Through Her Touch (Mind's Eye Book 5)

by Deborah Camp

  Through Her Touch

  Deborah Camp

  A Mind’s Eye Novel

  #5

  © 2018 by Deborah Camp

  Sometimes being psychic is murder.

  O ne by one, psychics in Eureka Springs, Arkansas are dying from “accidents.” Car crashes, falling down stairs, hit-and-runs. When Levi and Trudy Wolfe attend the funeral of a fellow practitioner, Trudy realized that she psychically witnessed the deaths and they were no accidents. The clairvoyants were murdered. Someone has an ax to grind and it’s anyone’s guess where that ax will land next and who is on the “hit list”.

  The Mind’s Eye Novels

  (Available on Amazon)

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  About the author . . .

  Other Novels by Deborah Camp

  Acknowledgments

  Cover design by Patricia Schmitt (Pickyme)

  Editor, Joyce Anglin

  Copyeditor, Pat Wade

  Design, Deborah Camp

  As always, thanks to Barbara Lowenstein and Associates for their professional guidance.

  Tremendous gratitude to the bloggers and readers who reach out to me and inspire me to continue writing.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

  Visit Deborah’s website at www.deborah_camp.com

  If you enjoy this novel, please leave a review of it on Amazon and Goodreads as a courtesy to other interested readers.

  THROUGH HER TOUCH

  (#5 in the Mind’s Eye Series)

  Chapter 1

  Flying. She was flying through the air, chasing two red lights. Or maybe she was on a roller coaster, going fast around hairpin bends. No. She wasn’t dipping and diving. Must be flying. Getting closer to those red dots. Glee, pure and intoxicating, poured through her.

  Karma’s coming! Gripping the wheel, she pressed on the accelerator.

  Wait. Wheel? Accelerator? Was she in a car? Didn’t seem like it. Too fast for a car. Focusing momentarily on the green flow of the speedometer, she sucked in a breath when she realized that the long needle hovered between 65 and 70. She gripped the wheel harder, but she felt no fear. Jubilation filled her as her gaze latched onto those two red lights in front of her. Music blasted – angry, chanting type music. She stomped the accelerator. The car jolted, almost leaped. The red lights flashed brighter and then disappeared. A screech blasted through her head and she smiled. Throwing back her head, she laughed so hard her chest hurt as she eased her foot off the accelerator.

  Karma has collected your debt! The music echoed the words in her head.

  Trudy opened her eyes and stared into the semi-darkness for a minute as her own thoughts slowly returned to her. Her stomach did a slow roll. She’d been in someone’s head just now, but what exactly had she witnessed? Dread wormed its way through her. She closed her eyes again, summoning the visions and examining them carefully. It was a car wreck, wasn’t it? Or had the car ahead exited the highway? Why was the driver laughing? Sighing heavily, she opened her eyes and stared at the pinpoint array of lights directly above the bed. They eased her mind a little, but the nagging feeling of having seen something sinister persisted. Being a conduit for sick minds was her paranormal “gift” and it just kept on giving.

  She shifted onto her side to face her favorite psychic. Levi Wolfe, her husband – wow. Husband. They’d been married three weeks ago, but it still sounded strange. Husband. Wife. Mrs. Wolfe.

  Levi lay sprawled on his back. How in the world could he sleep like that? She preferred sleeping on her side. He was a “whatever works” sleeper. On his back, he often snored softly as he was doing now, his lips slightly open. Most of the time, he had some appendage lying across her. A leg, An arm. His whole, delectable body.

  Emerging whiskers darkened the lower half of his face, making him appear even more broodingly handsome. She admired the perfection of his profile, barely visible to her. But she’d admired him a hundred times or more, so she knew each feature by heart. The straight bridge of his nose, his sensuous mouth, his jawline, his deeply set eyes with their black fringe of lashes.

  “God, you’re pretty,” she whispered to him, and then grinned when he actually made a slight frowny face in his sleep.

  She rested her hand lightly on his shoulder and stroked his warm skin with her thumb. The teardrop-shaped diamond in the center of her engagement ring sparkled in the feeble light of their Atlanta bedroom. The alternating diamonds and dark blue sapphires surrounding her wedding ring added to the display.

  The happier thoughts failed to dispel her lingering feeling of death and doom. Like an omen, it persisted, drawing her back to those taillights disappearing. Had the driver turned off the highway or had he been forced off?

  Levi made a distressing sound, a rumbling in his throat as his dark brows dipped. His lashes fluttered and then lifted. He jerked all over.

  “You okay?” Trudy whispered, stroking his shoulder and hoping he hadn’t been having a nightmare, too.

  “Are you okay?” he shot back.

  “Why?”

  “Because it felt just now as if you were in some kind of distress. It was so real, it woke me up.”

  “Wow.” She lifted her brows in awe. “We’re becoming so in tune with each other, it’s downright eerie.” She sat up to turn on the soft light of the lamp before facing him again. “I did have a weird dream.”

  “Your own dream?”

  “No.” She plucked at the front of her white sleepshirt that bore the question, You up for it? in big red letters, distracted momentarily by the echo of the angry-sounding music. “I was in a car that was ripping down a highway really close behind another car. Music blasted from the radio. That kind of music with people yelling the lyrics and the guitars screaming and screeching.”

