Chapter 11
Saturday Morning …
Queenie awoke the next morning for the first time feeling a sense of renewal. Some new beginning was occurring. She wasn’t sure what it was, but she’d take it. She would miss the people at the amusement park, but she was on a whole new trajectory.
The fact that she was back to being friendly with Kirk was a new adventure as well. She knew it wouldn’t go anywhere, and that was fine. She wasn’t ready for anything else either.
But to consider they could be friends, well, that put a smile on her face. She hopped out of bed, got a shower and walked over to her laptop. She had sent an email last night before going to bed to Nick, the webmaster who had run Carlos’s website, asking him for a price and/or suggestions. She could only hope he’d answered and that his price was doable.
While her laptop booted up, she put on coffee. She stepped outside on the balcony, but the sky looked dismally gray. She wouldn’t let it get her down though.
With coffee dripping, she checked her email to find that Nick had gotten back to her. She read his reply and crowed with delight. He would give her a deal: set her up a simple website, but one that would allow her to hook up for payments online with a secure email delivery system for sending her readings. He also gave her suggestions on how to do readings over Skype and similar programs, like Voom. She was enthralled at the idea.
He could have her up and running in three days. She’d have to write up some material to put on the website and needed to put up a pricing scale. He suggested starting at fifty for a reading. She sat back in awe.
“I’ve been doing readings for five bucks. Would people pay fifty?” she wondered, but it was hard to imagine such a thing. At that new rate, she wouldn’t need very many in a day to more than cover her business and living expenses. To start off with, one a day would be absolutely huge for her. At least this way, it was under her control. She could do however many readings she deemed possible and would push off the others for another day. She would book them over the next few days, or, if they felt wrong, not do them at all.
She responded with a big thank-you and a bunch of questions as to what materials he’d need and whether she should have recommendations or references.
As she waited for his response, hoping he would respond immediately, she got up and poured herself a cup of coffee. She checked her fridge, but a whole lot wasn’t there. She found some bread. She popped it in the toaster, and, while she waited for it, she sat back down again. Thankfully Nick had already answered her.
He suggested references, preferably if she had some from reputable people with real names, not names like Jimbo.
She laughed out loud at that. “I can probably get some,” she said thoughtfully. She’d worked for a lot of detectives over the years. Then she read the rest of his email out loud.
“You should also have a set of prices for difficult clients, for clients who want readings in a rush, for people who want over and above a simple reading, and your readings should have a certain time frame. No more than ten minutes, or make it, say, fifty dollars for one question, for example, and possibly a hundred for three.”
He’d given her a lot to think about. She told him to go ahead and get started. She’d send him a deposit, and she’d start working on what to put on her website. He responded by saying he’d send her some mockups later in the day. Did she want a particular color scheme?
She thought about that. The typical purples and lavenders were such psychic colors that she knew she needed to include those as people would expect them. Still, it should be colors that made her smile. She sent him some suggestions, then researched other psychics’ websites.
Most were tacky and perpetrated the charlatan feel. That wasn’t what she wanted. She sent him a couple links with a note saying she didn’t want hers to look like this. The emails went back and forth as she had toast and coffee. He sent her a couple websites he thought would be nicer, and she fell in love with one. They were akin to some of the horoscope websites, and there was a vast difference between those. But this one was something simple, and he promised it was easy to change themes and colors down the road and how the text could always be changed. So she left it to him.
And then she had to sit down and do some initial accounting. She pulled out all the cash she’d collected the previous day and set up a budget. When she took off the internet fees, hosting fees and shopping cart fees, she then looked at how many days she could last with the money she had, like how much she’d need for food and was there a cheaper way to keep herself for the next month? But, as she sat back and took a closer look, she realized she wasn’t in bad shape.
The money Kirk had rescued for her yesterday was the most she’d had in a long time. She had always been frugal, but now she had enough to relax for at least sixty days plus the rest of this current month, which made it close to eight weeks without having to worry about money coming in daily.
She’d have put aside more from her years of hard work, but she’d spent so much on private detectives to make sure her son truly was dead—until the money ran out. Still, the process had served its purpose. She’d finally accepted that her son was dead, and that had allowed her to move forward.
She had another month’s buffer that she’d scrimped and saved for as her warning before panicking about money. So, with more than a three-month cushion between her and destitution, she could sit back and feel a whole lot better about her decision to go out on her own.
