Authors: Rachel James
Sunrays filtered through the room quickly, bouncing off a half-mirrored ceiling. “The cactus suite,” she had called it when they had entered. The name suited it. And he was sure she thought it fit his prickly demeanor perfectly. Even now he saw the hint of a smile on her face as she moved back across the room. She glanced at his change in jeans.
“Are you sure you don't want to see a doctor or nurse? We have a working clinic on site.”
“I don't do doctors anymore,” he said firmly.
“Yes, well then, did you find everything you needed in the bathroom?” she asked. “Neosporin? Bandages? I see the jeans fit.”
“Yes,” he stated, glancing down at the denim. “Although one wonders whose jeans they are.” He glanced up. “An old boyfriend's?”
“Can I offer you something to drink?” she asked, deflecting his question with a question. “Something stronger than tea or coffee?”
He stifled an urge to chuck her nose playfully. “Whiskey?” he queried. He dug a cigarette from his chest pocket with a grin. The match sizzled with a flare, reflecting in baby-blue eyes. The cigarette was immediately snatched from his fingers and put out.
“The Sanctuary is a no-smoking zone,” Sonny said. “How about a martini, shaken, not stirred?” she teased. “Isn't that what James Bond drinks when on assignment?”
“Not this Bond,” he muttered.
Sonny waved her hand airily. “The bar's over there. Help yourself. I'll be back in about an hour. I have a meeting with Daddy.”
“I'll go with you. I'd like to meet the genius.”
“It's going to be a boring meeting,” Sonny emphasized.
“I like boring; in fact, I thrive on boring.”
“I don't need a babysitter, Logan.”
“Good, because I loathe babysitting.”
A sigh greeted his ears. “I'm not going to get rid of you, am I?”
“Not in this lifetime.”
With a sudden bolt, she fled past Logan and out the front door. Left behind, Logan cursed her dashing stride. Just when his thigh showed signs of improvement, she was rushing him around like a bat out of hell. He took off after her racing figure.
Twenty steps later, he caught up to her in the first-floor stairwell. Side by side, they rounded a corner and then dashed across a footbridge into a maze of half-grown fruit trees. From there, they sprinted onto a sidewalk in front of a small-framed bungalow.
Nearing the door, Logan pulled Sonny behind him and took the lead. He needed time to scope things out before they charged in like elephants on a rampage. However, the mouse thwarted him by passing his shoulder and entering a passcode into a panel on the wall. When the door didn't open, her brow furrowed.
“That's odd. It's not taking my passcode.”
“No emergency override?”
Her face relaxed. “God, you're right.” She pressed a small spot on the wall. A cement panel slid back, revealing a red “emergency” button. She hesitated before pushing it, chewing on her lower lip. “I hate to do this. It will signal Dick and the security team, but after all that's happened today, I think Dick will forgive me.” She reached for the button; however, Logan's quick grasp of her elbow forestalled her.
“How many doors to the room?” he queried.
“Only this front one. Daddy's bungalow is a security-based computer complex. If he's in there, he won't leave any other way.”
“Let me go first,” Logan advised, stepping in front of her and lifting his pant leg. He took his gun from its holster and then withdrew a moon clip from his jacket pocket. Slapping the clip into place, he turned, signaling Sonny. “No heroism once we get inside,” he warned.
Her answer was a dubious look. “I'm no hero. Aren't all Meta Corps agents?”
“Hell no,” he quipped. He coiled himself, ready to spring as her fingers hit the button, followed by her passcode. The door sliced open with a rapid whoosh, and Logan dove through first. He skidded to a halt, blinded by a flashing strobe light ricocheting across the walls and floor. Its garish hue changed the furniture assembled into eerie spectral goblins. The giant computer screen on the north wall hummed like the ceaseless hum of traffic. Below the screen, draped across the console keyboard, Logan spied an inert figure.
“Dear God!” The mouse's cry was shocked as she pitched herself from behind him. “Daddy!”
Logan jerked her back. “Stay put!”
