Deadly Visions (25 page)

“An offer that had already been refused,”Joe said.

“Yes, but the caller suggested I use my influence to allow her to join the police force's investigation.”

“How much were you paid?”Joe asked.

“It wasn't quid pro quo exactly. The caller said some nice things about my leadership abilities and suggested that a series of large contributions would soon be made to the exploratory committee to elect me as mayor.”

“Which will be rolled over into campaign funds as soon as you announce your candidacy,”Joe said.”That explains why you were willing to put your reputation on the line for a psychic.”

“It wasn't much of a risk. We did some polling, and most voters were in support of trying anything, even a psychic, to stop these murders.”

“How much were you paid?”

“Eighty thousand dollars. I'm still waiting for the last twenty thousand.”

“You have no idea who this was?”

“No. The contributions came from organizations I'd never heard of. I'll give you photocopies of the checks, bank account numbers, anything you want.”

“Good. I'll need all of that. Do you have any idea why they wanted her here so much?”

Talman shook his head.”To be honest, I thought it might have been her idea. You know, for the publicity. It would probably be worth more than a hundred thousand to her when you factor in TV exposure and a possible book deal.”

“So you both would profit from it.”

Talman shook his head.”I did nothing wrong. I believe in Monica Gaines, and I honestly thought she might be able to help your department.”

“Sure,”Joe said. “But somehow I doubt you would
have rammed her down our throats if you weren't being well paid for it.”

Talman glared at him. “I had nothing to do with what happened to her. When she had her accident, I was horrified at the thought that I might have been indirectly responsible—”

“You thought that your mysterious benefactor may have caused it.”

“Have you found him?”Talman asked. “Is he trying to implicate me?”

“Let's not worry about that. If you thought this person might be to blame, why didn't you come forward? You might have helped us.”

“I had no idea who it was. I couldn't have possibly helped you any more than I can now.”Talman took a deep breath and let it out. “It could have destroyed me, you know. It still can.”

“I'll need the check photocopies and all supporting documentation by the end of day,”Joe said. “We'll decide where to go from there.”

Dylan sat in his car, parked on a grimy downtown side street. European technopop blared from the stereo. Most technicians preferred to handle explosives in total silence, but his instructors had trained him to work in the most intense, chaotic conditions imaginable. It would feel strange to construct a bomb in a deathly quiet room somewhere.

He pressed his key-chain remote and watched the firing module's activation indicator light up. Perfect.

He'd phoned his superiors and given them his recommendation. No one liked the idea of taking a life,
especially on foreign soil. Too many possible repercussions, especially in this era of U.S. homeland security. Ultimately, they'd left it to him to decide. In the old days, that would have constituted an implicit order to kill the bastard. Now, however, things were murkier, and maybe it really meant that it was up to him.

Whatever. All that mattered is that a man would soon be dead.

Dylan picked up the receiver pack, climbed out of his car, and walked toward the vehicle parked around the corner.

“Welcome, Bailey. Change your mind about appearing on our show?”Tess Wayland adjusted her mobile telephone headset as she walked down the twenty-seventh-floor corridor of the Georgia Pacific Building.

“Sorry to disappoint you.”Joe fell into step with her.”Can I persuade you to stop walking and give me your complete attention for at least a minute?”

“I have a show that's about to tape in nine minutes.”

“It's not live. Can't you delay it for a bit?”

“Nope. We have guests who are being beamed to us via satellite. It would cost a fortune to book more time, and there's no telling if the bird will even be available later.”

“Then I'll make this fast,”Joe said.”Whose idea was it for Monica to come here?”

“Monica's, of course.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? She thought she could contribute to your investigation.”

“Did you influence anyone to accept her help here?”

Tess stopped.”What do you mean?”

“Cash. Did you pay someone locally to facilitate Monica's working on this investigation?”

“Are you serious? Monica's a star. She didn't need this. We have requests from local police departments every day, begging for her help. We certainly don't need to pay for the privilege.”

“This is a high-profile case. It would get her and the show a lot more attention than most investigations.”

“Let's get this straight,”Tess said. “You think someone in your department was bribed to allow Monica to come here?”