She smiled, wondering how else she could use her skills to draw attention to what she could do for people. She thought about the local newspaper, wondering if they had done a lot of coverage on the amusement park itself. She went to the newspaper’s website, noting a couple of the articles Carlos had tagged. She contacted one of the reporters.
Queenie explained how she was going independent and asked about getting an article regarding her new website.
The reporter laughed and said, “Sure, but then I’d be putting my name to something that is probably a crooked deal from the beginning.”
“It’s only a crooked deal if your wife’s new business is a crooked deal,” she said coolly. “Not too many people are out there doing piano-tuning.”
There was a shocked silence on the other end of the phone. “How did you know about my wife’s piano-tuning?” he blasted at her.
“The same way I know you’re wearing one red sock and one blue sock,” she said drily. “I’m the real deal.”
A heavy sigh could be heard on the other end as he must be considering her words. “Shit. Are they really those colors?”
“You’re color-blind, aren’t you?”
He groaned. “I so am.”
She chuckled. “That’s all right for your business. I don’t think it matters.”
“Nope, it doesn’t. Okay, I’m convinced, so I’ll write an article. I can’t do it this weekend though. How about Tuesday next week?”
“Sure. Will we just talk over the phone?”
“Why don’t we meet at a coffee shop?” he suggested. “I’ll write it and submit it to my editor. I can’t guarantee they’ll run it, but there’s no real reason to consider they won’t.”
“Good enough,” she said. “Thanks.” She ended the call with a warm fuzzy feeling inside. She’d gotten her first promotional event set up. She sent a text to Nick. I hope the website will be live by Tuesday. I’m meeting a reporter to do an article on my services now that I’ve left the amusement park.
It will. Now I have a deadline, Nick replied.
She laughed, closed her laptop and walked out onto the balcony. She was restless, keyed up with energy but no outlet. She wasn’t sure what the hell to do right now. It was only ten o’clock in the morning, and she’d already set so much in motion. She needed to take the money to the bank, and she probably should do a bit of shopping.
With that in mind, she grabbed a notepad, a second cup of coffee, sat out on the small balcony and considered her budget for food for the next couple weeks and wrote down a tentative menu. If she followed the budget and her menu planning, it would help her save money. She listed a few of her favorites, and, by the time she was down to next Wednesday’s meal, her phone rang. She glanced at it and saw it was Kirk. “Good morning,” she said gaily.
Silence ensued.
“What’s the matter? Am I not allowed to be happy?”
“If I knew quitting your job would make you this happy, I would have suggested it a long time ago.”
“But you didn’t know what I was doing a long time ago,” she said, her voice calmer, quieter. “And I wouldn’t have listened to your advice anyway.”
“Now that is very true,” he snapped. “Besides, I did know what you were doing. I was worried about you, so I kept an eye out to make sure you were okay—at least for a little while.”
“Do you have a reason for calling?” Some of her good mood was falling away.
“I do. They brought up the woman’s body. Her name is Bonnie Jenkins. Her daughter contacted me a few days ago about her mother. I’ve talked to the sheriff about the knot. He sent me some pictures.”
“Great.” She shook her head as reality came smashing down. “Are you sending me the photos?”
“I can. Or can you tell me what it looks like?”
“If this is another test, I wouldn’t bother,” she said, “because I’m deliberately not looking. I don’t want this to be the same guy, remember?”
“I don’t think it can be the same guy because I checked, and he’s still in prison.”
Relief swept through her. “Oh, my God. I’m so grateful for that bit of information.”
“Why? It just means you’re right. It’s a copycat.”
“Sure, and true the devil you know is better than the one you don’t. But that was one hell of a nasty-ass devil.”
“It was, but that doesn’t mean his copycat is any nicer. What kind of guy wants to kill in the same method somebody else did?”
“I don’t know. Someone lacking self-confidence? Have you done a search yet to see if any other bodies with that handkerchief trademark pop up?”
“No. I just got off the phone with the sheriff. I’ll start on the databases in the next hour or so.”
“Good,” she said, her voice drifting away as images of all the other murdered women’s cases she’d been involved in came to her mind. “What color was it?”
“Blue.”
“Already one difference.”
“I know. But maybe he couldn’t get red ones.”
“No, I think it’s more about making it his mark. Making it his kill.”
There was a thoughtful silence on the other end. “You’re probably right,” he said finally. “You usually are.”
