Through Her Eyes (3 page)

He shrugged it off.
"Hazard of
the job, sweetheart.
Feels a long time ago now.
We're still friendly. Well, amicable, anyway. How about you? Settled
down?"

She shook her head. "There's never been anyone
else..." She bit her lip. She hadn't meant to say that, to add that
else
.
When she glanced up at him to see if he'd caught her slip, she found him
staring at her with undisguised heat. It shocked and thrilled her, and then it
confused and scared her. Nothing had ever happened between her and
Dom,
they'd never crossed that line. But the line had been
there. They'd both known it.

****

Keira knew her feelings for
Detective Abbott didn't make sense. He'd been the first person to interview her
after her attack. She'd woken up in hospital to find him looming over her, and
for a split-second she'd been panic-stricken, seeing her masked attacker
instead. But he'd spoken calmly, softly, reassuring her that she was alive,
safe. And then he'd grilled her about the attack until she felt dizzy and
exhausted.

           
The
thought of him, the sight of him, ought to bring the awful memories of that
night rushing back to the forefront of her mind, but he’d been so patient and
kind, despite his intensity, that she couldn't help but feel safer when she was
with him. And she was with him a lot.

           
“White wine and a spicy chicken burger?”
Dom asked her as
she joined him. They were meeting in a pub just around the corner from her
flat. She didn't feel comfortable going much farther.

           
She
smiled. “I'm predictable, aren't I?”

           
He
raised his hand as if he'd stroke her hair
,
then let
it fall. The light overhead glowed on his wedding ring. “Not the word I'd use,
no.”

           
She
shifted closer to him, then away again. It was hard – he was a lodestone and
she was so desperate to touch him, all the time. Just little touches would do.
A brush of fingers as they passed each other in the police station.
The quick squeeze he would give her shoulder when they parted. They were all
brief, all electric.

           
“What
words would you use?” she asked him, keeping her eyes on the table. She heard
his breath hitch and risked a quick glance at him out of the corner of her
eyes.

           
He
was staring at her. His dark eyes burned, and she could almost see the words he
wanted to say there. Words he'd never say, she knew that. She was being unfair,
trying to flirt like this.

           
“Sorry,”
she said. “Um, you wanted to meet about the case, I suppose?”

           
“Don't
be sorry,” he said, voice gruff. He moved his hand and there it was. That brush
of skin on skin, his fingers over hers, quick and hot. Keira bit her lip,
freezing. It was a game. Which one of them would break the contact first? She
held his gaze, wondered if he saw the words behind her eyes too.

           
“I
wanted...” He cleared his throat and lifted his hand from hers to grab his
drink. “I wanted to talk about the OBEs again. Do you mind?”

           
Keira
folded her hands in her lap. “No, not if it'll help.”

           
“I
don't know what will help anymore,” he said, betraying his frustration. He
rubbed his jaw, scowling. “The guy's good and we're running out of ideas, to be
frank.”

           
Keira's
stomach turned. “How can there be nothing? No DNA, no clues...”
           
“DNA is only useful if the
guy's already in the system. As for clues...the closest we have is your
account. That's why I keep coming back to you.”

           
She
pretended that didn't hurt, that he came back to her because he wanted to, but
she guessed she didn't quite mask her reaction to his words. Dom sighed,
rubbing his eyes now. She realized suddenly how tired he looked.

           
“Keira—”

           
“No,
it's
fine,” she said, knotting her fingers together
under the table. “I don't have any right to be like this. I don't want to be
that person.”

           
She
jumped when he reached under the table and took her hand. He leaned in until he
was close enough to whisper, “The problem is, I want you to be that person.”

           
She
could have kissed him then. She felt it sizzling between them, the promise of
one,
single
, forbidden kiss. His fingers squeezed
hers. His breath was warm on her skin and she could smell
him
, musk and cologne and man. She
licked her lips. He groaned softly.

           
“Don't,”
he
said,
voice low. “Don't do things like that,
Keira.”

           
“Then
don't say things like that, Dom.”

           
He
released her and sat back in his seat, reaching blindly for his drink. Keira
watched him drain the pint glass, feeling she'd lost something she couldn't
quite name. Heart sinking, she grabbed her own drink and told herself it was
for the best.

****

 
Keira took a
big gulp of her wine and changed the subject. "So I guess you can't tell
me anything about this morning.
The girl."

Dom looked away from her, toyed with a beer mat. His
long, strong fingers fascinated her. "I'm guessing you know as much as I
do anyway." He shot her a hard look now, all business. "Want to talk
about it?"

Did she? Not really, the thought made her feel sick.
But she had to. Dom always believed her before; it was one of the things that
drew her to him. And who knew, this time it might help. This time she might
have seen something useful.

"It was just like before. I'm hovering over the
place – an alley, lots of graffiti. Kind of smelt like curries, I think. I'm
watching it.
Them.
He's
big,
he's wearing gloves and a balaclava. She fights. He holds her by the
throat." Unconsciously, her hands rose to her own throat. "He stabs
her over and over. She dies."

