Seeing Love: Saints Protection & Investigations (32 page)

Bart searched the pictures, seeing the same child as before, this time his smiling face raised up as though looking up at someone else in the room. The bed appeared the same, but the corner of a bookshelf was added to the drawing. Try as he might, he could not fathom what had Faith so upset.

“Princess, I know there’s something here that bothers you…I need you to point it out because I’m not following you.”

She pointed a shaky finger to the book in the boy’s lap. “Look at the title.”

He followed her gaze and saw the book that was the same as his nephew’s from the night before.
What does she think it means? Is she just dreaming and mixing up the details from my family to Erik?
Even with the questions running through his mind, he found himself trusting her. Completely.

“You see something here,” he said, “and I want you to know I trust you totally.” He saw the doubt pass over her face and hated that his words from a week ago put that look on her face now. “I’m being honest, Faith. I totally trust you. Tell me what you see.”

Licking her lips, she said, “It’s Erik. I feel it. I know it.”

“Okay?” he said slowly, drawing the word out in a question, prompting her for more.

“Bart, he’s smiling. He’s not scared. Whoever he’s looking at is someone he trusts. Someone who does not frighten him. And the book? Your nephew said it only came out yesterday, so if someone has given it to him, he’s still alive. And well. And being looked after, by someone who cares for him.”

Bart’s eyes moved back to the drawing. He could see what she had seen in her dream, but was it real?
Was it the imaginings of an overactive dream? Or the visions from a woman who had a special gift. One that he had never believed in.
The idea of his grandfather standing with him filled his mind.
Search for truth, Bartholomew. Always search for truth.

Bart suddenly realized his grandfather never immediately dismissed something without first searching for the truth. His gaze lifted to her doubtful one and, before he could stop them, words flew from his mouth. “I believe you. I believe in you and I believe you.”

Her face glowed as she rushed into his arms. “What does it mean?” she asked, her words muffled by his chest.

His fingers found their way through his hair and slid down to clinch his neck as his mind raced. Pulling her back, he said, “We need to go to Ivan’s. You need to be back in his presence and the presence of some of the family. Maybe…maybe…oh hell, Faith, I don’t know. Maybe you’ll get a better idea then.”

Just then his phone vibrated and he snagged if off the nightstand. “Yeah, boss?”

Jack quickly filled him in on what Luke had uncovered…or what had been revealed to him. Bart, in return, told Jack about the revelation Faith had. He looked up as she nervously twisted her fingers in the bottom of his large t-shirt she was wearing. Winking, he tried to reassure her Jack would not be judging her.

Disconnecting, he said, “Get dressed, princess. We’ve got to head back to Charlestown. I’ll explain as we’re getting ready.”

She jerked his shirt over her head and knelt at her overnight bag, pulling out her bra and a clean sweater. Bart’s mind, normally focused on a mission, short-wired as his gaze perused her gorgeous, panty-clad body.

“Damn, girl,” he growled.

Lifting her gaze to him, she blushed. “Get your mind back on the case, Bart. You can ogle me later!”

Grumbling while he pulled on his jeans, he began to explain Jack’s news.

She looked askance. “Bart, if Ivan was engineering this, why would he take a chance in calling me in?”

“Fuck if I know,” came Bart’s reply, his mind working overtime trying to process the intel. “Maybe he was sure you wouldn’t be able to see anything. Or maybe he thought he was too smart. Or may—”

“Or maybe he’s not guilty,” she replied.

Bart walked over, placing his hands on her shoulders, saying, “Look Faith. We don’t know who’s guilty, but we’re following a hunch that it’s someone in Ivan’s camp. Associate or family member or him. I don’t really want you involved in this at all, but I need you. I need your insight.”

Nodding, she realized what a leap of trust he was making. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Leaning down to grab the closed bags, he stood and said, “Let’s go make our excuses to Mrs. Carswell and we’ll plan in the truck.”

Several minutes later, after compromising with the proprietress and taking travel mugs full of her coffee and a pastry bag filled with some breakfast treats, they were on their way.