“No,”Joe said,”but we know that someone wanted her here very much.”

“Councilman Talman.”

“Someone besides him,”Joe said.

“But why?”

Joe shook his head.”You tell us. If it wasn't Monica or someone in your organization, who could it be? Who would have anything to gain by her being here?”

“Besides the entire population of this city?”

“It was especially important to someone. Do you know who that might be?”

“I'm sorry, but I have no idea. I'll put it on my ideas-to-explore-for-a-future-show list though.”

“
That
makes me feel better,”Joe said sarcastically.

Tess paused to listen to her headset. “Gotta run.
Feel free to hang around for the taping. I have a feeling you're going to be interested in this one.”

“If I stay, do you promise not to try to drag me into the show?”

“Sure.”

“Okay, but I'll leave if I see a camera turning my way.”

“Fair enough.”

Joe walked into the studio. He'd spent relatively little time with Monica's production team, and he was mildly curious to see how the show was run.

Although
Monica Gaines
'
s Psychic World
was normally taped before a live studio audience, the shows since Monica's accident had taken on a lower-key, somber tone, without an audience present. A guest host, usually another well-known psychic, would take the stage, introduce taped pieces, and conduct interviews relating to Monica's tragedy.

Today there were two hosts—Barry Roth, wearing the all-black outfit that had become his trademark on the music video network, and Alicia Dobal, a Cuban psychic who hurled as many insults as predictions to callers on her syndicated radio show.

The program's lead story was, of course, Joe's demonstration from the night before. As the taped piece played on studio monitors, Joe noticed many crew members staring at him. As he'd predicted, only a few seconds of the fire demonstration was shown. Most of the story centered on the mark that had appeared on his chest. Eerie music and lurid voice-overs accompanied the slow-motion images.

Tess approached him and whispered,”Nice, huh?”

He grimaced.”If I'd known my chest would be getting this kind of airplay, I'd have logged more time at the gym.”

The piece ended and the cohosts discussed its significance. A warning, Roth thought. A death sentence, Alicia countered. They broke for a commercial.

“
This
is what you thought I should see?”Joe asked Tess.”I was there, remember?”

She turned, spoke into her headset, then turned back to Joe. “The next segment.”She smiled. “Just wait.”

Roth and Alicia walked to a small table where several personal items rested—wristwatch, scarf, keys, eyeglasses…

Those eyeglasses. There was no mistaking Monica Gaines's spectacles.

The stage manager silently fingered the countdown and pointed to the cohosts. Roth spoke with grim intensity. “Ever since the mysterious and tragic occurrence that befell Monica Gaines, the world has been searching for an explanation. Earlier, we saw the theory of an Atlanta police detective that raised more questions than answers. Today, using the same psychic tools that are Monica Gaines's stock-in-trade, we're going to try to reach our own conclusions. Live from San Francisco via satellite, we have Allen Simpson standing by.”

Simpson, who looked considerably older than the photograph that adorned his “Psychic Vibrations”syndicated newspaper column, smiled from the remote studio.”Hello, Barry, hi, Alicia.”

Alicia smiled. “Monica Gaines was here in Atlanta,
investigating a series of brutal murders that continues to baffle local law enforcement officials. Monica sensed that there may be dark supernatural forces at work, but tragically, her investigation was cut short. Today she lies unconscious at Grady Memorial Hospital, but with our coast-to-coast panel of psychics, we're going to try to discover what she sensed in those days before her attack.”

Joe stepped closer to the cohosts.

Roth spoke to Simpson in a manner that was far less cheery than his colleague. His forceful demeanor practically dared guests to disagree with his readings, and he'd been known to scream at subjects he felt were holding back from him. “Allen, we've sent you a jacket that belonged to Monica. We understand that she wore it to some of the local crime scenes here. Are you picking up anything?”

Simpson held up the jacket.”Yes, and I knew what it was even before I opened the box. The vibrations were exceptionally strong. I sense a mixture of emotions from Monica. There was fear, confusion, sadness…. This was a new experience for her and it was absolutely terrifying. I think she knew this case could hurt her.”

