Tuesday's Child (Book 1 of Psychic Visions, a paranormal romantic suspense) Read online

  Of course, this was an old argument, and he'd gone several rounds with Captain Johansen over it – and lost every one. Dillon had wanted to host a regular five-minute slot on both the local television station and the radio stations. That had been shot down, too. Still, accessing the public was the cheapest and fastest way to gain information. The department's man-hours, logged trying to find and interview people, were incredibly expensive.

  He took a large bite of his late breakfast muffin. He could understand Brandt not wanting to take that step. After all, he was new here and didn't want to rock the boat. Dillon stopped chewing as an idea formed. If he arranged everything correctly, Brandt would get the information he needed, and Dillon could prove his theory. More ammunition to take to the captain. In a way, Dillon would be doing this to help Brandt. Who knew what new information could come to light.

  He grinned. He'd have to think this through. Yet...it sounded like a hell of an idea.

  ***

  10:15 am

  Brandt rubbed the back of his neck. The screen scrolled, searching for more cases linking to his killer. Just then, his phone rang, distracting him.

  "Hello."

  "Detective Sutherland. This is Nancy from Willow Health Clinic."

  The manager from the long-term care home. He groaned silently and closed his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. "Hi, Nancy. How are you doing?"

  "Umm, well I guess I'm fine. The thing is I need your help with Maisy again."

  His shoulders slumped. He knew it. His mother was up to no good again.

  "What's the problem?" He winced and held his breath.

  "Umm, well..." She stopped.

  Brandt shook his head, he knew already. Checking his watch – did he have time to whip down there? "Is she causing trouble again?"

  "Well, it's not so much causing trouble…more like she's stirring up the other residents."

  He shut down his laptop. "Would you like me to come by and talk with her again?"

  "Yes, yes. That would be wonderful. She's such a fun lady to have around. I hate to even ask you. But the Board has already stretched the rules for her several times, and I'm not sure that she can skate by on this one."

  Brandt ran fingers through his hair. "How bad is it this time?"

  "She's setting up pools again."

  Brandt grinned. "That doesn't sound so bad."

  "No," the harried woman on the other end of the phone said. "It's the subject matter that's the problem. Would it be possible to have you stop in sometime today?"

  "No problem," he said. "I'm heading in your direction soon, so I'll be there before lunch."

  "Oh, thank you. I certainly don't want to upset her. She's interjected such life here," Nancy said warmly.

  "No problem. I'll see you in about an hour." Brandt rang off. Standing, he grabbed his briefcase and coat then locked up his desk.

  Dillon stuck his head around the door.

  "Hey Dillon. What's up?" Brandt barely withheld his grin at Dillon's suit of the day. This was the classic pinstripe with a matching tie in reverse stripes. But it was in forest green, black, and white. Mafia anyone?

  "I'm just checking that you still need information on this?" He held up the sketch of the ring. "I missed whatever you said at this morning's meeting." Dillon raised an eyebrow in question.

  "I'm looking for the owner. If I can trace it to a store, sorority, or something like that, I might be able to figure out who bought it."

  Dillon stared at the sheet, frowning. "It's a simple enough design. But I don't think I've seen one like it." He turned the page slightly. "Is one of the stones missing?"

  "Yeah, the last time it was seen, one stone appeared to be missing. The others are clear – diamond or zirconium, maybe."

  "Gold, white, brass – do we know?"

  "No. Gold in color is all I have."

  "Shouldn't be too hard to track down. Have you talked to the jewelry stores here?"

  Brandt walked around his desk to stand at Dillon's side, giving the sketch another glance. "I talked to several so far, I've faxed it to several more. So far, the same thing. Not in stock anywhere and no one remembers one quite like this in the last decade or so." Brandt considered the pattern. "It could be a custom job. I'll have to contact the local designers and see."

  Behind him, Dillon asked. "Have you checked online?"

  "Yes and no. I have a couple of people working on it."

  Dillon nodded. "Okay, I'll keep an ear out and let you know if I find anything." He turned and walked toward the doorway. He stopped and turned around. "Oh yeah, while I have the chance, I also wanted to ask if the rumors were true?"

  "What rumors?"

  The younger man grinned, a perfect toothy smile. Some serious money went into that look. "That you've brought in a psychic on this case."

  Brandt refused to let irritation show. "Love rumors, don't you?"

  Dillon smirked. "Yeah. The grapevine here is rampant."

  Brandt frowned at him, hoping to quell his interest. "Well, you can't believe everything you hear."

  "True." Dillon turned, as if to finally leave again. "Let me know if you need any help with anything."

  "I'll be fine, but thanks for the offer." He motioned Dillon to precede him out of the office. "Time to head out." Brandt checked his watch. He was running late.