There. That wasn't so hard, was it?
Tears pricked at her eyes as the
memories came back, flashing in full color. The blood, the dark bruises
blooming on the girl's neck, the flash of the blade... She downed the rest of
her wine in one go.

Dom took her hand, his grip solid and comforting, but
still sending flashes of electricity through her. "And then?"

"Then it's the same as every other time, Dom. I
see white light and I'm back in my body, scared as hell."

"See, this white light, that's what gets
me." He leaned in, picking at the chips on her plate. "What happens
to pull you back to your body?"

She shrugged.
"Shock?
Fear?
Who knows? What happens to pull me to the scene in the
first place?"

"I did a lot of research on OBEs." He smiled
with grim humor. "I think that's what drove Angie away in the end,
actually. She said I was obsessed. You know scientists have been able to
re-create them in labs? They stimulate part of the brain, get particular
brainwave frequencies going, and apparently it causes OBEs. They call it
mechanical induction."

A creeping sense of unease filled Keira.
"Yeah?
And this really works?"

He nodded. "I've been speaking to a doctor at
University College London.
Met him on a case last year.
It's kind of a pet project of his." He stared down into his pint,
obviously hesitant to say whatever he was about say. "I'd like you to try
it, Keira."

"I don't know," she said. "It sounds dangerous,
Dom. I mean, how do they do it?
Drugs?
Machines?
I don't know."

"It's perfectly safe," he assured her.
"I've watched them do it. They use a sensory deprivation tank.
No drugs, no chemicals, nothing."

She shifted in her seat, playing nervously with her
earrings. "And what's the point?"

"I'm wondering how solid your connection to the
Slasher is. I'm wondering if the shock of seeing the murder is what throws you
back into your body, and if we set up an OBE under controlled circumstances, if
you could learn to keep it going, to follow the killer."

"Dom."
She didn't want to refuse him, but
it just sounded too out there. "I don't think I want to make this a bigger
part of my life than it already is."

"I get that, Keira, I do. But I'd like you to at
least sleep on it.
Either this is the Shoreditch Slasher or a
copycat, and
either way we're going to have more dead girls on our hands
soon. Killers like this don't stop. They just escalate." He ran his hands
through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted and frustrated. "We got no
breaks last time. I don't want history to repeat itself this time. I want to
nail this bastard, and I think you can help."

His sincerity, his determination tugged at her. She
remembered all too well the panic and fear that choked London during the
Slasher's last reign, both before and after her own attack. The idea of that
happening again, of more women dying so violently and senselessly, was just
horrible. She rested her head in her hands, fighting a headache. He was right;
he was always bloody right.

"Okay," she said finally, raising her head
to meet his hopeful gaze. "I'll do it. But I think you're overestimating
me."

He smiled.
"Never."

Chapter Three

The next morning, Dom took her to meet Doctor Rudolf.
His lab was based in the Computer Science Department of University College
London, and the clean, professional look of the place set Keira a little more
at ease than she had been.

Simon Rudolf was a squat man with an infectious smile.
He grasped Keira's hand in both of his, pumping enthusiastically.
"Detective Abbott's told me so much about you," he said. "It's a
pleasure. You're in good hands with me, I assure you."

Keira stole a glance at Dom, who flushed and made a
show of studying his watch. She bit back a smile. Knowing that Dom talked about
her – even if it was just in a dry, academic sense to this man – made her feel
warm and...
desirable
.

She mumbled something to Simon – she had no idea what
– and stared around the lab. Bright monitors and medical equipment were
everywhere, for measuring brainwaves, heart rates, whatever. The sensory
deprivation tank sat against the far wall, a simple white unit that reminded
her of a tanning booth, except once you were inside you'd be completely
enclosed, completely cut off, in the dark, alone... She shivered, feeling
claustrophobic already.

Dom rested his hand on her shoulder, supportive and
comforting. "You okay?"

She nodded, chewing her lip. "Let's just get
started." If she waited too long, she'd change her mind.

Dom had advised her she'd need a swimming costume to
wear in the tank, so they'd stopped to pick one up on the way. She had it on
under her clothes now, and both men politely turned away while she stripped.
She hugged herself, shivering in the simple black costume, while she waited for
Rudolf to ready the tank.

"It's lightless and soundproof," he
explained, opening the tank. "That's saltwater inside, body temperature.
Now, I want you to feel completely safe in there, Keira. Detective Abbott and I
will be here at all times, monitoring your vitals. Nothing bad can happen to
you.
Nothing dangerous.
It's important to remember
that if you do have an OBE. Wherever you go during the OBE, you are not
physically there. Nothing can touch you. Understand?"

She nodded, a little calmed by his no-nonsense
approach. She glanced at Dom over her shoulder. He smiled,
then
kissed her cheek quickly.

"You'll be fine."

Warmed by his kiss, she stepped into the tank,
sloshing water up her legs. Rudolf gave her one last smile before closing the
lid on her.

The darkness was absolute, but not as frightening as
she'd expected. The gentle lap of water over her limbs was soothing, the slight
tang of salt reminding her of childhood holidays down in Devon. She closed her
eyes, feeling weightless and oddly liberated. Her mind drifted as she bobbed up
and down in the water to Dylan, waiting at home for her to call, to Dom,
standing just outside the tank. She stripped Dylan away, leaving just Dom with
his strong, gentle hands and that inviting brush of stubble on his jaw.

