Eyes to the Soul (31 page)

“You can travel to other places?” Celina had never met a ghost capable of even speaking the way Lissa was. Her ghosts had limited capabilities. Most lived tiny windows of experience, and most were limited to her apartment. This young girl was unlike any ghost she’d ever seen.

“She’s very unusual,” Stefan said, grinning, making Celina realize with a shock that she’d spoken out loud.

Lissa’s light, tinkling laugh resounded around the room. She said proudly, “I’m learning to paint.”

Stefan sighed. “Did you work on an empty canvas this time, or did you decide to add to one of mine again?”

“Ha! You were very specific about that.” Her tone lightened as she added, “I made my own painting.” Now her voice came from the far side of the room. Celina turned her head and watched as the sprite of a ghost moved through a doorway.

“If you will excuse me, Celina, I’ll go see what the minx is up to.”

“Not a problem,” she smiled, thinking about a ghost painting and wishing she could see it. “I’ll wait here.”

“My guitar is beside you on the left if you want something to play with.” Then he walked away. “Lissa, I’m coming.”

Celina couldn’t imagine a ghost that was as developed as Lissa. She herself was always trying to get her ghosts to leave the physical plane but she couldn’t. They all gave her that same long, drawn-out look of disbelief that such a thing was possible. Some had managed to leave, so she knew it was possible. She needed to remind Stefan about letting Lissa go. It would be in her best interests to move on.

Curious, she reached down and picked up the guitar. She plucked a few strings, enough to know that Stefan had not scrimped on quality for his equipment. Happy to have something in her hand and not feeling quite so useless, she let her fingers drift across the strings.

*

“Does she know
what she’s doing?” Lissa asked.

Stefan studied her, the petulant look in her young features reminding him of her physical age.

“I’m sure she understands that she’s playing the guitar,” he said humorously.

“Very funny. As if you don’t know what else she’s doing.” With a snigger she moved off slightly.

Stefan looked around this studio. “Where is your painting?

Lissa moved to the far end of the studio. She’d picked the small canvas on a tabletop easel. He was curious to see what a ghost would paint and why. He looked at her face as he walked around to see the painting for the first time. She had a moody look as if unsure what she’d painted herself. He turned to look at the picture. His eyebrows shot up. “What’s this?” he asked.

Keeping his gaze on the simple, single item on the canvas, he waited for her explanation. When there wasn’t one he asked, “Why this image, Lissa?”

“I don’t know. It just seemed to fit.”

And with that she disappeared.

“Seemed to fit?” Stefan wasn’t sure what to say about that. He studied the painting for a long time then turned to return to the living room and Celina. But the crude image of a pill bottle – open, empty, thrown on the bedside, a man lying still beside it – haunted him long after.

*

Brandt sat back
and rolled his shoulders. He’d been trying to figure out the connection between Sam’s list of cases. If there was a connection. He had to admit by now that he was floundering, trying to find something. He loved Sam to distraction, and he had the utmost respect for her ability and those that Stefan demonstrated time and time again. But why then was there nothing to be found here?

None of the cases had anything in common. And that couldn’t be.

The probabilities said that wasn’t to be either. The victims were both male and female. They were of all ages, from the youngest, who appeared to be Eric to the oldest, an eighty-four-year-old woman. They were all in this area or from nearby states. Thankfully he had Grant to call on once the cases crossed state lines.

He’d talk to the captain if there was anything to tell him. The captain knew about Sam. Knew of Stefan. So that wasn’t a problem. But just because these two psychics were in agreement that something was going on didn’t mean he had the evidence to prove the theory. He’d already pushed the limits a year ago by following the trail of a serial killer that no one else believed existed. To do it again would be an interesting experience. He normally saw patterns where others didn’t, hence his trail following The Bastard, but now? What pattern was there here? None. And that bugged him.

Everything had a pattern.

He got up, cleaned off the board against his wall, and started to make a chart. Victims, age, method of death, location, and then on instinct, the type of pain Sam experienced in each case.

His phone rang about half an hour later. He checked his watch as he answered. “Grant, what’s up?”

“Found a couple more cases that might be connected.”

“Damn. Send them to me.”

“I’m putting them into an email for you.”

“Good. How many cases?”

“Three over the last year. Nothing before then.”

“That fits with what Sam’s been telling me. Something happened a year ago to trigger these events.”

“Let me know when you find it.” He hung up.

Brandt should be heading back to Sam but she was working all day at the vet hospital. Much to his pride and joy she’d been asked to get involved in the animals’ patient care, helping the doctors to assess their needs with her extra senses. It was what she’d always wanted to do, to find a way to help people, not just deal with the ugly side of her talent.

He checked his watch again, waiting for Grant’s email. “Ah, there it is.” He printed off the three sheets, picked them up, and walked back to his chart. One more in Portland way back when, a car accident. Another about three months ago. The woman walked into heavy traffic and was killed, but also caused a hell of a car accident that injured four and killed another two people.