  CHAPTER TEN

  10:45 am

  Sam found it hard not to worry while she worked with the animals. It's not as if she lacked for topics. After last night's vision, she was now worried about not telling the police. Her instinct reaction had been no way. Not after yesterday. Today in the light of day, she knew she needed to tell Brandt.

  The worry about what information the police had dug up on her, nagged at her. What if Detective Sutherland contacted that deputy from Nikola County? There was a lot of ancient history there and none of it looked good for her. Chances of the detective believing her story over that rogue deputy's version were nonexistent. She already knew that law enforcement protected their own. What were the chances the deputy had forgotten her? Not great.

  "Sam, can you give me a hand?" The voice called through the swinging double doors.

  Sam quickly closed the door to the rabbit cage she'd been cleaning and headed for surgery room one.

  She pushed open the door. "Jesus." She jumped forward to help. "You could have called me earlier." She reached out to support the large, sleeping Newfoundland dog that was in danger of sliding off the small table. "Time to get a larger table?"

  The other two women laughed. "Careful with the front legs. He's got stitches across the ribs on that side." The three women carefully maneuvered the large animal onto a second table. Then waited to receive him and then move him into an even larger cage.

  Once inside, the dog's wounds were checked, his tubes adjusted for the cage walls and the door closed. Sam stepped over to look at the beautiful injured animal. He had to be a hundred and fifty pounds. "What happened to him?"

  Dr. Valerie Brown, the older of the two, smiled and said, "You don't need to whisper, he's not going to wake up."

  Sam's lip twitched. "I know. He's beautiful."

  The other woman, Dr. Brenda Torrance, stripped off her gloves. "Yup, he's gorgeous alright, only he needs to stop arguing with cars."

  Sam sent a sharp question her way. "What, another car accident?" She glanced at the sleeping animal. "How horrible."

  "We'll move him to the back room after he wakes up from his anaesthesia."

  Sam narrowed her gaze. Funny lights played over the surface of the dog's thick fur coat. Weird. Shivers raised goose bumps on Sam's skin. A vision reached into her brain and took over her sight. The dog was hurt worse than the minor repair held together by the stitches. Images crowded her – the dog up in the air, tumbling before hitting his left hip on a fire hydrant.

  "Did he get the cut from the car or from the landing?" She focused on the animal's body, searching for any clues as to what else could be wrong.


  "The front grill of the truck ripped a strip of hide off him. Why?" Valerie asked.

  Sam gazed at her vaguely. "What? Oh, his left hip doesn't look right. But I'm sure you took x-rays, so that hip must be just bruised and not broken."

  Deliberately, Sam left, as if to return to the cages to finish her job. In the other room, she stopped outside the door and listened.

  Behind her was a weighty silence.

  "What was that all about?"

  "Damned if I know. Were x-rays done?"

  A rustle of papers. "No, the owners brought him in for stitches. They saw the accident. They didn't want to go through the expense of x-rays, if not required. A check-up was done before we came on for the day." More papers were shuffled. "What do you think, should we do x-rays?"

  "I hate taking over cases already in progress. I was told this animal just needed stitches. Shit."

  Silence except for a brush of clothing and soft muttering. Sam could only hope they were checking the dog's hip a little more closely. Nodding encouragement that they couldn't see, Sam followed their actions with one ear to the door.

  "Damn. We need to x-ray his hips. Let's call the owners."

  "She's right?"

  "I don't know, but there's something wrong. Who did the intake on this animal?"

  "I'll have to check the paperwork when we're done."

  Sam grinned. She whispered to the empty room. "There you go boy. Now you'll be fine." She listened for another moment before heading to finish her work.

  It wasn't until later that she realized this was her first vision around an animal. Sam had actually seen the energy over the injured part of the body. The goose bumps had been the first inkling of something wrong. Her heart positively lifted with joy. To be able to do something for animals would be wonderful. Now, if she could learn to control it so she could use it at will. More questions for Stefan.

  "Sam, can you run and do a pickup for us?"

  Sam spun around, her hand rushing to her chest.

  "Sorry." Valerie reached out an apologetic hand. "I didn't mean to scare you."

  Sam blew out a noisy breath, letting her hand drop down.. "I must have been miles away."

  "It's these shoes. They should be sleuth shoes." Valerie lifted her practical working shoes to peer at the soles.

  Sam waited until she had Valerie's attention. "What do you need?"

  "I need you to run over to the where Lucy's daughter works and pick up an injured cat. If you don't mind. It's about fifteen minutes from here." Valerie checked her notes briefly. "You were right, by the way, the dog's hip was dislocated and the ligaments and muscles are badly torn."

  "Oh, how sad. I'm glad you could fix him." How could she refuse to go get the cat? Her shift wasn't over for at least an hour. Besides, they were doing right by the dog.

  "Of course, we'll pay for your time and your gas."

  Sam brushed her hand in the air. "It's no problem. I'm almost done here. Give me directions. I'll just wash up and get ready."

