The Choice (19 page)

“Marcie, this is how it works. You’re going to tell us names and work with us. Then we’re going to investigate. We need background on everyone. Maybe you don’t realize there’s a secret life a lot of people seem to have.” The tension thickened the air between them. Diane was a strong woman whose will and determination couldn’t be swayed.

“Diane, the people you want are Dan and Sandra. I know Sam keeps talking about Lance Silver, but I don’t know what Lance’s doing. And I have no idea about his connection to Dan.”

“But Sandra might. All the buyers are her contacts. You have to know too, Sandra makes me uneasy. Her energy’s so low, she’s dangerous. She grew up in a family of growers from outside Sequim. I’m pretty sure that’s how her dad made all his money. When Dan wanted to go big he discussed and planned with Sandra. She hired the trimmers. And there’s always this unknown thing between them, as if they’re up to something new. They’ve got their hands in other pots, literally. I just don’t know all the details, and it’s only a feeling I have here.” She patted her tummy.

“On Dan’s first property, the one he owns himself. He subdivided it a few years ago and built a bunch of illegal homes. I’m pretty sure he did it just to say to the powers that be, “screw you.” Also, how many can he use as a grow op? They’re isolated, private and no one’s watching. Dan knows wiring, better than most electricians do. Also stealing hydro power for all the lights; I guarantee you he wouldn’t get caught.”

“Sandra lives in one of the illegal dwellings he built onto his shop. They started growing inside his shop first and then in one of the houses, after he kicked out a young family he rented to.”

“Are you aware Dan McKenzie’s currently under investigation for arson, along with his partner, Richard McCafferty?” Diane didn’t give her time to respond. “What do you know about the fire and the house we suspect they burned down?”

Her face tingled when heat spiraled up her cheeks. She swallowed hard, still remembering the dream and reality mesh together as one. She closed her eyes, then opened them to face Diane’s own intensified look. Smart lady, she already knew.

“Yeah, um, look, Richard’s a good friend. I don’t know who started that fire.”

“Okay Marcie, why don’t we start with you telling me what you do know?”

Marcie closed her eyes, wishing Sam were here. She didn’t feel well, and she had her own questions regarding the fire. She’d suspected Dan had been growing marijuana in the basement of the house. “I was asleep and woke up when someone banged on the RV door. Dan was gone, and I hurried outside. The house at the front of the twelve acre parcel was completely consumed in flames. Dan drove his excavator pushing the walls of the house down into the fire. Richard was in a loader and yelled at me to get back. The first fire truck pulled in. Except by then, the roof and walls had collapsed. There was nothing to save. That was when I saw Sam’s dead wife, Elise, and yes, I do see dead people sometimes.” She didn’t look at Diane. Instead, she gazed into the shadowed forest.

“It was freaky when she laughed at me. Then pointed her hand and finger at me, as if it were a gun and pulled the trigger. I heard the sound and the clink of metal, but there was no gun. It was just her hand. Then she disappeared behind the RV, where the shed was.”

“What kind of bullshit are you trying to pass off?” She jumped when she heard Sam’s voice. Diane turned to the sliding glass door. Jesse stood off to the side behind Sam. The smirk on Jesse’s face, she’d swear was pure amusement.

“Sam, I didn’t know you’re back. It’s not bullshit. I really saw her. And, unfortunately, I do see dead people. And sometimes I can read someone’s aura and see things that are going to happen.

She faced Diane and stopped cold. Every sensation in her ceased and focused in on this one moment. Time stood still as warmth brushed over her from head to toe. Over Diane’s shoulder, she was drawn into a hue of orange, an image she didn’t try to analyze. Every cell in her body lived within this one moment. She had no idea of time. It didn’t exist. But then Sam appeared in front of her shaking her arm. Calling her, but the sound was muffled. She blinked, and her head bobbed, as if she’d woken from a dead sleep. She gazed at him weak and confused, and then faced Diane, blinking until her focus returned. “You need to be careful tonight when you’re out. On the street, there’ll be a vagrant sleeping in a doorway. He’s going to have a knife. He’ll be quick and aim for your stomach.” She looked past Diane and then stood up, freezing cold, bile climbed and burned the back of her throat. She pressed her clammy hand to cover her mouth, stumbling past Sam and Jesse, to the bathroom off the kitchen, where she threw up.