Tess gave Joe a self-satisfied smirk. Tell us something we don't know, he wanted to tell her.

Alicia held up Monica's scarf and wristwatch. She pressed the objects against her forehead and closed her eyes.”Monica
was
afraid. She was afraid that this evil presence would come for her. She felt it almost immediately after arrival here. She's a brave, brave woman…. She knew she was in danger, but she still insisted on staying here and helping the police.”

“Extraordinary,”Roth said.

Alicia nodded. “Whatever force, whatever entity it is, it's still trying to claim her. There's a battle going on in that hospital bed, but Monica's will is strong. The prayers and psychic energy of the viewers is making a big difference.” Alicia opened her eyes and stared at the camera.”
You
are helping to keep her in this world. Keep it up.”

Roth nodded. “We all will, Alicia. Thank you.”He lifted Monica's distinctive eyeglasses into camera range. “We all recognize these, don't we? Well, if it's true that the eyes are the windows to the soul, these spectacles may have come closest to mirroring Monica Gaines's thoughts and feelings in the days before her accident.”

“What do they tell you?”Alicia asked.

Roth frowned. “As we've discussed on other shows, Monica Gaines has always been an empa-thetic woman. She felt the pain of the murder victims. She feared for her own safety, but also for the safety of others. She was especially concerned for the police detective Joe Bailey, whom we saw on the tape a few minutes ago. I believe that not only is she fighting for herself, but also for him.”

Uh-oh, Joe thought. Here it comes.

“For him?”Alicia asked.

“Yes.”Roth paused.”He's been marked by the sign that marked Monica and the murder victims. We've heard reports that Detective Bailey has been hearing unexplained voices, which was also characteristic of the murder victims. Monica felt that she might be a target, and I suspect she knows Joe Bailey might also be in danger.”

“From what?”Alicia asked.

Roth held the spectacles at eye level. “She's still not sure. But she knew that she was in trouble from the first moment she—”

He suddenly dropped the eyeglasses. “Oh God. Christ almighty.”

Alicia leaned toward him.”Barry?”

He was panting, trying to get his breath. “We shouldn't be doing this. This is wrong, so goddamned wrong. Stop the tape.”

The crew members looked toward Tess, but she shook her head. She made a circular “keep rolling”motion with her index finger.

Sweat beaded on Roth's forehead. “Goddammit, I don't want to do this anymore. Can we please stop?”

The stage manager stepped closer.”Do you need a doctor?”

Roth shook his head.”No, it's not that.”

Joe studied him. Roth reminded him of Monica's terrified reaction near the swamp. The same wild-eyed look, the same expression of horror.

Tess called out from behind the camera. “Talk to us, Barry. Tell us what you're feeling.”

“This isn't a game,”he said. “Whatever it is, we can't stop it.”

“Can't stop what?”Tess asked.

“She first felt its presence near Ernest Franklin's house. The moon was full, and the tree branches almost seemed to be reaching for her. Now I've touched its presence, just as Monica did. I wish I hadn't.”He shielded his eyes from the studio lights'glare. “Detective Bailey, are you still here? Detective Bailey?”

Joe had had enough. He turned, pushed open the studio doors, and strode down the corridor, listening as Roth continued to call his name. He scratched the bandage on his chest.

Tess ran to catch up with him. “Where are you going, Bailey?”

“Work.”

“Didn't you hear him?”

“Yes. That's why I'm walking away.”

“His impressions were very strong. Aren't you a little concerned?”

Joe stopped. “Concerned that there's a killer on the loose? Yes. Concerned that someone is embellishing Monica Gaines's story and using it to further his own dubious career? Of course.”

“He's terrified. Practically pissing in his pants.”

“I didn't appreciate the attempt to pull me into your show. I told you I'd leave if anyone—”

“Listen, that wasn't part of the plan,”she said. “I'm sorry. Barry's feelings were so strong, he felt he needed to warn you.”

“This scar on my chest is all the warning I need, thank you.”

“You think he was faking that?”

“Are you really interested in my opinion, or was that a rhetorical question?”