Dangerous to the Touch (The Lindsey Smith Detective Series Book 1)

by Melinda Craig

  Mr. Cade kept pushing his brother as the obvious criminal but more like a child who had gotten himself into some trouble he couldn’t get out of. He eluded to the whole thievery stemming from the brother but no other names or reasons for Mr. Cade’s briefcase being stolen were given.

  I began jotting down my thoughts in a haphazard circle chart. The briefcase was the main object I needed to obtain and the only link he gave was his brother Samuel Cade. I had questioned Mr. Cade on the nature of the case and its value…yet, he still insisted its worth not anything other than sentiment. Obviously the paperwork inside was of value. The question was, did I care enough to find out why? I tried to sort through my own thoughts which were never as easy as sorting through someone else’s memory. Why did the contents of the briefcase bother me when other clients had similar scenarios and objects that I had previously recovered, knowing full well that some of them were stolen and not caring enough to find out from where? I tried to find another reason (other than just not liking Mr. Cade) on why I felt this urge to know his briefcase’s contents. I suppose it all came down to trust. I didn’t trust him and I felt certain that I needed more information. Don’t get me wrong--I didn’t necessarily trust my other clients either, however, I could read them much easier and knew what to expect. Most people are inherently the same. Boring with their power struggle over politics, love, and greed. My other clients had been shifty but easy to read in what they wanted…which meant an easy job and similarly, easy communication on money and my safety. Mr. Cade had presented an easy job to me, offered excellent money but…in spite of his less than impressive presence, was not easy to read when it came to his goal. Sighing in frustration, I tossed the notepad on my nightstand and stretched out on the tiny twin bed. I would just simply have to decide if I wanted to know more and deal with my decision. I needed the money but when that feeling came (and believe me, it was rare), I learned to listen.

  Laying on the bed and drumming my fingers against the covers, I came to my resolve. Guess I knew what I would choose. Hopefully, it still included me getting the rest of the funds. Now that I had a plan, I could relax and have a date with Mr. Sleep. I rolled over, pulled the covers up and tried to not let the detective cross my thoughts.

  Reoccurring Nightmare

  “I’m sorry Lindsey, she’s gone.”

  I could never forget that day…my subconscious wouldn’t let me. Every time I finally fell into a deep sleep my mind dug up the memories. I was tortured inside, unable to stop my dreams but yet still conscious enough to dread what I would see and what happened next…always unable to change the outcome.

  “What do you mean she’s gone? I don’t understand…” but I did, I had a deep rooted feeling something like this would happen if I told my secret. How stupid I had been.

  Officer Reynolds pitied me and put his hand on my shoulder.

  “Listen honey, its best if you don’t go inside right now. You need to stay with family. I know this is hard but the house is evidence. We’ll figure out who did this to your mom and then we will lock him up where he won’t hurt anyone again. It’s all the comfort I can give you.”

  Even in my teen youth I knew he was right, but I still didn’t care. I had to see for myself. I wrenched my shoulder out from Officer Reynolds grasp and pushed past the officers at my door taking them by surprise.

  “LINDSEY, don’t! YOU-stop her! This is not something she needs to see!”

  I was too fast and determined. I took the stairs two at a time and went to my mom’s room…nothing. Nothing was there, just her spotless bed with the clean dresser and my picture on the nightstand. I turned towards the hallway and saw my room only a few feet away. I slowed my pace. I could hear the officers catching up with me…maybe I wanted them to, but it was too late. I saw the truth. The door was open and my clean laundry lay in messy heaps around the feet of my mother. I could see her beautiful hair, wild and sprawled out in every direction on the floor. I walked slower, knowing it would do nothing to help the pain in my chest, but needing to approach her all the same. Her hand was stretched forward, as though she was reaching for me before she had hit the ground. There she lay, not moving…only lifeless and dead. My beautiful mother, mangled and beaten. I was no fool. This was because of me. Blood oozed from a wound on her head--a blunt object the officer said. She was putting my laundry away…she was in my room when the house was broken into. Dropping to my knees I grabbed her and cradled her in my arms-this was my mother. I felt the pressure build and explode in a wave of anger and sobbing as I rocked back and forth. “Nooo. Nooo. NOOOO! I did this…it’s because of me.”

