Through Her Touch (Mind's Eye Book 5)

by Deborah Camp

  “I do!” She squeezed his knee as her voice edged up with delight. “I’ve never stayed in a treehouse before, have you?”

  “No, so it will be a first for both of us. Me, Tarzan. You, Jane. After I make love to you, I’ll beat my chest and do the Tarzan yell.”

  “Yeah, I can do without that, I think,” she said, laughing, but her laughter died too quickly. He glanced at her and she sent him a quick, unconvincing smile. “I was thinking about Glenn. I only met him that once, but he was so kind to me. I remember how he explained the difference he felt between spirits and ghosts.” Her gaze swiveled back to him. “Are you sensitive to the spirits floating around Eureka Springs? It’s supposed to be full of them.”

  “You mean, do I feel them more there than in other places?” He caught her nod just as he merged onto the interstate bound for Arkansas. “Yes, especially in certain locations. The New Orleans and Crescent Hotels practically vibrate with them, which is why we aren’t staying in either one. I would get zero sleep in them. A few of the houses I’ve been in there for séances were hopping with spirits.” He looked at her. “You’ve been there. Didn’t you feel the stirrings?”

  “Not much. I did get a chilly feeling when I went to the Crescent for the wedding we attended there, but I chalked that up to all the stories I’d heard about it. Other than that – nothing.” She bobbed her shoulders. “You’re more sensitive to spirits, though. You’re touch and place sensitive, too.”

  “So are you,” he reminded her. “Remember when you touched the wedding ring back in New Orleans and you knew it belonged to Detective Dupree? And when we were searching for the house where the victims were murdered and you helped me home in on it. You just need to pay more attention to your intuitive feelings, Tru.”

  “You’re better at all of that.”

  “Because I’ve done more of it. But of the two of us, you’re more talented.” He arched a brow when he felt her combative glance. “You are. It’s a fact.”

  “No, it isn’t. And it’s not a contest, anyway. We’re gifted in different ways.” She huffed out a breath. “And that’s that.”

  He shook his head at her stubbornness. “Yes, ma’am.”

  The highway wound around through the Ozark Mountains as the sleek sports car climbed steadily toward the quaint town of Eureka Springs. The sun was a big, orange ball perched on the horizon, casting deep shadows through the mostly budding tree branches. Bursts of blooms appeared. Redbuds, dogwoods, and crabapples, heralding the season. Trudy stared at the seemingly flimsy sheet metal stretched from post to post along the drop-off side of the road. Sure wouldn’t take much to slam through that and hurtle down, down, down.

  The lower growl of the engine signaled that Levi had reduced their speed even more and she glanced over at him, catching his frown as he stared ahead. A vee formed between his eyes as his concentration increased. Then Trudy felt it. Like something big and ugly straight ahead of them, coming for them. She clutched the arm rest with one hand and Levi’s forearm with the other. He eased the car to a stop, edging to the side rail that was mangled and split in two.

  “Oh my God.” Trudy sucked in a breath. “This is where Glenn went over.”

  “I’m sensing his panic and fear. Do you?”

  “No. I’m experiencing a heaviness. Something menacing.”

  “I feel Glenn’s vulnerability and you’re in touch with other driver’s energy.”

  She thought back to her dream or vision and sifted through it, one emotion at a time. “If so, then I recall a sense of intention. Nothing accidental or goofing around.”

  He stared at the gap in the barrier, a coldness fogging his blue eyes and his mouth dipping at the corners. “Glenn was confused. He didn’t understand what was going on until it was too late. Then he was terrified.”

  “Maybe later you can, you know, talk to him. Get him to tell you more.”

  “No. That won’t happen.”

  She inched back a little, confused. “Why not?”

  “Because I can’t summon psychics.”

  “You can’t . . . since when?”

  “Since forever. I’ve tried, but I’ve never been able to get one to come forward. Gregory won’t even help me summon them. Once they’ve crossed over, it’s like they are there, but they refuse to communicate.”

  “But why? That makes no sense. You’d think they would be the first ones in line to communicate from the great beyond. And why wouldn’t your spirit guide help you? I mean, that’s what he’s there for, right?”

