Deep Beneath: A Psychic Vision Novel Read online

  *

  They were about forty minutes away from docking when he could feel the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He turned to look around. Definitely storm clouds were on the horizon, but they weren’t close. The water churned and chopped around the boat. He couldn’t increase the speed because he was already going too fast. But they’d caught the right current and were whipping in ahead of time. It just wasn’t fast enough for his liking.

  He felt such an intense sense of pressure inside that he didn’t understand. But he’d learned a long time ago to listen to it. He could feel his brother rumbling in the back of his senses. Samson needed Jamie to stay calm and quiet so Samson could get him and Whimsy docked.

  He had to wonder once again about the helicopter pad. He didn’t know how long it would take to fly across the sound, but surely it would be faster than the boat. Not to mention avoiding the danger of whatever was lurking deep beneath. He had no idea what the hell it was, but the more he thought about what Whimsy had gone through, he had to wonder how much of a danger it really was. And then he looked around and could see the darkness, the choppiness, and that storm appeared to be closer, even as he watched it, and he realized more was going on.

  He liked the explanation of the veil and the other side, plus whatever was happening in dimensional travel. It was just a little too bizarre to really put into words, so he often stumbled trying to do so. And he wondered if the shifting of the plates had an effect on her. The plates always shifted, but lately the slips had been bigger, the movement more expansive, the gases escaping more toxic. Or was it the odd waves, not of the ocean kind but more of a man-made kind? Maybe not the plates at all. He had checked with the earthquake reporting stations. And they did match the ripples that he had tracked. But which was the cause? It was normal cause and effect whenever you had two of those giant earth edges grinding atop each other.

  “It’s getting closer, isn’t it?” She had to yell over the wind.

  He didn’t look at her. But he nodded.

  “Are we in danger?”

  He could hear the nervous tremor in her voice. “We’re not far away now.” He checked his watch. “Maybe thirty minutes.” This time he did look up to see the relief on her face.

  “Still, a lot can happen in half an hour,” she said, her voice steady. “You sure you don’t want to arrange a seaplane?”

  “A helicopter pad is on the island,” he said. “I’ve never utilized it.”

  “Could be time to though,” she said. “Especially if you can get back to your offices within an hour. That would mean you can go back and forth, maybe stay overnight every other week.”

  “Except for the helicopter pilot problem,” he said with a grin.

  “You know what? I bet you could lease one or you could lease the services of somebody and just do that trip in an hour. Maybe not even that long,” she said. “Hell, you could leave at eight, be at your meetings for nine, finish your day at five or six and come home.”

  He had to admit that appealed more and more. He wondered at the viability of such a thing. “I’d have to look into the cost of the helicopter versus a seaplane.”

  “Either would be cheaper than wasting hours bouncing your body through this.” She motioned at the sea around them.

  For the first time he wondered. They hit another particularly rough wave, and he could feel his spine jarring. “Good point.”

  Not long after that, they eased through the worst of it and came into the bay where the water was much calmer. He navigated to the marina and into his spot.

  She was the first to hop out. She reached for the rope and tied it so they were secured in the berth. She smiled at him. “I don’t even have money,” she said. “I hate to ask, but can I bum enough to get a cab ride home?”

  “No need,” he said. “I’m being picked up, so we can drop you off somewhere.”

  “Right. That would be even better,” she admitted. “I’d appreciate that.”

  And sure enough, Ned already waited for him. The two men exchanged greetings.

  “Looked a bit wild out there. Wasn’t sure you would make it in,” Ned said.

  “Wasn’t so sure there for a while myself,” he said, “but it ended up being not too bad.”

  “Might be time to talk about helicopter rides,” Ned said. “I think that’s something you should look into.”

  “I might at that,” Samson said. “We were discussing just that while crossing.”

  “Hell,” Ned said, “you could come for the day. We don’t need you two, three or four days of the week. How about one day a week coming in the morning, going home at night? No big deal.”