  “Folk music,” he quipped, giving her his lop-sided smile. “Joni Mitchell, maybe?”

  She reached out and mussed his black hair, glad for his light-hearted jab with the memory darkening her mood. “Yeah, right, smart ass.”

  “What else? Tell me.” He propped his head in his hand, his dark blue eyes scouring her every feature.

  “There’s not much to tell. The other car exited the highway. I think.” She shook her head, trying to clear it. Her thoughts jumbled and blurred together. “It was only a few minutes and I don’t really understand what I saw. I’ve been getting these little snippets of scenes that I can barely make out or understand.”

  “Snippets? Like you’re in someone’s head or they’re your dreams?”

  “I’m not sure . . . It’s probably nothing.”

  “Hey, Tru.” He rested his hand on her knee. “Don’t do that. Trust your gut. Don’t doubt your ability. Remember?”

  “Yes, you’re rig
ht. Dr. McClain says the same thing.” She gave herself a pep talk as she’d been instructed to do by the psychiatrist they both consulted; Levi to deal with his Post Traumatic Stress Disorder stemming from a horrific childhood, and Trudy to help her gain self-confidence in practically every aspect of her life. Squaring her shoulders, she took a deep, cleansing breath. “These glimpses into his mind are leading me somewhere. I simply don’t know where yet. I’m definitely channeling someone who is angry and is joyful for making others afraid. However, I haven’t been in his head long enough to fully understand what’s going on.”

  “How does it feel? You said he’s joyful?”

  “Oh, yes. He’s having a fine, old time. We’re not dealing with mischief. It’s darker than that. Much darker.”

  “Did you recognize the highway? Was it here in Atlanta?”

  “No, it wasn’t familiar.”

  “And the car? Anything about it that you recall?”

  “Not really.” She heaved another sigh. “This is giving me a headache.”

  “Okay.” He caressed her knee. “Give it a rest, baby. How bad is your headache?”

  She caught the glint in his eyes. “Why?”

  His hand strayed up to her inner thigh. “Oh, I was just wondering if you’re a tired wifey or a game wifey.”

  “Wifey?” She laughed at that. “Well, it is . . .” She glanced over at the bedside clock. “Two-thirty five in the morning, hubby, and tomorrow’s a work day, so you should go back to sleep.”

  His grin matched the naughtiness in his eyes. “I am.”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “You are, what? Going back to sleep?”

  His naughty gaze slipped down to her chest and the question printed on her shirt. “I’m up for anything, except sleep.”

  Shaking her head at him, she unfolded her legs and stretched out on top of him. When she wiggled to get more comfortable, she felt him jutting into her and saw his quick wince. Yep. He was up for it, all right. “You really should rest, Mr. Wolfe.”

  “I will, Mrs. Wolfe. I’m all keyed up now and I need a little help from you to settle down.”

  “Settle down, huh?” She rubbed her tummy against his erection. “Yeah, you’re all tensed up. Really stiff.” She straddled him and pulled her shirt up and off. His hands cupped her breasts before the shirt cleared her head. Leaning down, she kissed him, her lips stroking his, plucking, nipping, tasting. “I’ll gladly be your remedy.”

  Sitting at his desk the next morning, Levi found himself admiring the photograph on the credenza of him and Trudy. She had placed it there this morning when she’d “walked him to work” from one building to the one next door. She’d mainly wanted to catch up on women stuff with Darla, his executive assistant. Darla was also a newlywed, having married Guy Reynolds, one of the security personnel in the building. Trudy had become friends with her.

  Taken right after they were pronounced husband and wife, the photo captured Trudy’s shy smile and his proud one. Arousal stirred in him, and he shifted to a more comfortable position in the office chair. “You lucky bastard,” he told his photo image.

  The phone buzzed and he reached out and touched the intercom button. “Yes?”

  “Quintara is on line one, Mr. Wolfe,” Darla said in her usual “efficient assistant” voice.

  “Thank you. I’ll take it.” He pressed the blinking button and sat back in his chair. Chatting with his best pal was always interesting. She had a way of making him laugh and think and sometimes want to gnash his teeth to dust. “Hello, Quintara. How are you today?”

  “Hello, Levi. Not too well, I’m afraid.”

  He sat up, disturbed by the sadness in her tone. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”

  “I’m perfectly fine, but Glenn O’Connell is dead.”

  “Oh, no.” He closed his eyes, picturing the slightly-built man with white hair and gray beard. One of the best aura readers he’d ever known. “When? How? Was it a heart attack?”

  “Last night, I’m told. Rhema Houser . . . well, she’s Rhema Martin now. Anyway, Rhema called me this morning about it. His car ran off the road and down a hillside last night.”

  “Hillside?” He tried to picture steep hillsides in Key West.

  “Yes. About half a mile outside Eureka Springs. He was heading home from a psychic fair in Fayetteville.”

  “He’d moved back to Arkansas? Last time I saw him he was living in Key West.”

