Authors: Carol Lynne
His friends had slowly begun to pull away as soon as they’d found out about his new talents. Some of the doctors had referred to them as gifts, but to Joe, they were more like curses. He often wondered why his friends had stopped coming around. Were they afraid he’d see something in them they didn’t want known?
With a resigned sigh, Joe started the truck and headed home. He was driving through a run-down residential neighbourhood when the first flash hit him. He slammed his foot on the brake as he braced himself for the inevitable. This was always the way his premonitions happened, first the initial flash then a barrage of visions. Sometimes they were disjointed, sometimes a full scene played out in his mind.
With a tight grip on the steering wheel, he closed his eyes and waited. A white light filled his mind before a picture of a woman appeared through the fog. She was making dinner. She jerked around as a man entered the kitchen. Her hand went to her mouth as she started to back away.
The average-sized man reached around her and picked up the skillet of fried chicken cooking on the stove. Before Joe could fully brace himself, the man swung the skillet, striking the woman in the head, burning her flesh with the hot oil. Joe felt the impact as sure as if he’d been hit. He struggled to breathe, and the images faded as the bleeding woman’s eyes closed.
Finally able to take a deep breath, Joe looked around. No, he couldn’t go through this again. There was no way for him to know who the woman was or where she lived.
The first few times he’d had the visions, Joe had called nine-one-one and had been treated like a lunatic. After the murders had indeed happened, his once fellow police officers had shown up at his house with too many questions.
Although they knew what he’d been through, most of them were still sceptical, and treated him like a suspect. The papers would get wind of the story and once again his life would be splashed all over the front page.
Joe put the truck in gear and drove home with the picture of the woman still imprinted in his mind. At least she was cooking dinner. That gave him a couple of hours to think things through.
Chapter Two
The female victim haunted Joe for the next several hours. Unable to keep the information to himself any longer, he picked up the phone and called his old captain.
“Burdolski,” his captain’s brusque voice answered.
“Hey, Cap, it’s Joe.”
“Uh…hey, Joe, how’ve you been?”
He could tell that Stan was uncomfortable even talking to him over the phone. “I’m the same. Listen, I was driving down Ravenwood earlier and had one of my visions. I think a woman in the area’s in danger.”
Joe heard his old friend cover the receiver before talking to someone else in the room. “Joe? I was just talking to Brian on the other phone. A woman on south Hampton, one block west of Ravenwood, was found dead.
“No, it can’t be the same one,” Joe said shaking his head. “This woman was cooking supper. It’s too early for that yet. It must just be a coincidence. Has the murderer been found?”
“No, but our prime suspect is the ex-husband. We’ve got officers trying to track him down.”
Joe ran his fingers through his hair. No, something wasn’t right. The woman was definitely cooking fried chicken. He knew he wouldn’t rest until he knew for sure his vision had failed him. “Can I try and identify that it’s the woman from my vision? If it’s not, we’re looking at another homicide in a few hours.”
Stan sighed loudly into the receiver. “It’s a bad idea. But you’re right. Ask one of the officers securing the scene to get Brian for you. I’ll give him a call back and tell him to expect you. Remember, you’re there to identify the victim only. Get a pair of gloves from Brian before entering the house.”
“Sure,” Joe said, irritated. “I remember how to handle myself at a crime scene.”
“Sorry, of course you do. Let me know what you find out.”
“Will do.” Joe hung up and was out of the door in a matter of minutes.
* * * *
As he walked towards the front door, Joe studied the small house. There was absolutely nothing remarkable about it. He nodded to the police officer on the scene. The guy must be new because Joe didn’t recognise him. “I need to see Detective Peters. I believe he’s expecting me.”
The young officer nodded and waved him in. Joe thanked the man and walked into the living room. Sticking his hands in his pockets to avoid touching anything, Joe looked around. From the beige walls and utilitarian furniture, Joe would guess the house to be a furnished rental.
“Brian,” he called out.
“In the kitchen. Hang on a sec.”
The kitchen? Joe’s chest tightened. He swallowed the bile he felt rising in his throat. How many women would be killed in their kitchen in this section of town on that particular day?
