a Touch of Ice (11 page)

“El? Hey, you in there? I’m going to guess my plans for us are no longer a secret.” He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close enough to sense the smile moving through his body, pooling in places that assured me: testosterone in working order here.

As previously noted, there hasn’t been all that much sex in my life. I pick up on the images in the guy’s mind—which can’t be prevented if my fingertips come in contact with said male—and who wants to have sex without using their hands? Well, bondage scenarios aside. Anyway, the difference between the ideal relationship my mind creates and the reality of the guy’s plans usually becomes all too obvious before we get to the naked part.

The sensations and images pouring from Mitch were like nothing I’d ever felt. I took a tiny step back so I could see his eyes before I blurted out my plans. “I’m going to find a yoga class tomorrow. If I practice diligently while you’re away, maybe I’ll have that move perfected before you get back from your assignment.”

His grin said it all. “I’m willing to compromise on the moves.” He kissed me, with hands and everything, not afraid of me, and not holding anything back.

Thirteen

“Let’s drive through Dunkin’ Donuts. I’m nervous, excited
and
nervous about this,” I said as I climbed in the passenger side of Violet’s hunter green Titan truck—a field trip to the infamous barn loomed in front of us. “So the Acura is for night work and the truck is for daytime? That works for me. Kind of fits with the activity, you know? Food would take the edge off my stress, give me something to do with my hands. The images from coffee cups aren’t usually too bad. Am I rambling? Do you think there’ll be anyone hanging around that barn? I really, really do not like guns. Do you have one in the car? Or on your person, like in an ankle holster?” I stopped to take a breath.

“If you don’t shut up I’m going to leave you here. We will get food, but definitely nothing with sugar or caffeine. There’s a McDonald’s a couple miles up. I’ll drive through for Egg McMuffins and decaf coffees.”

“Okay. Good. Food will definitely help.”

She glanced at me. “Yes, I have a gun, and no, I do not think anyone will be there. If I did, we wouldn’t be doing this. And we’re taking the truck because the gas tank is full. Also it’s less noticeable on back roads.”

I reached up to re-fasten the clip in my hair. “Okay. I’m breathing again. This is easier in the dark, and when it’s my idea—that really makes it a lot easier. I’m not doing so badly since you only gave me thirty minutes to get dressed and reschedule my appointments.”

She shook her head. “What’s the matter with you? We broke into Tony’s house together. You broke in alone. On both occasions we were, in fact, committing a crime. What we’re doing today is normal behavior, legal even. People stroll around taking pictures of old buildings all the time. I don’t get it.”

This compulsion to find out what happened to Tony is complex, scary, and embarrassing. I don’t do the PI thing like you do, and it’s not only possible, but likely that I could put you in danger with my ineptness. That’s what’s wrong with me this morning.”

“It didn’t seem to bother you to drag me out in the middle of the night when we broke into Tony’s.”

“Then I knew, my gut knew, that Tony’s house was safe in spite of the awful images connected to his death. It was one of those times universe-speak was actually clear.” I cut a quick glance to Violet’s side of the car. Looked like she was grinding her teeth. Best to keep talking. “The picture of this barn has given me chills since I first saw it. I can only imagine what the real thing will be like. Besides, it’s one week today that Tony was killed. It’s strange, like a bad anniversary.”

Violet took a bite of McMuffin and a sip of coffee. “All right. I accept that. So you want to abort thi—”

I waved my hand toward the road. “Go, find the barn. Let’s see what my fingers pick up, but I think we should be extra careful.”

“Eat. You’ll feel better,” Violet said as she pulled back on the highway.

By the time we turned onto Farrington Road, I’d finished my breakfast, wadded both of our paper wrappers and napkins into a ball and stuffed them in the McDonalds bag. It felt good to keep my hands busy, out of trouble. “Do you know where this barn is located? If memory serves me, Farrington Road goes on for miles.”

Violet shrugged. “I don’t have anything more pressing to do right this very minute, do you? It’s a beautiful day, sun shining, birds chirping, two girls taking a day off to explore the country. What could be better?”

“You know exactly where this barn is, don’t you?”

“I asked Mitch yesterday. Seemed the prudent thing to do. We go up here a couple miles, take a right-hand turn onto a dirt road, and we’ll see it off to the side. Should be there in about fifteen minutes.”

