Epiphany (Legacy of Payne) (18 page)

He seemed to consider his words carefully. “I guess you could say he’s special like you.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well . . . the rest of us call him exceptionally perceptive, but—and I can’t believe I’m telling you this—Logan has always called himself an empath.”

“An empath?”

Aidan nodded. “Someone who can sense people’s emotions. Can feel them even. Supposedly the Payne side of our family tree is full of ancestors with ‘odd quirks,’ as Mom likes to call them.”

“You’re pulling my leg, right?”

He laughed. “It’s all legend, but my dad and Logan believe it.”

“What about you? Do you 
believe
?” My voice dropped on the last word, and I gave him a wide-eyed look. I wasn’t being fair, but I couldn’t help myself. For someone who possessed an “odd quirk” of my own, what right did I have to mock other people’s claims? When had I become so jaded?

He shrugged. “I never put much stock into it, but then I met you . . . who knows?”

“What’s your super power?” I bumped my shoulder against his. “You must share the legacy, right?”

He rolled his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“Oh, come on, I’m only teasing. So what is it? Do you have super hearing?” I eyed his hands. “You don’t launch spider webs, do you?” Or even worse . . . “Tell me you don’t read minds.”

He arched a brow. “What if I did read minds? Would that worry you?”

My mouth fell open. “Not funny, Aidan.”

Apparently, he disagreed. He laughed and said, “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m ordinary. Although my mom’s compared me to the Hulk on occasion.” He took my hand, and his skin warmed mine as our fingers laced. “It’s all tall tales, Mackenzie. Though Logan does seem to know things he shouldn’t, just as you do.”

The comfort of his touch, along with the lull of the road, cast me into a light slumber. Somewhere along the way I sank deeper, to a place where comfort was nonexistent, where dreams weren’t an inconsequential product of the subconscious, but a vision of the future.

A man masked in shadow nudged a body with his boot, and his victim struggled when he slipped a noose around her neck.

“No,” she moaned. “Why are you doing this?”

“Headlines, sweetheart.” He tossed the rope over a branch and tested it for strength.

“Oh God! No! Plea—” Her cries cut-off as he strung her up, and her feet scissored above the ground. Behind her the ocean lit up like snow under the full moon.

“Mackenzie!”

I awoke gasping for air. Slowly, Aidan’s garage came into focus. The low rumble of the engine was absent. His hands cradled my cheeks, his worried face hovering close to mine.

“He wants headlines.”

“What?”

“She asked him why he was doing it. He said ‘headlines, sweetheart.’” I closed my eyes. “I still can’t see who she is, or who he is, but I saw the full moon again.”

“Shh.” His breath whispered across my face before he pressed a kiss to my forehead. “First thing in the morning, we’re gonna pay the sheriff a visit. We’ll tell him about your dream and hopefully get some damn answers.”

“I suppose you’re here about the PI?” Sheriff McFayden didn’t bother to look up from the file in his hand.

“Gee, you think?” Aidan closed the door behind us, and we settled into the chairs facing his desk.

The sheriff snapped the folder shut. “I already got an earful from your father, so let me have it—give me your best shot.” He folded his hands and waited with the air of a patient man.

“First off, I’m not my father.” Aidan’s expression turned sour, as if the thought of Hamilton Payne left a bad taste in his mouth. “I didn’t come here to argue with you. I came here to find out why you hired a private investigator to tail me.”

“How do you know I didn’t put the tail on Ms. Hill?”

“If you had, my father wouldn’t have jumped all over you.”

“Fair enough.” He leaned back and crossed his arms. “Is this off the record?”

Aidan rolled his eyes, and I had to smile. The gesture seemed so un-Aidan-like. “I’m not a journalist anymore.”

“And this won’t get back to your father?”

He straightened at the sheriff’s words. I did too. “No, we don’t talk, if I can help it.”

McFayden didn’t seem surprised by his reply. “I’m only telling you this because I figure you’ll find out on your own anyway, and I need to keep this between us.”

“Okay, I’m listening.”

The sheriff sat forward and refolded his hands, and I was struck with how nervous he suddenly appeared. “Your mother and I went to high school together. She contacted me.”

Aidan looked stunned. “You knew my mom?”