  He chuckled. “You know I can’t answer any of that. I have no fucking idea how it works, why it all works, and why some people come forward and others refuse to communicate with me. Any more than you can tell me why killers and rapists and kidnappers seek you out and slip into your mind. All I do know is that I’ve tried to reach psychics who have crossed over and I’ve never been successful. Even the ones I’m positive were fakes won’t commune with me.”

  She sat back in the leather seat, dumbfounded by this strange psychic roadblock. “Even the fake ones,” she repeated, mulling that over. “Maybe they know that it’s spirit code that dead psychics don’t talk to live psychics so they want to continue their ruse over there, too.” She grinned when he laughed at her theory. “That sounds a little nuts, huh?”

  “Baby, a lot of what we talk about sounds a little nuts.” He reached for her hand and linked fingers with hers. “But your guess is as good as any.” He checked his rearview mirror and side mirror and then pulled onto the highway again. “I hope the police have a clear idea about what happened here.”

  “So do I. But unless someone saw it happen, the chances of that are slim, right? It was probably a one-time thing, so I won’t make any connections again. They have to be thinking about killing or actually in the act of it to take over my mind.” But that wasn’t the whole of it, she reminded herself. A few times before, she’d been able to reach out and connect with perpetrators once they’d connected with her. It was a new experience for her and something she continued to work on. She centered her attention again on Levi and realized by his expression that he was also lost in his thoughts. “Now what, Sherlock?”

  He blinked and glanced at her. “Hmmm? Oh. Just wishing I could see Glenn one more time. Alive, that is.” He cleared his throat, let go of her hand, and gripped the wheel. “Quintara says they expect quite a few people at his funeral. He made an impact on practically everyone he met. It galls me that he didn’t reach out to others to help him out of the financial jam he got into.”

  “Pride is a tough opponent,” she said.

  “Don’t I know it.” He quirked an eyebrow and sent her a self-deprecating smile. “I’ve been accused of having an abundance of it.”

  “Yeah, but it looks good on you.”

  His smile morphed into one of pleasure as his gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips. “We’ll check in to the treehouse first, grab dinner somewhere, and then meet Quintara and some others at the Crescent for drinks.”

  “Ah, the Crescent. Maybe we’ll stir up some different kind of spirits while we’re there.”

  “I hope not,” he said, his voice dipping to a near whisper. “I’d like a quiet evening before tomorrow’s somber occasion. Funerals depress the hell out of me.”

  “It’s strange how we know they’re going to a better place, but we’re still sad about it.”

  “It’s all about us, not them. We’re sad because we won’t have their company any more. They’re leaving us behind.”

  Thinking of what life would be without Levi, it felt as if a weight dropped on her heart and crushed it. Levi had completely taken over her day-to-day existence. The swiftness and obsessiveness of their relationship had stunned both of them. It had seemed almost as if one day she’d been single and searching for something she couldn’t find and the next day Levi owned her heart and soul and had fulfilled her every desire. If she lost him now . . . Panic seized her and she suddenly needed to touch him more than she needed to b
reathe. She rested a hand on his thigh and leaned sideways to kiss his cheek. Surprise flitted across his face.

  “Thanks. What did I do to earn that?”

  “I adore you, Levi Wolfe. And you’re mine,” she answered simply.

  His nod was quick and definite. “Fuck yes.”

  She grinned. She even loved his dirty mouth.

  Chapter 3

  Fifty-eight people stood around the grave site. Trying not to be too obvious, Trudy examined them, thinking that she’d never been to a funeral where so many people dressed in every color of the rainbow. In her experience, black or gray were the colors to wear to them, but this bunch obviously didn’t get that memo.

  The hot pink collar and cuffs of Quintara’s shirt emerged from beneath her purple poncho, which she’d paired with a darker purple ankle-length skirt and gold flats to match her gold hoop earrings and multiple gold necklaces. Next to her was one of her best friends, Rhema Houser Martin, who lived in Eureka Springs. Rhema wasn’t quite as colorfully attired, but her swirly-printed, yellow and orange dress and bright yellows heels weren’t sack cloth and ashes, either.