  “Not a bad thought,” he said. “I’ll think about it.”

  “The money is just stacking up in the bank, and you know it. Spend some. Spend some on yourself, making life a little easier. It might be something you could look into for your brother too,” he said. “If they thought you had a helicopter on standby, the doctors might be a little more likely to let him come and go.”

  At that, Samson rolled his eyes. “Not really. You know they’ll never make life easy for me.”

  “Speaking of which,” Ned said, “several calls from the clinic were redirected. I have the messages here for you.”

  “They just came in this morning?”

  Ned nodded. “Yeah, they did. Apparently they’re shocked, maybe in awe, and maybe outraged. But somebody named Dr. Maddy showed up, and she’s quite perturbed at their treatment of your brother.”

  “Good,” Samson said with a fat smile. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all morning.” He reached out to accept the messages from Ned as Samson hopped into the back of the car. “This is Whimsy, by the way.” He introduced the two a bit belatedly. “We need to give her a ride home.”

  Ned smiled at her. “You’re the lady who washed up on the island, huh?”

  “I am. I’m grateful to have made it to Samson’s place. I’m not sure any other island would have had quite the same reception.”

  Ned chuckled at that. “No, I don’t think so. Are you cold? Hungry? Thirsty? I can swing through Starbucks and pick up coffees if you want.”

  “Cold and hungry,” she announced. “That’s a common state for me these days.”

  “Easy to fix,” he said. He pulled away from the marina, working his way through the packed parking lot.

  She studied the area. “And here I was thinking this was just a marina. But this is the yacht club, isn’t it?”

  Samson shrugged. “It offers more privacy, more space, less people, not to mention a few other extras that make my life easier.”

  “Ditch all of this,” she said, “and you can afford a helicopter of your own.”

  He gave a bark of laughter at that. “Not quite.”

  “But she’s not far wrong,” Ned said. “I betcha you still need to keep a boat, but you don’t need to keep the yacht club. Those fees are pricey. Look what you have to do to keep that boat winterized and store it all winter.”

  “Until you get me quotes on what it’ll cost to have regular helicopter runs,” Samson said, “I’m not even thinking about it.”

  Ned hit the dash and made a phone call. “Hey, he said to run him up some quotes on helicopters. We almost got him convinced. I don’t think he needs to buy his own, but we could find a company willing to do some executive runs on a regular basis.”

  Heather’s voice filled the car with urgent words. “Did you tell him about Dr. Maddy?”

  “I did, indeed,” he said. “Our Whimsy here is cold, tired and hungry. I’ll hit Starbucks before taking her home.”

  Samson listened as his staff rearranged his life to suit themselves. When he caught Whimsy’s look, he smiled. “What can I say? They’re family.”

  He watched her smile grow into something truly beautiful.

  “I think that’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard anybody say about their staff,” she said in a low voice.

  But still Ned heard her. “And he
means it too. Anytime we want to go to that island free of charge, he’s right there for us.”

  At that, she raised an eyebrow, whispering very low, “I thought you said it was dangerous.”

  “Haven’t been there this year at all,” Ned said. “But that’s because I got grandkids. When they’re a bit older, we’ll bring them all to the island and have a grand old time.”

  “I’m sure that’d be lovely,” Whimsy said, her tone warm and caring. “It’s a beautiful place.”

  “Bring her back here,” Heather ordered through the speaker. “We’re having a hot lunch delivered in about twenty minutes. I have a bunch of spare clothes that might fit her too.”

  From the back seat, Whimsy started to say, “Oh, no, I couldn’t go to the office like this. I’m still wearing Samson’s clothes.”

  Ned chuckled. “I think she wants to go to her place first.”

  “Fine then,” Heather said grudgingly. “But she’s to come back here afterward.” On that she hung up.

  Whimsy turned to look at Samson.

  Samson raised an eyebrow at the instructions. “Ned, do you know what’s up?”

