Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 (8 page)

But Rachel was dealing with her own issues. Jazz had to try to sort this out herself first. She didn’t want to drag Rachel into it. Not unless it became absolutely necessary. They would try Michael’s house first and see what they could find.

Jazz turned onto the gravel driveway, her lights flashing across the windows of Michael’s brown and tan single-story house.

“We’re here.”

Chapter Ten

The house looked ordinary. Finn could hardly believe so many terrible things had happened inside. At the same time, he could feel a chilling energy creeping out from it, even from inside the SUV. Jazz had her door open already, letting in the muggy night air.

“You ready for this?” Jazz asked.

“Yeah. I think so.” He reached for her hand on instinct. Having her near him… Well, he wasn’t sure how well he’d be coping without her.

She pulled away. It was standard procedure for her, but every time it felt like she kicked him in the chest.

“Cut me some slack,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to start something.”

Not this time, anyway.

That moment in the hallway had been intense. He hadn’t been able to stop himself from reaching for her. And yeah, it was instinct again that made him want to hold her hand, to touch her. It wouldn’t have escalated, though. Probably.

“That isn’t why…” She sighed and slid from her seat, her boots crunching as she hit the gravel. She slammed the door shut.

That was not-so-standard.

He followed her out, closing his door a bit more gently. He was walking on her heels. When she stopped abruptly, he almost ran into her.

“I was trying to protect you, you ass,” she said. “I didn’t want you to be flooded with my thoughts.”

“Oh.”

Damn. That was the first time he could remember her unloading on him like that. Now that he knew why she pulled back, it was well deserved.

He’d always felt alone in their fights, like he was talking to a wall. She never yelled back. She always stayed so calm. It made him wonder if she cared about him at all. Eventually, he’d start shouting, trying to be heard. They always ended up in bed, his last resort to establish some form of connection.

“It’s okay if you touch me,” he said. “I still can’t read you, even with my powers messing up.”

“Oh.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Didn’t you notice before when we made out in the hallway?”

“I wasn’t
thinking
then.” She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Wipe that grin off your face.”

“How do you know I’m grinning? It’s pitch black out here.”

“I don’t need to see you to know you’re smiling.”

“I guess you just have that effect on me.”

Her breath hitched and she turned away, walking toward the house fast enough that he had to trot to catch up. What had he stepped in this time? Talking to her had often been challenging, but this was like walking through a minefield. She hadn’t been volatile before.

She had actually once told him, “I suck at talking. Can’t we just have sex instead?”

It had sounded great at the time. With how anxious he was, it sounded great at the moment too. It had always comforted him, made him feel grounded.

Remembering their time in bed wasn’t a good way to keep his focus, especially with the recent reminder of how well they fit together. Talk about losing control. But in that moment, when she asked what he needed, all he could think about was being closer to her, holding her.

She had always been the one person that he could touch without worrying about reading her thoughts. Now she was the only person he knew he wouldn’t lose himself in.

At least, not his mind. His heart was another matter.

She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight as they walked to the side of the house. Windows lined a door tucked behind some bougainvilleas. One of the panes had been broken out and was taped over.

“I don’t suppose you brought along your gloves?” Jazz asked.

“They’re back home on the kitchen table.”

“Forget it,” she said. “I’ve got this.”

She hit the tape with her elbow a couple of times until it gave way, then snaked her arm through the gap and opened the door. Holding her phone up, she led the way into the house. The door opened into a narrow laundry room.

“Is the AC on?”

The house felt at least twenty degrees cooler than outside. The night air was stagnant and oppressively hot, even in the pre-dawn hours they were approaching. The house was an ice box in comparison.

“I don’t know. I think they shut off the utilities, so probably not.” She ran her light over the washer and dryer. “It is cold in here.”

Cold and creepy as hell. Finn’s skin was crawling and he hadn’t even touched anything.

“Tell me again how this is less visceral than reading the walls of the gallery?”

