Shades of Gray

by Rachel Ann Nunes

  As for me, well, I’d loved Jake for a year now, and my feet hadn’t touched the ground since we’d finally admitted our feelings for each other about three weeks ago. Yet if there had been no Jake and if Shannon hadn’t hated and mistrusted my ability so much, well, things might have taken a different turn.

  At the police station, I was quickly ushered into a room sparsely furnished with two chairs and a small table. It wasn’t the cubby he normally worked from, but since the room didn’t seem to be an office, I figured this change didn’t mean he’d been promoted. More likely, he was trying to keep me and my big mouth from disrupting the precinct. I’d become a bit famous around here of late. Or infamous, rather.

  Shannon appeared the same as he always did, sturdily built and compact, only a few inches taller than I was. His features were rugged, and he spent a lot of time outdoors, the sun prematurely crinkling the skin around his eyes and giving him a healthy, wholesome glow. His hair was somewhere between brown and blond, though the blond seemed to be winning now that summer was in full swing. He was wearing it longer these days, and a bit of unruly curl had appeared at the ends.

  “So,” he said, indicating a chair, each movement undeniably graceful. “What’s up? Not thinking of joining another cult, I hope.”

  I met his eyes and experienced a jolt of shock as I always did. His eyes are not like other men’s, or anyone’s, really—both compelling and beautiful. The green-blue color, framed by heavy, light-brown lashes, studied me not with impatience but with an intensity that made me want to trust him.

  Big mistake.

  “Oh, I haven’t ruled it out,” I replied a little too casually. “What about you? Need some help finding your bad guys?”

  He scowled, hating the reminder that he had come to me for help first, though it wasn’t a case either of us wanted to remember. It still haunted me. “I think I got it covered.”

  “Good. Where’s Tracy?”

  “Getting a late lunch.”

  “Oh.” I liked his partner better than I liked him. She’d come by nearly every day when I’d been in the hospital, always dressed in one dark pantsuit or another. Occasionally she’d brought objects from cases they’d been working for me to read, and at first I’d been reluctant, but when none of the imprints were overly traumatic, I’d begun to look forward to her visits. Neither of us had ever told Shannon. When Shannon had come to visit, it was to urge me to take self-defense courses or to warn me not to track down any more bad guys. He’d given me orders and several vases of flowers, but she’d given me something to do. I’d never heard if the imprints I’d read had led to any arrests. A part of me didn’t want to know.

  I sank into the chair, bringing my bare foot up under me as I made myself comfortable. Shannon sat across from me, still waiting. I bet he could wait all day. His prisoners probably confessed in order to get out from under those intense eyes. His fingers didn’t even tap impatiently on the tabletop.

  I had the strange urge to ask him if he was growing any herbs on the acre of land he owned on the outskirts of Portland. I knew he planted things, or at least worked around the house on the property, but that’s all I knew. Not that it was any of my business.

  “Tawnia has a friend whose husband left home on Wednesday afternoon and hasn’t been seen since.”

  “Has she contacted the police?”

  “She says they didn’t seem very interested.”

  “They don’t think foul play is involved?”

  “Oh, he left on his own. I know that much.”

  “Because of an imprint?”

  There was a challenge in the words, but I ignored it. “I saw a packed suitcase. He left because he wanted to.”

  “I’m not sure what you want, then.” Shannon tilted his head and leaned back in his chair to study me. “It’s a free country. A man can leave his home whenever he wants. We certainly can’t go after every errant husband who disappears for a few days. He’ll probably come home soon. Or file for divorce.”

  “Maybe. The real worry is this.” I pulled Tawnia’s picture from my bag and set it between us on the table.

  Shannon stiffened, and I knew he recognized the significance because of the earlier drawing of me when I’d been in trouble. “Your sister drew this?”

  I nodded. “Dennis has two little kids, and I know he loves his wife. Something’s not right. This has nothing to do with imprints but with my gut feeling. I was hoping you could do some checking, track down some leads. Maybe the law firm he works for knows something. Or his friends. You could put out a search for the car.”