  Ned shook his head. “But you know Heather. She’s been worried about poor Whimsy since you first found her.”

  “Well, poor Whimsy is just fine now,” Whimsy said with a note of exasperation in her voice. “But she’s cold, hungry, tired and really would like to wear clothes at least nine sizes smaller than the ones she currently has on.”

  At that, Samson shook his head. “Let’s take her home.”

  Chapter 12

  She wasn’t bothered that the door to her apartment was unlocked. It was a relief to have recognized the building and to know this was the right place. Most of her memories had fallen back into place, but she worried about what hadn’t, like getting shot. Why? Confused, Whimsy walked into her apartment and stopped. She stared at the chaos around her in confusion. The place was a disaster. Samson and Ned, both behind her, gasped.

  Samson asked, “Are you sure this is your place?”

  She looked at him. “No, I’m not sure, but I think so.” At Ned’s confused look, she explained, “I have most of my memory back, but some stuff is spotty. So this looks partially like it. But I thought I had a couch here.”

  “Would that have been your fiancé’s couch?” Samson asked calmly.

  She looked at him, and more pieces fell into the puzzle in her mind. She nodded. “Yes, that’s exactly what it was.” She frowned. “I wonder if he came and took all his stuff, presuming I was dead. Which would mean he is at least alive.”

  “Did he live here?” Ned asked. “Because that ain’t no way to treat anybody. And I thought he didn’t survive the kayak trip.”

  “He didn’t live here, but we were engaged and planning to get married this fall. He spent a lot of time here,” she admitted. “Although less time recently.”

  “Why is that?” Samson asked.

  She hated his intense look as he studied her face. She shrugged. “I was getting through my doctoral thesis. I’m afraid my relationship took a back seat.”

  “If you have a heavy goal like that, the relationship shouldn’t be an issue,” Samson said. “It should be the warm hug that wraps around you at the end of the day.”

  She stopped, stunned at his words. “Wow. I really like the thought of that. It wasn’t that way at all, unfortunately.” She walked through the living room. “It’s like he came and took his possessions. Or …” She stopped and swallowed. “Maybe his family did. A lamp was here. With papers and all kinds of my personal stuff.” She picked up a photo, then placed it against her heart. When Samson walked up beside her, she held it out. “My sister.”

  He took it from her and studied the woman in the photo. “The two of you look a lot alike.”

  Whimsy nodded, feeling the tears once again come to her eyes. She sniffled them back and walked to the bedroom. “Wow. Okay, so the bed is gone too.” She stood with her hands on her hips, wondering what the hell had happened.

  “What’s the chance this fiancé of yours, instead of just taking his furniture, took whatever he wanted, thinking you were dead and didn’t have any use for it?”

  “I hate to admit it,” she said, “but that’s definitely a possibility. And then he left the rest for the landlord to sort through.” She took a deep breath. “Or someone else was cleaning up my fiancé’s possessions.”

  “Did you have anything valuable?” Ned asked. He walked to the small bathroom and back out again. “Because you don’t even have a bed or a chair to sit on now. You can’t stay here.”

  “Of course I can,” she said with a half laugh. “It’s my home.” But she looked around the room, not feeling any connection whatsoever with the space. She ran her fingers through her hair and groaned. “Let’s hope he at least left my clothes.”

  “Is he a cross-dresser?” Samson asked with humor.

  She shot him a look and headed to the bedroom closet. “Well, he’s taken all his clothes, so I imagine maybe he did the rest of this.” She pulled out a bunch of her clothes and smiled. “If you guys can give me five minutes, I’ll be dressed in clean clothes.”

  She walked into the bathroom, stripped down and moaned in joy as she put on underwear for the first time in seven days. Then she put on leggings and a long shirt that came down past her butt, stylish with a longer hem on the sides and shorter in the front and cute little buttons down the center.

  With that done, she went back out with Samson’s clothes folded in her arms. “I hate to give these back to you dirty.”

