Through Her Touch (Mind's Eye Book 5)

by Deborah Camp

“Yes, of course.” Worry for her friend made her movement jerky as she fished her phone out of her purse.

  “Sissy, I didn’t know that Chason was going on TV. I guess he’s desperate for media exposure,” Levi said into his phone. “Hold on. This is all speculation. The other deaths have been listed as accidents. Trudy and I have a feeling that they might not have been so accidental, but like I said, it’s too early to say anything definitive.”

  The elevator let them out at the top floor, around the corner from the penthouse entrance. One of the security team stationed outside the penthouse door rounded the corner, his hand inside his jacket where his firearm was strapped. His hand swung back to his side when he spotted them.

  “Hello, sir.” He nodded. “Mrs. Wolfe.”

  Levi finished his call to Sissy. “There are photographers at the front.”

  “Yes, sir. They’ve been there about an hour.”

  Quintara’s cheerful voice rang out.

  “Hi, Quintara,” Trudy said as Levi grasped her hand and led her around to the penthouse front door. “We just heard about Chason spilling his guts on TV. Did you see it?”

  “Oh, yes. Rhema and Sunshine have called me already. No one knew that he was going to do that and everyone is quite put out about it. Even Sheriff Rocknell wasn’t told anything about Chason’s plans to announce it.”

  “Great. So, you’re okay?”

  “Of course, dear. I have my sexy security guards Levi hired and they don’t let me out of their sight.”

  “All right. Good. I just wanted to check on you. I’ll let you go.”

  “I understand. Ta-ta, dearest. Give Levi a kiss for me.”

  “That’s good news,” Levi said, and Trudy nodded as she slipped her phone back into her purse.

  A cushioned chair and small table sat in one corner of the foyer for the security guard. She eyed the half-eaten sandwich, apple, soda can, and X-Men comic books on the table. She wouldn’t have pegged the burly six-foot-two former professional football player for a comic book fan. Levi laid the flat of his hand against the panel beside the door.

  “Good evening, Mr. Wolfe. Welcome home,” a woman’s pleasant voice said, and the doors unlocked with a soft click. Levi opened them and stood back to let Trudy enter first. He headed straight for the stairs and the office.

  Trudy removed her shoes, tossed her purse on the entry table and joined him downstairs where he was already on the computer. She went around to stand behind him. He’d signed on to the television program and was clicking on the interview with Chason Bolt. Film clips of Chason doing readings for some Hollywood actors segued to him on camera being interviewed by one of the TV show’s anchors. A voice-over announced that, “Handsome and popular psychic to the stars, Chason Bolt, filed a police report today that says he was nearly run over by someone he suspects has murdered several psychics already!”

  Chason wore a serious expression as he listened to the interviewer.

  “Do you know have any idea who this murderer might be?”

  “No, not at all. I only became aware of this a few weeks ago. It was all rumors, you know, so I figured it was a police matter and none of my business. Then I was waiting for a limo to pick me up after a television appearance and this car came out of nowhere! If I hadn’t been quick, he would have run me down. There was no license plate and I couldn’t see who was driving.”

  “What makes you think it was the same person who allegedly killed other psychics?” The interviewer glanced at her notes. “Let’s see, you said that psychics Kathryn Rubyott and Glenn O’Connell were murdered in Arkansas by this person?”

  “That’s the general consensus, but you’d have to talk to law enforcement about that.”

  “And you couldn’t sense that your life was in danger or that someone was murdering other psychics?”

  “No. I don’t have the gift of being able to predict the future.” He smiled indulgently at the interviewer. “I can communicate with those who have crossed over.”

  “Oh, right, like Levi Wolfe.”

  At that, Levi chuckled darkly and Trudy joined in when Chason’s pleasant smile became wooden.

  “Yes, similarly.”

  “Similarly,” Trudy mocked.

  “Have you taken measures for your personal safety after that near-miss on your life?”

  “Yes, I have, as suggested by the police. This is nerve-wracking, but it won’t stop me from my work. I haven’t cancelled any appearances or private readings and I don’t intend to do so. I’ll be in Las Vegas next week at Planet Hollywood.”

