” David tried to relax. Getting angry with employees wasn’t going to help him at all. The foreboding pain in his joints warned him. He fought his anger, tamping it down and shoving it into the empty place where his heart used to be.
“Can you close out and bring your drawer in here? I’d like to look through your day’s business.”
“Yes, sir.” Jackie stopped at the doorway. “I haven’t done anything wrong.” She slipped from the room quickly, not waiting for his response. David spun the chair back around and watched as she returned to her station. She carefully cleared out the computer before pulling the cash drawer and heading back toward the office.
The light tap of her hand on the door came only an instant after she left the view of monitor six. David stood and opened the door this time, taking the cash drawer from her hands. As he did so, he noticed her hands were trembling.
“Don’t worry, Jackie.” He meant to be soothing, but he didn’t notice any calming in the young woman.
What was she afraid of? Was she in cahoots with the old lady and frightened by the prospect of getting caught? His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he moved to a table in the corner of the room. He set the drawer down and flipped through the deposit and withdrawal slips.
Third down in the stack he found a withdrawal form made out in an uneven scrawl. The arthritic hands.
There was his wife’s account number. All the numbers were carefully printed in the same uneven scrawl. On the matching machine receipt were the appropriate I.D. numbers. Whatever code the woman had punched in, it had created the correct number sequence to access the computer.
Rachel was the only person who had known those numbers. She hadn’t even shared with David the fact that the account existed, much less the code numbers. He hadn’t known about it until the estate was settled after her death.
He’d planned to close the account—until he’d discovered someone was still making withdrawals.
To make matters worse, no signature was required on any of Rachel’s accounts. She’d ranted and raved about how she shouldn’t have to identify herself since she was a part of the family who owned the bank. David had finally given in and requested the special adjustment. Her laziness would now be his downfall.
So how had this old woman learned the code? And why?
SUNLIGHT SLIPPED down through the trees, splashing across the overflowing produce stands. The peaches, apples and tomatoes all appeared in varied colors in the dappled light.
Clarissa strolled up and down the aisles, her basket dangling from her arm. A wide-brimmed hat shaded her face. Her skirt ruffled against her bare calves in the breeze created as she walked.
She’d hoped to step away from the world today, seeking out the farmer’s market for its soothing atmosphere. She picked up a ripe shiny apple. It’s crisp, sweet scent wafted up to her and she breathed it in, cleansing her soul.
She felt the tension slipping away and smiled.
Since she’d seen David Lorde at the bank yesterday, the visions hadn’t gone away. He was safe now, she was sure of it, now that she’d warned him.
So why hadn’t the night returned to normal?
“Can I wrap some of those up for you, dear?” A faded voice startled Clarissa and she dropped the apple. The dull thud it made as it hit the ground sounded somehow ominous and sad.
“Uh, yes.” She stooped and picked up the apple, handing it to the old woman standing on the other side of the fruit cart. “I’ll take half a dozen.”
&nbs
p; “All right.”
The woman shuffled behind the makeshift counter as Clarissa watched. She reminded her of Granny Clary. Funny, she seldom thought of Granny anymore, her grief having long ago healed. But in the past week her grandmother had come to mind several times.
“That’ll be a dollar eighty five.” The woman put apples in a paper bag.
Clarissa dug the money out of her purse and handed it over. As their hands met, the woman smiled and spoke, “Such a good girl. Trust in your instincts.”
Clarissa froze and a shiver stole up her spine. She nearly dropped the bag. That same sentence, those same voice tones and accent, had been so distinctly Granny.
“Do I know you?” she asked.
“I don’t think so.” The woman stared back. “Do you come here frequently?”
“No. I’ve never been here before.” Clarissa took several steps back. The woman watched her, a frown deepening on her brow and Clarissa felt that old fear, that old resistance to her skills as it threatened to overwhelm her.
DAVID CLOSED HIS eyes, fighting the heat that raged through his blood, the frustration that refused to fade. He clenched his fists, feeling the sharp edges of his nails dig into his skin.
He’d gone through all the teller drawers. They all balanced. He’d double-checked every security tape. He found no record or indication of who the elderly woman was or that she’d done anything different than the tape. “Damn,” he cursed and raked his fingers through his hair. He took several deep breaths, focusing on the bank of monitors in front of him.
His heart slowed and he felt the changes in his body as he calmed. Relief washed over him, but it was short-lived as the phone rang and shattered the quiet. He picked up the receiver and growled into it, “What?”
“Your three o’clock appointment just cancelled,” Melanie informed him.
Suddenly, the afternoon was empty and stretched out before him in blessed freedom. He’d already lost his temper twice today. He wasn’t sure that he could regain control if it happened again.