GODDESS OF THE MOON (A Diana Racine Psychic Suspense) (62 page)

“We were duped. No doubt about it.”

“
I talked to
Captain Craven
while you slept on the plane. He thought we were duped too.
Said he missed me, but he’s going to dock my pay.”

Diana searched his face.
“
He’s
kidding
, right? I mean you almost single-handedly broke up a kidnapping ring
.”

“I
’m not sure
.
I hope
so
.”

“I’
ll
put on a pot of coffee
,
t
hen
I need to call my parents
. I
need a shot of caffeine
to deal with them
.”

Diana spent
half
an hour
alternating between
answering
questions
from
her
mother and
father
. The FBI advised
her and Lucier
not to talk publicly
about the case
to avoid tainting the jury pool when the group went to trial
, so she careful
ly avoided anything
her publicity-hound father could “accidentally” release to a reporter
.

“
Cafferty called
while you were on the phone,” Lucier said
when she hung up
. “T
hey
tracked
down
the Crane Corporation pilot
who
flew
Anastasia Easley to Canada
to
m
e
et up with her mother and
three
sisters.
All five are
a
waiting
extradit
ion
back to the States
, but there’s a tricky situation with Anastasia Easley.”

“What’s that?”

“Canada won’t extradite anyone facing
a murder charge unless the
death penalty is off the table, so she’ll probably spend the rest of her life in prison.”

“I can live with that.”

“
The
men
were denied bail
in spite of protests
from
some of the highest
-priced lawyers in the country.
”

“I hope they all rot in hell
,” Diana said
.
“
They should be familiar with the place.”

* * * * *

D
iana and Lucier
gave no interviews, but
nothing stop
ped
the media
speculation
. Diana opened the morning paper
.
“Will you look at this
?
Jake Griffin is having a field day. There are a dozen messages from him on the machine, but this time I’m not talking. That hasn’t stopped him from reporting the story, from Ridley Deems to Brother Osiris and the Sunrise Mission
,
to the Cranes and
Comptons
as Satan worshippers. Jake’s done his homework. He points out the irony of the mythology
―
Seth did kill Osiris in the end.”

“There are
too
many victims in this story,” Lucier said. “
T
he full magnitude of human devastation
won’t
be known for a
long, long time.
Years maybe.”

“
S
peaking of Seth,” Diana said.

“Still no sign of him
,
Maia Compton
,
and their children.
I wonder if they’ll ever turn up.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say
―
”

“What?”

She
studied
him, knowing that part of Lucier didn’t want them found. Even though Seth Crane was guilty of many things, Lucier, too, would have killed Edward Slater if he’d molested his c
hild. “I honestly don’t know.”

Lucier held her gaze, smiling knowingly, and a moment passed between them before
s
he returned
to the newspaper.

“The story of a genetically engineered Utopia seems to have sparked hundreds of ethical debates. That ought to get the
wingnuts
spouting off on TV. Remind me not to watch any news channels for a while.”

Diana pointed to a paragraph in the story. “Look at the litany of charges they’re leveling at the group.
Kidnapping, child endangerment, sexual abuse,
murder
.
What a mess. This is one time Crane and Compton’s money
and influence can’t help them.”

Lucier poured both a second cup of coffee. “Don’t be too sure. I spoke to Ralph Stallings this morning. He said Crane has been stoically silent, but Compton’s lawyers are in discussions to plea bargain him. Even from a hospital bed, that son of a bitch says he’ll tell them where the other compound is, off-shore accounts, and he’ll roll on all of them, including his wife
―
for consideration.”

“You mean he’d flip on
the black widow?”

“That’s what he said. You
never liked her, did you
?”

“
No
, and I was right
.
But I really screwed up with Slater.
”
Lucier
kept silent
. She
wondered what he
was thinking.
He was off limits to her
psychic
ally
.
She wouldn’t read him, didn’t want to.
Hopefully, he
couldn’t read
her
right now either
.

Yes, she
’d been wrong about
Edward Slater
. He’d stimulated her
intellectually
in the beginning
,
stirred her curiosity, and his inner conflict touched her in a way she wasn’t sure she understood to this day.
Y
et she had missed his essence
―
the twisted evil that corrupted him and drove him to unspeakable sins. Her feelings toward him never approached
the physical
. Those belonged to Lucier and always
would.

She leaned over the table and kissed Lucier on the lips.