Marcie woke with a start when a shadow moved beside the bed. When she tried to sit up, Sam gently touched her shoulder.

“Don’t get up. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The mattress dipped with Sam’s weight when he sat on the edge of the queen size bed. She tried to fight the comfort his presence brought. She wanted to touch him, except his anger and hurtful words had become a wall between them. “If you didn’t want to wake me, why’re you in here? I think you pretty much made it clear you can’t stand to be around me.” Ouch. Her words were cutting, but she didn’t care right now. She was hurt and angry and bothered by what she saw around Diane. It had left her shaken, zapping away her energy and was one of a few images from a trance that stayed with her.

“I guess I had that coming.”

Marcie glanced at the open window. The curtains parted; they fluttered from the cool night breeze. The moon’s bright silhouette exposed some depth in the way Sam watched her, and that confused her. “Diane called, something happened tonight.”

Alarmed, her whole body tightened, and she bolted upright turning on the bedside lamp. “Is she all right?”

He leaned closer. “Diane was called into the Sequim detachment to consult on a case, right after you went to bed. She stopped for coffee with Jeff Stillwell, Sequim’s Sheriff in downtown Port Townsend. A vagrant slept in the doorway of the bank next door. They woke him to move him out of there. The guy pulled a knife and aimed for Diane’s stomach. She stepped back and Jeff…” Sam turned his head, clearly shaken.

Marcie reached out and touched his forearm.

“The homeless guy stabbed Jeff, below his right kidney.”

Marcie touched his solid forearms now with both hands. She could see his fear.

“You knew, but how?”

Maybe he was ready to hear. “Sam, I saw it.”

“What do you mean you saw it? What are you like some psychic who has a crystal ball or something? I don’t understand.”

Marcie could hear the frustration in his words. Instead of responding immediately she took a deep breath and pictured herself connected to the earth with white light surrounding her. “I pick up on people’s feelings around me. Quite often, I have a hard time being in a room with a lot of people. It drains me, all those conflicting emotions. Sometimes I get pulled into another time by Spirit, a trance, where there’s no time. Sometimes an image in my head from a trance doesn’t stay with me long, but Diane’s did. I don’t know why. I don’t get them often, but the after affects… I get so cold. With Diane, I saw it in her aura playing over her shoulder like a movie scene.”

“So you’re some kind of psychic, a witch like Mama?” He shook his head.

Marcie could see how he struggled with the intangible unknown. Who wouldn’t? “I don’t like titles Sam, and to be labeled a witch is dangerous and archaic. It wasn’t that long ago you were burned at the stake if someone called you a witch. That fear still lingers. I’m spiritual, Sam. I developed my gifts through protecting and honoring mother earth. Everyone has an ability to tap into Spirit; it’s whether you allow the gift to develop. Don’t get me wrong, some people born come into this world with their veil thinned, bringing magic with them. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“Maybe.”

“Everyone’s ability’s different, I’ve learned to trust  feelings I get. If I’m confused, I’ve learned to ask for help, from my guides, angels, spirit. It’s not that I hear them speaking. I feel it, see it with all my senses. I see in spaces between, instead of seeing the physical object or person. Sometimes it’s a trick to fool me. And the trick’s to know the good from the bad like the good, peaceful feeling deep in my tummy.”

“My granny taught me to read tarot cards, but they’re just a tool. My mom’s convinced they’re a tool of the Devil and so is this gift we have. As a kid, I believed her. I was so freaked out I prayed it’d disappear.”

“But with Diane, it didn’t play out exactly the way you said.”

“A warning’s sometimes all you need so it doesn’t happen. I warned her. You said she pulled back.” Marcie shrugged. Sam turned away. She suspected he was spooked.