She squirmed, attempting to break his viselike hold on her wrist. “Let go! I can help him. I can touch the knife.”
“Touch a piece of evidence? Not while I'm here to see it, you won't.” Logan attempted to haul her back, but she evaded his grasp.
“You don't understand. I can tell who did this!”
“Touching the knife will contaminate the scene, and I can't allow that at the moment.”
She ignored him, snatching off her gloves and reaching for the knife. Logan reached for her hand at the same time. Their fingers collided at the same moment she touched the knife.
Familiar shock waves shook his frame, and in one brief instant, she had hurled them into a mysterious ripple of moving images. A sudden vision of two bodies entwined in heated sex washed through his mind; however, as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared. In seconds, he was moving again, whipped into a second vision. The vision took a moment to settle, and when it did, he was once again studying solid images through a plate-glass window.
An eerie feeling stole over him as he spotted a woman in a chair, wearing a green headset, and not much else. She was young and beautiful, with a figure most women dreamed of, and the glow saturating her face was totally mesmerizing. And then the image was yanked from his mind, and he felt himself traveling again. This time, he saw a green door with the word “Pandora” scrawled on it. And then he was moving again.
He came back to reality with a walloping jolt, clutching the mouse's hand, and then, like before, he heard her tortured gasps.
“Sonny!”
“Still here,” she said.
He dropped her hand quickly. “What the hell was that?” he asked. “The couple was having amazing sex.”
He heard a gasp. “You saw a couple having sex?”
“Yes. Didn't you?”
“No. I saw a young woman participating in some kind of therapy session.” She gave him a sideways squint. “Are you sure you saw a couple?”
“I know what I saw. I saw the couple first, the therapy session next, and then a green door with âPandora' plastered on it last.”
She gave him an enigmatic stare, and he returned her look with a grunt. And then she was lifting her hand to her nose. When she found it free of blood, she commented, “No nosebleed this time.”
Logan ignored her words, his mind jumping back to the figure at the console. “How long before your security team arrives?” he asked.
“Couple of minutes.”
Logan gazed at the motionless figure. “Can you connect the images? Or what the word Pandora might mean?”
“N-no.”
“If you touch the knife again, would we see the same progression of images?”
“What?” Her squawk was horror-stricken. “My father's been stabbed, and you're wondering whether we can go back in and look at the images more closely? Don't be such a bastard!”
“Humor me. Can the same images be recreated at a different moment in time? Or is it one per customer?
“Depending on how important they are, they'll resurface, but maybe not in the same order as before.”
“Good.” Logan leaned over and inspected the body. He felt for a pulse and found none.
“The killer's close by,” Sonny stated, shivering. “I can feel it.”
“Man or woman?”
“Unclear. The energy's fading.”
Logan swung from the console. “Do you trust me, Sonny?”
“I think so â¦Yes, I do.”
“The less the police know about your vision, the betterâat least for the time being.”
Sonny shivered at his pronouncement. “We can't keep the knife a secret from Dick. We've contaminated the crime scene. Besides, our fingerprints are all over the handle.”
“Right now, honesty is not the best policy.”
Her second shiver had him suppressing one of his own. “What is the meaning of the green door?” she asked. “I didn't see it.”
“Good question,” Logan said. “A better one is why did I see it and you didn't?”
Their gazes locked as she donned her gloves again. Logan took a step towards her.
“Promise me you'll do as I say and stay mum on the vision,” he said. He saw her nod with a resigned sigh. His sigh matched hers. “Thank God your security staff knows you. They'll accept any story you present them with.”
“I don't lie to my security staff,” Sonny said tartly. “And they don't jump to conclusions until they've investigated every incident thoroughly.”
Logan's mouth dipped into a lopsided grin, but before he could offer his retort, she added, “Would this be a good time to tell you that the note on the back of the Lovers card warned me that my life was in danger?”
Logan's head whipped around. “Christ! I ought to kill you myself for withholding that piece of information from me.” He came to life, taking hold of her arm. She balked at the manhandling.