  “Lindsey, come on sweetheart. I told you, you didn’t need to see this. Your mom wouldn’t have wanted you to remember her this way.”

  Officer Reynolds took my mother from my arms and pulled me up. He looked at me with sad eyes that knew all about the horror I had seen. This was part of his job. I could see in those eyes that my mother’s murder was not the first he had witnessed, but the pity and kindness was there all the same. I looked down and found my hands covered in my mother’s blood. I stared, unable to move…transfixed, at the blood on my hands. Officer Reynolds took my bloody hands in his and draped a blanket over my shoulders and then…I felt it happen again…Dear God, not now, please…no. The headache began, slow at first and then quickly--shooting a burst of fire through my nerves and I felt myself go somewhere else. I could see it all.

  “I’m leaving. Stop begging, it’s not becoming on a grown man.”

  Officer Reynolds stood in the kitchen with his arm reaching…reaching for his wife? Big tears fell from his eyes as he looked at the woman walking out the door.

  “Layla, please. It’s just a phase. Give it time. I can get a second job until things pick up.”

  The woman stopped in the doorway and looked over her shoulder, gazing at Officer Reynolds with no empathy.

  “I’ve given you nothing but time darling. I’m exhausted of this life, this small house, I’m exhausted of you…you can’t even give me children. Why on earth would I stay?”

  With those words, Officer Reynold’s outstretched hand dropped and I felt his pain, like a knife digging at an open wound…slowly being pushed deeper.

  With that, the woman had walked away, leaving Officer Reynolds heartbroken and falling to his knees.

  And as quick as the dream hit me, it was gone. My head snapped up-I looked around trying to understand and remember. His hands dropped mine quickly and then it all came rushing back. Officer Reynolds stood looking at me dazed and confused. He shook his head and ushered me downstairs being careful to not touch me.

  “Check her temperature, she’s freezing and in shock—get her warm.”

  I grabbed Officer Reynolds elbow (where the shirt covered) and pointed to the black winter gloves that hung on the top shelf by the door. I saw his questioning gaze, trying to rationalize what he knew, what I saw. And then, there it was again…kindness and pity, in his eyes. He grabbed the black gloves and tossed them to me…still looking at me with a mixture of confusion and empathy. An EMS nurse passed me and spoke.

  “The blanket will help keep you warm and then you can take those winter gloves off sweetie.”

  I smiled at her, but I knew I wouldn’t take the winter gloves off, not for a long time, maybe never.

  Putting the Pieces Together

  I was awake long before my alarm went off. The memories from last night’s dream were more vivid than I was used too...the dream had shown so many details I had let myself forget. I could still remember the way my childhood home looked, every picture and piece of furniture…even the way my old posters were hung in my room. I shook my head trying to get rid of the images. Slowly, I shifted my body out of the small bed and walked towards the restroom mirror. My face haunted me. Every year, I looked more and more like her. It was a curse, something to remind me of what I lost because I couldn’t hold myself together.

  I was tired of remembering, so I plunged myself into work. I reviewed ev
ery aspect of the case, which included everything I knew about Mr. Cade. I thought and I wrote and I reviewed it all again. I finished scanning my notes one last time and tucked them into my purse. I felt myself breathe a little easier. I had the plan and now the details of how I was going to proceed. Having a plan felt reassuring and I felt grounded in the now and not in my past. I stretched, maneuvering my back into a long pull, working the stress out as best as I could. The clock taunted me mid-stretch and I decided it was time to put my newly laid plan into action. I needed to focus on getting dressed and hitting the road.

  Pulling together a semi business outfit, I tried to make myself look put together and reputable. Black slacks-check, red dressy blouse-check, hair... Sighing, I went back to the mirror. I twirled my long hair into a pony tail and looped it under the band to give it a sleek twist where the hair band was. Good enough. Not wanting to look in the mirror any more than I had to, I grabbed my purse and left.