  Next to Rhema and her husband, Alan, were the flamboyant psychic sisters, Sunshine Marmalade and Perchance Dragonmoon, both of whom Trudy had met at a psychic conference she’d attended a few months earlier. She’d kept up with them through social media. Sunshine was the most eye-catching in a pair of tight white jeans and a flowy, paisley print blouse. Her long blond hair had been tamed into a braid and Sunshine had placed red and yellow carnations in the woven strands. White moccasins completed the outfit.

  Slightly more subdued, Perchance had chosen to wear red pants and a red shirt adorned with a starburst design of crystals and pearls across the front. Her red, high-top sneakers were the perfect finishing touch.

  And then there was Chason Bolt, who smiled at Trudy every time her gaze wandered his way. Trudy hadn’t actually met Chason, but she’d corresponded with him occasionally through online messages. Good-looking and as cocky as Levi Wolfe, Chason had carved himself a niche as the “psychic to the stars.” His clientele were mostly actors, producers, and directors in Hollywood where Chason lived and worked. His first book about his psychic experiences had been released last month and was a bestseller. Levi had told her more than once that he didn’t think much of Chason and Trudy had marked that up to male dominance crapola. However, there was something about him that made her uneasy. Probably because he kept looking at her and smiling.

  Before the service ended, a tall Native American man joined the mourners. Soft, tanned leather slacks and fringed shirt encased his lean body and he wore brown boots with gold stitching. His black hair was shot through with gray and hung to his shoulders. She realized that she was staring at him when Levi leaned close to her and whispered, “That’s Joshua Longfeather. He’s a bone reader.”

  A bone reader! A ribbon of excitement fluttered through her. She’d read about bone reading, but had never met a practitioner. She made a mental note to get to know the striking Joshua Longfeather, then wondered if Quintara already knew him in the biblical sense. Quintara had a “thing” for Native Americans.

  “If Bolt doesn’t quit eyeing you like you’re his next meal, I’m going to kick his balls up into his smiling mouth,” Levi whispered, his tone distinctly menacing.

  “Down, boy,” she cautioned him, then reached for his hand and linked her fingers with his. “You’re especially gorgeous today, Mr. Wolfe.” She let her gaze drift over his tailored black suit, gray shirt, and black and gray striped tie. He was and wasn’t dressed for the funeral. Black and gray were his hues of choice – every day. She’d managed to work a few colors into his wardrobe – dark blue, silver, a bit of white, a splash of dark red – but he resisted most of her efforts on that front.

  “Oh?” He sent her an arched look. “And you’re obviously sexy as hell because every man here and most of the women can’t keep their eyes off you.”

  She scoffed at that, thinking that her black, long-sleeved sheath, silver and black silk scarf she’d looped around her neck, and black and silver heels were the least interesting outfit among them. In fact, she was a crow among macaws!

  The one woman she found herself wondering about stood near Rhema. A striking brunette, her charcoal and navy long-sleeved, shirt-waist dress was tailored to perfection and her charcoal heels with silver accents at the back and toe were expensive designer creations. She had dark eyes that sparkled when the sun caught them. Trudy guessed her to be in her late twenties. She kept checking her slim, gold watch as if she had somewhere else to be or a pressing appointment.

  “Would anyone like to speak about Glenn?” the minister asked, and Levi cleared his throat.

  “Yes, I would.”

  Trudy looked at him, surprised that he was the first to volunteer. While he was in the spotlight a lot, he was a private person and not one to discuss his feelings for anyone in public.

  “Many of you here have known Glenn longer than I have, but I admired him as much as most of you. I met him a few years ago and he was the most talented psychic at reading auras that I’ve ever known. I admit that I haven’t delved much into that realm. I studied it a bit at Findlay College, but nothing to speak of after that. Glenn, however, was uncannily astute when dealing with auras.” He squeezed Trudy’s hand. “Trudy, here, only met him once, but he read her aura and mine with his usual insightful precision.” He glanced at her and his smile bordered on shyness that made her heart melt around the edges. She knew he was recalling that day in Florida when Glenn told him to trust her and to open his heart to love. “Above all, Glenn was a peaceful, compassionate man and I have no doubt that his generous soul is in a better place. God speed, Glenn.”