Bart had been planning and, as soon as they pulled onto the road, he said, “Okay, here’s what I’ve got so far. We’re going to go back to Constance’s house. Ivan is with her for Christmas Eve. We’ll stick to the truth, which is, we came out to meet up with my family and since we were passing them on our way back home, we didn’t want to leave without seeing how they’re doing. You ask questions…or not. Um…I guess I’ll leave it up to you to do…uh…whatever you do.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”

He turned to peer into her serious face. “I know you do, princess. I trust you.”

“But what if I don’t get any feelings with him?”

“If we’re lucky, the rest of the family will be there too. Jack didn’t say it was confirmed to be Ivan. They just think it might be someone close.”

“What were the words that person used to Luke?”

“They said to look to the beginning.”

“Beginning.” She thought for a moment, but could not come up with another meaning. Pushing her hair back from her face, she sighed heavily. “I really don’t want to think he could have done this,” she admitted softly.

Bart glanced at her, nodding his head. “I know you don’t, but you’ve got to remember he’s not just a grandfather, but also a ruthless man who’s run the Russian Mafia for years in this area. We have no real idea what he’s capable of.”

Less than four hours later, they pulled into the circular driveway at Constance’s house. Several cars were there and Bart recognized the presence of the FBI as well.

A sense of déjà vu moved over Faith as she thought about their visit here a week ago.
Was it only a week?
Watching Bart as he alighted from the truck and stalked around the front to her door, she also realized how much they had changed in that time.
I met him last week…it seems like so much longer.

It was no surprise to be greeted by Mrs. Dukakas at the door and she explained that Constance had the rest of the family here to support each other during Christmas. She escorted them into the living room, where they found Ivan, Anton, Dmitry, and Constance.

Ivan walked over, shaking Bart’s hand and kissing Faith’s. “To what do we owe this pleasure of your visit?” he asked smoothly.

Bart noticed Ivan’s face still appeared ravaged and at, a quick glance, so did Constance’s. Anton and Dmitry were harder to get a feel for, but the entire room appeared subdued.

“We were coming back from a visit with my parents and we both wanted to come by to offer our continued support for your situation.”

“And to find out if there is anything we can do for you,” Faith added softly.

“Oh, you are a dear,” Ivan said, leading her over to the sofa where Constance sat. The two women greeted each other, but then Constance sat with her head down, twisting a tissue in her hands.

Anton and Dmitry greeted them as well and the men moved to the side of the room. Mrs. Dukakas brought homemade eggnog in for the group, as well as a tray of pastries. Faith helped serve and then sat back on the sofa next to Constance, hoping to draw her into a conversation.

“Have you heard anything else?” Bart asked Ivan. “I saw the agents on the outside and wondered if you had any news?”

“Nothing new,” Ivan reported. “I’ve made two payments, but both were accompanied with a note saying Erik would stay safe as long as I keep paying.”

“Bastards!” Anton groused quietly, looking over to see that Constance was not listening.

“I don’t understand who would do this,” Dmitry added, his eyes shifting over to Constance as well.

“How’s she holding up?” Bart asked softly, his head nodding in the direction of the sofa.

“She stays to herself mostly,” Ivan added. “Dmitry has tried to see her more since he’s in graduate school at the university in Charleston. And of course, Mrs. Dukakas has been keeping an eye on her.”

“She has lots of visitors—friends who want to check on her—but she mostly turns them away according to Mrs. Dukakas,” Dmitry added. “She’ll go out occasionally to visit close friends, trying to keep up some routine.”

“I’m sure the holidays don’t help,” Bart noted.

“We were sure we would have him back by Christmas,” Ivan said, his voice laced with pain.

The men continued to talk for a few minutes while Faith tried unsuccessfully to draw Constance into a conversation. Erik’s mother spoke little, keeping her eyes on her lap.

Faith looked around the room at the Christmas decorations. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling fear pouring off Constance. Her neck tingled as the emotions in the room began swirling around.
Fear, pain, uncertainty, guilt. Guilt? Of course…survivor’s guilt.
Faith opened her eyes and glanced at the woman next to her. Survivor’s guilt usually followed someone when someone they loved had suffered a trauma or had been taken away; feeling that perhaps it should have been them that should have been taken.