Brian appeared from around the corner and handed Joe a pair of rubber gloves. “Hey, Joe.”
Joe’s gaze zeroed in on Brian’s dark blue eyes. God, he’d missed the man’s face. “Hi,” he finally returned.
“I’m not sure how much help seeing the body will do you. She’s pretty unrecognisable.”
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Why?” He was afraid he already knew the answer.
“She was hit in the face with a pan of hot grease,” Brian answered.
“She was frying chicken,” Joe said before Brian could say more. “The man surprised her from behind. I have a feeling she knew him.”
“Yes,” Brian said, turning away. “I still don’t understand how you know the things you do, but Lavette Turner was indeed frying chicken.”
“Again, I have to ask, why?” Joe questioned. He knew it didn’t make sense but he needed to know. It was the reason he hadn’t helped her in time.
“She worked nights,” a woman said, stepping into the room. “Lavette’s hours were the opposite of most peoples.”
Joe turned and almost fell to his knees. There in front of him, was a woman with the palest aura he’d seen since his shooting. “And you are?” Joe inquired.
“Beth Adams,” the woman replied, extending her hand. Joe held his gloved hands up and shrugged.
“I’m the director of A New Start, the local shelter for abused women. I just recently placed Lavette in this house,” she said.
Joe watched as Beth’s aura wavered in colour. He was fascinated and took a step towards her.
“Ma’am, you’ll have to wait outside.” Brian looked from her to the officer guarding the door. “I’d like to question you further, but we can’t take any chances on contaminating the crime scene,” Brian added.
Joe waited for Beth to step out before turning to his old friend. “How long ago do you think the murder occurred?”
“She got off work at six, so…about three or four hours ago,” Brian answered.
“Why would he do it the way he did? I mean, if you know you’re gonna kill someone, it doesn’t make sense not to bring a weapon.”
Brian shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe it wasn’t premeditated.”
“No. I get my visions when a person mentally commits to an atrocious act like this. I received the vision around five. He planned on surprising her before she ever got off work.”
* * * *
Watching television later that evening, Joe couldn’t stop thinking about the woman he’d met earlier. His initial shock at the purity of her aura had really thrown him. Seeing it waver into a shade of grey at her apparent guilt over placing Lavette in the house was incredible.
He had stayed only a few minutes more after Beth had been asked to wait outside. As he’d left, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was honest with himself enough to admit it wasn’t a physical attraction but a spiritual one.
Joe hoped she hadn’t recognised him. He needed to talk to her, to understand why her aura was different from the people around him. He knew if she’d seen the news coverage on him she’d probably run away in fear if he got too close.
Turning off the television, he decided to go to bed early. He hadn’t got much sleep the night before and after the commotion of the day, who knew what kind of nightmares he was in for. To add to his less than pleasant mood, seeing Brian again had knocked him on his ass. He’d tried like hell to forget about his old partner.
Joe shook his head, disgusted with himself. It might be easier to do if he didn’t have to look at his picture every time he opened his wallet.
After undressing, Joe slipped under the covers and turned out the light. He was almost asleep when the phone rang. Fumbling in the dark, he eventually picked it up. “Hello?”
“Is this Joe Baker?” a woman’s soft voice asked.
Joe sat up. “Yes.”
“My name is Beth Adams. I met you earlier?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“I was wondering if you’d agree to speak with me.”
“Regarding?” Joe felt his body begin to react to the intrusion. His home was his refuge from the outside world.
“I’d rather talk in person if you don’t mind. Are you free for lunch on Wednesday?”
“Yes, why not before then?” he questioned. Several moments of dead air led him to believe she may not answer. “Beth?”
“I need a little more time to deal with what’s happened. I’m sorry, I know I should be used to violence by now, but it still throws me. I try to harden my heart like the grief counsellors suggest, but it doesn’t always work.”
Joe thought about Beth’s wavering aura. “Wednesday’s fine. Is Johnny’s on Monroe at noon okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
He couldn’t let her hang up sounding the way she did. “Beth? It wasn’t your fault.”
“Thanks, I keep trying to convince myself of that. Unfortunately it’s not working.”
