by Deborah Camp
“Levi, stop!” She meant to sound firm, but she goofed up and giggled. His lips smoothed down the side of her neck and he nibbled the underside of her jaw. “Levi.” Now she sounded the opposite of firm. He eased his hands under her blouse and ran his thumbs across her lace-covered nipples. “Levi,” she whispered, then moaned appreciatively when his mouth covered hers.
“What do you say now, Tru?” he whispered against her lips.
Her answer was easy. Oh, so easy. “Yes.”
Chapter 3
She’d felt off balance all day. In fact, she’d awakened that morning feeling drugged. Taking a longer than usual shower, Trudy had chalked up the strange fuzziness in her head to the weather. Last night she’d been blasted out of her sleep by the clap of thunder and sizzle of lightning that had briefly illuminated the bedroom through the sheer, gray curtains. She’d looked from the windows to Levi, surprised to find that he was still asleep. The rainstorm had been fierce and it was still drizzling as she stood by the windows in the living room and followed raindrops on the panes with her fingertip.
Listless, she went downstairs and turned on her laptop. Mouse joined her and curled at her feet. Selecting the file on Stuart McFarland, she glanced through notes she’d made, preparing herself for this afternoon when she had a meeting with the lead detective investigating the murder of Stuart’s parents. Her head throbbed and she closed her eyes, imagining for a few moments how Stuart might react to her when they’d finally meet. Would he be shy or wary? Would he be curious and eager to learn about his abilities or would he be afraid of them and want to pretend they didn’t exist?
At his age, she’d begun to realize that she was different and it had worried her. Noticing her moodiness, her mother had coaxed Trudy to tell her about her fragile and frantic feelings, but Cleo Tucker had been out of her element when it came to her daughter’s odd dreams and visions. Being a parent had to be tough, especially when . . .
Trudy opened her eyes, disturbed by a flashing memory that zipped through her brain like a lightning bolt.
Another snooty cunt.
She shivered. Where the heck had that come from? Staring blindly at the computer screen, she poked about in her mind, looking for that dangling thread of thought that was so clearly not hers. She’d become more in tune with herself and how her psychic routine worked, thanks to Quintara and Levi’s patient and astute tutoring. So, she waited. Waited for more. Her mind sent her back to when she’d been trying to go to sleep after being jarred awake by the lightning strike. She had felt a foreign sensation ensnare her, gripping her for a few frozen moments. Images and odd feelings blasted through her mind – a black hole between widened, brown eyes, followed by a sense of satisfaction, retribution, retaliation.
Snobby cunt.
More visions exploded inside her, one after another in quick succession. Blood, spreading across a pin-striped pajama top. A gurgling noise. Another jerking feeling and a strange, tick, tick sound. Another hole appearing in the man’s throat. Blood spurting like a fountain.
Whoa! What a fucking mess, man!
A sandpapery chuckle grated against her senses. She saw a thumb jab the air in a sign for a job well done. His thumbnail had a purple bruise on it. His hand was rough-skinned, lined and dry, chalky white over the knuckles. For an instant, she saw a gun in his other hand. Black, shiny, with a long barrel. A silencer?
Now where’s that kid? Two down, one to go before this job is done.
Her inner vision blinked out like a television switched off. Frustrated, she concentrated on reaching out with her mind, opening up to receive any takers, anyone who wanted to slip inside and share. A minute ticked by. Then another. Two became three. Three became four. Distantly, she heard Mouse whine, felt her front paws rest against her shin, but she kept her focus, kept sending out feelers.
Watch yourself, bitch. You don’t want to get on my bad side.
Ah, there you are! Trudy latched on and struggled to deepen the connection. She saw someone. A woman! A woman with thin lips and a square face, standing near a swimming pool. She lifted her hand to shade her squinting eyes.
“Pardon?”
“I said, do you live here or are you visiting?” a man answered her.
She frowned at him and took a step back, farther away from him. “Do I know you?”
“No, but we can fix that.”