“I’m not going to have you read the garage or anything.”

“The garage?”

Jazz was silent for a moment. “That’s where he kept them.”

“Oh.” Finn had never been able to see past the workbenches in his dreams. Shelves and tables blocked his view.

He shivered, walking a little closer as they made their way into the kitchen. A small square table was tucked against a wall. Two chairs. Michael must not have entertained often. The counters were mostly bare.

“Maybe we should start in here.” Jazz moved the light over the cabinets and counters. “I don’t know where he kept his empty jars. Let’s avoid the cabinets.”

Jars? Oh right. To hold the blood. Finn would avoid the cabinets unless absolutely necessary.

“How about the table?” he asked.

She turned around and flashed the light across its surface. It seemed innocuous enough. Then again, the whole house did. On the surface, anyway. The longer he was in the dwelling, the more he sensed the malice lurking there, as if it had soaked into the walls, the ceiling, the floors.

“That’s a good idea. Rachel said Michael brought her here after a date to capture her. He might have sat with his other victims before…” Jazz shook her head and stepped closer to him. “Maybe start with the chairs?”

“Okay.” Finn scooted one of the chairs away from the table with his foot. Jazz grabbed his arm before he could sit down.

“Don’t sit. I’ll need to be able to break your contact if something goes wrong. It’ll be easier if you’re standing.”

He hesitated, wanting to keep feeling her hand on his arm, the softness of her touch. He loved having her with him, knowing she was thinking about him, that she cared what happened.

That was as far as they’d ever gone conversationally. She admitted she cared about him.

Now is not the time, Finn.

He tried to keep things light. He laughed and said, “Easier for you, maybe. My knee still hurts from the gallery.”

Her voice softened. “I didn’t know it was you.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you didn’t forget everything I taught you. That was a pretty good takedown.”

She hadn’t wanted to learn self-defense at all. She said words were her best weapon and that she always had her phone handy for calling the police. He had kept after her about it. She worked such late hours at the gallery—usually alone, on the nights he wasn’t with her.

When she’d asked him to hang around more, acting as her bodyguard, she could tell it set him off. They never talked about it, but he thought maybe she had agreed to the lessons to sort of make it up to him.

Acting as her bodyguard was another form of working for her. He didn’t mind playing the part on occasion, but he wasn’t interested in her being his boss. That was another reason he didn’t want her helping him. She’d take over, ordering him around, running everything.

Yeah, he was proud and didn’t like asking for help. He knew that. But he especially didn’t like asking for help from someone he saw as a partner but who treated him like a minion.

And on that cheery note…

He turned back to the chair.

The wood was old and the paint worn and peeling. Finn would have thought someone who called themselves a painter would be more particular about that. Then again, when Finn thought about what Michael used for paint… Definitely a good thing the chairs hadn’t been redone.

Get it over with.

He grabbed the back of the chair with one hand, keeping his weight a little off-balance. If Jazz needed to push him loose, it would help her out.

The room lightened as if the sun was rising in fast-forward. Illuminated, it looked less creepy and more normal. Homey, even. The eerie atmosphere was gone.

Finn didn’t feel like he was floating. Instead, he was sitting at the table across from Michael.

Finn felt his hands curl into fists. He wanted to punch Michael in the face. Wanted to make him hurt for all the pain he had heaped on others.

This is the bastard who killed my sister. I’ll never get a chance to know her because of him.

Michael was smiling as he leaned back in his chair and spoke. “This next piece will be spectacular. Not one, but
two
subjects. I don’t know why I didn’t think to try this sooner.”

He was staring at the ceiling, a dreamy look on his face. He interlaced his fingers and put his hands behind his head, stretching out his legs. He looked relaxed. As if he hadn’t a care in the world.

“The canvas is prepared. I just need to gather the materials. They’re already selected. Both subjects are friends of the gallery owner. I’m hoping to be able to display the piece in an exhibit there. Can you imagine?”