“Not often enough to count,” she said sadly. “That woman still died.”
“That’s not your fault. I tried to tell you that before, but you just weren’t hearing me.”
“I was connected to them. I was so plugged into that case. I swear she was alive and thought we’d keep her that way. But the Handkerchief Killer got ahead of me somehow.”
“We’ve been over this before,” he said gently. “You have to let it go.”
“I thought I had,” she said, feeling her throat clog up with tears. “I thought I had.”
“Your involvement with the police was well publicized in the press at the time.”
“I remember,” she said, anger evident in her voice. “It’s one of the reasons I was so off my game. Every time I turned around, a microphone was shoved in my face. People were touching me all the time, and you know what my rule was about not being touched.”
“And yet you don’t seem to be too bothered by it now,” he said curiously.
“Maybe,” she said quietly. “It depends. I’ve learned to put in a few defense mechanisms. At least when somebody casually touches me on my shoulder now, I don’t freak out and see who he slept with the night before or what he might have done on a weekend ten years ago.”
“Still no more control over the visions? During these last years?”
“Yes, some, but I need more control yet.”
“Sorry? What do you mean?”
To clarify, she said, “I didn’t have any visions for a long time. I deliberately shut down that part of my life. I was house-cleaning and waitressing, doing odd jobs, anything I could, running errands, mowing lawns, to keep Reese and me safe. But, after I lost Reese, I went berserk for a while. In the hospital, when I was under, I was caught up in what seemed like never-ending unsolvable cases. The same women were being killed, the same kids tortured. As if not seeing them enough while working them, I was forced to live them over and over again. When I woke up, I didn’t have any abilities. It seemed like I had burnt out for a while. When I asked the doctor about it afterward, he said it was just the medication.”
“And so that coma burned you out?” he asked.
“Or the grief. I don’t know about burned out but maybe overwhelmed. At the time I didn’t care.” She reached up and rubbed her temple. There were so many sad memories from that time … “When I recovered enough to access my abilities, all I wanted was to contact my son. I wasn’t a medium, but I’d have done anything to communicate with him. It’s bad enough he died while I wasn’t conscious, but to wake up and know his little body had already been cremated and buried without me seeing him …” She stared at the railing in front of her, wordless for a long moment. Skipping part of the story, she added, “Then I realized that, by not using my abilities, I’d been out of practice. And I needed to use them to keep them. So I worked at the amusement park. Unfortunately it seemed like my abilities came back with a vengeance. And some things I saw I’d have preferred not to know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a cone over a woman walking across a street.”
“That means death. That would be a hard way to jump back into the reality of that world.”
“It so was,” she said. “I came home and screamed and railed at life, saying, if that’s what I’m supposed to see, I didn’t want anything to do with it.”
“Did it help?”
“It made me feel better, but it didn’t help with the visions. If anything, that break had the visions coming faster, clearer and more detailed.”
“Oh.”
She could hear his interest, almost a how can I use this type of thing interest. She shook her head. “And, no, it’s not something you can use.”
“So you read minds now too?” he asked, but there was only mild astonishment, not any anger that she might have read his mind.
“No. But I get intuitive feelings.”
“Have you talked to Stefan again?”
“Several times but not recently,” she said. “I haven’t exactly had time. Not with the amusement park last night, and you and your damn floating woman.”
“Well, you might want to remember that floating woman,” he said. “The fact that we found her was huge. But, of course, it just brings up a ton more questions.”
“I know, but I don’t have any more answers.” She thought about hanging up on him.
He called out, “Wait.”
She waited, wondering if he wasn’t a bit psychic himself.
“Did you have breakfast?”
“I just finished toast, and I’m having my second cup of coffee now. Why?”
“I’d like to take you out for lunch,” he said quietly. “Just for old time’s sake.”
She stared blindly across the parking lot. She hadn’t expected this. She’d been delighted to have him back as a friend again, particularly as it seemed right now she didn’t have anybody in her personal world, but she knew how dangerous it was to depend on him. “Where?” she asked cautiously.
“How about Merinos?”
One of her favorite restaurants. Her breath caught in the back of her throat as memories hit her. Memories of the two of them sitting down to candlelight dinners, being so into each other, getting their eat-in dinners to-go before rushing home to make love, often in the living room, often on the stairs. Every once in a while they made it to their bed.
“They’ve changed their lunch menu,” he said in a persuasive tone. “I think you’d like it.”