  He studied the picture without replying. “This isn’t proof. I’m not sure how I can put things into motion because of a feeling.”

  “You mean because of my feeling. If it was your feeling, it would be completely different, wouldn’t it?” We glared at each other, and I felt no little satisfaction when he dropped his gaze first.

  “Look, I’m asking a favor.” I hated to put it that way. I didn’t want to owe him anything, especially since I already owed him my life. “It’s for Tawnia and for those children. If he’s a creep, then his wife deserves to know so she can get on with her life. And if he needs help, the faster we find him, the better.”

  “Okay, I’ll do some checking, but I want you to stay out of this. If something is going on, I don’t need you getting in the way.”

  The perfect retort came to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it. He was doing me a favor, and I could at least pretend to go along with his heavy-handedness. “Don’t worry,” I said, flashing him a fake smile. “I’m only going to Sophie’s to see if I can find more imprints.”

  “Give me the man’s name. And his wife’s number. I want to chat with the officer she contacted.” When I’d obliged, he stood and swept up Tawnia’s drawing. “I think I’ll get some copies of this. I’ll be back in a bit.” He glided out the door. Too bad he was so annoying or I might actually like looking at the man. I mean, if I didn’t already have a boyfriend.

  I leaned back in my chair and put my feet on the table, rubbing my bare arms against the chill. They must be hot in their uniforms to keep it so cold in here. There wasn’t even a window I could open to let in some heat.

  I was shivering by the time Shannon returned. “The officer Sophie talked to found nothing out of the ordinary,” he said, “but I asked to have the case transferred to me.”

  Hopefully, that meant he’d go a little beyond ordinary protocol. He’d done it in the commune situation, which had been so successful that his partner told me everyone had begun to think he had some kind of intuition about cases. Shannon would be upset if he ever heard the gossip, but for now it worked in my favor.

  “Thank you,” I said, rising to my feet. “Show me out of here. It’s freezing. How do you stand to work in here anyway?”

  He flashed me a flat little grin. “I don’t sit around much.”

  He walked me out but didn’t leave me at the door as I’d expected. “Are you following me?” I asked after taking a few paces down the sidewalk, reveling in the sudden heat.

  “I’m going with you.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll drive. I’ve seen your car.” Again the flat grin that was as fake as anything I’d given him.

  I shook my head. “I need to get back to work.”

  “I thought you were going to Tawnia’s friend’s house.”

  “Later.”

  “Really?”

  I’d halfway decided to go now, but I didn’t want his company.

  Shannon shrugged, his expression bland. “If she lets me look around, I might find some clues. I am a detective, after all. She might feel better knowing someone’s taking her husband’s disappearance seriously.”

  He had a point. A huge point. I hadn’t been able to forget Sophie’s face or her uncertainty. She
was living a wife’s worst nightmare, and if the irritating Shannon could give her any hope, I would welcome that.

  “She doesn’t know I’m coming,” I said. “I’ll have to call Tawnia to set it up for us.”

  “Okay.”

  “Is Tracy back yet?” I liked the idea of having her as a buffer between us.

  “Any minute now.”

  We both pulled out our phones, him to check on his partner, and me to text Tawnia so she could let Sophie know to expect us. Given Sophie’s distress when she left my shop, I preferred not to be the one to call. She might not want to see me again so soon.

  Tawnia texted me back before Tracy appeared. Sophie would see us.

  “I’ll meet you there,” I told Shannon, forwarding Tawnia’s address to his cell phone. It probably said something that I had his number in my contact list, but we’d worked together enough that I’d felt it necessary. He might be abrasive and annoying most days, but he did help catch criminals. “You can follow me when Tracy gets here. The address I sent you is my sister’s, but Sophie lives right next door. On the left.”

  He didn’t protest, which showed he was learning a thing or two about me. Humming to myself, I opened the door to my Toyota and started the engine. The radio didn’t work, but at least the new battery and alternator were fairly dependable—and I didn’t have to feel Shannon’s eyes on me.

