Dangerous to the Touch
© 2017 Melinda Craig
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Contents:
Meeting
The Dream
Meeting Jake
Home
Reoccurring Nightmare
Putting the Pieces Together
Meeting
Tired had become a part of my routine. Sleepless nights were not helping my dilemma and I had enough of them to make me wish I could IV the coffee directly into my veins. I sat as poised as one could expect, especially after tossing and turning the previous night. I looked at my navy shoes that definitely bore a resemblance to the color black earlier this morning. Well, at least they didn’t clash with my red skirt…the gloves, on other hand, they would have to do. Coffee, where was coffee when I needed it? My eyes scanned the lobby until I found it…the black liquid that looked so heavenly. I checked my watch again and resigned to stay seated a few more minutes.
I had been waiting in the lobby for thirty minutes and there was no sign of the man who called me early this morning. I couldn’t help but sigh as I got up, straightened my red pleated skirt and gave in to the urge for more coffee. Even with my black gloves, my fingers could still feel the heat from the handle on the pot. Perfect. I knew I should have more patience, with the type of job I held, but if there was anything I couldn’t stand it was rudeness and being late. Pretty much they went hand in hand…and this man was definitely pushing the late button.
Feeling somewhat calmer, I took my cup and walked back to my seat that faced the front entrance of the hotel. Mr. Cade had said it was a matter of urgency that I meet with him, and under no circumstances would he let me off the phone until I promised. That meeting was at ten a.m. and he was now thirty-five minutes late. Another audible sigh escaped my lips. Normally, I wouldn’t have waited so long but the large sum of money caused me to stick around. I made a mental note to head out by eleven and tried to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut of what it meant to kiss that amount of cash goodbye. I tugged at my French braid and pulled my white sweater sleeves over top my black gloves. Typically I didn’t meet new clients without a referral, but he had been so insistent and desperate that I thought he could be a paying customer. Perhaps my lack of sleep clouded my judgment when I agreed to meet Mr. Cade. More like my lack of money, I suppose.
After draining my cup, and resolving to finally leave, an awkward man came bumbling through the lobby doors. He was short, round, and bald…however, he did have a good eye for suits. I’d give him that. He stood staring in the walkway, looking confused and out of place. His hands clenched and shook—whether the shaking was from nerves or for a strong drink I couldn’t tell. He had those small watery eyes that constantly looked frantic, perhaps a bit wild. His line of sight found me and he made his way straight towards my seat. This could only be the very late Mr. Cade. I raised one eyebrow as he approached.
“Mr. Cade?”
“That depends, are you Miss Smith?”
The man’s anxiety was high. I reminded myself that I needed the money and adjusted my glasses and answered him with what I assumed was a calm and slightly irritated demeanor.
“I am. Mr. Cade, you must realize this meeting was to begin nearly forty minutes ago and truthfully, you’re quite lucky I’m still here.”
He shrank visibly from my tone, easily intimidated. I let him squirm and feel uncomfortable, not shifting my stern face from his. He deserved to feel a little uncomfortable, as long as he still hired and paid me. Fidgeting with his collar, he flustered out an excuse.
“I’m afraid I got the times mixed up and thought we were meeting at eleven…I thought I was arriving here twenty minutes early rather than forty minutes late. Please, bear with me for just awhile longer. I will pay you double what we agreed on.”
I smoothed my face into a slightly softer expression, persuading Mr. Cade to be more at ease. I knew even if it was a mundane job, I would take it. What I needed now were details. I felt my focus change and I had to push down my own anticipation of getting the job. Looking at Mr. Cade, I pulled off the glove and extended my right palm to him. “Give me your hand, Mr. Cade.”
His eye’s widened and a fresh bead of sweat appeared on his brow before he responded.
“Right here… Isn’t it too open?”
“It’s now or never, you’ve wasted a lot of my time and I’m sparing the few minutes I have with you. You can give me your hand now or I walk out that door.”
I hoped my directness would not chase Mr. Cade away. Money or not-he better have a legitimate reason for me to take this job. I wasn’t a circus freak for show.
Locking eyes with him, I saw his resolve.
“Well, if you insist Miss Smith, my hand is all yours.”
Feeling that annoying sense of being watched, I glanced up to see the receptionist paying a bit too much attention to us. Of course someone had to be watching…it was going to be one of those days. I motioned for Mr. Cade to follow me to the hotel diner area. Spotting a remote booth in the corner, I sat down. Mr. Cade followed at my heels, more anxious now than when he first walked in.
Luckily, the guests of the hotel were expected to serve themselves during breakfast and lunch hours. That relieved me to no end since I wouldn’t have to keep a wary eye out for an overly attentive waiter. Once again, I extended my right arm and motioned Mr. Cade to place his hand in mine. I prepared myself mentally for the physical touch. It always gave my body a shock and taken years for me to master my composure as I experienced someone else’s memories.
The moment our hands touched I felt the familiar shock of a memory’s pull. It pulsed through my veins as a lethargic haze settled over me and I drifted, slowly fading out of this reality and into another from the past. A mind can be a terrible place, even more so if it’s not your own. Memories are usually tied to strong emotion such as fear, anxiety, and of course--overwhelming love.