“I’m sure I would,” she said, faintly giving her head a hard shake. “What time?”
“Twelve,” he said promptly. “I’ll pick you up.” And then he hung up.
She laid her phone down slowly. “Is this a mistake?” she asked no one in particular. “Why does he want to go out to lunch with me?”
Of course, after years of living the way she had, she’d also learned to be a whole lot less than trusting. She didn’t want to read his mind, and she certainly had no intention of accessing any visions about him. She didn’t want to see him with other women. … He’d been free; she’d been free too but not ready. Of course he’d had other relationships. No way he hadn’t. He was a very sexual animal. Then she’d been one too. But, after her son’s birth, she focused only on Reese. He’d been her miracle, pulling her back from the brink. She did everything for him and really had no time for a relationship. In the last few years at the amusement park, there had been a few gestures in that direction, but she’d shut them down. The men had been otherwise protective, as if realizing she needed that the most.
But where did that leave her now?
Her mind shifted to the men around her. They all worked at the amusement park. Most lived on the grounds as well. And what would happen to them now? She thought about it for a long moment and then picked up her phone, calling Betty.
Betty answered, calling out, “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Queenie laughed. “Hey, we also have to thank the cop I brought with me. At least everyone should have gotten their money back by now.”
“Yeah, we did, and Carlos is in jail. For fraud and God only knows how many other crimes.”
“But what about the amusement park?” Queenie asked anxiously. “I was afraid it would shut down, and you guys would have no place to go.”
“We have a meeting tomorrow afternoon. We’ll discuss what our options are,” Betty said. “Do you want to come?”
“No, I think my time there is done,” Queenie said sadly. “I’m getting a new website, and I’ll start an online business with my psychic readings.”
“Oh, my goodness. That’s perfect. Then you have better control over who you deal with. And, with your abilities, you should be able to filter out most of the nasties in the world.”
Queenie chuckled. “That’s what I’m hoping.”
“If you want to come, it’ll be at two o’clock,” Betty said. “No commitment, just come and see us. Maybe you’ll have some ideas about what we should do.”
“We’ll see,” Queenie said. She hung up and went back to her laptop to check her emails. Found a couple from Nick. It took him a little longer to answer them than she’d thought it would. By the time she was done, she checked her watch. She only had an hour until Kirk arrived.
Just as she considered cleaning house or doing something else, Stefan popped into her head. Or you could tell me the truth.
She winced, walked back outside to the balcony and sat heavily in her chair. Tell you the truth about what?
For now, the case that destroyed you.
Slowly she told him about the four murdered women. And how she’d been so certain the last one was still alive that she’d motivated all the local policemen to look in one specific direction because she was absolutely positive the woman was being held there. The Handkerchief Killer wasn’t going to kill her before they got there. But I was wrong, she whispered. Finding no one, the cops had returned, and they were more than pissed. Only a few hours later the woman was delivered to their station’s doorstep—dead, her throat cut, her body still warm. They turned on me. Still, even under those conditions at that time, she’d given them enough information to go after the killer, and they had caught him. But they couldn’t get over their rage that they hadn’t been able to save the woman.
And you think that’s your fault? Stefan asked thoughtfully.
Yes. I was so sure of what I’d seen, she said tearfully. No way I wouldn’t do everything I could to save her.
You’re not alone in making a mistake. Our abilities are not infallible. I wish they were. But we can only give our best guess at the time.
I know. I knew that then too, she said. I have no excuse. But I was exhausted. I’d been running on this case and several others for days. I wasn’t sleeping. I was hungry, not eating. It was the accumulation of months and months of working for them over and over again as I tried to do my best for all these victims. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t see clearly on this one. Then, when I got a flash of insight, I figured that’s what had happened. Even now I don’t know.
Don’t know if it was the wrong vision? Don’t know if you just interpreted it wrong?
All of the above, she said sadly. And it’s too late to do anything about it. But it’s one of those cases I’ll never forget. It was also a major turning point in my life. I had a full-on breakdown right after that, and my life unraveled.
It was not your fault. It was the killer’s fault and the killer only.
She gave a broken laugh. That’s easy to say, but it’s not so easy to deal with every day.
True enough.
There was silence in her mind, but she knew he was still there, thinking. Is that what you wanted to know?
That will do for now. You’re hiding other things, but I’m not sensing barriers to them.
What do you mean by barriers?