“It was a long time ago.” McFayden shrugged. “She only contacted me because I’m the sheriff, and she’s worried about you.” His mouth twisted into a scowl. “You might try staying in touch with her once in a while. Couldn’t hurt.”

Aidan didn’t say anything, and they seemed to come to an impasse.

“Can I help you with anything else?”

“Maybe.” Aidan didn’t elaborate, and I wondered if he was being purposefully vague in order to goad the sheriff.

“All right, well let’s have it.”

“Mackenzie’s had some tough nights lately.”

“More dreams?”

“Mostly vague,” I said, “but I did see a white van.”

The sheriff propped his chin on his knuckles. “No shit?”

I blinked at his reaction. Was he making fun of me, or was he genuinely surprised?

“Someone else mention a white van?” Aidan asked.

The sheriff hesitated. “A witness reported seeing a van outside of Ms. Hunsaker’s apartment on the night she was murdered. Didn’t see anyone in it though, so no description of a suspect.”

“Who’s the witness?”

“I can’t disclose that information.”

“It was Brad, wasn’t it? I mean, we know he was there.”

“Yes, and he has an alibi.” He grabbed a notepad. “Anything else you can tell me, Ms. Hill?”

Aidan let out a sigh. Clearly, the sheriff wasn’t going to give an inch.

“Yeah, it was a utility type of van with no windows. I saw it on Highway 101 heading toward a tunnel. There was a full moon.”

He took a few more notes.

“In case you’re wondering,” Aidan said, shifting in his seat, “there’s a full moon Sunday night.”

“
Perfect
.” The sheriff threw down his pen. “That’s only three days from now.” His frustrated gaze landed on me. “We’ve checked DMV records for all the white vans registered in the area, but nothing yet. Do you have any idea who the next victim might be?”

“I didn’t see her clearly, but she’s a brunette. Last night I heard him say he’s after headlines. Sorry, I know it’s not much.”

“It’s a start.” He scrunched his eyebrows and set aside the notepad. “I’ll see if I can round up an extra deputy to patrol the highway, though with Jameson out on vacation that might pose a problem.” He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’ll put Judd on it. Maybe the state troopers can help too.”

He was either desperate for a lead, or he believed me. Maybe it was a little of both. He stood, and we followed suit.

“Don’t go putting yourself in the middle of this now,” he warned. “Let us handle it.”

Though Aidan nodded, I knew him well enough by now to guess at what he was thinking.

When hell freezes over.

“That’s probably too much to ask, isn’t it?” the sheriff asked. Apparently, Aidan’s reputation as a rule-breaker had traveled all the way to Watcher’s Point. Aidan remained silent, so McFayden’s attention fell on me. “Let’s hope you’re wrong about this.”

I hoped I was wrong too.

* * *
 

A freakish November thunderstorm ushered in the evening, and a sense of excitement infused the Pour House. The crowd of customers was surprisingly large for mid-week. Of course, Christie and her cohorts were in the thick of it.

“Word is you’re shacking up with your coworker.” She sat alone at the bar while the other two women she’d arrived with were busy rubbing against a couple of guys at the other end. “So tell me”—she perched an elbow on the counter and smirked at me, chin in hand—“is he good in bed?”

I set another shot down in front of her, the sixth or seventh of the night. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Aidan offered me his guestroom because someone broke into my apartment.” Thunder boomed, causing the lights to flicker.

“Whatever,” she said, though her nasty expression contradicted her indifferent tone. She demolished the shot.

“Look, Christie, I know today was your dad’s birthday.” I was taking a stab in the dark on this one, but she seemed off tonight, like something was eating at her. Otherwise she would have joined the girls-gone-wild group a few feet away. Christie didn’t normally do the alone thing.

“What do you know about his birthday? You don’t know anything about my dad.”

“You’re right, but I wish I had known him. I grew up without a father, and to learn that maybe I could have changed that—” I clamped my mouth shut. My anger over the situation wouldn’t help her right now. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just trying to say—”

“Oh stuff the ‘poor me’ speech.” She got up on wobbly feet, and her dark hair swung in her face. “Not everything is about you.” She stumbled away and joined her friends.

I gave her a wide berth for a while, until she started waving at me. “We’re dry over here, honey! Stop cooling your heels and load us up.”

