Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (101 page)

She glanced up at her son, her bottom
lip starting to curl downward. "When I woke up, I called him,
except there was no answer. So, I knocked on his door." She shifted
uneasily. "He didn't answer so I used my key and that...that's when
I found him."

Brandt raised his brow at the mention
of his mother having keys to the colonel's apartment – but that was
the least of his worries now. "So you feel guilty for falling
asleep and leaving him?" he deduced.

"If I'd stayed with him, he wouldn't
have been left to lie there unconscious for so long."

Brandt frowned. "How long is so
long?" He'd received the impression that the injury was
recent.

"Probably half an hour."

"Half an hour is nothing to feel
guilty about." Brandt reached over and brushed his fingers over her
cheek. "He probably fell just before you arrived."

Her eyes begged him to be right. She
suddenly blurted out, "The thing is, I locked the door when I left,
and it wasn't locked when I returned."

Brandt shook his head. "Didn't you
say you used your key to get in?"

"Yes I did, only I didn't need to
because it wasn't locked."

"So why did you use your
key?"

"I took it out, expecting to use it,
only I didn't need to," she said, exasperation adding life to her
eyes and fire to her voice. "Pay attention, dear."

Right. At least she was returning to
normal. Speaking of not normal, he had to call Sam.
Surreptitiously, he checked his watch. The call would have to
wait.

Ignoring the key for the moment, he
asked his mother, "Why are you concerned about whether the door was
locked or not?"

"I don't think he fell."

Brandt sat up straighter. "What? What
do you think happened?" He studied her face. She didn't appear to
be in shock. "You think he was attacked?"

Maisy nodded.

"Why would anyone do
that?"

"He said he'd remembered the
significance of the ring and wanted to think on it a bit, try to
figure the pieces out first. Then I fell asleep and now he's
injured."

"Even if he did remember, it's
unlikely someone would have attacked him over it."

Maisy leaned toward him. "They would
if they were involved."

"True. I doubt anyone here is
involved. They aren't strong enough for one thing," he said
grinning.

She sniffed, such a haughty sound
that Brandt had to laugh.

"Not everyone is ancient you know. We
all have families that come to visit, and several members of the
staff are certainly young enough to have committed
murder."

Brandt had to concede her point.
Still...it was unlikely. "But how would anyone know what the
Colonel was trying to remember?"

Maisy's cheeks flushed pink then
paled to pure white. She didn't say anything. Curious, Brandt
pushed. "Mom, how would anyone know?"

She straightened her legs out in
front and studied her bright red toenails. "I may have had
something to do with that."

Brandt pinched the bridge of his nose
with his fingers and closed his eyes. "You didn't set up a betting
pool on it, did you?" He opened one eye to look at her
carefully.

She reddened again. Guilt in pink.
Damn.

"So in other words, everyone in the
building knew and probably a dozen more besides. All because you
wouldn't listen to me."

She opened her mouth as if to
protest, then slowly closed it again. She nodded, her eyes full of
remorse. "I didn't think it would be dangerous." She shrugged her
shoulders in a dainty movement. "We just like to have fun here. You
know that. So, we were all taking bets as to when the colonel would
remember. There were some people who even bet that he'd never
remember, given his age and all that." She sniffed in disgust at
that suggestion. "He did remember though, and we were all cheering
the winner of the pool. Then someone struck him down before he
could tell us what he'd remembered. He said he was going to wait
until he could talk to you first."

Brandt
sat back. It was too stupid not to be true. Now he had to wait
until the colonel awoke. Which, given his advanced years, could be
the case
if
he woke
up.

"Right." Brandt stood up. "Let's go
to the hospital and see how he's doing."

It was a quiet trip with both of them
deep in thought. Once there, Maisy insisted on waiting in a chair
beside the colonel in the Emergency room. He'd been stabilized, but
there was no prognosis yet. Two hours later, there was no change.
Still the colonel hadn’t woken.

A tall stooped man in green scrubs
approached and offered his hand. "Detective Brandt."

"Hello, Doctor Sebastian. How are
you?" Brandt watched the multiple frown lines smooth out into a
real smile.

"I'm fine. Are you here
officially?"

Brandt nodded toward his mother
sitting, head bowed at the colonel's side. "We're here for a
friend."

"Colonel Bates?"

"Yes, that's right. How is
he?"

The doctor glanced at the apparently
sleeping patient. "We're keeping him sedated at this time. He has a
skull fracture. We'll keep a close watch on the bleeding and the
swelling. If he makes it through the night, he should pull through.
Given his age and health, well... It's hard to know how he's going
to do. There's very little chance that he'll wake up before
morning." The silent 'if at all' was very clear. The doctor nodded
at him and left the room.

Brandt glanced over at Maisy who
appeared to be lost in her own thoughts. "Did you hear that,
Mom?"

She didn't answer.

Brandt walked over to crouch in front
of her. "Mom, do you want to stay here for a while?

Maisy lifted her pain-filled gaze to
stare directly at him. She couldn't speak.

Brandt's heart ached for her. "I'm
sorry, Mom. But he's in good hands here. Why don't I leave you here
for a bit and I'll come by in a couple of hours?"

She shifted her head in a miniscule
imitation of a nod. "Find out who did this," she said, her voice
thin and reedy.

Brandt frowned. She didn't sound very
good. "Mom, I'll look into it, but that doesn't mean there is a
'who' to find."

Her gaze turned fierce. "This was no
accident. Someone hit this dear old man over the head. Find him,"
she demanded. Then her shoulders sagged as she stared at her
friend. "Find him, Brandt."