  "Great. I really appreciate it. We've been so busy that I haven't taken the time to say how much I appreciate your efforts here. Thanks." With a grateful smile, Valerie headed to the office.

  Sam stared, bemused, at the flapping doors. It's a good thing she'd left. Sam didn't have any response to give. She couldn't remember the last time she'd received a compliment like that.

  It was kind of nice.

  ***

  11:00 am

  It had been a busy morning already. And still Bill wasn't quite done. He shuffled the contents in the bed of his truck. He'd promised to bring the dogs over to the palliative care center. Those patients loved seeing the animals. It was the least he could do for those dying folks. It was either make their last days a little sweeter or knock 'em off early.

  He grinned. It would be so easy. Only, it wouldn't mean the same thing for him. It wasn't just getting his rocks off – well that was a huge part of it – but he needed certain things in order to get there. It used to be easy. Now everything had to go exactly right or he couldn't enjoy himself.

  Starting with the victim – just anyone wouldn't do. The right victim was everything to him. He was a selection specialist. And he'd made a mistake last time. Not on the girl, but on the method. He'd tested a new drug on her. Bad decision. She'd reacted terribly, slipping into unconsciousness before he could really enjoy her. He'd left – beyond pissed. Now, he'd need a fix again…and soon because of that.

  He'd expected to hear about her on the news, but so far nothing. Stupid cops, they'd probably written her off as a suicide. He grinned. That worked for him. Fooling the cops kept things challenging. Over the years he'd even wondered what drove him, but had come to the conclusion that it didn't matter, as he was past the point of stopping. He refused to dwell on it.

  He also didn't like the mask thing. The bloody wool itched. He preferred to stay anonymous. Not take any chances. When he'd first started, he hadn't taken the same care. During the first couple of rapes, he'd sweated with the droplets falling onto the women's skin. Early on, he'd tried using alcohol on one woman's skin to remove any sweat or saliva and had quickly discarded that. He'd ended up with a bloody mess. If being uncomfortable was the price then that was fine with him. The gloves also didn't thrill him because he wanted the skin-to-skin contact. Every once in a while, he still succumbed to the temptation, but was always careful to put them on immediately afterwards. Why the hell it mattered at that point, he didn't know, except he'd been doing it that way for so long logic couldn't even begin to win over superstition. What worked, worked and that was all there was to it.

  A shrink would have a heyday with him. Yeah, he was paranoid. Still, he was in this for the long haul and didn't plan to screw up anytime soon.

  ***

  11:10 am

  Brandt pulled into the parking lot at the Willow Health Center. He parked at the front and walked inside. The offices were off to the right. He headed there first.

  "Hi, Nancy."

  The tiny older woman looked up in surprise. Then a big smile broke out. "Detective Sutherland. Thank you so much for coming."

  He shook his head. "She's my problem, not yours."

  Nancy grinned. "Except that while she's here, she's also our problem."

  There was no arguing that logic. "I'll walk down and have a talk with her before she goes for lunch."

  "Good. She might be in her room, or she could be over with the animals today. I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

  "Oh, right. It's pet day, isn't it?" The center had a well-loved program where family members were allowed to bring pets in to see the various residents for an hour to two. Sometimes, special dogs and cats came in to keep the people company or put on small shows. The older people loved it. It was a highlight for them.

  Brandt walked down to his mother's room.

  "Mom?" He knocked gently.

  "Come in."

  Brandt pushed the door open to find several other people in there. A hushed silence descended when they recognized their visitor.

  He heaved a sigh. "Yes, the cops have been called. Mom, what the hell are you up to now?"

  Maisy ran over to him and gave him a big hug. "It's lovely to see you dear, however, there's no reason to use profanity."

  What could he do? She was his mother. He rolled his eyes and wrapped his arms around her frail body in a gentle hug.

  He grasped her shoulders gently and held her at arm's length. "Mom, we have to have a talk."

  ***

  11:20 am

  "Here it is." Sam slowed, pulled into the long driveway, and parked. There was a familiar truck parked to the right. She frowned. There's no reason it should be Brandt's truck. There had to be hundreds of those here in town. Her pulse jumped, and she couldn't help searching the area for him. She didn't want to see him, not really, yet couldn't hold back the pulsing excitement at the thought of it. Traitorous hormones.

  She walked inside. Large and open with multiple comfy couches,
the lobby had a friendly atmosphere. Sam could see people feeling welcome here. Bright yellows and moderate oranges blended with the lush palms and overgrown dieffenbachia plants filling each corner.

  The front counter stood empty. Sam pursed her lips. There didn't appear to be a bell to ring for service either. Sam frowned. She checked her watch. Surely, it was early for lunch? Not knowing how a place like this worked, Sam found herself choosing between two corridors and took the left one. Various doorways along the hallway were identified by numbers. They appeared to be apartments or self-contained suites of some kind. They didn't look like the hospital rooms she'd assumed they would be.