This Handkerchief Killer case. You have it all wrapped up in your mind, locked up under a very tight defense system. So I wasn’t sure if it was something that, when you opened it, would explode and send you off the deep end.
Meaning, like commit suicide or go off my rocker and kill someone?
I’ve seen that much more often than you’d think, he said. Psychics are notoriously unstable. I had to know what was behind it.
And the other areas?
You have some interesting defense systems in place now. Which is why I’m curious about this other psychic who appears to see into your world and can get past your defenses.
The thing is, I’ve learned to take some preventative measures, you know? Like the white light in the cleansing of my aura and all that stuff.
All that stuff, he said with amusement, is very important. The fact that you have such an attitude means you don’t really understand how important it is.
I was looking for something much more secure, something much more powerful, she said, searching for the right words but coming up blank. I guess I was looking for something foolproof.
And, in our business, there is no such thing. Sometimes, when you are under attack, the best thing you can do is join it, he explained. Then you can follow it back to the source and get a perspective of who it is and what is involved.
She listened in fascination. It never even occurred to me to do that with David.
I know, and that’s an interesting thing. It’s almost as if you accepted his presence. As if maybe he’s been here either for a long time and you haven’t noticed, or, for some reason, you trust him.
That makes no sense, she said, jumping to her feet, she went back inside and started pacing the living room. Why would I have trusted him?
It’s hard to say. His voice was once again pensive. But generally we trust religious leaders and medical professionals and law enforcement and other such uniformed service people. Along with family and close friends. By that I mean, partners and the occasional best friend.
She froze, staring out the front window. But her mind didn’t see the physical things. She was thinking of all the cops she’d had dealings with. I’ve dealt with a lot of law enforcement, she said. Many of them didn’t like me. But I can’t imagine any of them murdering this woman.
Can you access that vision and see if his energy is there?
She frowned and looked around. But, of course, Stefan wasn’t here. He was in her head. Her still-small living room stared back at her. What do you mean?
If you sit quietly and think about the vision that was strong enough for you to contact Kirk in the first place, go a layer deeper and see if you can access energy surrounding that vision.
But it would be my energy, she said in confusion. Because it’s my vision.
He chuckled. Every time we do anything with another person, tidbits of our energy are left behind.
Yes, I know that. That’s also sometimes why I get confused readings because I’m reading more than one person’s energy in the same space.
Exactly, Stefan said triumphantly. And that could very well have been what happened when you saw that last woman in your last case.
No, that makes no sense, she said. And you’re talking about different visions here. I can’t remember those visions now. But I do remember the lady in the lake.
Okay, why is it so strong?
Because I didn’t like the man who asked me the question in the amusement park.
And why didn’t you like him?
He was loud, bossy and arrogant, she snapped. Three qualities I can’t stand in a man.
Stefan chuckled. Good reasons. But, when you saw that vision, how did it appear to you?
She thought about it and said, All my visions show up in this window in a cloud.
What color is the cloud?
White.
Was this cloud white?
She frowned as she thought about it. No, it wasn’t. She shook her head. No, it must have been. I think I only ever see white.
But you don’t really know, do you?
She tossed her hands up in frustration and plunged herself down on the couch. You’re making me doubt myself.
The next time you get a vision, I want you to look at it in detail. Not just feeling that emotion but I want you to look at the vision. I want you to frame it so you can see where and how it’s presented.
I don’t generally get that much time, she said slowly. The visions come. I get the answers to the questions. Simple.
You need to draw it out, so you have a little longer to look. Do the visions disappear right away?
She thought about it, then shrugged. I honestly don’t know.
Well then, you need to practice, he said. I have to leave. I want you to practice on that vision, see if you can pick up the energy of the killer left behind.
But she was in the water, she protested. How can I possibly see that kind of thing? And now that she’s been found, I might not see the vision again.
You might, and you might not. Try, because you’re not talking about forensic evidence here, he said quietly. You’re looking for psychic energy. And with that he disappeared.
She sat for a long moment, feeling dazed. It had never occurred to her that anybody could track energy backward nor had it occurred to her to look at how her visions were framed. But both were damn good ideas.
She got up, walked to her notepad and wrote down what Stefan had told her.
So what are you going to do with your life now?
The Watcher, … David, … had he heard her talking to Stefan? She wondered if the voice was in her head or in the room. So you are visiting me telepathically, David? she asked, trying to play dumb. Or talking to the room at large?