Filling a tray with another round, I approached them. Christie let out an obnoxious laugh as the blonde to her left made a pyramid out of the empties. Blondie threw her head back and joined in the laughter.

“It’s not 
that
 funny,” said the woman on Christie’s right—a near replica of Christie herself. “Let’s see you walk twenty blocks in fuck-me boots.”

Blondie arched an eyebrow. “Sounds like the only thing that got fucked were your feet.”

“And my pride. Remember Elmo? Well he ditched me. Can you believe that?”

Christie laughed again. “Wish I’d stuck around for that one.”

“Hey!” she cried. “Don’t be hatin’. Turns out he was a jerk anyway. I saw him arguing with some girl.” She folded her arms. “I can’t believe you left me on my own.”

I narrowed my eyes as their words sank in. If they were talking about Elmo . . . that meant they were talking about Brad.

Had he been arguing with Six?

I turned around and bumped into Aidan. God, he had a way of sneaking up on people. He trained his attention on the three drunken women. “You heard that?”

“Yeah.” He leaned down and spoke into my ear. “I’ll see what I can find out.”

I focused on the next customer, but I couldn’t help trying to decipher Aidan’s conversation with Christie and Company. He poured them another round of shots, a wide smile on his face as he made eye contact with the brunette who’d seen Elmo.

I took a stack of dishes into the back, and when I returned, Aidan was still situated in front of them, chatting and flirting. Lightning brightened the night outside the windows. I blamed my nerves on the storm and not on the fact that he was deep in conversation with three gorgeous women who wouldn’t hesitate to eat him alive.

Keeping busy, I did my best to avoid watching him, and sometime later he blocked my path.

“What in the world is a Habu Sake shot?” he asked.

I laughed. “You haven’t been initiated yet, have you?”

“This doesn’t sound good.”

“Be right back.” I disappeared into the back long enough to grab the Japanese-labeled bottle. A long Pit Viper snake coiled at the bottom. I remembered the first time I’d seen the ugly thing. Six had gotten a lot of amusement out of my reaction.

Now it was my turn.

I pushed through the doors and found Aidan waiting. “This,” I said, presenting the bottle so the snake’s gaping mouth faced him, as if poised for attack, “is Habu Sake, also known as ‘snake juice.’”

“Are you shitting me?” He took a step back. “People actually drink that stuff?”

I grinned. “A few of the regulars do.” I held out the bottle. “Go ahead, pour your first shot.”

“Not a chance.”

“You aren’t scared of a little dead snake, are you?”

“I don’t
 
like snakes, and they don’t like me. Wait, I take that back. They like to bite me—I’ve been bitten by a rattler twice now.” He nodded toward the bottle. “You’re on your own.”

“You must be pretty tough to withstand two snake bites. Sure you don’t wanna pour? You’ll never live it down.”

“No, thanks.”

Still grinning, I poured the shot. “The person who serves the snake juice gets out of dish duty, just so you know.”

“Not a problem. In fact, I hear the dishes calling my name right now.” His laughter did funny things to my insides. He disappeared into the back as I served the snake juice.

And then I moved down the bar and froze. Brad stood on the other side, just a couple feet away.

“Let me say this before you have me thrown out.”

I sent him a hard stare—the only reaction I felt he deserved.

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s it?” I raised my brows. “That’s all you came up with? ‘I’m sorry’?”

“No, it’s just . . . I was drunk, and I know it’s no excuse, but I’m sorry. I’ve thought about it and I probably would’ve punched me too, had I been in his shoes. I’ve dropped the charges.”

“Yeah, I know. The DA already informed him.” I wiped down the counter and kept my face neutral, hoping he’d notice how unimpressed I was with his little speech. The lights flickered again and then went out. Voices drifted through the air, hushed excited chatter, as if the darkness demanded whispering. I jumped at the rumble of thunder that followed.

“It’s pitch dark in here, Mac.”

Chills traveled the length of my body. Brad’s voice sounded much closer, and just as I was about to panic, another bolt of lightning zigzagged outside the windows. The bar lit up long enough for me to spot the flashlight underneath the register. I grabbed it and aimed the beam at his face, and my heart pounded as loudly as the thunder.

“Crazy weather, huh?” he said.

The doors to the back flung open, and my hands shook as I looked over my shoulder. Aidan joined me and rested his hand on the small of my back.