He stopped and stared. Then snatched up his sheets and added a second column. This time, he added in the number of other fatalities involved in each victim’s death.

When he was done he sat back, feeling a heavy punch to his gut when he realized what he was looking at. In most cases, they’d taken out several other people with them.

Interesting.

Often a death was a single fatality. A heart attack. Even a car accident. But in many of these cases, even what would appear to be a suicide managed to kill several other people. Not every person had taken someone with them – but enough had to take note. He didn’t have the answer, but he knew this was important.

Maybe even key.

C
elina wove a
colorful band of sound through the space in her head. She hoped it was wrapping around Stefan’s living room and that he’d be able to see it and enjoy it. She wanted to impress him, but hated that she was still insecure enough to want that. He was a well-known and respected figure. She was a nobody. Sure, she made music, played with a well-recognized symphony, but she herself wasn’t noticeable in a crowd – except for the space she took up due to her stick. Melancholic, drifting toward depression, her music changed tone and tempo, sliding into a deeper, painful rhythm that almost made her weep with the sadness.

“Why do you play such sad, depressing music?”

Celina stilled. The teenage ghost. Of course it would be her. With the typical forthrightness of her age, she hadn’t heeded the sensitivity of the atmosphere and left Celina alone. Or along with most of her age group she didn’t care.

“I was just feeling down,” Celina said lightly, placing the guitar beside her.

“Uh-uh. I think it’s more than that. Your music is very alluring, you know. Most of the time it’s beautiful, then it became so sad it was painful to listen to.”

Celina’s eyebrows shot up. “Sorry to hear that.” But she curled up with her knees tucked up beside her on the couch. Too bad she couldn’t curl up into a tiny ball and pull a blanket over her head. It had been a long time since she’d been called out over something. It felt like high school all over again.

Then she laughed and realized something. Trust a teenager to make Celina regress. She’d hated high school, so Lissa was triggering all kinds of buttons. And that was just plain stupid. She smiled at the ghost. “So why do you stick around Stefan? Got a little crush on him?” she asked in a teasing tone, turning the tables on Lissa.

“Him?” Lissa snickered. “He’s way too old. He’s like, your age.” And she disappeared.

Celina winced. “Touché,” she said to the empty space where Lissa had been sitting.

“Sorry about that. Lissa has taken me on as a type of project where she wants to see me settled before she leaves.”

“Settled?” Celina winced. “Sounds very old-fashioned.”

“Lissa was raised with old-fashioned values.”

“And I’m assuming from her dislike of me that I don’t quite make the grade.”

“I don’t think she dislikes you at all. I think she’s…” He paused to choose his words.

She twisted her lips. “Don’t bother trying to make light of it. I have enough ghostly friends in this world. I certainly don’t mind if this one doesn’t want to be around me.”

“It’s not that. She’s actually concerned about you.”

“Concerned?” Celina said doubtfully.

“Concerned. Yes. She felt there was a lot of power in your music and she’s afraid you could be…” He winced and added, “…abusing it.”

Celina stared at him in shock. “Pardon?”

He shrugged. “I suggest you don’t worry about it right now.”

“I won’t,” she snapped, starting to dislike Lissa intensely. And what had looked to be an idyllic afternoon out with a nice man was starting to sound like something she’d like to cut short. “Maybe you should take me back to my apartment.”

She sensed a certain stillness washing over him. She waited, wondering if she’d offended him now too. Seemed to be her day for screwing up.

And she’d hoped for just the opposite.

“I’d planned on making lunch first unless you truly want to leave. If you do, then of course I’ll take you home, but please don’t let Lissa be the cause.”

Ouch. Was that all it took? A teenager to ruin her day out? How silly and adolescent was that of her?

“How about a cup of tea or coffee to keep away the blues?” he asked.

The air around her warmed up. She felt an almost invisible pat on her head. She frowned. Stefan or Lissa. Then deciding it wasn’t an issue – she refused to let anyone else set her off again – she smiled up at Stefan and said, “Please.”

She wanted to slap herself for being such a fool. What was it about being around Stefan that made her feel so insecure and incompetent? She wasn’t. But he was so smooth and accomplished in everything he did, and the things he could do…wow.

Here in this place she could sense the airiness, the light. And could imagine the stone and wood that would suit him so well. Here she felt small. Unsuitable was maybe a better word, and she hated that. Maybe that’s why she’d reacted badly to Lissa’s words.

Music was her one great joy. Why would anyone say what Lissa had said? Unless, like she’d already guessed, Lissa was jealous of her relationship with Stefan. Not that they had much of one yet. But she could hope. He wouldn’t want anything to do with her if she didn’t calm down. Being blind was a handicap not everyone was suited to being around. They didn’t know how to act with blind people. How to talk. Stefan had no such trouble. He acted as if she were normal. He led her around with a casual competence she had to marvel at. Either he really understood or he had a lot of experience being around people who were injured or handicapped like she was.