Garden of Sorrow (Book 4 of Psychic Visions, a paranormal romantic suspense) (34 page)

Only she wasn't alone any longer. Kevin had left strict orders that the remaining men were to keep an eye on her.

Damn, she wanted to hiss and spit.

It didn't help that they'd filled her in on what transpired while she slept. Kevin, accompanied by several officers, had gone to pick up Charles for a second time. Only he was nowhere to be found. A specialist had taken a look at the file, and said that the light had nothing to do with the film or what Kevin had done to it.

"Drink up! Kevin said you need at least
three
cups before you're safe to talk to."

Alexis glared at the speaker, but took another healthy slug. "Any new word on Charles?"

"Nothing new. They're still looking."

Alexis nodded. "Do I get to go to the ladies room without you guys?" At their comical faces, she reminded them dryly, "And I will be sure to let Kevin know if I'm not."

"Sure, you can go on your own," said the officer sitting on her left.

One grinned at her from the right. "After all, how dangerous can that be?"

"This
is
the police station," joked the one on her left.

Alexis finished off her coffee, reached for her purse and excused herself. The bathroom was a definite necessity now. She looked for a clock to tell her the time, but couldn't see one on her way. It felt like five in the morning. Her eyes still had grit caked in the corners.

She pushed open the door to the ladies room and walked through to the large mirrors. Those were definitely bags under her eyes, a sure sign of stress and lack of sleep. She needed this chaos to end before it was the end of her. She yawned. Damn, she was tired.

Then she remembered. Stefan's instructions to safeguard her energy before falling asleep! Had that made her vulnerable again? Dear God, she'd forgotten to follow them last night. She'd collapsed on the cot and had closed her eyes.

Unease settled deep in her bones.

She hurriedly used the toilet, washed up as well as she could and then brushed her hair. Another hit of coffee would go down nicely now. Then, she might just survive the day after all. Humor softened her face. Maybe two cups of coffee would make her sociable today and not three like they'd been warned. Just this once. It wouldn't do to spoil the guys too much.

Alexis headed back into the deserted hallway.

She hadn't taken two steps when blinding pain ripped through her skull and she collapsed to the floor.

K
evin stalked into his office, pissed. He regretted that Charles, the damned weasel, had been allowed to walk out of the station after the last time they'd questioned him. But that was lawyers for you. So far, Charles had yet to be located again. Had he run? If so, why? There was no way he could have known about the camera. Kevin had set it up himself.

He eyed the empty cot. At least it looked like Alexis had gotten some sleep. He sure as hell hadn't. Long ago he'd become used to working through the night when on a case. He'd tried to close his eyes last night for a few hours, with limited success.

One of the guys walked in behind him. "She's just gone to the washroom. Give her a couple of minutes. You don't want to disturb her. She hasn't had her three cups of coffee yet." Kevin glared at Peter, a fellow officer he'd worked with for years. Peter placed a full cup of the same hot heady brew in front of Kevin. "You two have so much in common."

He didn't deserve an answer.

Kevin wrestled with his temper, finally managing a reluctant smile. "What the hell is she doing in there? I've been back for ten minutes already."

"Don't know." The other man shrugged.

"Who does?" Kevin got up and strode impatiently down the hallway to the washrooms. Using the men's room first, he returned to knock on the women's door. No one answered.

Belatedly, his neck itched.

Shit!

Guilt screamed through his fatigued brain. He should have picked up on the sense something was wrong earlier. He had to find Alexis.

"Did you find her?" called a voice behind him.

Kevin turned to find several concerned fellow officers crowding around.

"No, she's gone."

The entire station ripped into action. It took mere seconds of frantic organization to search the building. When that produced no sign of her, everyone went into overdrive. All officers on duty and a few that weren't, joined in. Alarms went out to mobile units and alerts went out to all surrounding counties.

Alexis was nowhere.

***

Alexis struggled against the wave of nausea and pain. She knew she had to fight. It was important. Only, she couldn't remember why. For long moments, she worked desperately to reach this seemingly impossible goal. To fight what held her in the fog. The effort burned up her frail energy reserves. Yet, the deeply buried instinct to survive couldn't be ignored. She struggled onward, upward, searching for an anchor to pin her energy on. She couldn't see anything…as if in a vacuum with no senses of any kind – except pain.