“Daddy's note said to trust no one. And âno one' included you. For all I knew, you could've been sent to kill me!”
“If I was sent to kill you, you would've been dead ten seconds after we met.”
“I believe you.”
Her quiet remark deflated his anger; however, in the next instant, a booming voice brought it back up.
“Don't move, or I'll shoot!”
Gun outstretched, Lieutenant Cutter ducked through the front door and then into the room.
“Don't shoot us, Dick.”
Sonny stepped forward, and seeing her distraught expression, he lowered his gun.
“Dammit, Sonny! I could've killed you. What the hell is going on now?”
His eagle eye canvassed the room, lighting on Logan Reed first and then the body at the console. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he gave a heated curse. “What the hell?”
The expletive bounced off the walls, startling even him. And then, his security instincts kicked in, and he headed for the console. Logan followed on his heels. A second later, the lieutenant was turning to the man.
“Tell me neither of you touched the body or the knife.”
“We just got here,” Logan answered. “Sonny had a meeting with her father. When her passcode wouldn't trip the door, she got worried. We pulled the emergency switch.”
Dick turned to the woman hovering behind them. “Any discrepancy with that story, Sonny?”
“No, and it's not a story. Daddy asked to see me after my aura class. But as you know, I got waylaid on the mesa.”
She shivered, and Dick realized she was recalling the incident. Shifting focus, he snatched a two-way radio from his security belt and barked for immediate assistance. Hearing the request being relayed, he pocketed the radio. Once again, his eagle eye took in the scene. There was no sign of tampering by the pair, but then he didn't know Logan Reed well enough to know whether he would fudge the truth to save his ass. Dick snatched some gloves from his inside coat pocket and donned them quickly.
Bending, he studied the knife.
Damn effective
, he thought. He observed the red stain fanning out from the knife and shifted his focus back to Logan.
“What do you think, Reed? I could use some Meta Corps insight.”
What the man thought was lost, as arguing voices suddenly erupted at the front door. A second later, a scuffle took place, and before he could call for everybody to stay put, three figures attempted to gain entry to the room.
“Don't you dare keep us out of here, Peter Hammond!” Charlotte Blake railed at the uniformed officer blocking the door with outstretched arms. Manicured fingers poked him in the chest for emphasis, but he stood his ground.
“Get out of the way, Peter! We're going in!” Brad Fletcher's voice demanded.
“Stand aside, Hammond! That's an order!” The third demand was blistering, and this time the young man had no choice. A gargantuan hand lifted him off the floor and tossed him aside.
“What the hell is going on?” Ned Chambers snarled, catching sight of them standing by the console. His gaze swept over the slumped body behind them, and he frowned. “What the hell is going on?” He started forward, halting when the lieutenant waved him back.
“Stay put, Ned. You're of no use here. You're too late.”
A tortured cry sounded behind Ned. “My God! David!”
Ned whirled, catching the woman behind him as her knees buckled and she headed for the floor. In the next instant, her husband scooped her up and shuffled her to the sofa. Propping her there, he hovered, fanning her face while he took her pulse.
Ignoring the gesture, Dick lifted his radio and barked a new order to the dispatcher. When finished, he turned and fed orders to the uniformed officers hanging about the bungalow door.
“Get your asses out of here,” he ordered. “Set up a perimeter north and south. I want anything that breathes stopped and interrogated. We might have a chance to get the murderous bastard.”
A flurry of blue uniforms fled from the door, and Dick could hear distant shouts as his orders were relayed down the line. He went back to examining the body, signaling the remaining two officers at the door to join him. They inspected David briefly, taking cell phone photos, and then Dick radioed for a sheet to cover the body. As soon as he did, muffled sobs came from the couch.
“I need you clearheaded,” Dick stated, approaching the sofa. “You know how this works. I've got to get sensible answers, and fast.”
“I can't,” Charlotte muttered. “Seeing him like that ⦠so still ⦠” She broke off, covering her mouth. “Don't ask me to be strongânot now.” She tugged on the silk ties of the filmy caftan she wore and attempted to pull herself together.