She imagined herself touching him, kissing him –
nothing chaste or friendly, but a real cross-the-line kiss. They were both
single now. It could happen. Should it happen?

She wasn't sure, so she shoved the idea aside,
wondering if there was something she should be doing to try to bring on the
OBE. When it happened in her dreams, there was no control, no sense of a
beginning. She'd read a little on OBEs back when they first started, read the
advice on inducing them by meditation and visualization. She hadn't tried any
of the techniques – she hadn't wanted to have OBEs, she'd wanted to prevent
them.

But now she figured, why not? She wanted to help Dom
if she could, despite the fear still worming in her heart. So she visualized a
rope winding around her body, pulled taut and upwards, something she could
climb up, out of her body. She imagined herself climbing the rope, replayed it
over and over and over until gradually she felt a tugging sensation, something
pulling at her... Not at her physical self, she was sure of that, but pulling
at
her
, her essence, her...spirit?

She resisted the pull instinctively at first,
then
forced herself to relax and let herself be lifted. For
a second there was a curious sense of wrongness as she glanced back and saw
herself floating in the tank. A thin, glowing white rope coiled around her
ankle, anchoring her to her physical body. For a second she panicked and wanted
to dart back into herself, but she remembered Dom's belief in her and his
fierce determination to catch the Slasher, so she let go of the panic.

She floated up, out of the tank, seeing Dom and Simon
watching the monitors.
Out of the room, up into the air.
Anxious, she checked and found the rope still wrapped around her ankle.

Satisfied she could get back if she needed to, she let
the pull carry her, lead her wherever it would. Simon's
words,
that
she was safe, that nothing could touch her, buoyed her, made her
bold. As long as she could get back to her body, she didn't need to fear
anything that happened.

She was pulled through London's busy streets,
marveling at the bustle going on all around her. Nobody glanced at her, nobody
so much as twitched as she drifted by. There was a heady sense of power to it,
and Keira grew more and more confident with every passing second.

When she floated through the walls of a house in
Shoreditch, it took her a few seconds to realize she'd come to a halt. She
looked around, puzzled. This was a normal house, a little untidy – plates
unwashed in the sink, dust on the picture frames – but normal.
Unremarkable.
She couldn't imagine why she'd come here.

Or had she been
brought
here? Could it be the
next victim's house?
Or...
his
house?

She drifted through the kitchen, into the living room,
and up the stairs. The sound of running water indicated someone was in the
shower and she felt a prick of concern. She didn't want to spy on anyone, but
how was she supposed to learn anything useful otherwise?

Upstairs was as normal as down.
One
bedroom, bed unmade, dirty socks all over the floor.
A man's room, she
guessed, seeing no women’s clothes anywhere. The bathroom was
en
suite, and the noise of the water kept her out of there
for the moment. There was a second room, the door locked. Curiosity tugged
Keira through the door. It was a weird sensation, floating through solid walls
like they didn't exist. She felt like a ghost, and the anxiety that she might
not be able to get back into her body hit her again. What happened if she
couldn't?
If she was stuck here in limbo?

She pictured Dom's confident smile and pushed the
thought aside.

The locked room was a study. At first glance there was
nothing unusual in here either, and she was about to leave when she noticed the
bookshelf over the desk. It was loaded down with books on true crime, serial
killers, cult killings, and human sacrifice. She shivered, an inexplicable
chill running through her. It didn't have to mean anything, she reasoned. There
was no law against owning books like this.

But she'd been brought here, hadn't she?

Or had she? She didn't know how OBEs worked, not
really. Who was to say she'd been "brought here," as opposed to,
hell, being dragged by a wind current?

The door clicked behind her. She spun round, heart
hammering. A man walked into the study, dressed in tattered jeans and nothing
else. He was toweling off his shaggy blond hair, a scowl on his face. Something
about him set her on edge immediately. His eyes were bright blue, sharp and
intense as he scanned the room. Had he heard something? Sensed something? Keira
trembled, chanting Simon's words over and over in her head as the man stared
around the room.
Nothing bad can happen. Nothing can touch you.

The man padded into the room, running his fingers over
the desk and the lamp, expression thoughtful. He tilted his head to one side as
if listening, and then stared directly at Keira.

There was no doubting it, no mistaking it at all. He
stared right at her. Keira froze, staring back, absolutely certain he could see
her, never mind that he wasn't supposed to. Her breath came in quick, ragged
gasps, and Rudolf's reassuring words weren't so reassuring anymore. He could
see her.

Could he touch her?

The man stalked towards her, face flushing red, an
ugly, angry cast falling over his strong features. Keira stepped back
instinctively, her non-corporeal body moving through the desk. She watched him
track the movement, icy fear stealing through her. This wasn't possible, this
wasn't supposed to happen. The panic she'd felt earlier came back full force.
She could only think of one reason this might be happening. It was insane, but
it resonated in her, as true as
her own
name.

The realization broke something in her. The man lunged
for her with a snarl and Keira screamed as blinding white light enveloped her.