Rock Star Down (The Psychic Registry) (18 page)

"Us? About an
hour and forty," Laurel replied.

They all glanced at
their watches and Silverman said, "We should order lunch."

Laurel felt too
excited to eat but everyone else was nodding along with Silverman, so they sent
Josh to check with Barnes about getting some food.

Silverman and Archer
were just milling about the studio, each apparently occupied with their own
thoughts. But Laurel didn't want to be thinking about what was to come. She
looked to Nathan but he was busy tapping his acupressure points and undoubtedly
recounting some silent mantra. She caught his eye and they exchanged smiles,
then she let him go and he returned to his preparations.

Archer drifted over to
Laurel and spent a moment looking her over, then asked, "You want to
review the case file?"

"Maybe after we
eat?" Laurel told her, "But it seems simple enough, right?"

Archer nodded, "Most
crimes are pretty simple. Sometimes the circumstances are a little unusual. A
weird detail, a notable person. But otherwise, murder is murder."

"Do you like your
job?"

Archer grinned, "I
love my job. Being a cop— Being a detective, you
have
to love it.
Otherwise, it just wears you down. Guys get to bitching about shitty
assignments, start thinking about how they can get on disability, or worse, get
into politics."

"Yeah,"
Laurel nodded. "What about relationships?"

Archer bit back a frown
and gave a faint shake of her head. "You can date cops,
which can be
fun
. And it can become a
drag
. Of course, there are some who do it
to get ahead. Which usually works— And I fucking hate that. But cop marriages?
Most guys don't want a cop wife. And those that do, most female cops don't want
them. So, the way I approach it is this:
Cops are my brothers
. And I'm
not sleeping with my brothers."

"So how's that
working for you?" Laurel asked, with genuine interest.

"Lousy,"
Archer replied, "I'm surrounded by fucking cops!"

"What about
lawyers?"

"Don't get me
started," Archer sighed.

"So what do you
do?"

"I chase bad
guys. And I date bad boys. And when I catch myself pining for a life I won't
have, I go out and close a case on some dirt ball and I feel better."

"Maybe you'll get
lucky," Laurel offered.

"Maybe,"
Archer replied. "If I had your looks, your youth."

Laurel had never had
any trouble attracting men. But she was beginning to have some doubts. Nathan
seemed interested, yet he remained so aloof. She was sending him signals despite
her efforts to remain professional. He had to know, but he resisted her charms.
Or perhaps he simply had better options?

She asked Archer, "There
was something strange today. Something different between Nathan and Jaqui, don't
you think?"

Archer viewed her
askance, then nodded, "Yeah, I noticed it. A distinct
lack
of
sexual tension where a noticeable tension had previously existed?"

"Yes, that was
it," Laurel realized, "And they were so formal with each other when
the day before they'd been quite familiar."

"Maybe some idiosyncrasies
relating to the psychic process?" Archer ventured.

"Or maybe they
slept together," Laurel whispered.

Archer gave a
skeptical shrug, "
Maybe
. He's good with women. But I dunno… What if
he made a pass, but she didn't bite?"

"Or she made a
play, but he gave her the brush off?" Laurel posited.

"So, maybe
one-in-three that they did it?"

"
Something
happened," Laurel reiterated.

"They're celebs,
Laurel. They play by a different set of rules. Whatever happened, far as they're
concerned,
it didn't happen
," Archer said.

But something
happened.
Something with Nathan
Miller. Something that she wanted to happen with her.
Maybe
.

Laurel shook her head
in an effort to clear her conflicting thoughts and the feelings that came with
them.

"Let's get some
lunch. Then we'll close the case on this little dirt ball," Laurel said.

Archer smiled, "You
would've made a good cop."

But not good enough.
Not great, like Archer or Nathan.

Perhaps there was yet
something that she could be great at? Something that she could love and not
have to be alone? Maybe she could just be great at being Laurel? To love
herself, to give herself over to her life, to belong to someone, to belong
somewhere. To find a home.

Home is where the
heart is
, she recalled.

A nice car in the
garage didn't hurt, either.

They ate sandwiches in a lounge down the
hall from the studio. Art Brown joined them for lunch, while his brother Barnes
kept his post at the front desk.

Silverman and Brown
talked about
Jaqui's World
for a bit, but Laurel had trouble following
their conversation, filled with jargon, as it was.

Then Silverman asked
Brown about his brother, the security guard. "What's the deal with Barnes?"

"Johnny? He's had
a rough couple of decades," Brown said. "But he used to be in the
business."

"A musician?"

"Drummer. Heck of
a session player. Then he hooked up with
The Justin Roberts Band
and
toured with them for years. Played on their later records."