Bart moved away with Ivan, to the side of the room, as they discussed the case in more depth. Faith walked over to them, taking the opportunity to be closer to Ivan. “I’m afraid there’s little I can say to make Constance feel better. I can only image her anguish.”

Ivan nodded his agreement. “Yes, I find I’m tongue-tied around her as well.”

As Bart and Ivan continued to talk softly, she lowered her head, closing her eyes, allowing the feelings to wash over her again.
Fear, sadness, anger.
A vision of Ivan and his grandson playing in the yard filled her mind. Laughter. Sunshine. She jerked her gaze up to him, seeing Ivan staring at her carefully, as though he knew what she was doing.

Bart drew Ivan’s attention back to him as Faith moved away. She tried to still her breathing, clearing her mind, but the images crowded into her mind.

She noted Anton and Dmitry had moved to the fireplace as they sipped their drinks. Walking on unsteady legs, she made her way to them, hoping the expression on her face was one of concern and not scrutiny.

“I haven’t had a chance to offer my sympathies to the two of you. When we first met, everything was crazy and well…I wanted to make sure you knew that I am so very sorry about Erik. I pray that the FBI will be able to locate him soon.”

Anton nodded politely, thanking her. Dmitry smiled at her, offering his appreciation as well.

“I wasn’t able to offer much to Constance. I can’t image what she’s going through. It must be a comfort for her to have you nearby, Dmitry.”

“I’m afraid I’m not here much, with my studies and work during the day, but at least I’m here as much as I can be.”

She nodded and moved to the mantle, pretending to study the ornate Christmas decorations placed there. She recognized some as antiques, similar to her grandmother’s. Closing her eyes, she once again tried to allow the emotions to flood through her. Her neck tingled once more as she let images run freely through her mind.

Anton playing with Erik. Dmitry teaching him to ride a bike. Family gatherings…a previous Christmas in this very room.
The images poured through her, then began to be crowded out as emotions moved into her consciousness. Many, the same as the others.
Fear…anger…hurt…anguish…guilt. Guilt again? Survivor’s guilt?

Once more, she tried to steady her pounding heartbeat, hoping no one was paying attention to her. Before she opened her eyes, she was unaware someone was staring at her. Dark eyes focused on her. Knowing eyes. Guilty eyes.

T
he room began
to close in on Faith as the assault of emotions swirled around her. Unable to discern where they were all coming from, she hurried over to the nearest chair and sat quickly. Catching Bart’s concerned eye, she gave a silent plea.

Bart casually disengaged and walked over to where she was, placing his hand comfortably on her shoulder. “We really need to get going, Faith.” Giving her the excuse needed, she smiled gratefully and stood, leaning her weight slightly into him. Offering their goodbyes, they made their way out of the room, following Mrs. Dukakas to the door. Faith felt the prickles of needles in her back the entire way out of the house.

Once inside the truck, she blurted, “I know you may not believe me, but Bart, I swear there was something wrong in the room. I didn’t feel it last week, or maybe it just was buried underneath all the grief, but there was something now. Something real.”

“I believe you, princess,” he vowed. “What do you need to do? Is there something I can do?”

Shaking her head, she replied, “No, no. I just…I…” Her voice trailed off as the images filled her mind. “I need to draw.”

Bart thought for a second, then said, “What about we go back to my place? Can you work there?”

Nodding, she agreed. “I know it’s Christmas Eve but, for the first time, things are so strong.”

Reaching across the console, Bart grabbed her hand giving it a squeeze. “You don’t have to explain. We’ll go there. I’ll leave you alone to allow you to do your drawings and then we’ll discover what you can come up with.”

Sucking in a deep breath, she let it out slowly. Closing her eyes, she felt the images of the dark-haired boy coming into her mind, strong and steady.

Faith allowed Bart to take charge once they arrived at his house. She rushed in to see Smee, glad to see that he and Apollo had achieved a civil détente.

Once settled, Bart turned to see Faith’s pale face, the faraway expression worrying him. Unsure, he stood awkwardly for a moment before finally pulling her body into his, offering his warmth. She wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against her face.

Surrounded by all that Bart was, the calm descended. Looking up, searching his eyes, she saw acceptance, concern, trust.