Michael laughed. He actually laughed.

Sick psychopathic bastard…

“She keeps me on my toes, that one. Always trying to see through me. It’s too bad she’s not a match for my needs. Perhaps someday I’ll expand my subject matter and the little gallery owner can grace her own wall.”

Michael’s gaze became unfocused as he stared at the ceiling again, casually contemplating
killing Jazz
.

Finn wanted to leap across the table and—

“Stop looking at me like that.”

He felt a chill sweep through him. Holy shit. Michael couldn’t see Finn, right? Now that he knew time travel was possible, he wasn’t as sure.

“Pig! Stop looking at me.”

Finn’s gaze dropped, as if he had lowered his head to look at the floor. Except he wasn’t looking at the floor. He was looking at somebody’s lap.

“Did you take care of it?” Michael asked.

Finn’s view bobbed up and down, as if he was seeing through someone else’s perspective and they were nodding. At least he was holding on to his sense of self. Whoever this was, Finn was just along for the ride.

Michael nodded. “Good. The alligators near Auntie’s house are getting fat helping us clean up after my work. I hope they’re hungry for what’s next.”

Alligators…

Finn felt sick. He wanted to leave the memory, but couldn’t. Michael stood and walked to the sink. Whoever Finn was seeing through watched out of the corner of his eye. When Michael turned back, the person quickly looked back at their lap.

While Finn was stuck there, he might as well do some good. He looked for details that might help him ID the person he was occupying.

The man’s hands were bony, calloused and leathery—and curled into tight fists. His arms were emaciated. Judging by the length of his legs, he was pushing six-feet in height. His pants ballooned around his body. He couldn’t weigh more than one-hundred-thirty, one-hundred-forty pounds. Tan skin. Mud stains on worn boots. A bit of sphagnum moss stuck to the side.

Michael walked back to the table.

“Poor piggy. Are you hungry too?”

Finn felt the man’s chest catch, saw his fists tighten further. He looked up, but before he could say anything, Michael’s lips pulled back in a snarl and he flat-out punched the guy. The blow sent him reeling, the room spinning in Finn’s view until his face hit the floor.

“Finn!”

Finn sucked in a huge breath. He felt like he was drowning. The cold linoleum pressed against his cheek. Warmer hands were on his shoulders.

Jazz helped him sit up, pulling him against her chest and wrapping her arms around him. Finn’s body was shaking violently. But it was
his
body. He’d made it back.

“That was so not-okay.” His teeth were chattering and he felt…weird. Oddly disconnected. He focused on the soft feel of Jazz’s body behind his, closing his eyes and trying to take deep breaths. Something thick and wet was interfering.

“You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

He lifted his hand to his nose. When he pulled it away, he could see red on his fingertips from the dim light of her phone, which was sitting on the floor next to them.

“I must have hit my head when I fell.”

“You didn’t. I caught you. Well, I tried to anyway. You’re heavy.”

Finn let out a chuckle. It sounded a little hysterical to him. Nothing felt real.

Auntie’s house…

“What do you know about Michael’s family?” he asked.

“Nothing. We didn’t talk about anything but art and the gallery.”

“But you knew his body was cremated.”

“Rachel told me.”

If Michael had any family, they probably weren’t too eager to come forward and claim his remains. The state would have taken care of the matter. But just because no family came forward, that didn’t mean they didn’t exist.

He pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped his nose, then picked up her phone and stood. He ran the light over the floor, table, and chair to make sure he hadn’t bled anywhere. They needed to leave behind as little evidence of their visit as possible.

Jazz rose and crossed her arms, glaring at him. “What did you see?”

No way was he filling her in on all the details. He still felt half-sick from what he had learned, what he knew in his gut to be true. He stuck with the basics. What she needed to know.

And that knowledge was chilling.

“Michael has a cousin who helped him. He wasn’t working alone.”