Is that how you’re hearing me? David asked with interest. You’re the only person I can talk to, you know? It’s really unique. I’m quite fascinated by the whole process. Delight was in his voice, almost glee.
She sat back and nodded. You’re the first person I’ve ever met who could talk to me this way too.
But you don’t talk to me, per se, he said. You respond to me, but you don’t reach out and call me.
I don’t know how, she exclaimed. Why don’t you teach me?
He chuckled. No, that’s not happening, he said in a patronizing tone. I’ve worked too hard to get here.
She thought about that and then shrugged and moved back to writing on her notepad.
You didn’t answer the question, he said.
That’s because I don’t know what I’m going to do now, she said in a brisk tone, trying to ignore him. The more she succeeded, the more she sensed his frustration. As she wrote, she thought about Stefan and what he’d told her. So she wrote down frustration, patronizing, won’t give information.
You’ll figure it out, I’m sure. Otherwise there’s got to be some other little five buck jobs somewhere.
Her back stiffened at that, but she refused to rise to David’s baiting. I’m sure I’ll get a job somehow.
Sure you will.
What kind of work do you do?
I work in a … Then he stopped. Oh, no you don’t. And he disappeared.
She sat back and blew a loose strand of hair off her face. “So he can be caught out,” she said thoughtfully.
She thought about the energy it had taken for him to talk to her in this way. Stefan had said something about following David backward, but she couldn’t even see the energy to follow, so how did that work?
Shrugging, she returned to writing down her notes, putting down the time and the date, realizing she probably needed to keep track of this guy. She certainly needed to stop him from coming into her world, saying and seeing whatever he wanted. That would be the first thing she’d get Stefan to teach her. And she knew instinctively Stefan would say something about the energy around David, but she hadn’t seen any. Just that weird feeling of being watched.
Frustrated, she got up. She had time to change before Kirk arrived. She rushed to put on prettier clothes, added a touch of makeup for the first time in a long time, then walked out her front door.
Sure enough, Kirk was walking along the sidewalk.
He stopped and smiled at her. “Ready?”
He looked at her carefully. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said, aiming for a bright cheerful smile.
He shook his head. “Don’t even try to lie. You’ve forgotten that never worked on me. Spiders? Kids? The perv watching you?”
“You could let it work on you just once.” She sent him a resentful smile. “And not spiders or little boys. And the Watcher’s name is David.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What? He told you his name?”
“It was weird. I heard someone calling him. I asked him about it. Then today I called him by that name, and he answered. Maybe he’s letting me believe that’s his name. And, no, before you ask, I didn’t get a last name or anything else helpful.”
He chuckled, holding out his arm. “As long as you tell me if you do.”
“Deal. And why are you being so nice to me?” She tucked her hand through the crook of his elbow, and they walked to his car. She was loving the easy camaraderie between them.
“I care,” he said simply. “We have a lot of history, and we’re different people now, but I’m happy we reconnected.”
“Really?”
He stopped and looked at her. “Yeah, really. I missed you.”
Her eyes searched his face. “You ignored our connection for a long time,” she said. “So what’s changed now?”
He looked at her, his lips kicking up in the corners. “You. You’ve changed.”
*
The shock on her face made Kirk chuckle.
She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, but her tone was sharp, as if she wasn’t used to having anyone close or keeping watch.
“Yes, I do.”
And he realized sadly that, as he had tried to move on, she probably hadn’t. She had been well on her way, but, after the loss of her son, her world had come to a screeching halt. In a way he was jealous of her having a son. Someone to love like that—a connection with a blood relative. Of course, her loss was all that more terrible. He’d not found love in any way since. His stellar career had stalled out as he no longer closed his cases at the same rate without her help. Not that he cared about his career aspects as reflected on some spreadsheet. He’d always been quick to give her credit for all the assistance she’d given him, but the police department higher-ups had never wanted the media to know. They also had never paid her. As if giving her a paycheck for her services was an endorsement of her psychic gifts or something.
And that hadn’t helped his relationship with Queenie. It wasn’t that he didn’t have enough money for both of them, but there was never a ton of it, not when they were looking to buy a house, not when she was working full-time and not getting compensated. She was working for the dead or for the lost or for the missing. And she’d be the first one to do it for free. Her heart had been incredibly large.