Her eyes were blue, getting wider for a few moments. One of her perfectly shaped eyebrows arched as she shook her head, her lips formed a straight line of reproof. “Excuse me.”
She pivoted and strode away. Her hips swayed in her pink one-piece swim suit.
You’re excused, snotty little snatch.
Her ringing cell phone shattered her concentration. Muttering under her breath, Trudy grabbed the phone and glared at the screen. Huh. Atlanta PD. With a sigh, she brushed her finger across the screen to accept the call.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Tucker?”
“Yes.”
“Hey, this is Bill Myers in Homicide. How you doing?”
“Uh . . . fine.” She rubbed her throbbing forehead, seeking to bring order to her thoughts again. “What can I do for you, Detective Myers?”
“Let’s start off with you just calling me Bill. About our appointment later today? Could we meet at Dilly’s Diner on Peachtree? You know it?”
“Yes. I’ve been there.”
“Great. The thing is, I’m working a case right now and it’s going to take a while. It’s not far from Dilly’s, so I thought—.”
“That’s fine. No problem. Same time?”
“Yeah. Four o’clock.”
“Okay. I’ll let Levi know and we’ll see you then.” She ended the call and texted Levi about the change of location. After receiving his follow-up confirmation text, she opened a new file on the laptop and began typing in everything she could recall from the vision she’d experienced. Then she searched for the autopsy reports stored in the laptop about the McFarland double murders. Ian McFarland had been shot in the chest and throat. Shelley McFarland had been shot between the eyes.
“I have him,” she whispered, and a surge of accomplishment overtook her. The man who had murdered Stuart McFarland’s parents was psychically tethered to her now. It felt good to be on the hunt again.
Detective Myers was easy to spot. He looked like a veteran cop, even though he wore street clothes. Sitting alone at a table for four in the middle of the diner, he sipped at a cup of coffee and ran a hand down his brown striped tie. The overhead light bounced off his balding pate as his gaze bounced up from the file in front of him to Levi and Trudy, who’d just entered the diner. Although his blue eyes were bright and alert, there was a world-weariness about him. From the slight rounding of his shoulders to his scuffed, brown loafers, he wore the mantel of a man who’d seen it all and wished he could forget most of it.
Trudy extended her hand to him. A big grin broke across his round face as he shook it and then pumped Levi’s.
“Hi, there. Nice of you to meet me here. Please, have a seat. I’ve ordered coffee, but that’s all so far. Y’all hungry? You wanna eat? How about a slice of pie?”
“No, thanks.” Levi glanced at Trudy, getting her nod of agreement. They’d made plans to dine elsewhere after the meeting with the detective. A waitress approached the table. “I’ll have a cup of coffee. Trudy?”
“Yes, please. With cream.”
“Good to see you again, Bill,” Levi said, unbuttoning his suit jacket. “This is the first time you and Trudy have met, right?”
“That’s right. I’ve heard about Trudy, of course. Hey, Levi, I haven’t seen you around much lately. Are you still consulting on cases?”
“I am. We’ve been finishing up on a multi-murder case in Arkansas and I’ve been swamped with work at my company. Trudy just helped nab that child molester here.”
“Right, right. Good work on that, Trudy. Levi, I saw that your book is a bestseller.”
“I’m glad it’s been
so well received,” Levi responded.
The waitress returned with mugs and filled them with strong, black coffee. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Not now, thanks.” Bill gave her a wink, and she left them to it. “I gotta say, I’m glad to hear that you’re getting involved in this one. Their poor kid.” He shook his head, all the merriment fading from his blue eyes. “Damn shame that he doesn’t have any relatives to take him in. We were hoping that he saw the killer and could identify him, but we’ve gotten bupkis from him.”
“Dr. McClain has asked us to assist with him under her supervision,” Levi explained.
