Murders & Romance, page 17
“The same way you move an object with the power of your mind. You simply do it.”
Sterling’s words came back to him a second time, and Isaac could no longer ignore them. The telekinesis was the biggest, scariest monster he could imagine, and it sounded like his grandad had turned his into a pussycat.
The salt shaker jerking across the counter came to mind once more.
Isaac’s gaze darted around his car. He spotted the pen he’d just used sitting in the cup holder of the center console where he’d dropped it. Repositioning in his seat, he stared at the pen, and thought about his grandad’s words once more.
“You simply do it. Don’t think about how.”
Don’t think about how.
He concentrated on the pen and pictured it moving.
Nothing happened.
He reached out his right hand toward the pen, glancing around outside the car to make sure no one was around. Then he licked his lips and concentrated on the pen once more.
His right hand began to tingle.
He pictured the pen moving.
The pen spun around the rim of the cup holder as if he’d given it a push with his finger.
“Hah!”
Astonishment kicked him in the stomach.
Isaac practically leapt backward into the driver’s side door, as if trying to get away from it.
He’d made the pen move.
Had he made that pen move?
Did that just happen?
“Holy shit.”
This was ridiculous. Telekinesis wasn’t real. People couldn’t make things move with the power of their minds.
Except he could. And he did.
He’d done it four times so far, and his grandfather claimed all the hypersensitive psychics in their family had the ability too.
He turned his right hand palm up and studied it. Why had it tingled like that?
He didn’t remember it tingling when he’d made those cement blocks fly through the air. He didn’t remember it tingling when he made that gun turn on Jeffery Schiffer either.
This was insane. He couldn’t think about it right now.
He left his car and headed back inside the building.
Back on the fourth floor, he got to his desk surprised to see Pete already there. He was even more surprised to see the white paper bag waiting for him.
“What’s this?”
Pete looked up at him.
“Well, usually when you say you have something to do at lunchtime, it involves some psychic shit, and it means that you don’t have time to grab an actual lunch. So, I brought you a taco.”
Isaac stared at him, fighting hard not to smile. He sat down and unwrapped the unexpected treat, examining it closely.
“I didn’t spit in it, if that’s what you’re looking for.”
Isaac grinned. He couldn’t stop it.
“Thanks, partner.”
“No problem. Hey, you and Sidney are still coming over for dinner tonight, right?”
“Oh, is that what this little show of kindness is? A bribe?”
“Just an insurance policy.” Pete smiled and Isaac laughed.
“Yes, we’re coming.”
“Cool.”
“As long as you agree to do something for me.”
Pete rolled his eyes. “Now who’s bribing who?”
“It’s not a bribe. Call it a favor. I scratch your back…”
“…you stab mine,” Pete finished, cutting him off.
Isaac grinned and took a bite of his taco.
“What do you want?”
“I want you to join me on a stake out tonight after dinner.”
“A stake out?”
“Yep.”
“Who we after?”
“You remember the janitor that accidentally touched me the other day?”
“Aww, shit!” Pete flopped back in his chair and then stared at him. “Psychic Batman?”
Isaac responded with a look, and then took another bite of his taco.
Pete sighed and leaned forward again.
“What’ve you got?”
Isaac popped the last of his surprise lunch into his mouth and then proceeded to talk Pete through everything he’d seen in his flash, and learned from Milton George about Burle Savage.
“Jesus,” Pete whispered. “What is wrong with people anymore?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m asking myself that question every single day lately. So, are you in?”
“I’m in.”
“Good. I was thinking…”
Isaac’s cellphone rang and he was surprised when he looked at the caller ID.
“Hang on, Pete.” He leaned back in his chair and hit the button. “Fox?”
“Taylor. Hello.”
“Hey. What can I do for you?”
He heard Special Agent Emmett Fox take a deep breath on the other end of the line, and he immediately regretted taking the call.
“Well, I was just calling to, um…”
“Yes?”
“Well, I was wondering if maybe, there might be… uh…”
“Might be what?”
There was a pause, and Isaac rolled his eyes, finally understanding where this awkward conversation was going.
“Look, Emmett…”
“I was wondering if there might be another family game night coming up that I could invite myself to?”
The agent finally spit the words out in a rush, like they wouldn’t come out at all if he didn’t give them a shove.
Isaac sighed and then chuckled to himself.
“Next one’s not for another couple of weeks, and it’s at my brother’s house. But you know, in the meantime, you could just man up and call my sister to reschedule your date.”
There was a deflated sigh from Emmett.
“You heard about that, huh?”
“I heard more than I ever wanted to. She thinks you ghosted her.”
“Damn. I was afraid of that.”
Isaac wanted to be a good friend and ask what happened, but he really didn’t want the details. He’d already been through this twice this week — once with Pete, then with Hiroshi. He did not want to become known as the go-to guy for his friend’s relationship problems.