But over time it had been harder for her. She kept saying something about needing defenses, finding ways to let go of all these people pulling on her, and she’d been working on it but definitely not fast enough. The real killing blow was when all the cops had turned on her when she’d given them the wrong information.
They’d been devastated and had needed a target.
That was when everything fell to pieces in their relationship. He himself hadn’t turned on her, but he had been so frustrated and angry that he was just as guilty because he’d snapped at her several times, asking how she hadn’t seen it. And, of course, the answer was, She hadn’t seen it because she hadn’t seen it. She could only tell him what she saw, and he understood that. But, in the heat of the moment, the frustration and grief had overwhelmed him.
After their breakup, his record of closing cases had dropped down to some pretty small numbers. And he realized that was what the other detectives dealt with on a regular basis. Because Kirk had had an inside line to somebody who had access to so much more information, he’d been stellar in the office. But, of course, the other guys had hated him for it.
He’d never once considered his success rate from their point of view. He had offered her assistance for their cases, but a lot of the guys didn’t want anything to do with her. If she did come up with something, she would talk to them quietly on the lowdown, knowing they didn’t want others to know. Every once in a while they’d get so frustrated they’d ask her. And often she had something that would send them off in a new direction, leading them to close the cases. But there was a lot of distrust. There was a lot of skepticism.
“You’re not saying anything,” she said. “So it was just words you didn’t mean?”
Startled, he looked back at her. “I’m sorry. Did you say something?”
“I asked you, in what way you thought I’d changed,” she repeated slowly, her gaze searching his as if trying to figure out where he’d been.
He didn’t know himself. He’d been caught up in a world still impacting his present day but was long gone.
“You’re calmer,” he said quietly. “Less driven.”
She gave a self-conscious shrug. “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“It’s good. You were down to skin and bone, and so close to the wire. I was afraid you would snap at any time.”
“And of course I did,” she said bitterly. “I have been trying to not end up in the same condition again.” She acted as if she would say something else, and then pinched her lips shut.
“You know you can tell me anything, right?”
She just stared at him.
But her face gave nothing away. He could sense the secrets inside, and that bothered him. He also knew he didn’t have any right to be bothered. When she’d sent him away, they’d gone their own directions. He’d lived his life; she’d lived hers. But he never forgot her, never forgot how she’d given her all to everything she did. Whether that was making love or closing cases, she dove in with both feet. It was all or nothing. She went after killers with the ferocity of a bulldog, and she wouldn’t let them go until she had them cornered and caught.
The thing was, because of her abilities, the criminals never understood how they got caught, how they slipped up, how the cops managed to nail them.
“I haven’t changed at all,” she said quietly. “Not really.” Then she thought about it and shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course I have. I’m not the same person.” She chuckled. “And that’s a good thing. I was a nervous wreck, constantly trying to overachieve, to gain acceptance. After a lot of hardship I finally came to the conclusion acceptance be damned. I am who I am, and, if that’s not enough, then you can get the hell out of my life.”
She said it with such conviction that he realized she really believed it. He wondered what it had taken for her to come to that point. And then her earlier words hit him. “What do you mean, acceptance?”
She waved her hand. “Don’t give me that. You know how hard it was for me to deal with the cops … the distrust, the disbelief, all the time. And yet, at the same time, all of them wanting answers. And I gave them everything. That first chance they got to turn on me, they did. Not only was I trying to find the victims and to help them but I was always looking for approval from them, from you, from myself. And, of course, I could never do enough,” she said sadly. “Because life still kicks you in the ass, and it’s up to you to get back up again and carry on, whether you like it or not.”
He winced. “You’ve had a rough few years.”
“Maybe a few …” she said, her stare bland. “But it’s for the best. You’ve had an easy few years,” she said. “At least that’s how you make it look.”
“At least easier than I really deserved,” he admitted. “But I didn’t rock the boat. I didn’t go for very intense relationships. I did nothing but stay at my job and close the cases I could without your assistance. And I realized just how much you had given us over the years. I only closed one-tenth of the cases without you. And, of course, that’s what the other detectives were closing all the time. But we worked in teams a lot, so we had the numbers cracking down pretty good when you were there working with us.”
He wrapped an arm around her. “Honestly I missed you. I missed us. It’s not been the same since we broke up. I get that we’re different now. That you’ve been to hell and back, but I like what I see. And …” He took a deep breath, staring down into her midnight blue eyes, seeing the surprise, the shock and maybe some heat inside.
“I’d like to get to know you again.”