  He reached out. “That’s hardly an issue.” He looked at her appreciatively. “So that’s what you look like.”

  “Yes,” she said with a smirk. “But then you already know as you’ve seen me without clothes.”

  Ned’s eyebrows rose to the top of his hairline.

  Whimsy chuckled. “The sound wasn’t very kind to me. I didn’t have a whole lot of viable material left on my body by the time it washed me up on the shore. Or skin …”

  Ned’s face turned sympathetic. “And you’re still bruised.” He motioned at her arms.

  She looked down at the bruises on her elbows and wrists. “I thought about wearing long sleeves. Maybe I should change again.”

  “How about a sweater instead,” Samson said, pointing to a couple big cardigans she’d pulled out of her closet.

  Whimsy grabbed one and pulled it around herself.

  “Perfect,” he said. He looked at the rest of the apartment. “Do you have any suitcases?”

  “Depends if my ex took them or not.”

  When there was an odd silence in the room, she looked at Samson and asked, “What’s the problem?”

  “Ex-fiancé?”

  She stared at him, hating her instinctive answer. “Before my accident it was fiancé. But, like I told you, I feel absolutely no association now, and having just said ex means I have completely disassociated from him.”

  “Good thing,” Ned said in a hard voice. “This isn’t very gentlemanly behavior.”

  “But we don’t know that he isn’t in the hospital, having tried to commit suicide because he lost me,” she said softly.

  Ned snorted. “I highly doubt that’s the case. He’s an opportunist who took whatever he wanted and left the rest behind.”

  She had to admit that was exactly what it looked like.

  “Is there any chance he was looking for something in particular?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Your bank accounts?”

  The color faded from her skin as she spun around. “Anybody seen my laptop?”

  “No,” Samson said.

  They all searched high and low for it.

  “Shit,” she said. “And, without my phone, I can’t call him.”

  “Do you know his number?”

  She nodded and spieled it off. Ned had a phone in his hand and punched in the numbers.

  “Please tell me that I don’t need a lawyer,” she said i
n agony. “It’s been a very rough week already. But, if he’s cleaned out my bank accounts, that would be the worst.”

  “I’ll handle this,” Ned said. He stepped away.

  She already had her hand outstretched for the phone, but it fell as she turned to look at Samson in surprise.

  “Ned doesn’t let just anybody know, but he’s a lawyer.”

  “So why does he drive you around?” she asked in surprise.

  “He says it keeps him honest and real.”

  She processed his words, and then she started to laugh. “I love it,” she said. Then she heard Ned’s voice.

  “Yes, I’m representing Whimsy Connor.” He turned to look at her. “I understand you’re her fiancé. Or should I say ex-fiancé?”

  Obviously her fiancé – no her ex-fiancé at this point – was on the other end talking to him.

  “You’re quite incorrect in your information,” Ned said. “She survived, and she’s back at her apartment. Apparently you’ve cleaned that out. She’s also concerned about all her finances. It would be considered a criminal act, should you have accessed and removed anything from this property and/or from her accounts.”

  Ned’s voice was hard, crisp, not the lazy voice she’d heard up until now. Even from where she stood, she could hear the squawk from the other end of the phone. Only half listening to the conversation between Ned and the man who was supposed to be her ex-fiancé, she wandered the apartment. She could see it was the same place where she had lived, but it no longer held an emotional attachment to her, as if she slept here but she hadn’t really lived here.

  “You okay?” Samson asked.

  “I am,” she said, “but I’m weirdly detached. I recognize the dishes in the cupboard and the pictures on the wall. And thank God for my clothes.” She gestured at the clothes on her body and the others on the floor. “And yet, there’s no emotional attachment. Nothing inside me says I cared about living here or that I was attached to living here or that I had any good or bad times here.” She twisted her face up as she considered that. “Have I changed that much?” She kept her voice low because it was such a shockingly disturbing concept.