Nathan piped up, "Good
band. Old-school blues/rock."

Brown nodded, "Yeah,
they were pretty tight. But Johnny couldn't handle the life. The booze, the
drugs, the women. He burned through money like nothing. Then Roberts went and
died, and that was it. Johnny still had the rock star tastes but not the
budget."

Laurel interjected, "How'd
he die?"

"Car crash,"
Nathan answered, "Roberts was drunk behind the wheel."

"Yeah?"
Brown replied, "Don't tell that to my brother. Johnny
swears
that Roberts
was out cold and that Michelle Diamond was driving."

Nathan nodded, "I've
heard that version, too. Where Cliff Peters flew her out to LA on his private
jet and paid a half dozen people to swear she'd been there when Roberts died in
Miami?"

"
I know
,"
Brown said, "But to hear Johnny tell it… Well, it's a compelling tale."

Nathan smiled, "I
just might ask him."

"Take him out for
ribs, he'll tell you some stories."

Silverman asked Brown,
"Your brother ever sober up?"

Brown nodded, but his
smile was gone, "Yeah, but it took a while and a lot of burned bridges. He
tried to get back to the session work, but he'd lost his chops. By the time he
really got clean, all the hard living seemed to catch up with him. Now he's got
arthritis everywhere and he's near deaf in both ears. He never wrote songs,
never held any publishing rights. He was a hired gun his entire career."

Silverman said, "And
now he runs the desk for an empty studio."

Following lunch, Brown returned to his
office, Josh was assigned clean up duty, and Nathan adjourned to the studio to
meditate. Silverman and Archer went to their phones, so Laurel did, too. Laurel
didn't have many close friends in the city and she had held off from telling
anyone back home about her assignment to Franklin's murder. Of course, people
in the office
knew
, and her appearance on the news had filtered out to
most other people who knew her. So it wasn't a surprise that she'd received a
slew of new messages over the last three days. But she was keeping quiet until
the case was resolved, until she knew what it meant for her career, and until
she knew where she stood with Nathan.

While she'd spent much
of her free time dreaming about the possibilities surrounding both love and
work, she'd long since learned not to get too far ahead of herself. Sometimes
things looked quite promising but didn't work out. How many jobs had she held
since high school? How many classes, seminars, and mixers had she attended? And
how many men had suddenly crossed her path, only to diverge in seemingly as
rapid a fashion? No, life moved much too quickly and relentlessly for her to
dither. There was simply no time for self-aggrandizement, let alone seeking
validation from friends and family. For what had she accomplished worthy of
congratulations? Thus far she'd only managed not to embarrass herself.

Closing the case would
be
something
. Of course, no one would remember her part. She'd be like
Johnny Barnes in a story about the death of Justin Roberts, a mere footnote.
But it was a start. And it was fun. And it felt like it mattered, if only a
little. And it was the right thing, the good thing. She needed that, too. To be
the good person, the one that rose above the past. To take a little of the
tarnish off of the name
Comfort
in her hometown.

She refused to call it
redemption, for that implied that she was solely responsible for her entire
family's reputation. But most of that had been thrust upon her, never mind her
minor brushes with personal scandal.

She laughed at that
word:
scandal
. Laurel had seen and heard much of late that made her own
indiscretions seem trivial in comparison.
Murder!
That was scandalous.
As for the rest? Some people could survive almost anything, while others withered
under the slightest misfortune or hardship. Thankfully, Laurel's parents
blessed her with two things: good looks and grit. Hopefully it was enough to
see her through. But to see her through to what?

Time to write a
footnote.

Nathan watched Laurel waiting in the
studio; he thought that she looked good. She seemed fairly calm, which was a
good thing when gaming a killer. She'd be alone with a potential psycho, not an
ideal scenario, they'd realized. Sure, Big Ed and Donnie would be there, too,
but they'd be operating in the dark and slow to act if there was a ruckus. So
Archer would provide security and was positioned closest to the door leading
from the control room into the studio.

"Keep that door
clear," Archer told Laurel, "If you need to scoot, take the main door
and head up the hallway to Mister Barnes. You try to come back into the mixing
suite and we're just going to trip over each other, okay?"

"Right,"
Laurel nodded, "Besides, your door will be locked from my side."

So Nathan, Archer,
Silverman, and Josh the intern were sealed up in the dark control room. And
unless they turned on the lights or all started moving around they would most
likely go unseen by those in the studio. Even so, Laurel glanced in their
direction now and again.

"She's looking at
the camera," Silverman commented.

"I'll let her
know," Nathan said.

They were both near whispering
even though the booth was fairly sound-proof.