Chapter Eleven

Jazz couldn’t believe that Michael had an accomplice. Someone who had taken part in his crimes was walking around free. That part of this awful situation was supposed to be over. Justice had been served. Right?

“The police would have caught that,” she said.

“The police might have talked to the guy and not realized his role in it. From what I saw, he was cleanup.”

“Cleanup?”

The light from her phone was enough for her to see how Finn grimaced. He didn’t want to tell her what he knew.

“I need to know. I’ll deal with it.”

Finn let out a tired laugh. “I’ve never heard you use that phrase on yourself. I thought you only used it on other people.”

“Finn…”

He sighed. “Michael’s cousin helped him get rid of the bodies. I only got a nickname, but I could tell enough about what the guy looks like to give me a good lead. Once I track down Michael’s hometown, I should be able to find him.”

“Don’t you mean
we
?”

Finn shook his head. “I was only okay with you coming along when I thought the killer was dead and you’d be safe. If this other guy was working with Michael, we have no idea what he’s capable of.”

She bristled. Finn was
not
benching her. He was not leaving her behind again.

“Well, you know what
I’m
capable of. Or does your knee need a reminder?”

“Jazz…”

“And we know what you’re
in
capable of. You can’t control your powers. You need me.” At least for this.

“I can’t risk you being hurt.”

She let out a laugh. That was just too rich. No one had ever hurt her like Finn had. Her heart had never healed, never moved past him. She still felt butterflies in her stomach when they were close, still wished things could have been different—that he hadn’t chosen to walk away.

“You’re forgetting that I drove,” she said. “Unless you’re walking back to town to pick up your car, you’re stuck with me. Deal with it.”

His jaw was tight and he was frowning so hard deep grooves were shadowed on his face.

“Don’t ever say that to me again.” He bit out each word, clipped and tense.

“What? Walk back to Summer Park?”

“
Deal with it.
Do you even know what you’re really saying? What that means? ‘I don’t give a shit about what you feel. Sort it out yourself.’ I don’t
ever
want to hear that phrase again.”

She felt like the floor had dropped out from under her. That was her catchphrase. She used it all the time with everybody. No one had ever complained. She had never thought it could be taken that way. But…he had a point.

If he hated that expression, she must have upset him dozens of times while they were together. He never mentioned it.

Talking was something they had never excelled at.

“Finn, I’m—”

“Just forget it. We have a job to do.”

What the hell? She had been about to apologize—something she
never
did. Her skin prickled as rage surged up. He shouldn’t rock someone’s foundation and then walk away.

But that was what he did with her. Turned her world upside-down, then walked away.

Not this time.

She grabbed her phone from his hand, then turned around and headed for the laundry room. He fell in step just behind her.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to the SUV. Unless you think you can safely read something else in here to find out where this cousin lives, we’re probably better off searching for him on the Internet.”

She opened the door and held it, staring at Finn expectantly. He only hesitated a moment before walking back into the steamy night air.

After the chill of Michael’s house, it felt good. The moisture carried the heat right into her bones. She couldn’t wait for the sun to come up and chase away…everything from this night.

Not everything.

She had reconnected with Tommy. She was even happy to be with Finn, even though he was driving her crazy. She was so scared he was going to leave. Watching him walk out of her life again was something she couldn’t bear to think about. But she was more afraid he’d try to do this alone and get hurt.

Once they were back in the SUV, she said, “Wherever Michael is from, there are bound to be other people around. It won’t be too dangerous. And you need me to back you up, whether you’ll admit it or not.”

He sighed, but then pulled out his phone and started searching the Internet. That was a good sign. She thought over what she knew while she waited for him to find something. She needed to be as useful as possible so Finn would admit that he needed her.

Things were starting to make more sense.

Someone was out there who played a part in the deaths of those women. Someone who needed to pay. Finn’s sister was using the only connection she had to help get herself—and hopefully the other victims—some peace about what happened to them. Jazz would do everything in her power to make that happen.