“It’s simple, Sam, she listened. Are you scared?”

“What do you see in me, Marcie?”

“I can’t read you
right
now
; for some reason you’re blocked to me. The same way I don’t always know what’s happening with me. We’re too close, or were. What are we now, Sam?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he got up off the bed and left.

The next morning Sam paced the large, airy kitchen, with its light oak cabinets, moss green walls and west facing windows. Sam’s stomach was so twisted in knots he couldn’t sit still. So he kept busy, first making coffee, now eggs and toast.

Jesse sat at the light oak table. He pushed back a potted aloe vera from the center of the round table and rifled through the morning paper. Sam knew he was keeping one eye on him. “If you start washing the floor I’m leaving.”

Sam froze behind the long olive green counter.

Jesse held up his splayed hands. “I’m just saying, you’re making me nervous with all your prancing about. You should be used to all the weirdness and the psychic spirit babble. You saw enough of it around Mama.”

The front door clicked open and then closed. Diane walked into her well-organized kitchen, past gleaming oak cabinets, and stood on the other side of the long counter. Sam studied Diane from where he cooked eggs, over the propane burner. Marcie must have decided now was a good time to show herself, as she appeared wearing the shorts and T-shirt Jesse bought her in New Orleans.

Diane stared at Marcie. “Hello.” That was all she said before disappearing down the hallway, where the walls were painted a soft green, decorated with family photos and soft white trim, to her bedroom at the end of the hall. The door clicked closed and a few moments later the shower popped on.

The whole house felt on edge, as if at any moment, a spark would erupt. Or maybe it was just Sam.

Marcie wandered barefoot over the pale tile floor. She claimed one of two ceramic butterfly mugs, perched upside down, before the stainless steel coffee maker. She poured herself a black coffee and then slid open the sliding door and wandered outside into the sunshine with the packet of ancient letters from Sam’s attic.

Jesse refilled his coffee, adding cream and sugar and then dumped the spoon in the double stainless steel sink. “Sam, let’s focus on the case. As your boss said to you last night, obviously Lance Silver’s onto you, so you need to be smart, keep your head together and stay cool. This is your last shot to bring him down.”

“Try something different, focus on Dan McKenzie and his connection with Lance. Didn’t Diane say he’d been on the Sheriff’s  and DEA’s watch list for some time? You guys have a big list don’t you, of who’s growing weed, and who you need to watch?”

“We do, and Dan McKenzie’s on there, but I never figured him for big time.” Sam pulled a file from a small stack on the counter. He flipped it open. “Except according to these notes, word on the street is at one time he grew for himself and friends, but he’s upped the ante. It’s rumored he’s into other things, and one of them could be trading marijuana for cocaine.”

What bothered Sam more was what he found out last night from Dexter. Dan McKenzie had women running things for him. One looked after his outdoor crops. Another babysat the indoor crops in the houses he owned. He’d never put it together until now.

“Jesse in that file we got from Dexter, the notes about Dan McKenzie. Isn’t there some mention of one of his women being connected?”

Jesse snatched up all the files and carried them to the kitchen table. He sat back down and then rifled through the top file. “You think that’s the broad Marcie’s talking about, what’s her name, Sandra? Didn’t Marcie say she grew up in a family of growers? You’d definitely know all the big time contacts wouldn’t you?”

“Could be, what bothers me though is how this guy surrounds himself with women, not dumb women, but smart educated women. How do you think he manages to get them to take all the risks for him?”

Jesse licked his finger as he turned over another page. “Probably the same way a woman wraps a man around her finger and gets him to ignore all her lies and unredeemable behavior.”

Sam tossed a checkered dishtowel at Jesse. “Are you ever going to let it go about Elise?”

“Only when you finally wake up and stop painting her a saint and admit she was up to no good. Face it. You saw stars and not the truth with her.”

“Let’s focus on this case. What are the chances Dan McKenzie supplied Lance Silver?”

“I think that’s where we need Marcie.”