“What was that for?” he asked.

“
B
ecause I love you,” she said. “No other reason.”

He kissed her back. “That’s a good enough reason for me.”

About the Author

Polly
Iyer
was born in a coastal city north of Boston, Massachusetts. After studying at Massachusetts College of Art and Design in Boston, she lived in Italy, Atlanta, and now resides in the beautiful Piedmont region of South Carolina in an empty nest house with her husband and family pets. Writing novels turned into her passion after careers in fashion, art, and business. Now she spends her time being quite the hermit in comfortable clothes she wouldn't be caught dead wearing on the outside, while she devises ways for life to be complicated for her characters. Better them than her.

Learn more about Polly and her books at

www.PollyIyer.com

Following is an excerpt from
InSight
.

I hope you enjoy it
.

The Helen Keller Alliance

E
very morning, Abby ran her fingers over the cluster of raised dots on the sign outside her office door.

Dr. Abigael Gallant, Psychologist.

Above, serif letters spelled the same thing. She opened the door. “Morning, Cleo.”

“Morning, Abby.
Got everything ready for you.”

“You always do.” She sniffed. “Morning, Ellie.”

“How do you always know I’m here?”

“I know.” The too-sweet scent of her intern’s perfume wafting in the air almost drowned out the rich aroma of coffee bubbling into the pot. Abby went into her office, unhooked Daisy’s halter—giving her guide dog a neck rub—and settled at her desk. Cleo brought her a cup of coffee. “Thanks. What would I do without you?”

“You’d do it all by yourself like you did before you hired me.”

“But you make it so much easier.”

“First appointment at nine,” Cleo said.
“New patient.
Luke McCallister. Cop. Sergeant Dykstra said he has issues. It’s all in the report.”

Abby flipped the crystal on her watch to finger the time. “Okay, I’ve read it, but I’ll go over the information to refresh my memory.” Cleo left and Abby got to work, reading the Braille printout of Hub City detective Luke McCallister’s file. He’d lost his hearing in the line of duty, and
issues was
putting it mildly.

Half an hour later, Ellie knocked on the door. She came close to Abby’s desk and whispered. “McCallister’s
here,
and he’s a hunk.”

“Thanks for letting me know. Ask him if he’d mind waiting while I take a quick shower, change my clothes, and refresh my lipstick.”

“Funny.”

“Show him in. Oh, and, Ellie, stop panting. You sound like a teenage boy in heat.”

Abby didn’t hear McCallister’s footsteps because he started speaking long before he reached the patient’s chair.

“Well,” he said, “put the two of us together and we have one Helen Keller.”

She breathed in the scent of sandalwood, and her highly-tuned antennae picked up on the nervous quiver in his words, even though the detective tried to conceal it with sarcasm.

She followed McCallister’s voice and faced in his direction. “Have a seat, Detective. I assume you read lips.”

The leather seat cushion whooshed as he sat. “Read ’
em
, been known to kiss a few.”

Arrogant SOB.
This is going to be a long hour.
She moved to the chair opposite McCallister, offering her best nice-to-meet-you smile. “We’ll stay with the reading for now.” She wanted to say she never kissed on a first consultation, but the ethically questionable response would probably give this patient the wrong idea. “Do you have any hearing at all?”

“None at normal decibels.
I would hear enough of a siren to know one is wailing, feel the vibration from a loud noise, but that’s about it.”

Because she specialized in counseling the disabled, she knew a good lip reader took in the whole face. She enunciated her words. “I’m pretty good at following sounds, but you’ll need to tell me if I’m not facing you correctly. Ask me to repeat anything you don’t understand, okay?”

“Fine, thanks.
My speech reading instructor said I was her quickest study, but I still understand only about forty percent. I fudge the rest. Sometimes I tune out, or if a person talks fast or turns away, I’m lost. It’s frustrating as hell. But if I can’t keep up or miss something, I’ll ask you to repeat.”

“Forty percent is better than good.”

“It still means I miss sixty percent.”

“We’ll work this out, and I can always write down anything you don’t understand. Now, your sergeant said you weren’t happy about counseling.”

He shifted in his seat. “I’m fighting hard to stay in the department. If I didn’t agree to see the shrink my bosses recommended, they’d have reason to can me.”

An honest response
.
“So, will this be a battle of wills or a forced collaboration? I say ‘forced’ because I’m used to working with people who want what I have to offer.”