  Trudy was surprised to see tears glimmering in the eyes around her. Quintara spoke next.

  “Glenn was a sweet and kind man,” she said, hooking her arm in Rhema’s. “In our wilder days, Rhema and I knew Glenn . . . more intimately.” She smiled and winked at her friend. “He was the kind of fellow who knew how to show a girl a good time and always picked up the tab, bless him. And, yes, he was very talented at aura reading. Also, I’ve never been to a séance with Glenn that was a dud. His very presence stirred up spirits. Now, he is one.”

  “And a lively one, no doubt,” Rhema said, picking up the thread. “It’s true. In my single days, Glenn and I shared a few pints and a few laughs. He was a gentleman, but he could also be quite the bawdy rogue.” She shared a naughty smirk with Quintara.

  Trudy looked at Alan Martin, standing beside his wife, and wondered how he was handling this trip down Old Lovers Lane. The semi-retired veterinarian smiled and chuckled, evidently unperturbed.

  “As an aura reader, he had no challengers,” Rhema continued. “He could always tell my mood. Hiding your feelings around Glenn was absolutely impossible. He saw your true heart and that’s what I loved most about him.”

  “I liked his laugh,” Sunshine said, then giggled, making a few others titter, too. “I’ll always remember how he kind of hiccupped when he laughed.”

  “Please join me in prayer,” the minister said when the group fell silent again.

  All heads bowed as the minister offered a short prayer to end the service. A few people made signs of the crosses as “Amen” drifted from lips. Levi let go of Trudy’s hand and slipped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her toward Quintara. He bussed the woman’s cheek and gave her a side hug.

  “Hello again, love,” he murmured to her, and Quintara gave him a saucy smile. “We’re still meeting for drinks at the Crescent, aren’t we? Want to ride with us?”

  Quintara danced her red fingernails down his tie. “I’ll go with Rhema and Alan, sweet meat. But thanks for the offer. Trudy, you’re prettier than ever. I haven’t asked you, are you going by Trudy Wolfe now?”

  “Yes, well, Trudy Tucker Wolfe.”

  Quintara nodded in approval. “That has a nice ring to it.” She turned to Rhema. “These two are newlyweds, you kno
w. We can’t expect to see much of them. They’ll spend most of their time alone together, I imagine.”

  “And miss out on your company?” Levi scoffed, dropping another kiss on her cheek. “Not a chance. Trudy and I are crazy about you. That will never change.”

  They began moving toward the line of parked cars. The only one that rivalled the jazziness of their rented Maserati was a flashy red Nisson G-T-R. Levi helped Quintara slide into the backseat of Rhema and Alan’s BMW, making sure she was strapped in before he closed the door and waved them off.

  “I love that woman,” he said, as if to himself.

  Trudy hooked her arm in his, touched by his devotion to Quintara and his newfound ability to express it freely. Not too long ago, he’d convinced himself that he couldn’t love or be loved. “So do I. It’s always a party when Quintara’s around. Even at a funeral.”

  He chuckled in agreement as they started for their own car. The sound of running feet made Trudy glance back to spy Perchance and Sunshine gaining on them.

  “Wait up!” Perchance said, laughing with Sunshine adding a peal of giggles. “We wanted to say ‘hello.’” Perchance held a hand to the front of her bedazzled blouse and blew her blond bangs up off her forehead. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen either of you. Hey, congratulations on the marriage and all.”

  “Oh, yes!” Sunshine nodded, all wide blue eyes and white teeth. “That’s crazy, huh? I can’t imagine marrying a seer. Wow.” She glanced behind her and giggled again. “Well, maybe I could imagine marrying another seer, after all. Hi there, Chason!”

  Chason Bolt, looking dashing in a black suit, white shirt, and maroon foulard tie and handkerchief square, sauntered to them. “You’re all going to the Crescent, I take it? It will be good to catch up on everyone.” His gaze managed to zero in on Trudy. “I don’t believe we’ve actually met. It’s so very good to see you, face to face, Trudy.” He held out his hand.