Another jolt vibrated through my hands, traveling up and surrounding my entire body until I no longer felt linked to the lobby. I opened my eyes to see a large, rich looking, business building. No logo on the side, no signs to be found…A gate shrouded its entrance and once opened, it revealed a well maintained lawn and front parking lot that appeared to wrap around the building to the other side. Whoever worked here, looked to have it made…at least in the money department. Benches and stone walking paths led to little gardens and luxurious break tables. I allowed myself a moment to adjust to the new surroundings as I took a walk around. Like a ripple of water, the day turned to night and I was standing in the parking lot, looking at the back entrance. Mr. Cade burst through the doors, abruptly leaving towards what I assumed was his black Mercedes. He was in a hurry but not in a frightened way, walking with an air of importance. He carried a large briefcase which was surprisingly worn around the edges…not as new and fancy as his tailored suit. Reaching his Mercedes, he fumbled in his pocket for his keys. When he finally pulled them out, he unlocked the driver side door and began to get in. All of this I filed in my mind for review later.
I continued watching and tried to study this moment for any unusual signs or surges of emotion. My goal was to figure out why this memory was important. It’s usually the memory with the most recent emoti
onal pull that shows itself to me. If only my ability allowed me to read thoughts, solving cases would be so much easier.
Mr. Cade, nearly all the way in the driver’s seat of his car, froze at an unusual man emerging from the side of the building. Immediately I knew something was wrong. The stranger wore a dark black hood that shadowed his face and when he approached Mr. Cade, their eyes locked. Maneuvering the sweatshirt, the stranger made sure the edge of his gun was visible as he continued to walk towards Mr. Cade, motioning him to stand beside his car. I felt his fear as his body stiffened with shock. I knew without a doubt that Mr. Cade had no idea who the stranger was and I could read from his panic that he had made a few enemies.
The stranger now stood only a short distance away with his gun fully visible. Mr. Cade began to plead.
“I…I…need, morre time. Pleasse.”
He stood shaking his head in disbelief at the shadowed man who held his fate. Mr. Cade continued to plead, trying to reason for more time…
“You weren’t supposed to arrive this early. I swear, you’ll get your collection! I am a man of business and you are early…you have to understand the amount of time it takes to acquire what is asked.”
The stranger stayed silent, looking Mr. Cade over, resting his gaze on his face…contemplating. Another surge of fear hit, flowing through my nerves and spreading in intensity. I knew Mr. Cade thought this would be his last breath. The man raised his gun and held it there. Frozen with terror, Mr. Cade dropped the briefcase. Then, moving slowly, the stranger stooped down and grabbed the case while his right hand was still holding the gun in place. Still looking at Mr. Cade, he leaned forward and pressed the barrel of the gun against his forehead. Mr. Cade began to shake as he closed his eyes in a sad pathetic resignation. Without warning, the stranger took it away, leaving the imprint of the barrel still on Mr. Cade’s skin. Nodding at Mr. Cade, he smiled and walked off…Mr. Cade still unmoving and one briefcase short. Another jolt shook me and coursed through my body until I found myself back at the hotel, Mr. Cade’s hand no longer in mine. I slipped the black glove firmly back into place.
“That is enough Miss Smith. I think you can bear with me long enough to hear the rest of my story rather than see it. I’m afraid my mind cannot deal with reliving that encounter. Interesting, I never realized that your gift let the host experience the memory so intensely. It felt like it was happening all over again…”
Mr. Cade pulled his tie loose and soaking the sweat off his forehead with his napkin. I looked at Mr. Cade and asked him to begin his story.
“Well, Miss Smith, er-it is Miss correct?”
Annoyed I gave a brief and sharp,
“Correct.”
Looking abashed, he composed himself before continuing.
“My situation requires delicacy. What you witnessed was a robbery and one of sentimental value. You see, I would rather not go to the police and that is where your services can help. If you work with the detective I have hired, I have no doubt you can recover the item stolen from me without involving any…unnecessary law enforcement.”
I was used to dealing with delicate situations…usually items that were not legal and needed to be returned to their not so original owners. No doubt, this was one of those. I did have some guidelines though--no drugs--but if it was a newly acquired valuable such as diamonds, sculpture, or documents…that I would do. I gave Mr. Cade a small and knowing smile before responding.
“Believe me, I don’t mind taking a job—even if what you have is…well, how did you put it…delicate. However, I will require certain specifics to make sure the job is attainable. If it isn’t, then you have my regret but utter silence…and I shouldn’t have to tell you that it would be very unwise to pursue me should I turn down your offer.”
Mr. Cade pulled and straightened his tie while attempting a response.
“Well, I am thinking it won’t come to that Miss Smith. It’s quite simple really. I believe my brother is mixed in with the people who stole my briefcase. It’s valuable to me on a personal level and on a client trust level as well. I also need the paperwork that was inside my case when it was taken. Some of the paperwork is private and time sensitive information. Without it I can’t do my job properly.”