We drove in silence the rest of the way. I needed to ground myself, as was obvious by my earlier Chatty Cathy impersonation. And Violet? Who knew where Violet’s thoughts were. She was careful not to get within touching distance of me this morning, and probably thought I wouldn’t notice. I
always
notice when someone who’s typically comfortable with my touch suddenly starts acting like I have an acute case of an infectious disease. Violet was hiding something. Not helpful info considering my sense of impending disaster.

“That’s it.” Violet pointed to a weathered barn, once red, with so much character it practically begged to be photographed.

I scooted out of the truck, cautious, leaned against the door with the palms of my hands pressed against it, held there securely with my backside. “Uh-huh. Looks like the photograph.” I wasn’t at all inclined to move my body one inch toward that barn.

Violet had a camera strap slung over her shoulder, a clip board in her hand, and was making tracks toward our destination, stopping to jot down notes and take pictures as things caught her attention. After a few minutes she spun to face me. “Everly?”

“Coming.” I pried my hands from their hiding place, but I didn’t seem to be moving. Free hands, but feet glued to the ground.

Violet made some more notes, then tucked her pen in the back pocket of her jeans, jogged back to me. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Yeah, I do. That barn. It’s screaming at me to touch it. I just can’t seem to move my feet.”

“Maybe if you start by touching the ground? See if it helps to touch something, anything besides the truck.”

I looked at the space around my feet, grassy, some clover, nothing threatening. I could do this. I squatted down, t-shirt riding up to expose my lower back to the sun. Warm. Comforting. Yeah, I
could
do this. I ran my fingertips along the ground and my mind filled with images, mostly blurry. That wasn’t surprising because the earth dissipates energy quickly.

I bounced to my feet. “Looks like there were cars, two I think, nothing clear, but I did catch a glimpse of the guy I saw breaking into Mitch’s, the short one with too-big clothes. Messy.”

“I wondered about him, why he wasn’t at the murder scene. Are you ready to move yet?”

I nodded. “Yes, but slowly. If Messy was here, it seems likely I’ll pick up images of Shaved Head and Pudgy. This is all tied together, isn’t it? It really isn’t my imagination. Tony, the photos, Mitch—”

“Yep, it’s all tied together. The question is why.”

We approached the barn, my steps slow as I took care to place my feet deliberately on the ground. No point disturbing any sleeping monsters, and there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that monsters lived here. You could feel them out there, ready to devour the unsuspecting. My skin crawled, the air still and heavy with foreboding.

Really great barn. Really horrible place. I circled around to the back where the car had been parked. Violet followed, her eyes boring holes in my back. Probably she was afraid I’d bolt, scream, have seizures, or otherwise disgrace myself. I understood her concern, because I’d given serious consideration to all of those options.

“I’m going to touch the ground here too. Can you write down what I say? I’d feel better if you made notes right away instead of waiting to go over it later.”

“Sure, whatever you say—” she clicked her pen a few times— “but I’m thinking you’ll give better detail when you sit with the images and describe them without on-the-spot stress.”

“We can do that later. It’s important to do this now, and don’t ask me why. I don’t have a clue why.” I touched the ground. Pain slashed through my chest, stealing my breath. “Wow. Okay. This isn’t good. It’ll take me a minute.”

“You don’t have to—” Violet’s words hung between us, heavy with worry.

“Yeah, I do. More so now that I know…” I centered myself, breathing deeply into earth energy, and then rested my fingers on the ground again. “It’s a green Jaguar. The cat on my storyboard. This is the cat.”

I sucked in a breath. “No, I’m wrong. The owner of the car is the cat, and that does a terrible injustice to felines everywhere.” I jerked to my feet, scrubbing my hand on my jeans.

“You okay?” Violet eyed me, head to feet, nodded. “No, you’re not okay. What happened?”

Dragging in another breath, I pushed the words out. “His face, it shifted. Almost became cat-like. You know, with the angles and squared jaw. But then it shifted back to…human.”

“You’re saying, surely you’re not saying—” Violet snorted— “that this guy is a shape shifter. Like in science fiction?”

A shiver rippled over my skin. “No. Well, maybe. I know there’s no such thing, but it was strange how his face…moved. How about we forget about the shifting thing and focus on how terrible he is. Black inside. His energy is insidious, Violet. It would have surrounded me if I hadn’t moved my hand, and I’m not sure…if it seeped into me. I don’t think I could escape.”