“We’ve been busy as hell around here putting together a RICO case against a suspected trafficking ring.”
Emmett provided the details without Isaac asking. But now, he was intrigued and couldn’t help himself.
“Drug trafficking?”
“Drug and human. Our guy on the inside has gathered evidence that Martelli is heavily entrenched in both.”
“You have a man on the inside of Boston Martelli’s organization?”
Boston Martelli was a wealthy businessman who had his hands in several different pots around the Cleveland area. Everything from real estate to import/export to finance. And it had long been rumored that he was tangled in deep with organized crime.
“We have two, actually.”
“Wow. I wasn’t aware the FBI was currently investigating Martelli. Not seriously anyway.”
“Good. We’ve tried to keep it completely under wraps. I’m only telling you because I want you to know that I did not intentionally set out to hurt your sister. When I met her, I had no idea that this case would heat up so fast. I’ve been swamped.”
“I understand, Emmett. And I’m sure Emily would understand too. Just call her and explain. She’s a reasonable sort.”
“Was she very angry?”
“She called you Special Agent Dork.”
“Ouch.”
Isaac could hear the grimace over the phone.
“Yeah. Do better. I’d hate to have to kick your ass or something.”
Emmett laughed out loud and Isaac smiled.
“Get back to work, Fox. And call my sister.”
“Will do. Thanks, Ike.”
“Yep.”
He ended the call and turned back to Pete.
“Enough horsing around. We’ve got victim’s families to interview.”
“So did you change your mind about touching the vics to glean any useful information?”
Isaac looked at Pete and sighed. “Yeah, I think I have. At least, for now. I just don’t want to put myself through it.”
“You’ll get no push back from me. I have no idea what you go through when you do that, but I know it can’t be easy. We’ll get through this case without any of your psychic trickery.”
Isaac grinned and they stood up to head out for more questioning. Before they could take the first step, Isaac’s extension rang. He held up a finger to Pete and sat back down to pick up the receiver.
“Detective Sgt. Taylor.”
“Sgt. Taylor, this is Officer Rodney Hamilton, from the Domestic Violence unit. We spoke the other night at the women’s shelter. I took your fiancée’s statement.”
“Yes, I remember. What can I do for you Hamilton?”
“Just a courtesy call, Sgt. I wanted to let you know that we’ve picked up Donald Mowbray. He’s currently in a cell down in central booking.”
Isaac’s ire spiked in an instant.
“What are you charging him with?”
“Assault and battery. Trespassing. Violating a protection order.”
Isaac’s jaw clenched. First degree misdemeanors.
Not that they weren’t serious crimes. They all were. But it meant that the asshole who’d hit Sidney would only do about six months behind bars if convicted. And he’d most likely make bail and be back on the street within 24 hours to wait for his court date.
“Have you notified my fiancée, or the dirtbag’s wife yet?”
“Not yet. I thought you’d want to tell your fiancée personally. I can call her if you wish.”
“No, I’ll take care of it. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Isaac hung up the phone and stared at his desk for a moment.
Seething.
He wanted to go downstairs to the jail and visit Donald Mowbray. He wanted to teach the man a lesson he’d never forget. He wanted to leave the man huddled in a corner whimpering and begging for the pain to stop.
He wanted Donald Mowbray to think twice about putting his hands on a woman ever again.
“Everything all right, Ike?”
Pete’s voice cut through his anger. He looked up at his partner.
“Patrol picked up the asshole who manhandled Sidney at Hope House the other night. He’s down in a cell.”
“Ooh. We going downstairs for a minute?”
Isaac thought about that question for a long moment.
The longer he thought, the more his right hand began to tingle with the oddest sensation. He had no clue where it came from or how, but he instinctively knew that he could do some real damage with that tingling hand and his growing skills in telekinesis.
Oh, how he wanted to go downstairs to Donald Mowbray’s cell and try it out.
But Sidney had begged him not to.
“No. Let’s get to work.”
He stood and headed for the stairs. He had a killer to catch.
13
Gerri Miller smoothed a hand over her jeans and straightened her blue buttoned-down shirt. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to walk through that door and face that man with the piercing, probing eyes and the blunt questions. But she knew she had to. She had no choice.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
The door opened and Dr. Clark Newman smiled at her.
“Detective Miller. Right on time. Come in.”
Gerri stepped into his office squeezing her hands together.
“You sound surprised.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m on time. You sound surprised about that.”
Dr. Newman smiled and gestured to the chair in front of his desk.
“Not at all. But I am pleased you decided to keep this appointment today. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t come back.”
He sat in his desk chair and leveled that intrusive gaze at her, and Gerri shifted in her seat. She toyed with a loose thread at the end of her sleeve.
“Actually, I… I did think about quitting.”
“I see. Why were you thinking about quitting?”
Gerri stared past him and concentrated on the yellow in the abstract painting on the wall behind him.