  Putting in my earphone, I called Jake to let him know I wouldn’t be in for a while longer. No use in having him wonder what I was doing so long with Shannon or tempting him to come rescue me.

  “It’s me,” I said when he answered. “I decided to go to Sophie’s to see if I can find something else. I didn’t like the way she left.”

  “What about the detective?”

  “He promised to look into it. He and his partner are going to search her house.”

  “That’s good.”

  The honk of a car came through the phone. “Where are you?” I asked. “You don’t sound like you’re in the shop. Everything okay?”

  “I’m just walking out the door on my way to my grandmother’s. She called and asked me to come over. Randa and Thera are at the store, and they’ll be okay until one of us gets back. I had a bit of a rush on herbs, but it was steady when I left.”

  “She’s not sick, is she?” I knew Jake well enough to feel there was more he wasn’t saying. His grandmother had raised him and Randa after their mother died, and she meant a lot to him. He’d do anything for her.

  “No. I’d rather not explain over the phone, but an old friend showed up on her doorstep and asked for me. She’s in a bit of trouble, I guess. Not sure exactly what happened.”

  Was the friend the one in trouble or was it his grandmother, because of the sudden appearance? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know, but I had no reason not to trust Jake. I knew how he felt about me. “Okay, then. We’ll talk later. Let me know if you need me.”

  “I always need you.”

  A shiver rippled down my spine. He’d been worth waiting for.

  “Be careful,” he added.

  “I will. You, too.”

  We hung up, and I had twenty more minutes on my drive to wonder about the friend and what the visit might mean. Jake sounded apprehensive, not at all looking forward to the visit, and yet, there was also a sliver of curiosity in his manner, an anticipation. What did that mean?

  I pulled my mind from Jake’s mysterious visitor when I arrived at Sophie’s, a two-story tract home similar to Tawnia’s, though both Sophie and Tawnia had chosen extras that made their houses different from each other. Attractive, up-and-coming, comfortable suburbia. I liked the green lawns, the new trees, the feel of the neighborhood. Maybe if things went well between us, Jake and I would move here someday. Having grown up in an apartment building practically in the middle of the city, I thought the area felt wonderfully open and uncrowded.

  Certainly not the type of neighborhood where a man went missing.

  My hand paused on the car door release as doubts assailed me. What if I discovered nothing new for Sophie? Worse, what if I discovered Dennis Briggs was seeing someone else? Everyone said I was confident about my decisions and my direction in life, and many days I felt decisive, but today I was as confused as my sister was each time she entered a kitchen.

  Only my trust in Tawnia’s drawing started me up the walk. My sister would have laughed at that, but she felt the same about my ability. Maybe both of us were crazy. Detective Shannon Martin certainly thought so.

  Sophie answered the door, her eyes less red now and her hair wet and loose as though she’d washed it. “Thanks for coming,” she said, surprising me with her graciousness. To give her even more credit, I noticed she didn’t look twice at my bare feet as she usually did when I’d come to her house before.

  “You’re welcome. I hope I find something more helpful.”

  “I’ve been thinking. Maybe Dennis was in trouble, and he thought leaving would keep us safe. Couldn’t that explain what you saw?”

  “Yes.” I looked away from the eagerness in her eyes. Though her explanation could be right on, especially in view of Tawnia’s drawing, I didn’t want to get her hopes up that Dennis would come home soon or in one piece.

  Little Sawyer was sitting on the far side of the living room floor where it met the hallway and opened into the kitchen. Next to him was a small toy box, and he was busily taking out miniature cars and making revving sounds as he set each down on the carpet. The baby was nowhere to be seen.

  I explained to Sophie about my talk with Shannon and how he’d be arriving shortly to look around. Sophie brightened at the news of his interest. “Except that I can’t imagine what he hopes to find here,” she said. “Nothing’s out of place. Nothing’s unusual.”