Nathan tuned into
Laurel's frequency, taking his read to a 5. It was quite easy as he knew the
contours of her thoughts well.

Laurel?

"Yes?" she
replied, looking to the booth. They could all hear her reply, although the volume
on the audio monitors was turned low.

Stop looking our
way, okay?

"Sorry."

It'll be fine. And
don't answer me out loud, alright?

She nodded,
right.

That's it. Yours,
mine, they're all just thoughts.

This is pretty
intimate, you know?

Yeah, don't go
thinking about anything naughty.

Laurel smiled.
Like
what?

Oh, don't get me
started. Just think about the ham. Otherwise we're gonna muff this deal.

You have a dirty
mind, Nathan.

My mind is
sparkling clean. Ask me how I manage it sometime.

Okay, how do you
keep it so tidy?

Some other time,
Laurel.

You're such a
tease.

Let's cut the
chatter.

"I think they've
arrived," Nathan announced, though he was far from certain. He didn't have
Natalie's frequency yet, nor was he searching for it. But the background noise
had increased, strongly suggesting more people nearby.

"Standby,"
Silverman said to Josh.

For his part, Josh saw
to his camera and donned a set of headphones, though he left one ear uncovered
so he could hear Silverman, then he gave a nod that he was ready.

Nathan was sitting in
a vinyl office chair behind a vast mixing board at the far right of the window
looking upon the studio. Archer was on the far left, near the door. Silverman
and Josh were standing with the camera near the middle of the window, but the
room was fairly deep and they were far from the glass, recessed in shadow. From
his vantage point Nathan could see the studio entrance to the left. Laurel took
a seat on a stool near the door.

Though he could hear
her thoughts, their bodies were separated by some fifty feet. With the rising
interference from new arrivals and the increasing background noise among his
group the distance between them felt even greater. And he wasn't even reading
Natalie yet.

"Roll camera,"
Silverman whispered.

A moment later, Josh
replied, "Speed."

"How long can you
record?" Archer asked.

"
Hours
,"
Silverman answered.

They waited like that
for another minute before Natalie entered the studio.

Laurel seemed to
barely register her arrival, but Nathan knew it was a calculated pause; Laurel
was suddenly scared speechless.

Just smile.

And she did.

Natalie's own smile
was leavened with the weariness of a long day, "Hello, Miss Comfort."

"Please, call me
Laurel," she replied. Then she stood and shook hands with Natalie.

"Okay. Ed and Donnie
will be with us in a bit. They're changing batteries and stuff," Natalie
said. "So, what can you tell me?"

Maintaining his read
on Laurel and acquiring Natalie was indeed challenging; Nathan wasn't tuned
into her frequency yet.

Stall a little.

"This is all new
to me, Natalie. Shouldn't I wait for the camera? That way it comes across
fresh?"

Natalie made a
so-so
motion, "Sometimes a rehearsal can smooth out the bumps. But, whatever. We
always shoot multiple takes. Makes it easier to edit."

"Okay, that's
good. I'd hate to rush it and forget something important."

Then Nathan had Natalie's
frequency and he tightened his read up to a 5. And he was glad for the chair as
his equilibrium faltered. He slumped into the seat, grasped the armrests, and
closed his eyes.

There were two streams
of thoughts on top of his and the effect was similar to having three people
speak at once. Yet the thoughts were not as distinct as voices. Still, they all
felt
different. But that feeling of distinction was largely his doing
and required no small amount of additional effort. So he spent a few moments
just fine-tuning the reads before he could devote any conscious effort to
following the content of the thoughts.

His read on Natalie
had increased to a 7. He saw through her eyes: she was watching Laurel.

He tested the
connection to Laurel.
Touch your ear if you're still with me.

And a second later she
did just that.

Nathan heard other
voices and realized that Ed and Donnie had entered the studio. Natalie made
introductions and Laurel greeted them both.

But Nathan was
ignoring the chit-chat; instead he scanned Natalie for the standard markers. As
far as he could tell she wasn't a psychic, nor had she been grossly manipulated
by one. However, there was an unusually high level of focus to Natalie's
thoughts, which he attributed to her medications, her personality, or both.

"They're putting
her microphone on," Silverman said, with a tone of urgency directed at
Nathan.

"I'm in," he
said.

Silverman grunted in
acknowledgement.

Nathan perused Natalie's
thoughts, but she was merely focused upon the work at hand. They would have to
coax out the truth. And barring that, he could always pry out a confession. But
that could have complications, especially in someone unstable like Natalie. And
what of the risk to Laurel? He'd best sever his connection to her before
executing a hack on Natalie.