  “He returned to Eureka Springs three or four months ago. He missed it terribly and Sunshine offered to let him live in her garage apartment for practically nothing in rent.”

  “Sunshine?” He massaged the back of his neck as the news of Glenn’s death settled like an anchor inside him, stirring up memories of the gentle man.

  “Yes, you know. Sunshine Marmalade. She and her sister co-write a children’s book series about ghost hunters.”

  Hazy recollections of Sunshine and her sister, Perchance Dragonmoon, drifted to him. “Oh, right. I know her and Perchance. Blond. Kind of goofy, but cute.”

  “Yes, that’s them.”

  “So, Glenn’s car ran off the road,” Levi said, getting back on track.

  Quintara’s shaky sigh traveled to him. “It’s terrible, isn’t it? A motorist noticed the broken guard rail early this morning and told the sheriff about it. That’s how Glenn’s car was found, but it was too late for him. He was already gone.”

  Levi ran a hand down his face. “God, that’s awful. I really liked Glenn. He was an interesting man. Very humble and extremely talented.”

  “He always made the best of things, even when they were bad. You know why he left Eureka Springs and moved to Key West, don’t you?”

  “He told me that the spirits in his house were driving him nuts, so he decided to sell it and move to Florida.” Levi quirked a brow, listening to the silence on the other end speak volumes. “That’s not why he moved, I take it.”

  “Not exactly,” Quintara said, drawing out the words. “The spirits in his house were quite active. Probably still are. But Glenn coped well with them. No, he moved because he had prostate cancer and the medical bills overwhelmed him. He didn’t have good health insurance – or any, maybe – and he had to pay out-of-pocket for a lot of his hospital and after-care treatment. He tapped out his savings, sold his home and his car, and went to live with an old friend in Key West, who let him stay in a run-down RV in his back yard.”

  “Christ. I had no idea he’d fallen on such hard times.”

  “As you said, Glenn was a humble soul and wasn’t given to complaining or whining.” She was quiet for a few moments before adding, “But he missed the seasons. Rhema said he particularly missed the snow at Christmas. So he moved back to Eureka Springs at the first opportunity. It is a beguiling place, you know.” Her tone warmed. “Full of spirits and people attuned to them.”

  Levi smirked. Yes, Eureka Springs was quite unusual. He’d sat in on many séances, which were a common occurrence in the quirky Ozark Mountains town. But, it wasn’t a town he particularly enjoyed.

  “The funeral is Friday, Levi. Can you get away?”

  He swiveled in his chair to bring his calendar onto the computer screen. It was Tuesday, so he would probably need to be away until next Monday. Glancing over the notations, he mentally rearranged and rescheduled face-to-face meetings with construction foremen, interior designers, and architects. Wolfe Enterprises, Inc. was thriving, but he was gradually handing over more responsibilities to his vice-presidents and project managers to allow him to devote more time to his psychic work and Trudy. “Yes, I can. Trudy will want to fly into Tulsa first to see her folks and then we’ll rent a car to drive to Eureka Springs. You’re calling from home, right? You want to ride with us from Tulsa?”

  “I’m home, but I’m going to drive to Eureka tomorrow to spend a few days with Rhema. I’ll see you there, my love.”

  “Okay. What time is the funeral on Friday?”

  “One o’clock.” She sighed again. “Th
is is so very distressing, isn’t it? Poor Glenn.”

  “You be careful driving, Quintara. Those winding roads are treacherous.”

  “I will, dear heart. Same goes for you and Trudy. How are you two, anyway? Screwing like rabbits, I suppose.”

  He smirked, picturing Quintara’s twinkling brown eyes and barely suppressed smile. She was a sixty-something enchantress with a risqué mind. “You know it. But now that we’re married, it’s all legal.”

  “Oh, yes. And you’re right with the Lord and in compliance with Trudy’s parents’ belief, too. That must make you much more popular with them.”

  “Once they get over being upset that we eloped, I hope that’s the case. However, they’ve never been anything but welcoming to me.”

  “They’re sweet people. Okay!” Her voice took on a sharper tone. “I must shed my blue mood and pack my bags. See you in Eureka Springs . . . when? Thursday? Friday morning?”

  “Make it Thursday.”

  “Wonderful. Goodbye for now, you randy devil.”

  “’Bye, sex kitten.” He disconnected and sat back in the office chair as memories came back to him of the last time he’d seen Glenn O’Connell in Key West. Glenn had read Trudy’s aura and had dispersed wise advice for both of them about trusting each other.

  The phone buzzed again. “Yes, Darla?”

  “You have a lunch meeting with Mr. Abraham and the Mendleshons in twenty minutes in your home, sir. Mr. Statler called to say that lunch will be on time.”

  “Good. Thanks.” Wes Statler, his major-domo and chef, always prepared something as good or better than any restaurant, and his staff loved it when they were invited to one of the “working lunches.” Trudy usually made herself scarce, preferring to work in her office while he conducted his Wolfe Enterprises, Inc. (WEI) business in the dining room. “Darla, Trudy and I have to attend a funeral in Arkansas Friday. Please clear my calendar from tomorrow until Monday.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you want to clear any Monday morning meetings, too?”