Mr. Cade was tense as he waited for my response. I took my time and assessed his body language. He wanted his briefcase and paperwork back badly. My guess was the documents inside were pretty important. Didn’t matter to me, paper I can handle and I could care less about his client’s secrets. The desire he showed in getting it back helped me know his level of desperation. The right kind of desperation meant a person would be willing to seek unusual help (me of course) and would pay for it…as long as the item was recovered.
“Mr. Cade, tell me why you think your brother is involved?”
“Is that necessary Miss Smith? I’d rather leave it out if you don’t mind…I’ll pay you of course. Money is not a problem but keeping my name…er, the family name untainted is important to me.”
“I have no doubt that it is, but as I said, I don’t take a job without knowing the details of what I’m getting into. No details, no job. I’m not asking for your client’s information Mr. Cade, I just want to understand what I’m getting myself into--that means I need to know why your brother is involved.”
Mr. Cade drummed his fingers on the table as he sat in thought. I could only assume he expected me to do whatever he asked based on money. He was in for a surprise if that’s what he thought. Money was important…ok, really important, but surviving was my top priority in every case. I had to be careful, and unfortunately, I had to be selective…even with this amount of money on the line.
“Well, when you phrase it like that my dear…Let’s just say I’m not my brother’s favorite person. My brother is the youngest. Being the youngest comes with its ups and downs. He was spoiled by our mother and never responsible enough for our father. He’s always had this strange obsession of being less important. He hated it when our father passed on his briefcase to me. It was a symbol in our family, going out on our own and building the family name…I suppose he wanted the case to go to him but it was tradition to go to the eldest son. Something I thought he understood, even in spite of our differences. I noticed recently that something has been odd with him. He’s been acting a little off, showing up in the middle of the night, ranting on old family affairs that have long been past. He blames me, you see…for…a lot.
It doesn’t help that his wife recently was diagnosed with cancer…I think that’s what sent him over the edge mentally. I made a large donation to help with her treatment but…I guess money was a sore spot for him. He didn’t want my help. He even went as far as blaming me for getting the family inheritance as my birthright.”
“Inheritance? So let me get to the point Mr. Cade. You have a younger brother, who is bitter because he was left with nothing, while you inherited everything? So…now his wife is sick and he’s gone crazy with jealousy while his life is falling apart-let me know if I’m off point here…”
“I suppose that would be one way to sum it up Miss Smith. Money has always been sensitive to him…but, I’ve never held money from my brother. Always-I’ve offered him what should have been, in part, his.”
“Ok…so why wouldn’t he take it? I mean, obviously he can’t think you’re a saint if he’s going to the trouble of threatening you.”
“Samuel is stubborn. That’s the majority of it. Our father wouldn’t leave him a dime because he thought Samuel was too careless and wanted to teach him a lesson, even in death. The will said Samuel had to make his own way and be a man since he couldn’t achieve that during college. After that…well, any sibling friendship was ripped away. He hated me. But, he is still my brother. I should have realized that he needed a different kind of help other than money. I am going to make sure he gets it…once the briefcase is returned. I am certain that Samuel meant for the briefcase to be a personal insult…but I don’t think he wanted me dead. Humiliated, yes.”
“Mr. Cade, I believe I have what I need in the way of details. I suppose we all have family drama.”
I nodded my understanding of the situation. The job was shady, no doubt. No one goes to this much trouble for a briefcase-but family drama could make things more complicated. A dull ache pressed around my temples as I thought over the information. I beckoned Mr. Cade to follow me as I went back to the lobby and filled my cup once more with coffee. The caffeine helped me think and it was especially useful after viewing a memory. I knew Mr. Cade was still leaving out something, but most of my clients did. I only made it my business if I thought it was important to keeping me stay safe.
Late last night, I had received the call that woke me from my fitful sleep. Mr. Cade, being a frantic man, desperate and irrational had offered me five grand to find his briefcase and another five when he had it in his hands. That was easy money that didn’t come my way often. But, something just rubbed me wrong about the man. I couldn’t place its origin or any reason why I felt that way…I just didn’t like Mr. Cade. And, I also knew, no matter how much I didn’t like him, I would take the job…so long as he wasn’t out testing my ability and truly needed my services. A girls gotta eat and Mr. Cade’s memory made it clear that he had a legitimate job that needed done.
I looked at Mr. Cade, weighing my response. For the first time in our meeting, he met my eyes straight on and spoke with authority.
“Obviously I am hiring you, Miss Smith, for your delicacy and record. I’m more interested in results rather than the why of my brother’s motivation. He has plenty of motivation without us digging further. You and Detective Jake Laurens can work together in locating my briefcase and its contents. That is, if you will take the job. I think your level of skill would be valuable to getting the job done quickly...and because of that, I find you worth every penny I spend.”
I made myself take my time as I appeared to consider the offer I already knew I’d take…it was never a great idea to look overly anxious and too willing to accept a job.
Dangerous to the Touch (The Lindsey Smith Detective Series Book 1) Page 1