“Clearview. Michael was from Clearview.” Finn put his phone in the cup holder and pulled on his seat belt. “It’s a small town a few hours to the northwest.”

Jazz picked up his phone and looked at the map he had brought up. She memorized the highways and turns.

One of the best parts of living where they did was that not many roads passed through. The cities were small oases in the middle of sand and swamp. It was a fairly straight shot to Clearview. They could be there shortly after dawn.

She handed him his phone and buckled up, then started the engine. Finn put his hand over hers as she gripped the gearshift to kick it into reverse. They stared at each other for a few long moments. She resisted the urge to flip her hand over and lace their fingers together.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked. “We can head back to town so I can pick up my car. You don’t have to come.”

She did. She would never find peace with herself if she didn’t help Finn’s sister find her own.

“I’m coming with you. Deal—”

She sucked in a breath, stopping mid-sentence. Turning to look through the back windshield, she put the car in reverse, then pulled her hand out from under his and hit the gas. “You’re not getting rid of me this time.”

They were well away from Michael’s when Finn spoke again.

“I never wanted to get rid of you.”

She let out a laugh. Was he really going to go there? Fine. She’d play along.

“That’s funny. As I remember it, you’re the one who jumped out of the limo. I’m surprised you waited for it to stop, you were so eager to get away from me.”

He shook his head. “There was so much wrong with that moment.”

She shrugged. “You wanted out.”

“No, Jazz. I wanted
in
. That’s all I ever wanted with you. But you always kept me at arm’s length. Hell, not even arm’s length. It was more like a ten-foot pole. Like you kept yourself in a fucking castle surrounded by a moat filled with…” He shook his head and looked out the window.

Was he kidding? She had never let anyone get closer to her than Finn. She told him about her dreams for the gallery, funny stories about her clients. She shared every moment of her life with him.

Unless they involved Elsa. Or her family.

That had always been her boundary. Her line in the sand. But Jazz didn’t talk to
anyone
about her loved ones. It wasn’t safe. The only reason she talked about Elsa with Garrett and Rachel was that they all knew each other. Even then, Jazz was careful to keep it low-key and not give away how much she loved them all.

Finn had barely grazed the outskirts of her social circle, which was what Jazz wanted. There was no way she could hide how much she loved Finn if they were all hanging out. No way she could avoid talking about it.

He was Garrett’s best friend, but he’d only met Elsa in passing and Jazz didn’t think he’d even been in the same room as Rachel. Yeah, she didn’t tell Finn stories about her friends, but he still knew how much she cared about them all. Her friends knew
nothing
about Jazz and Finn. Their relationship was sacred.

If she had told the others, they would have insisted on meeting him. Rachel would have started pressuring Jazz about a wedding, wanting to plan it and design a dress. Elsa wouldn’t say anything, but she was a romance novelist. Who knew what sort of daydreams she’d create. And Garrett…

Garrett would be over the moon about it. He’d insist on double dates, even though he wasn’t dating anyone—hadn’t dated anyone since Jazz tried to hook him up with Elsa. And it would be awkward all around. Awkward and dangerous.

The more people who knew about Jazz and Finn, the worse it would be when something finally happened to him, especially with how much she loved him. That was how the curse worked. She loved him too much to risk it.

Curse aside, she didn’t want to deal with the inevitable pressure her friends would heap on her with their well-meaning comments, building up dreams for how they wanted her life to be. Settle down. Get married. Have kids. People loved pairs and spawning.

Even Jazz had fallen into that mindset. She kept trying to set up her friends. Then again, she
knew
they wanted families and partners. They’d told her as much during uncomfortable conversations where Jazz had to work to keep the focus off of herself.