Trudy added cream from a small pitcher to her coffee and stirred it. The detective hunched his shoulders and stared into his coffee cup, a mask of concentration covering his face. Trudy guessed he was in his fifties. He wore a wedding ring and a nice, gold watch. His tan shirt was wrinkled from a long day. Beside her, Levi shifted in the chair and the aroma of his citrusy aftershave drifted to her. She turned her head slightly, getting a good eyeful of him in his black suit, black shirt, and black and silver tie. He’d also had a long day at the office and might have even been at a construction site or two, but his clothes bore no wrinkles, no wear.
“You’re just working with the boy?” Bill asked. “I thought you’d be sniffing around to find the killer, too. What gives?”
“We’ll do whatever we can to help the police identify the murderer,” Trudy said. “We haven’t been officially brought in as consultants on this. Is it true that you’ve hit a wall?”
“It’s gone cold,” Bill said with a heavy sigh. “Stone cold. And you can consider yourself officially asked to join in on this one. We’ve worked every angle and we’ve talked to a hell of a lot of people. Nothing much has come out of it. McFarland and his wife were squeaky clean. Upstanding yuppies. Nice house. Nice marriage. Nice kid. Nice life. Nobody’s said a bad word against them. McFarland was a lawyer. Junior partner with Tate, Shutter, and Landow. His wife had a degree in library science and worked part time at Story Journey Bookstore. Sells books for kids.” He glanced up from his notes. “Their kid’s teachers said he’s real bright. Kinda quiet. Well-mannered. Other kids in his class like him.”
Trudy caught Levi’s eye and they shared a nod. They’d read the same things about Stuart and had wondered aloud if his teachers or classmates sensed anything different about him.
The detective closed the manila folder and his bright blue eyes focused on Trudy. “I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ve been talking – mentally, you know – with the killer.”
Drawing in a quick breath, Trudy felt her lips curve into a smile. When Levi had collected her, she’d filled him in about her recent psychic experiences. He hadn’t been surprised; more like resigned to the inevitable. “No. It’s not too much to hope for, Detective. I believe I made contact with him a few hours ago. Maybe even last night, as well.”
Bill sat straighter as if he’d been poked with a sharp stick. “No kidding? Well, shoot! Tell me all about it. And call me Bill, remember? Wait, wait!” He patted his shirt pocket, then his pants pockets before locating a pen and yanking it free. He clicked it and poised it above a sheet of notebook paper inside the folder. “Okay. Gimme.”
Surprised by his eagerness, she caught herself smiling as she glanced at Levi, who also looked pleased. “Okay. Well, I don’t know a lot, but here goes. I saw his hand. His right hand. There’s a big bruise on his thumbnail and his skin looks rough and dry. It made me think he might be a blue-collar worker. I saw that he shot Mrs. McFarland first – in the forehead. Then he shot her husband twice, once in the chest and then in the throat. He wasn’t the least bit horrified by what he’d done. I felt satisfaction from him.”
“So, you were in his head when he killed them?”
“He must have been thinking about it, remembering it, and that’s when I connected with his thoughts this afternoon.”
“Huh.” He stared at her a few more seconds, then blinked and focused on taking notes again. “Okay. Go on.”
“He had known that Stuart was in the house.”
“Yeah?” Bill paused again, looking at her with surprise. “Did he look for him? Did he see the kid?”
“He did search for him. At least, I’m pretty sure he did.”
He tapped the pen on the paper, a considering expression covering his face. “Guess he could have seen the photos of the family around the place if he were paying attention.”
“My early impression is that he’s fixated on people who look down on him. Maybe just women who seem haughty to him. He has thought of them as ‘snooty’ and ‘snobby.’ He might have viewed Stuart’s mother that way. Or it could be that she woke up and he made a split-decision to kill her and her husband. Anyway, I saw him flirting with a woman at a swimming pool, too.”
“Recently?”
“Yes. A few hours ago. In real time, not as a memory. She snubbed him and he mentally warned her not to get on his bad side. He thought of her as being snobby because she had an ‘as if’ attitude toward him.”
“Could you give me a location? Where was he?”
“I don’t know. I saw a swimming pool. There were several people at the pool, so it could have been public. Maybe at a motel or hotel.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t see much of his surroundings.”