“Has that ever happened to you before?”

“No. Not like this. Gruesome thought, his energy seeping into things. It’s like sewage.” I shook my right hand and wiped it down my thigh again. And I wasn’t going to forget how his face shifted. Not that I’d ever mention it again, but it was stuck on permanent rerun in my mind.

“You ‘re not okay. Not okay at all.” She pulled a bottle of water from her back pocket. “Drink.”

I chugged the whole bottle, then made my way to a nearby stump and sat. “I’m sort of okay. The image I got—he was ready to get in the car, had opened the door, it looked like he stopped to check out the surrounds before he got in and drove away. Makes sense. When you’re that creepy, you must have a ton of people who’d like to do you in.

“He was pale with light blue eyes. Maybe more like silver-gray. Eerie eyes. And not just because of the color. There was nothing in them. Empty.” I shuddered. “He dressed arrogantly, nothing but the best. I’m not up on men’s suits, but his was tailored to fit, probably cost enough to outfit a small army.”

My eyes met Violet’s. “I think that’s it for this image. I’ll try to pull it up later, see if anything else pops.”

“I think you need a break before we check out the barn. Stay here and I’ll grab a snack and more water from the truck.”

I was moving toward the barn before Violet made it back. I didn’t want to linger here, needed to be done with this.

The pain came out of nowhere. Flattened me, slammed me to the ground.

Life seeped into slow motion.

A loud pop exploded near my ear, and I fought for breath.
Someone shot you, Everly Gray! Shot. You
.
Breathing would be good. Suck it in, then move. Get the hell out of the way.

I tried to scuttle along the ground, find something to hide behind. Holy crap, this was so not in my job description. I slapped my hand over my butt to stop the pain. Why do people always think the pain will stop with a touch? I’m here to tell you, the only thing that happens when you touch a bullet wound is you get your hand covered in blood. It’s amazing how much time the human brain has to think when it’s stuck in slow motion.

“El?” Violet’s arm snaked around me and sunlight glinted off the gun in her other hand. A burnt, acrid tang scented the air.

Surely she didn’t shoot me.

Wow. My head was spinning, the barn and the trees danced around. Fear slid over my skin, followed by a wave of sheer panic.

“Breathe!” Violet, shouting in my ear.

I hissed a breath through clenched teeth. “Shot. In the butt. With a gun.”

“Looks that way.”

I closed my eyes to shut out the spinning.

“Don’t you dare pass out, Everly Gray. They left. Whoever shot you drove off. You must have hit your head on the tree stump when you went down because the wound in your hip looks shallow. Grazed your skin, maybe some muscle. I have to get you on your feet and over to the car.”

Shot. A weird part of my brain kicked in and sent another hit of panic along my raw nerves. “Damn it all to perdition, another layer of ‘gun-loathing’ added to my phobia.”

Violet levered her hand under my elbow, tugged. “Stop with the thinking. I repeat. Whoever shot you is gone. I heard the car start, peel off down the road.”

She man-handled me to the truck, taking most of my weight, and tucked me into the passenger side. Then she stripped off her t-shirt, wadded it up, and pressed it against my wound. Burning pain shot through my hip. “Owww! Hurts.”

“Need to stop the bleeding.” She took my hand and pressed it against the shirt. “Hold it tight so you don’t bleed to death.”

“Un-huh.” Somehow it didn’t hurt as much when I had control of the pressure. Violet, also known as my guardian angel, stood there watching me in low-rise blue jeans and a sport bra with a gun tucked in the palm of her hand. “You look like Wonder Woman.” I managed to get the words out in spite of my foggy brain cells.

“That’s me. Wonder Woman.” She fastened the seat belt around me, slid into the driver’s seat, and put the car in gear. As she tore down the road, she picked up her phone and punched a button.

“Adam, this is Violet. Meet me at Western Wake ER in twenty minutes. I’m out on Farrington Road bringing El in with a minor gunshot wound. I’d appreciate it if no one pulled me over en route. I
will
be speeding.”

I whipped my free hand up to push my hair away from my face, missed. Tried again. On the third try, it stayed behind my ear and I focused on Violet, my mind reeling through the groggies. “I’ve been shot, definitely hit my head because it’s on the verge of exploding, and my hip hurts like a son of a bitch, but I’m still alert enough to notice you have Adam on speed-dial? That indicates more than a work relationship. What gives?”