She sucked at matchmaking anyway. Rachel and Garrett had seemed a natural fit, but something had kept them from ever connecting, even when it seemed like Fate kept bringing them together over and over again. He and Elsa hadn’t worked out either. But they became great friends after Jazz introduced them. They all had.

Jazz had known they would get along. She didn’t know what she had been thinking when she sent Elsa on a blind date with Michael.

I wanted her to have a chance to find the happiness I had lost.

Okay. Maybe she did know.

Chloe had once told Jazz that she was a “nexus”. It was just another way of calling her Fate’s tool. Supposedly, Jazz had an energy that brought the right people together at the right time. But she was the one who had brought Michael into everyone’s lives. How the hell could anything be right about that?

At least Elsa had Dante now. Jazz was so happy for her—for them both. She was so grateful they had…survived. Dante would heal. Rachel was already doing much better. And Finn…

His forehead rested against the window and his eyes were closed. Either he was asleep or trying to avoid conversation. Jazz let him be. She wouldn’t know what to say even if she tried. She
hoped
he was sleeping and did her best to keep the ride smooth for him.

The miles rolled by, dark scenery turning to slate gray as dawn approached. The sky brightened to a cloudless blue. They were nearing the coast. It would be a hot and humid day.

Finn lurched forward in his chair shouting, “No!”

Jazz jerked on the wheel. The SUV shimmied as she tried to regain control. She barely kept it from rolling.

“What the hell, Finn?” Her heart was pounding and her mouth had gone completely dry. She glanced over at him.

He was clutching the dashboard, his chest heaving and eyes wide. He swallowed a few times and pressed his head back against the headrest.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah… Yeah.”

She was not buying it. It must have been one of the nightmares he talked about. His eyes were haunted.

“How bad was it?” she asked.

“What? It wasn’t…” He shook his head, then ran his hands over his face. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine.”

She could hear his heavy breaths, and they weren’t slowing down. Glancing over, his eyes were still wide.

“You doing okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Bullshit.”

“Jazz, please just leave it.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Okay.” Whatever he had seen in the dream must have been horrible. She let him be for a while, trying to figure out what to say. “You had quite a night.”

Lame.

He laughed. “That’s an understatement. Not all of it was bad though.”

“Really?” What could he have enjoyed?

He shrugged and grinned at her. “That part in the hallway was kinda fun.”

She snorted. “Only kind of? I must be losing my touch.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“That was always our strongest suit. Touching.”

“Yeah. Too bad we sucked at the rest of it.”

“We had some good times out of the bedroom. Didn’t we?”

She hated how small her voice sounded. Hesitant. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to know the answer. Had he really wanted her to be part of his family? Had he enjoyed those times together?

“In the bar. Upstairs.”

The bitter edge to his tone cut deep. He’d wanted to tell Garrett and everybody about their relationship. Jazz kept saying she wanted her privacy. It was nobody’s business if they were dating.

When they were at the bar, just the two of them or with Tommy around, Jazz could let herself be happy. Somehow, she felt like it was the one place Fate wouldn’t peek, the one concession to Jazz’s calling as a
nexus
. If they had ever gone out, she would have constantly been on guard, trying to make sure no one realized how much she cared for Finn. The few times Garrett had seen them together, Jazz had scowled so much that Finn later told her Garrett thought she hated him.

Why couldn’t Finn have been as happy as she was to carve out a corner of the world where they could be together? A place they could retreat to and be safe. She hadn’t been able to risk losing him and because of it he had left.

Maybe Fate found out anyway.

For their last date, Jazz thought she had come up with the perfect compromise. Rent a limo for the night and drive around town. She had arranged for take-out from an upscale restaurant to celebrate their two-month anniversary, which was no small feat in itself. The chef had been offended when she first approached him with the idea, but she turned it around.

The back of the limo was spacious enough for them to have a nice dinner and even a good time, if he’d been up for it. She had dressed to the nines, spent hours preparing for the evening, trying to make it perfect—trying to make him happy and keep him safe.