“Was he swimming?”
“I . . .” She thought back, closing her eyes as she concentrated on the wisp of memory. “I’m not sure. I don’t think so.”
“Did you get an impression of his height, weight, hair color, age?”
She shook her head. “No, but I hope to soon. When he concentrates on hunting his next victim, I should be able to connect with him for more than just a minute or two. He was taller than the woman, but that’s all I could say about him.”
“What about you?” Bill switched his attention to Levi. “Have you ‘connected’ with the McFarlands in the Great Beyond?”
Levi fingered the knot of his tie, centering it. “No. Like Trudy said, we haven’t been brought in on it. Until now.”
Bill frowned, making the lines across his forehead deepen. “Any help you can offer, I’m open to it. I know some of us give you a hard time, but I’m not one of them. We’ve worked together some before so you know I cover every angle, every lead.”
Levi nodded. “I understand, but Trudy and I are interested in helping Stuart cope with his parents’ deaths.”
“Finding the sonofabitch who killed his mom and dad will help him, doncha think?”
“Of course. I’m sure he’s afraid that the man will try to find him and kill him and that’s one of the reasons why Dr. McClain is in session with him.”
“I’m confused. If Dr. McClain is treating him, then what are you and Trudy supposed to do for the kid?”
Trudy sensed Levi’s dilemma about what to reveal to the detective. After a glance her way, he sighed.
“The thing is, Bill, we think that Stuart is psychic. If he is, we’re going to help him cope with whatever abilities he might have.”
Bill dropped his pen and slouched back in the chair “Well, ain’t that a kick in the can. Psychic, huh? You can be that way when you’re a kid?”
Levi smirked and Trudy released a soft chuckle.
“We’re kind of born with it,” she explained. “Like if you have a penchant for music or you’re a math whiz. It’s an innate talent.”
“If he is psychic, could he ID the killer? Mentally, somehow?”
“If he could identify the killer, I think he would have by now,” Levi said. “I’m not sure, but I think he is precognitive.”
“Pre-what?”
Levi’s lips twitched at the detective’s confusion. “He can sense something is going to happen before it happens. Such as, he knows that someone is calling him before his phone rings or he senses that someone is on their way to see him before they pull into the driveway. Studies have shown that some dogs even possess this ability. Their owne
rs can be away from the house and when they start back home, their dogs sense it and go to the windows or doors to watch or wait for them.”
“I think I saw a documentary about that once,” Bill said, squinting one eye and waving his pen in Levi’s general direction. “Yeah. My wife swears that a cocker spaniel we had a few years back could do that. Precious, that was the dog’s name, would whine and sit by the front door a few minutes before I got home. So, that’s something like what you think the McFarland kid has?”
Trudy nodded. “But I haven’t even met the child yet, so it’s too early to even speculate.”
“Definitely,” Levi said in a firm, almost censuring tone that made her gaze sweep to him. He lowered his brows and frowned. “Much too early.”
“Right, I understand,” Bill murmured as he consulted his notes again. “Would he have been able to tell that someone was going to break into the house before they did?”
Levi looked from the detective to Trudy, his brows knitting together as the question hung between them. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged.
Trudy answered his shrug with one of her own. “It’s possible, I suppose. He probably would have been asleep, though, right? What time of night did it happen?”
“Around three in the morning, so the kid probably was sawing logs. At first, anyway. What we do know is that this was a burglary that ended up a double homicide. The assailant entered the home through the garage, which is attached to the house.”
“No security alarm?” Levi asked.
“Yes, and it was disabled.”
“Oh, right. I remember reading that in the report. But how?”
Bill hooked an arm around the back of his chair. “Evidently, the perp knew the code.”
“He knew the . . .” Levi squinted one eye. “Well, hell. So, it’s someone they know. Interesting. I need to look over those reports you sent us again. I missed some things.”
Trudy saw his attitude toward the murder case evolve from interested to fascinated. Levi Wolfe was officially and completely on the case now.