  “And that’s why he decided to talk about this now,” Levi said.

  “Thank you, Chason, and please be careful.”

  Chason smiled into the camera. “Thank you, and I will.”

  The camera focused on the interviewer, a lovely brunette with a Barbie doll figure. “Back to you, Laurel and Kevin.”

  Levi tapped on the keyboard, moving from one news site to the next where Chason’s serial murderer story was a hot, trending topic. He paused on one Twitter chain where people were asking, “Is Levi Wolfe okay? I’ll die if anyone hurts a hair on his beautiful head!” “Me, too! I love Levi!” “Levi is the bomb. He makes every other psychic look like an amateur.”

  “These people obviously know what they’re talking about,” Levi noted with dry wit.

  Trudy pointed to another comment and chuckled. “Wolfe is a dickwad.” “Chason has opened a proverbial can of worms and it’s going to get icky for us real fast.”

  “Already has.” Levi whipped through a few more web sites, all basically reporting the same things about Chason. When the phone rang, he looked over his shoulder at Trudy. “You’re psychic, aren’t you? Who do you think is calling – and don’t look at the readout!” He covered the screen with his hand.

  She closed her eyes, joining in the game. Instead of a name popping into her head, a feeling shot through her, sharp and red-hot. Anger. Seething anger. Damned showoff! You deserve to get flattened!

  “Give up? I say it’s one of the Galaxy Sisters.” Levi’s voice broke through to her. She blinked and his face came back into sharp focus as he picked up the receiver. “Hello, Perchance. I guess you’ve seen the latest installment of Chason Bolt’s Big Mouth.”

  “God, yes!” Perchance’s voice and aggravation burst from the speaker. “Can you believe that guy? He didn’t tell anyone here he was doing that. Not even Billy. Sheriff Rockabilly is ready to take a run at Chason himself in his tank-like Ford Raptor pickup.”

  “Yeah, I’d like a crack at him, too, right now. I have photographers and reporters camped outside my home.”

  “A few have made it to Eureka Springs already. I heard that they’re at the Crescent asking for our addresses and phone numbers.”

  “Hell, they can stop anyone on the street and get all that info.” He turned slightly to look at Trudy. His brows lowered and he tipped his head in a silent question of concern. She straightened her spine and drew in a sharp breath, trying to get back on the main track.

  “Sunny phoned Rhema. She and Alan are in Fayetteville right now. Did you know about that?”

  “No. What happened to them?”

  Trudy pulled an office chair closer to the desk and sat down. Her knees felt rubbery along with her mind. It was like heavy syrup had been poured into her head, coating her brain and making the neurons fire slowly.

  “Alan had a little scare. He had some chest pains and his doctor thought he should go in for a full checkup. He did have erratic heartbeats, but he and Rhema are supposed to be back home tomorrow. He’s on blood pressure meds now. Rhema said no one has approached her about the Chason thing there.”

  “That’s good. She and Alan don’t need the aggravation. Hopefully, this thing will be old news when they’re back home. With the daily influx of Washington and Hollywood scandals, this story should blow over by the next news cycle.”

  “Let’s hope so. I don’t want Chason to get more than his allotted sixty minutes of fam
e over this. The numbskull. What was he thinking? I know, I know. Don’t say it. He wanted to get his name in the news and this was a quick way to accomplish it. His Vegas gig is sold out, I heard.”

  Levi arched a brow and made a bored face. “Good for him.”

  Trudy shook her head, knowing full well that Levi was comparing that to his own sold out two weeks at Caesar’s Palace last year and that this was another example of Chason stepping on his heels. Battle of the Egos, she thought, and hoped it would end there. Chason obviously didn’t fully understand the explosiveness of Levi’s temper. As they said in Oklahoma, keep messing with the bull and you’ll get the horns.

  After a few more words, Perchance signed off. Levi focused his attention on Trudy and she knew he sensed her inner struggles.

  She cleared her throat. “Someone else isn’t pleased with Chason’s performance,” she said, answering his unasked question. “I can feel him. You know, him.”

  Levi nodded.

  “He’s angry about it. He feels that Chason is showing off and not taking it seriously. He wishes Chason had been killed that night.”