Joe took a chance. “Do you feel like meeting for a drink? Maybe it would help to talk about it.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I just want to crawl into bed and put this day in the past. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“Okay. Goodnight. Pleasant dreams,” Joe said as an afterthought.
Chapter Three
Unable to sleep, Joe called Brian. Even after all this time he still knew the number by heart.
“Hello?” Brian answered. Joe felt his gut tighten at the sleepy sound of Brian’s voice.
“Hey, it’s Joe,” he said.
Brian grunted into the phone. “I know who the hell you are. You think just because you don’t call anymore I could forget the sound of that deep voice of yours?”
He suddenly felt guilty. “I didn’t think you wanted me to call,” he admitted.
“Why in the world would you think that?”
Joe’s mood changed to pissed in a matter of seconds. “I don’t know. Maybe because the last few times I invited you over you conveniently found something better to do.”
There was silence over the line. “Didn’t mean you couldn’t call,” Brian finally said.
“Oh, so you can stand to talk to me as long as you don’t have to look at me?” he asked, fingering the wide scar on his temple.
Again silence. “Forget it,” Joe said about to hang up.
“Wait,” Brian said. “Why’d ya call?”
“Because Beth Adams wants me to meet her Wednesday for lunch. I just thought you ought to know.”
“Why do you think she wants to meet you?”
“I don’t know. She’s feeling guilty.”
“And why do you want to go?” Brian probed.
“Because there’s something different about her.”
“Oh, looking to get some,” Brian said.
“No.” He felt uncomfortable talking about women with Brian. He wasn’t sure if his friend knew he was bisexual—sex wasn’t something they’d ever talked about. The last thing Joe had wanted was Brian questioning his sexuality then getting freaked out when he learnt Joe easily swung either way. He also knew his friend was as freaked out by his newly acquired gifts. Even though Brian hadn’t admitted it, Joe knew it was the reason he never came around.
“When she walked into the house earlier, her aura was as white as the purest snow.”
“And? What? That makes her better than me?”
Where the hell was all this anger coming from? “I didn’t say that. All I said was that it was different. Shit, Brian, I’m still trying to figure this crap out. Forgive me for being curious.”
Brian sighed. “Sorry.”
Several seconds went by before Brian spoke. “I miss you.”
“Really? Because I still live in the same place. You could stop by if you really mean it.”
“I can’t do that, Joe.”
“Why? I think I deserve to know.” He braced himself for the answer.
“You see too much,” Brian finally answered.
Joe rubbed his eyes. What the heck did that mean? He remembered commenting about his aura the last time Brian had come over. It had been dark grey with swirls of red. It had bothered Joe because he’d never seen colours other than shades of grey before.
What’s he hiding? It must be something if he was afraid to come around.
“I can’t help what I see.”
“I know.”
Joe wanted to tell Brian how lonely he’d been, and how he’d felt at Brian shunning him. Unfortunately, although they’d been best friends and partners on the force, there were certain things one guy didn’t say to another, especially when the other was straight.
When the silence between them stretched on too long, Joe knew he’d never get back what he’d lost. “Well, I just wanted to tell you about the meeting with Beth, so I guess I’ll let you get back to what you were doing.”
“Let me know if she has any information that will help the case,” Brian said.
“Sure.” Joe wished he could crawl through the phone and pound some sense into Brian, either that or kiss him until Brian punched him in the face.
“I’m glad you called.”
“Me too,” Joe replied, not sure what else to say.
“Bye.” Brian hung up, and Joe was left listening to dead air.
“Bye,” Joe whispered before hitting the end button.
* * * *
Brian Peters dropped the phone on the mattress and shoved his hand under the sheet. “Fuck,” he said, wrapping his hand around his erection. Even an uncomfortable conversation with Joe was enough to get him hard.
He reached for the drawer in the bedside table. Withdrawing a bottle of lube and a light brown vibrating dildo with a remote, Brian sighed. Although the colour was as close to Joe’s skin tone as he could find, he wondered how anatomically correct it was. He poured lube into his palm and began to run his hand up and down, across the veins in the moulded silicone.