Yet, why was he even
thinking
in such terms? Hadn't he left behind such tactics when he left Fletcher's
group? What was bringing out such thoughts? Was it reading Natalie? Or the
stress of the simultaneous connections? Or perhaps something else?

Nathan? Nathan?
Laurel was calling to him.

I'm here, we're
good.

Then he quelled his
own thoughts and focused upon his targets.

"So how long have
you been doing this kind of work?" Natalie asked.

"Oh, not too
long," Laurel answered.

"But you're a
detective?"

"I'm an
investigator with the City Attorney's office, not a police officer. Currently,
my role is liaison between the various investigating agencies."

"Agencies like
the police and the psychic."

"Yes, the Miller
Davis Group has been contracted to assist in the investigation."

"So how does that
work? Did the police hire him, or what?"

"I believe the
City Attorney's office initiated his involvement as they've made successful use
of his services in the past. Of course, Detective Miller cooperates closely
with our police department under such circumstances."

"You're pretty
good at this, Laurel," Natalie said, "You do a lot of interviews?"

Laurel gave an easy
laugh, "I grew up doing pageants."

"Like the beauty
queen thing?"

"That was part of
it. But mostly it was just learning to talk with people and answer questions. I
was no good at that sort of thing, so my mom put me in pageants. And you know
what?
It worked.
"

Natalie sighed, "But
you had to show off in a bikini, right?"

"It was a
one-piece, sweetie. And that wasn't until I was older. And I suppose that wasn't
something I had any trouble with," Laurel admitted.

"So I guess you
won a lot?"

"Not really.
There was always somebody prettier, or more talented, or smoother talking. But
maybe that was the point? To go out there and live with the results. Anyway, I
made a little money for school and got over my shyness along the way."

"Where'd you go
to school?"

"It doesn't
matter. I quickly learned that it wasn't for me— But enough about
me
.
Aren't you supposed to ask about this
murder
?"

"Just wanted you
relaxed before we really get into it. Aaron says that the storyteller matters
as much as the story. So we're just finding out how interesting you are. Plus
we're giving Donnie time to adjust the sound levels."

Natalie glanced at
Donnie who nodded, "We're good."

Laurel asked her, "How
well did you know Rock Franklin?"

"I thought I knew
him pretty well. But now, I think that was just a front."

"A front?"

"You follow
somebody around with a camera and you learn things. You feel like you know
them. But you just know their act. And you don't really know if that's them, or
just a character that they play."

"So you think
Rock was playing a character?"

"Yeah. I mean why
else would he get killed, unless he was hiding something?"

The background
thoughts all grew louder and Nathan had to bolster his concentration on both
reads. His main focus remained on Natalie, but she'd yet to give anything away.
Her thoughts were disciplined and compartmentalized, shaped by medication and
the intrinsic forces of her psyche.

"What do you
think he was hiding?"

"I dunno,"
Natalie
lied
. "Something shady, I guess."
The two-timing
bastard.

It felt like jealousy
more than a judgment, but he wasn't positive.

"Like what?"
Laurel asked.

I think she was jealous
, Nathan sent.

"You tell me,"
Natalie countered.

Laurel shrugged, "Everyone
we've talked to says Rock was a good guy. There's been no evidence that he was
involved in anything criminal."

A good guy?
"He had secrets," Natalie said.

"Oh? Do tell,"
Laurel replied.

"Uh, you know—
Everybody
has secrets. Rock wasn't perfect. And well, things happened."

"
Things
happened
?"

Natalie just shrugged
in feigned ignorance.
Nothing happened.

Laurel smiled, but it
was merely a reflex to fill the gap.
Nathan? How am I doing?

You're getting to
her, but she's keeping it held tight
,
he sent to Laurel.

I can't feel her,
Nathan. Put me in the loop, otherwise this won't work.

"Maybe you could
give us a walk through?" Natalie asked.

"A presentation
of the crime?"

"That was the
idea of coming here, right?"

"Of course, any
suggestions?" Laurel asked.
Nathan?

You're doing fine,
just keep going.

"You watch the
show, right?" Natalie said.

"Yes."

"So usually we
alternate between light and
mildly
serious. But this is something
totally
different, so don't try to match the style of the show. Aaron wants to do this
tribute thing for Rock so he can make it work for whatever he has in mind."

"It's kind of
graphic
,"
Laurel said.

"Just tell it
like you would and we'll edit it down," Natalie said.

"And if I mess
up?"

"If you flub a
line, just keep going. We'll do it a couple of times so we have something to
edit, okay?"

Laurel nodded, "How
should we start?"

"Just begin when
you're ready. We'll shoot some cutaways for editing before we wrap."