“Because I… I just didn’t know if I could come back here and do this job without Curt. I mean, without seeing him everyday.”
She grinned at a stray memory of her partner.
“He was the biggest pain in my ass sometimes, but he was a good partner. A good teacher. He taught me a lot about being a good detective.”
She paused and tried to swallow around the large, jagged stone in her throat.
“You’re talking about him in the past tense.”
“What?”
She looked at Dr. Newman, hearing the puzzlement in her own voice.
“The last time we talked, you could only speak about Curt Dorn in the present tense. As if he were still here. You’re using the past tense now — ‘he was a good partner.’ It means you’re finally accepting Curt’s death.”
“Oh.”
Gerri looked down at her hands.
“It’s a good thing, Gerri. It means you’re not stuck anymore. You’re moving forward.”
A tired sigh escaped her, and she slumped back in the chair and folded her arms.
“It doesn’t feel like a good thing.”
“I know. But it is. And you’ll see that eventually. So tell me, what brought you back? You thought about quitting, yet here you are. What changed your mind?”
“I love my job.”
Gerri shrugged her shoulders and finally looked Dr. Newman in the eyes.
“I love being a detective, and I’m good at it. I worked hard to get here, and to prove that I could do the job just as well as any man. And I know Curt wouldn’t want me to quit.”
Dr. Newman nodded. “I’m glad you came to those realizations, because they’re all very true. Yes, you are a good detective. Yes, you worked hard to get here. And no, Curt would not have wanted you to quit.”
Gerri mirrored his nod and then unfolded her arms and looked down at her hands again, twisting her fingers together. She knew this process was necessary if she wanted to be cleared to go back to work, but she wondered how much she could, or should, say to this department shrink.
“I…”
She stopped and thought better of it.
“Gerri? What were you going to say?”
“I just… well, I… I’ve been thinking about transferring to another precinct.”
Dr. Newman sat back and stared at her.
“I see. Is this about being reminded of Curt here at this precinct?”
Gerri hesitated. Would he report anything she said to the chief? Would their conversation be stored in her file for anyone to read?
“Partly. Fresh start and all that.”
“What’s the other part?”
She suddenly met his gaze. She knew it was risky, but she had to ask.
“That doctor patient confidentiality thing… that’s in play here, right? You’re not going to take what I say to the brass and report me or anything?”
Dr. Newman frowned and then a slow smile turned up the corners of his lips.
“No, Gerri. I am employed by the city of Cleveland, not the police chief. And even if I were employed by Chief Branson, everything we say in these sessions stays between you and me. I’m your doctor. So yes, that doctor patient confidentiality thing is most definitely in play here.”
Gerri took a relieved breath and sat forward.
“Good. Because I need someone to talk to.”
“That’s why I’m here. It’s my job to be someone you can talk to, without fear of judgement or fear of being reported to the higher ups. Why are you thinking of transferring?”
Gerri hesitated still, searching for the right words.
“I’ve been thinking about transferring because… well, because it would make things easier. For my love life.”
“Your love life?”
Gerri nodded. “I’m…”
She stopped herself. Should she really do this?
“I’m involved with my boss.”
“Oh.”
Newman’s eyebrows lifted, then his gaze drifted off to the side and he breathed in that air of discreetness allies always did when they realize the unflattering truth about you.
“Who knows about this relationship?”
“No one but you. And it wasn’t an actual relationship until recently. Until after Curt died.”
“I see. Well, my question to you is, do you think it’s wise to make such a big decision based on a relationship that’s still so new?”
“The thing is it’s not new.”
“But you just said…”
“I know, I said it wasn’t an actual relationship until recently. And that’s true, in the… physical sense.”
“I see.”
The awkwardness in Dr. Newman’s tone told her that he did, in fact, know what she was implying.
“But the feelings, the connection, the magic. That’s all been there for a very long time. So long that I have no doubt in my mind that I love him. I love him enough to switch precincts so that we can be together without worrying about how it might look to the brass. Gavin’s been very worried about his position as Lieutenant if this should come to light.”
“And if he’s no longer your immediate supervisor there’s nothing to worry about.”
“Exactly.”
“Well, relationship help is not exactly my area of expertise, Detective, and I’m not about to pass judgment on what you or anyone else does with their love lives. But if it’s my advice you’re asking for, I can give you that.”
Gerri smiled at him. “Yes. Please.”
“All right. Here it is. Having zero information on what’s happened between the two of you… I would first caution you that, despite your feelings, this relationship is still very new. And it would be unwise to make such an important decision as switching precincts based on who you love.”
Gerri sighed and closed her eyes.
“That said,” Dr. Newman continued, “have you thought about looking at the in-house job postings?”
Gerri looked up at him, and her insides jiggled like jelly.
“The in-house job postings.” She repeated his words like a parrot. A pleasantly shocked parrot. “No. I hadn’t thought of that.”