  Levi rolled back the office chair so that he could face her. He took her cool hands in his and stroked her knuckles. “Take a deep breath, Tru. That’s good. Breathe it out. Let it wash your mind clean. Better?”

  She smiled, amazed that a few words from him could work wonders. “Yes. Thanks.”

  “Did he make reference to anyone else?”

  “No. I felt him for a few seconds. Just, bam! This burst of anger. Extreme irritation.”

  “It does clear up one thing.”

  “What?”

  “That Chason didn’t make the whole thing up. I had thought he might have fabricated the attempt on his life to soften you up.”

  “That crossed my mind, too.” She shrugged. “Guess we’re two jaded people.”

  “And why not?” He pulled her out of her chair and into his lap. She looped her arms, resting them on his broad shoulders. “We’ve bumped into more than a few liars, haven’t we? You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Yes, you are, baby, but how are you feeling?”

  She lifted one hand to ruffle his hair. “The jury could still be out on Chason.”

  “Oh?”

  “I didn’t see it.”

  “But just now in your head the guy admitted—.”

  “No,” she corrected him before he could finish the statement. “What I heard was that he was a showoff and deserved to be run over.” She gave a little shrug and twisted a curl of Levi’s midnight hair around her forefinger. “I might be splitting hairs . . .” She gave it a tug and he leaned forward and gnawed playfully on her chin, making her squirm away from him with a giggle. “But, like I said, it’s not clear cut.”

  The desk phone rang again. Trudy looked at the screen. It was a news service. “How in the world did they get our home number?”

  “Some people are careless and some are devious. That’s why I have a private number, too, on the house line and my cell phone. Let that one go to voice mail. I think the mailbox is full, so they won’t even be able to leave a message.”

  She combed his hair with her fingers, framed his handsome face between her hands, and kissed him. His lips were cool, but grew warm under hers. “Careless or devious? I think I know which one you are, Mr. Wolfe.” His mouth curved under hers in a sly grin as his hands slipped under her shirt to caress her back and pull her closer for a kiss that wiped every care from her mind.

  Thanks to Chason, two security guards dogged every step Trudy took outside the penthouse. Inside it, she had Wes or Levi watching over her. She avoided going anywhere because she hated being “looked after” and didn’t want to run into any photographers and reporters. After a few days, the interest died down, especially after last night when Levi had been Sissy Franklin’s guest and he’d played down Chason’s account of a “murdering serial killer.”

  “Look, I’ve assisted on more than a few serial murder cases,” Levi had told Sissy on her true crime and court cases program. “A few psychics have died in the past few months, yes. One of them was quite elderly and had an accidental tumble and my friend Glenn had a car wreck in the Ozarks. Another car seemed to have been involved, but there is no information that it was anything other than a hit-and-run type thing. I’m concerned, obviously, for Chason. But a serial killer targeting psychics?” He’d shaken his head. “That’s a stretch at this point. There isn’t enough information to make that assertion. Bolt didn’t even report it to the police until days after it happened.” He shrugged. “Anyway, next subject. I have a book that will be published this fall and it’s about a couple of real mass murderers.”

  Even though Trudy could barely be civil around Sissy Franklin, the woman was good for something, Trudy allowed, privately. But when she recalled how Sissy had reached across the desk on set to grasp Levi’s arm or, even in one instance, when she’d rested her hand on top of his, Trudy’s resentment flared to life. It was obvious that Sissy still held claim to Levi and it didn’t matter that it wasn’t shared by him. Until Sissy kept her hands off Levi, Trudy would never trust the woman. Probably wouldn’t trust her even if she did manage to quit looking at him as if she were ready to hop on him like he was her personal hobby horse as soon as the show was over.

  Since Trudy and Levi had become “an item,” Trudy had bumped into several of Levi’s former girlfriends. He’d gone out with a lot of women, so she couldn’t avoid meeting them and hearing about them from other people. Although awkward, she’d managed to deftly handle coming face-to-face with these women, who had briefly been bedmates of Levi’s. The exception was Sissy Franklin and that’s because Sissy was a sore loser. It didn’t matter that Levi was married. She’d still have sex with him without a qualm. She’d never actually said this to Trudy, but her actions did – in capital letters. It was all Trudy could do not to shout at her to, “Keep your grabby hands off my man, you troll!”