  The plan was simple really. I had decided to drive to Samuel Cade’s home and fill in some blank holes from the story my client, Theodore Cade, had told me. I would meet with the elusive brother, Samuel, who was my likely thief…only this encounter would be lie proof. I knew that this would gain me the information I needed but also let out my secret to the thief brother. But, this was more of a necessity for me, even if it hindered me locating the missing briefcase. It was more than just finding something for Mr. Cade. I needed to find out why it was taken and what led Cade to me. I couldn’t let that go. Last night I had wracked my brain, trying to figure out how he had found me and knew what I did. Usually, by now, I would have had a call from one of my past clients telling me that they gave me a referral…and if that hadn’t happened, then I had figured out who the connection was by a third party like the police (not often, but they did send me cases every great once in a while). Mr. Cade had no affiliation with my previous clients, and he offered an amazing sum of money (that he was obviously good for, considering I got a large portion of it as an incentive to work for him). I didn’t like knowing that I was missing a large piece of the puzzle, the piece that led Mr. Cade to me.

  Out of courtesy to Jake, I shot out a text letting him know I would interrogate Samuel and could meet up with him later to fill in the details and go over ideas on where the briefcase was hidden. Halfway to my destination my cell rang. I glanced at it to see Jake Laurens calling. Of course he would want to be there!

  I had no intention of having Jake meet me at Samuel Cade’s house and hoped he would not surprise me by showing up mid interrogation. Sighing and shaking my head, I tried not to be overly annoyed with the detective. He should appreciate the attempt I was making at working together by sharing whatever information I was lucky enough to gain...well, information on the missing case. I wasn’t about to share anything else that might be bigger and involve me.

  Still hearing the persistent ringing, I grabbed my phone from the passenger seat and flipped the switch to silent. I needed to focus. I told myself I owed Jake nothing and shoved the guilt aside.

  At the stoplight I grabbed my phone and checked the address on the GPS. Five text alerts showed on my message app but I chose to ignore them. My few minutes of guilt for leaving out Jake vanished at his nagging. Definitely a good idea to not allow him to come. I had no doubt Jake was pumping with a thousand questions and his sceptic self would just have to wait. I tried to clear my mind and took a few calming breaths. I needed to be focused, clear headed, and prepared for skin contact. No sooner had I set my phone down, the light was green and I was off, almost there...

  I arrived at a large French country looking home. The circle driveway appeared to be a smooth type of marble and the large home had several different types of brick to the face of the house. I parked my shabby impala near the garage and straightened my shoulders before stepping out. I glanced at the landscape which was impeccably kept and forced my gaze to the front entrance. I had expected the home to be less grand and the surprise and curiosity was getting the better of me. Reminding myself to stay focused, I walked up to the front door. The entrance held a heavy, beautiful wooden door. It was decorated with carvings around its edges and had a swirl of thin loops containing leaves on the outside edge of its frame. It looked to have Latin inscribed on the door between the loops, and had to have cost a fortune. I took another look at the different brick inlay, the door, and the stone statues in the front garden. Samuel Cade had a taste for the unique.

  I found myself glancing at the garden and lingering at the statues and their unusual appearance. One was of a woman, arms held open with an orb in one of her palms. She was draped in a Greek gown. Another statue was of a man, posed in mid leap with his hair sculpted into a flying mess behind him. There were others, at least twenty, all different poses and a flair of the supernatural.

  Turning back around, I lifted my hand to knock, but before it reached the frame, the door flew open. A tall and extremely well built, dark haired man, stood before me. He was dressed in a suit and tie and looked like a man who took his duties seriously.

  “Good morning miss, how can I assist you?”

  Putting forth my most charming smile, I spoke.

  “Good morning sir, I was hoping to speak to Mr. Samuel Cade. Is he available?”