  “What about your husband’s debit or credit cards? Are they missing?”

  “Yes. But he hasn’t taken out any money except the two thousand I told you about. Do you think they could trace the cards if he tried to get more?”

  “Maybe. You’ll have to ask the detective.”

  “Did Dennis take any medications?” I’d found some of the most telling imprints on prescription bottles; people almost always felt strongly about their medications.

  “Yes, something to help him sleep. He took it with him.”

  I wondered what had made it difficult for Dennis to sleep.

  Sophie looked at me, a wariness growing in her eyes. “What would you like to see first?”

  “Would it be okay if I just wandered around and touched things?”

  She relaxed. “Yeah. Go ahead and open closets and stuff, too. I don’t mind. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  “Okay.”

  She smiled vacantly, her thin face lost and forlorn. I was so filled with pity that for a moment I was frozen in place watching her leave. In the kaleidoscope of her life, I hoped these next few days would be one of those gray areas that soon changed to brightness, instead of a black stain that bled into and saturated every other color for years to come.

  Sawyer pulled out a realistic-looking cell phone from his toy box, opened it, and clapped it to his ear. “Daddy, come home now. I wanna play cars with you. Hurry, ’kay?” Without closing the phone, he tossed it to the floor by my feet where it landed with a heavy thump.

  “Careful,” I said, giving his head a pat as I stepped past him down the hallway.

  I was looking for a bedroom, particularly the master, and found it at the end of the hallway, unlike Tawnia’s, which was on the top floor. The room was exactly how it had appeared in the imprint—the sleigh bed and matching dresser with the mirror, the picture of a sailboat above the bed. I hadn’t seen the rocking chair or the baby cradle, but neither would have been reflected in the mirror from where Dennis had stood with the bracelet in his hands. I tiptoed over to the cradle, bu
t it was empty. Good. No worries about waking up Lizbeth.

  I slipped my antique rings into my pocket and spread out my hands, running them quickly over the knickknacks, candles, and magazines that lay artfully here and there. I didn’t know how long it would take Shannon to arrive, but I wanted to finish before he came to look at the room. None of the items gave off imprints of any consequence, so I opened the drawers of the nightstands. One was filled with books, the other contained a few baby toys, a pacifier, and a journal. Sophie’s, by the imprint, but it was faded and didn’t tell me anything. I wasn’t interested in the words it might contain—that was Shannon’s jurisdiction.

  I put my hands inside the dresser drawers and ran my hands along the clothes. Nothing there or in the closet, but I hadn’t expected clothes to hold lasting imprints. The blanket on the bed, obviously not often washed, did retain something, but as the most recent image always came first with multiple imprints, I released it after catching a tiny glimpse. Too old to be related to Dennis’s disappearance and too private for me to pry.

  Moving on.

  I wondered what Jake was doing and if his friend was good-looking.

  Upstairs I found a bedroom that must be Sawyer’s and another bedroom scattered with painting and wallpapering supplies. Probably intended for Lizbeth. At the end of the hall was a smaller room with a set of weights. Running my fingers over these, I received a vague impression of sweat and effort. Not vivid. At least two years old.

  Stifling a sigh, I went back down the stairs and through the hallway, where Sawyer was now running a car up the wall. The doorbell rang. My private time was up.

  Sophie hurried from the kitchen, her eyes asking a question.

  “Nothing,” I said. “At least so far.” Without waiting for her to answer the door, I headed into the kitchen myself. Lizbeth was there, sleeping in a little swing. So small and fragile. It’d be some time before she’d be doing anything with dolls or soldiers besides putting them in her mouth.

  I began touching objects, but everything was too new or too generally disregarded to have vivid imprints. Occasionally, I caught a glimpse of Sophie’s emotions, but there seemed to be little Dennis had felt strongly about here except his wife and children. Not surprising if he worked long hours outside the home. But Sophie had said he’d done yard work, so maybe I’d have more success in the garage, which was supposed to be a man’s domain.