Brandt stilled. His thoughts turning
to the phone call he'd cut short. Maisy's words a mirror of
Sam's.

Maisy walked over to the colonel,
taking hold of his hand. "Leave. I'll be fine."

Brandt couldn't help but feel
dismissed.

2:15 pm

Sam opened her eyes, surprised to
find herself sitting inside her truck, still parked outside the
grocery store. Almost an hour had passed. She felt better
physically. Mentally, there was a sense of uneasiness that wouldn't
listen to reason.

She wanted to be home where she felt
safe. She started the truck, remembering that Brandt hadn't called
her again. He'd probably been called out on yet another
emergency.

Or she'd missed him? There were no
messages on her phone. Disappointed, she sat for a few moments to
get her bearing. Brandt had somehow taken up residence in her life,
in her heart even. She shook her head, surprised as the speed her
feelings had developed. Her hormones had gone into overdrive too.
From dormant to wanting to jump his bones. She laughed lightly. As
if. Just because she might be willing to go a little further didn't
mean he was that interested.

She frowned. Odd to think that she
could only know someone for such a short time and already be at
this point. She didn't do one night stands. So what was different
this time?

Trust.

As she mulled it over, she realized
she trusted Brandt. Probably for the first time, she could honestly
say she trusted a man. Love, now that was a different thing
altogether. That she was interested was obvious. That she might go
out of her comfort zone and have an affair – was also a
possibility. But the permanent ever after thing, she didn't think
would ever happen. It would take a very special man to accept her
gifts... Then there was the teensy weensy problem of living with
them.

Not every man would want to wake up
to find her in the middle of a vision.

A family walked beside her in the
parking lot, laughing noisily, their laughter shaking her out of
her reverie.

Time to go home. Not sure of her
reaction time, she drove slowly and carefully down the highway. Her
mind twirled around the various tidbits, trying to find a solution.
Surely, the killer had better targets than an old man.

The traffic light turned yellow. She
slowed before coming to a complete stop at the red
light.

A black truck pulled up beside
her.

Sam glanced at it, then away, before
zipping back again. Her heart jumped. She glanced around at the
truck. She couldn't see the driver as the truck was on the left of
her and much higher up. Her gut clenched at the sight. It was
identical to the truck from a couple of days ago...

The opposite traffic moved sluggishly
through the intersection. Sam stole another glance up at the truck.
A man stared at her.

"Shit."
She glanced away and back again – just to make sure. And swore
again. That face! Surely it couldn't be? Was it
really
him
? That
one person she'd hoped to never see again.

Her gut clenched. Her fingers flexed
on the steering wheel. Trapped in traffic, panic clutched at her
insides. Always, she felt so damned trapped. The cars ahead lurched
forward. She punched the gas, made a quick right at the corner,
whipping into a break in the traffic. She glanced in her rear-view
mirror and couldn't see the truck. Oh God. Get a grip,
Sam.

She checked to see if she were being
followed. Theoretically, he shouldn't have been able to as the car
behind her had moved up and taken her spot. Not wanting to take a
chance, she turned several more corners and fed into the main road,
where she could only hope she was miles behind the truck
now.

Prying her right hand off the
steering wheel, she wiped

it on her jeans.

The trip couldn't end fast
enough.

She hit a bad pothole, reminding her
to pay attention. Still nervous, Sam found herself searching the
surrounding countryside, afraid to find a boogeyman hiding in the
trees. She still couldn't determine if it had been him. She'd
thought so at the time, but now...?

Brandt hadn't called her back yet.
She wanted to call again, yet hated to. He'd bolted so fast out of
the house this morning, she wondered if he'd ever come back. It had
been a lot for him to deal with last night.

But, she'd love the
comfort of hearing his voice right now.

***

3:45 pm

Dillon straightened his charcoal tie
to a perfect line. He liked to stay professional at all times, even
mid-afternoon. One never knew when opportunity might
knock.

He had plans, and he'd be damned if
he'd let anyone get in the way. That included Brandt. Earlier, he'd
seen Brandt bolt from the office. Very curious. Dillon wanted badly
to know what was up, and whether it involved the little psychic
chick.

After lunch, Dillon walked naturally
into Brandt's office – Brandt's empty office. He grinned then wiped
off the smile just in case anyone saw him and wondered. Better not
to stir suspicions. Not that anyone would see him. Brandt's office
was at the end of a long line of offices. Besides, the station was
dead. Only a couple guys manned the phones and there would be the
standard group hanging around the coffee machine, only Dillon
wasn't planning on talking to them yet.

Even if someone saw him, he had a
good excuse. He was looking for a specific file. It should be in
Brandt's office. If he happened to find something at the same time,
something that furthered Dillon's own career that would be good. If
it helped him to put a finger on what made Brandt tick – even
better. He didn't know if Brandt was going to be a problem or not,
and he'd much rather be prepared just in case.

Quickly, he rounded the
desk. The computer was still on. Perfect. He smirked and rubbed his
hands in anticipation. Then he got to work.

***

4:15 pm

Brandt left Maisy visiting with the
colonel. He quickly punched in Sam's number on his cell
phone.

"Sam, let's go over that vision
again."

It only took a couple of minutes,
just enough for him to clear his head, connect the dots between the
colonel's attack and Sam's vision. If he trusted Sam's abilities,
then it followed that the colonel had been the old man she saw
attacked. The only reasonable explanation for such an attack was if
someone needed to silence the colonel – particularly when the
attack was undertaken in complete daylight in a home full of
people.