  Luckily, she rarely was in the same room with Sissy. But it seemed her luck was running out because as Trudy sat at a window table in a charming little restaurant in the heart of downtown Atlanta, Sissy walked past, saw her, and came inside. Dressed in a figure-hugging red dress, black heels, and carrying a handbag that Trudy knew set her back at least six thousand, Sissy sashayed over to Trudy’s table.

  “All alone or waiting for Levi?”

  “I’m waiting for a friend,” Trudy said, and didn’t ask Sissy to join her although Sissy eyed the empty chair.

  “Oh. Well.” Sissy sat down and patted her bleached blond hair. “Until he comes.”

  “She,” Trudy corrected, then took a sip of iced tea. She made eye contact with Dixie Beech and Lora Gleason, her security guards, who were seated a few tables away and gave them a slight nod of reassurance. She figured they recognized Sissy, but thought it wise to allay any concern. “Are you having a business lunch?”

  “No.” Sissy winked at Trudy. “I saw you and thought I’d pop right in and say ‘howdy.’ I’m on my way for a pedicure. There’s this little Korean gal down the street at Spa Daze who is absolutely the best, I tell ya. She gives a foot rub that’s almost as good as sex.”

  The waitress approached, and before Trudy could wave her away, Sissy ordered an iced coffee.

  “Is your friend late or are you early?”

  Trudy checked her watch. “I’m a little early.” She’d left extra time in case any reporters were still hanging around or the traffic was worse than usual in the heart of Atlanta.

  “Don’t you look nice.” Sissy eyed Trudy’s black trouser pants and Balenciaga sleeveless, wrap-around blouse in a soft seafoam. “I recognize that top. You’ve moved up in the world of fashion. Guess you’re not shopping at thrift stores anymore.”

  Trudy drank some tea, wondering if she should let Sissy rattle on or make any comment. She decided to hold her tongue for now, fighting back the urge to tell her that she’d purchased the blouse at Almost Brand New
consignment clothing store in Buckhead.

  “Are you mostly a lady of leisure? Not working any criminal cases anymore? Who can blame you, though? Why put yourself in danger when you can . . . well, do lunch with the ladies and go shopping for designer clothing?”

  The waitress came back with Sissy’s iced coffee and set it before her. “Anything else, ma’am?”

  “No, thanks.”

  “And for you, Mrs. Wolfe?”

  Sissy was taking a sip of the drink and almost choked when the waitress addressed Trudy by name. Inwardly, Trudy beamed. She’d been to the restaurant several times with and without Levi and had met the owner. She’d told the woman that it was a favorite place of theirs and that she had referred several people to have lunch or dinner there. Since then, the owner and her staff knew Trudy on sight.

  “No, thank you. I’m still waiting for my friend.”

  “Oh.” The waitress looked at Sissy, clearly puzzled, but then she smiled and moved away.

  “Levi and I come here often,” Trudy said. “We like it because it’s in the center of things, but the ambience is leisurely and the food is excellent.”

  Sissy glanced around with an indifferent shrug. She took another drink of the iced coffee, leaving red lipstick on the glass. “Levi and Chason Bolt really butt heads, don’t they?”

  Trudy regarded her for a few seconds, wondering what she was up to. “Do they?”

  Sissy’s laugh was low and throaty. “You know they do. Levi can’t stand Chason and Chason is so jealous of Levi that he can barely control himself. I don’t get it. They’re both good looking and sexy as hell, but there’s room for both of them in the world of psychics, right? Levi said that Bolt made a pass at you.”

  Everything inside Trudy went cold. Why was Levi talking about her to this woman? She held her anger on a tight rein as Sissy’s down-and-dirty laugh grated on her nerves.

  “I told Levi that he should have seen that coming. Chason would want to see if he could turn your head and make you cheat. That, and when fame touches you, even slightly, you become more attractive.” She swayed forward and lowered her voice. “When you look like those two men, you can get all the poontang you want. You know that Levi is accosted by willing females every damn day.”