  “Ah,” the butler raised an eyebrow and his gaze scanned past me and my wardrobe to my shabby car.

  “May I give a name for Mr. Cade?”

  “Yes, of course, it’s Lindsey Smith. I’m a friend of his brothers.”

  At the mention of my name, the butler’s demeanor did a complete one-eighty.

  “Lindsey, oh, why didn’t you say earlier? We were not expecting you today, but please come in.”

  That took me by surprise...Why would Mr. Cade alert his brother that I might come see him at some point? Annoyed that I lost the element of surprise, I caught myself deep in thought and shook my head to focus. The butler was staring at me like I was a bit daft. Obviously I had not heard something he just said.

  “Please, Miss Smith, if you will follow me to the waiting area you can sit and have some refreshment.”

  Feeling a little reluctant, I stepped inside Samuel Cade’s house, following his butler…or henchman, whichever he was. If I thought the house was fancy on the outside, it was even more elaborate within. Old, but well taken care of, wood floors shined and echoed my footsteps as I made my way towards a waiting parlor. This room consisted of a Romanesque red rug and a deep brown, plush sofa with several chairs scattered throughout the large space. Artwork on the walls brought the room to life with its depictions of Roman era and several that were similar to Samuel’s statues in the garden. A bookshelf also decorated one wall, full of fragile looking novels and a desk in a corner faced the sofa and chairs, each having an end table for drinks. A stone fireplace centered the room, making it more immaculate in its beauty. I would say Mr. Cade’s brother had an eye for decorating or a very good designer, which was unique in of itself, since my client described his brother jealous of his wealth. Samuel didn’t look like he needed any help in the financial market.

  “Miss Smith, I will let Mr. Cade know you are here. If you would but sit for a moment. Would you like anything to drink or eat?”

  “Oh, no—but thank you.”

  The tall henchman motioned for me to choose anywhere for a seat and I wandered towards the brown sofa, the one with the best view of the art. Five minutes passed without a sign of Samuel or his butler. Trying to stay with a composed demeanor, I attempted to occupy myself with a magazine…another five minutes passed without a sign of anyone. I dug through my purse and pulled out my cell. A voicemail notification flashed. Jake was nothing if not persistent. Knowing I probably had some time to spare, I lifted my phone to check the message. I pulled up the message and hit play.

  “Lindsey, hey! I know we got off on the wrong foot last night but I’ve called you about ten times and I’ve come to the conclusion you are either avoiding me or in some kind of trouble. Listen…I don’t know what’
s up with you and the so called gift but it’s very apparent Mr. Cade is…well, obsessed. Look, I found some things I think you need to know, we should work out the items together…the case has gotten complicated. Trust me, please. Just give me a call or text back. If you are where I think you went…dang woman…just, don’t panic. Try to play it cool and know that I’m on my way to Samuel Cade’s address. You really should answer your phone.”

  Ok…? That was a little more than weird. I shot Jake a text, “At the brother’s house. Can’t talk, going to meet him and see if I can read anything through his touch. Not that you believe in that ‘stuff’ anyways.”

  Sighing, I sent one more text to Jake letting him know I would meet him later.

  “Fill me in on Mr. Cade’s obsession afterwards. I’ll even let you buy me a drink…you owe me that much for the extra work I’m doing. Don’t come to Samuel’s house-you’ll throw my game off.”

  Smirking, I felt a bit proud at the sarcasm with Jake. He brought out the juvenile in me. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was slightly curious over his message on Mr. Cade’s obsession, but honestly, it wasn’t uncommon for people to get a little obsessed with things that were unexplainable...like my gift. I could deal with a bit of fan syndrome, even use it to my advantage for more opportunities to work on cases. More opportunities equaled more money for me. I guess the fan syndrome explained why he wanted to pay me so much. I felt the familiar buzz of a text message, and sighed. Had to be Jake, again. I opened the message.

  “You need to LEAVE NOW!!”

  Rolling my eyes, I replied:

  “Dramatic much, Jake?” another alert from an incoming message from Jake: