Bringing Benjy Home (Security Ops) (2 page)

Shaking off his momentary inertia, he turned and strode back toward the rented Jeep. He’d somehow frightened Jaida West, and he was going to have to be more careful. At least until he’d proven her for the fraud she was.

Then perhaps she would have a very real reason to fear him.

Bursting into the cabin, Jaida said automatically, “It’s me, Granny.”

“I know it’s you, child,” the old woman answered imperturbably. “Who else would be tearing up the path like her skirts was on fire?”

Jaida set her notebook down and crossed to the table where her grandmother was vigorously kneading bread dough. Sniffing, she filched a tiny bit of dough and popped it into her mouth. “Sourdough?”

“You know durn well it’s sourdough, and I’ll thank you to keep your mitts out of my bread, missy. Les’n you want to give me some help, that is.”

Undaunted, Jaida snuck one more piece and ignored her grandmother’s invitation to help. She knew well that the woman would be horrified if another pair of hands appeared in the dough. Granny Logan was fiercely, stubbornly, independent. Old age was relentlessly approaching, but she still took pride in “doing just fine for herself.”

“Trey Garrison found me.”

Granny’s hands never faltered. “He’s the one I been seeing,” Granny explained calmly. “Been nigh on a week now. I knew it was him soon’s I heard his voice.”

Jaida nodded. She accepted Granny’s visions unquestioningly. They complemented Jaida’s own gift and were one of the reasons she’d always felt more comfortable with her grandmother than she ever had with her own mother.

At her granddaughter’s silence, Granny paused. “Well?” she questioned sharply. “Was I right? He needs your help, don’t he?”

Jaida wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly cold. The memory of the disturbing welter of feelings he’d elicited was still fresh in her mind. “He says he does. There’s just something about him,” she murmured. “He wasn’t telling me everything. He didn’t want to come down here—I did get that much from him. But it was more than that.”

“What more?”

“He made me uneasy almost from the first,” Jaida admitted. “And then he touched me . . . .”

“Ah,” Granny said wisely. “Did you see anything?”

Jaida knew her grandmother was referring to her psychic eye, but she wasn’t sure how to respond. “No, at least not in the way you mean. It was . . . different than usual,” she answered slowly. “Everything jumbled up inside and it was like touching a bare wire and getting a shock. It startled me and I reacted badly.” She wrinkled her nose, remembering how she’d been unable to keep her panic from showing. “He thinks I’m a fruitcake.”

The old woman looked satisfied. “Mebbe, mebbe not. In any case, you’ll find out more shortly. If I don’t miss my guess, that’s him coming up the drive.”

Jaida opened the door. What Granny had described as a drive was barely that. Little more than a rutted path, it was barely wide enough for a vehicle to pass. Trey had apparently abandoned the Jeep less than halfway up the drive and elected to walk the rest of the way.

A wise move, Jaida mused. She’d often cussed the path herself, especially when her four-wheel-drive pickup would hit a new rut with bone-jarring force.

He surveyed her for a moment with those enigmatic green eyes before asking, “Is your granny going to let me in this time?”

“I expect so,” Jaida said, standing aside in silent invitation for him to enter. “She’ll want to get a look at your chin.”

Trey paused. “My chin?”

“Voices and chins,” Jaida informed him mischievously. “Granny can tell a lot about a person’s character from them. She’ll have a time with that one of yours, too. It looks like you slept on a button.”

He stared hard at her, then continued through the door.

A little smile played across her lips as she closed the door after him. Trey Garrison was a bit disconcerted, and something told her that was rare indeed. It was only fair. Her world had been set atumble at his appearance.

“Well, no need to keep the man standing in the doorway, Jaida.”

Granny’s voice snapped her from her reverie.

“Have him come in and sit down.”

Trey sank gingerly into the cane rocker Jaida indicated, surprised when it held his weight. He relaxed a little and examined the cabin’s interior. It was larger than it appeared from the outside. The room he was sitting in had a kitchen at one end, equipped with modern appliances, a wooden table and chairs. A stone fireplace was on the opposite wall. A few chairs and lamps were grouped around it. The furniture bespoke craftsmanship and gleamed with polish. There was nothing overstuffed in the entire room. He noted three doors leading away from this room. All of them were closed.

Jaida’s grandmother placed a towel over the dough she’d been working with. She walked to the sink and washed her hands thoroughly. Then she made her way to where Trey was sitting. He watched her careful approach. It was difficult to guess her age, but he’d estimate it upwards of seventy. She walked with the slightest hint of a limp, her left leg dragging a fraction. A stroke, he concluded immediately, looking at her face. It had left its ravages there, as well. He noted a plain stout cane leaning against one wall, but the woman didn’t go toward it.

His eyes went to Jaida. She didn’t hover, but neither did she seat herself until her grandmother had sunk into a rocker. Then she sat on a straight-back chair next to her.

Transferring his attention back to the older woman, he found himself subjected to an intent regard. He sat silently, allowing her the time to measure him. When she spoke it was with the accent of the Southern hills. But her voice was strong, unwavering. “Well, Mr. Garrison, exactly what is it you’re wantin’ with my girl?”

“My nephew is missing, Mrs. Logan. My sister has heard of Jaida and asked me to come and see if she could help.”

The old woman nodded, as if having strange men come here making such requests was not at all unusual. Age had dimmed eyes that surely had once been the same color as her granddaughter’s, but a keen intelligence radiated from them.

“What is it you do, Mr. Garrison?”

“My partner, Mac O’Neill and I run a security firm, ma’am.”

“Security.” The old woman snorted. “You mean alarms and bells and all that nonsense you need to keep people out because y’all build too close to each other?”

Real amusement touched Trey’s eyes. “Something like that.”

“And your sister sent you here?”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t she come herself?”

He hesitated a few moments. Then he finally said, “Lauren was strolling Benjy in a park on the day he was kidnapped. Someone came up behind her and jabbed a needle in her arm. The drug she was injected with was probably intended to render her temporarily unconscious. The dosage was so high it almost killed her.”

Jaida’s gasp was audible.

“She was just released from the hospital yesterday. Her physician wouldn’t hear of her traveling. I agreed to come in her place.” His gaze moved to Jaida. “You’ve heard the whole story now. Will you help?”

Jaida and her grandmother exchanged a long look. “It’s your choice, child,” the old woman said in a quiet voice.

Her choice. Jaida considered the words wistfully. There had never been any choice involved with this strange paranormal knowledge she’d been born with. It couldn’t be controlled or ignored. It had always been there, setting her apart from others, making it impossible to lead a normal life. The
knowing
was always lurking, dormant at times, but ready to spring out. It could be elicited by the most innocent human touch. And it could leave her devastated for hours.

Her grandmother had been referring to her decision about whether to help find Benjy, she knew. But that, too, had ceased to be a choice. She’d stopped resisting her fate long ago. She would never be normal. And if she refused to help Trey, his life and Lauren’s might never return to normal, either. The decision, if one could call it that, had been made the moment Lauren had sent her brother here.

“Yes,” she answered quietly. “I’ll help.”

His eyes gleamed at her acquiescence, but he only inclined his head slightly.

“I’ll need something of Benjy’s to hold,” she went on, mentally preparing herself for the ordeal ahead. “Did you bring anything with you?”

“What for?”

“Because that’s the way I work,” she explained patiently. “I have to hold one of his belongings, one that he kept with him much of the time. Then I may be able to sense something about Benjy that can help you find him, or at least give you a clue to his whereabouts.”

“I didn’t bring anything of his,” he responded slowly. His eyes were trained unblinkingly on her face. “I thought I could tell you about what happened and you would—” He stopped abruptly. Actually, he’d figured she’d pretend to go into a trance, then give him some information that would be so vague and open to interpretation as to be totally worthless.

“What exactly were you expecting?”

He shrugged. Although tempted, now was not the time to truthfully answer that particular question. He mentally examined his options. He had deliberately chosen to arrive here without a preliminary phone call because he hadn’t wanted to give Jaida West time to prepare a flamboyant psychic pretense for him. He was perfectly willing to scrap this visit for the waste of time he’d known it would be, but his accounting of these events would never satisfy Lauren. She’d insist he return to Arkansas, this time bringing something of Benjy’s with him. Even then, he wondered just what it would take to convince his sister that Jaida was a fake.

Unless Lauren herself saw Jaida in action.

He considered the possibility, rapidly reformulating his original strategy. It would be several days, perhaps longer, before his sister would be able to travel. But that didn’t preclude taking the so-called psychic to her. Lauren was obstinate, but she was no fool. Once she witnessed the sideshow Jaida would put on for their benefit, surely she would lose that stubborn hope that Jaida, or someone like her, could help find Benjy.

He studied Jaida thoughtfully. His only problem lay in persuading her to accompany him home.

“I’m afraid I’ve wasted a lot of valuable time,” he said, sounding chagrined. “By the time I fly home and back with something of my nephew’s . . . I don’t like to think of how much farther away he could be by then.”

Jaida looked at him helplessly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Garrison. I wish there were something else I could do.”

“Perhaps there is.” His answer came quickly. Maybe too quickly. “You could come back with me to Benjy’s home. You could talk to Lauren. And then you could try your . . .”

She wondered if she imagined the slight hesitation she heard before his next words.

“Ability, with one of his belongings.”

Jaida was surprised into silence by his suggestion. She glanced at Granny for help, but her grandmother was studying Trey, a serene look on her face. “I don’t think that would be possible,” she said faintly. She’d gone before to victims’ homes, but only when she’d known them. A few times when she’d helped the local sheriff, she’d even traveled to crime scenes. But this man was a stranger. And one whom she was loath to spend any more time with than necessary.

“I understand your reluctance, but I have to remind you of what my family has riding on this, Jaida.” His voice was persuasive, his face intent. “My sister’s health is extremely precarious. Her mental state isn’t much better. You might be our only hope. Can you really turn your back on us, not knowing if you could have helped?”

She stared at him, something about his manner disturbing her, but she was distracted by the truth of his words. She had no trouble imagining the picture he’d painted. Her gift had always been a liability for her. The only thing that made living with it bearable was the occasional chance to use it to help others. She didn’t know if she could forgive herself if she refused even to try. On the other hand, something about Trey’s still air, his shrewd assessing gaze made her every sense scream caution.

Granny took her hand then, and at once the woman’s blend of wisdom and strength flowed to Jaida, calming her, providing comfort.

“You’ll be all right, child,” Granny whispered in a low voice. “You do the right thing now.”

Jaida looked into her grandmother’s eyes for a moment, and what she saw there reassured her. Turning back to Trey, she said, in an almost inaudible voice, “All right, I’ll go.”

“Great.”

A wealth of satisfaction was contained in that one word, and Jaida shivered suddenly.

“Please excuse me.” He withdrew a cell from his suit jacket pocket. “I’ll make our travel arrangements.”

Granny nodded, never moving her gaze from his face. After several moments, she rose from her chair. “Come, Jaida, I’ll help you pack. Mr. Garrison will be wantin’ to get back to California soon’s possible.”

“California?” Jaida echoed. She looked at Trey. His expression was arrested. “Yes, California. That’s where I live. That’s where Lauren is.”

Granny walked slowly past Jaida toward the bedroom, Troubled, Jaida followed her without another word.

After a call to information, Trey was connected to the Little Rock airport. Quiet triumph filled him. Jaida was accompanying him home. Once there he would have very little further use for her. He’d quickly prove to Lauren that the woman was a fake, and she’d give up the idea of enlisting the aid of Jaida West or someone else like her. Chasing these wild ideas took valuable time away from the investigation for Benjy. His biggest concern was the emotional toll the disappointment would have on Lauren once she realized she’d pinned her hopes on a fraud.