She slumped back against the cold, hard surface as the urge to fight waned. The goal of wakefulness that had seemed so attainable a few minutes ago now became impossible. With walls of excruciating darkness pressing down on her, she collapsed back into the pit of unconsciousness, only too happy to forget what it was she'd been trying so hard to achieve and why.

***

Unconscious, Alexis never roused when the vehicle she was in finally came to a rolling stop.

Good. Charles smiled.

Not that anyone would care. No one cared about anyone or anything other than themselves. At least not for long. People deluded themselves into thinking others cared about them. That lasted for a month or two or maybe even a year or two…but that's all it was, a façade that everyone saw through eventually.

He preferred to live out of the limelight, unlike his father. God, he hated that man.

It had been too easy to snatch Alexis. After running out last night, he'd parked around the corner and followed the two of them back to the station. At that hour of the night, the place was close to empty. He'd waited until dawn broke. Going in the back entrance in coveralls, as if he was part of the cleaning crew, had been a no-brainer. Besides, the guy he'd replaced wouldn't be telling on him…or anyone again.

Making himself wait until the opportune moment to grab her… now that had been hard.

He didn't bother checking up on her in the back seat. Either she'd survive or she wouldn't. It was too late to worry, and way too late to care.

Charles drove carefully, not wanting to attract attention. Damn, there was that headache again. He never felt like himself when this happened. He grimaced and reached for the bottle of pills in his pocket. The fucking things didn't work anymore. Why were the headaches so bad these days? Sometimes it scared the hell out of him. He didn't care about dying, but he sure as hell wasn't into suffering through cancer or something equally nasty.

He rubbed his forehead as the pounding tempo increased. Shitty pills. When would they kick in? He peered outside. The house looked the same. It always did. After all, it was the perfect house for the perfect couple – to hell with the fucked-up son.

Charles chuckled, the sound closer to a cackle. He parked near the garage's side door and entered. The garage was dark but spotless. When had it been anything but? He returned to the car and opened up the back seat, tugging the blanket off his captive.

Still unconscious, Alexis lay curled up in a fetal position, arms tucked in close to her sides. He laid his hand on her neck, checking her pulse. Slow, deep and steady. One surreptitious glance around, then he tugged her up and over his shoulder. He grunted as he took the full brunt of her weight. Damn good thing she wasn't any bigger. At the huge storage closet, he grinned savagely, reaching out and kicking the long row of spotless tools off their hooks. The clatter screamed through the cavernous room. Instead of making him happy, he winced as the beat in his temple increased.

None too gently, he lowered Alexis to the cement floor of the cupboard, the spotlessly clean cement.

God, everything pissed him off today. The freedom to finally act out his plans was bringing out the submerged feelings he'd spent half a lifetime hiding – even from himself.

Alexis lay crumpled and still on the cold floor. He couldn't waste any time or emotion on her. He had nothing left to give anyone. For years, he'd been a shell on automatic pilot, waiting for someone to throw a switch. Finally, someone had.

Arnie.

Quickly, Charles finished setting things in order. His final act was to close and lock the cupboard door.

Nonchalantly, he walked through into the main part of the house.

"Hello! Is anyone home?"

The house appeared silent. He knew better. She'd be here, hiding in her bottle. He walked through to the solarium. There she sat, just as he'd expected, all dressed up for company. Company that would never come. She was the epitome of the perfect lady, except for the heavy lacing of Glenfiddich Whisky in her coffee, her favorite choice of wake up drinks.

He'd been close to her – once. He didn't know if the drugs had sent her off or the booze, but she wasn't often the mother he remembered.

"Good morning, Mother. How are you this morning?"

A faint tremor washed through the older woman. Visibly regaining control, she couldn't quite hide the shudder of revulsion in her eyes as she looked at him.

He smiled nastily. "What's the matter, Mom?" He stressed the title, knowing how much she hated it. "Are you not having a good morning?"

"It's fine." She refused to add more, choosing instead to take a hefty, fortifying drink from her cup.

Sitting there, she looked almost perfect. Not a hair out of place. Appearances for her were everything. He almost felt sorry for her – her world was about to bust apart.

On the heels of that thought, his headache lashed out, catching him above the temple. He winced as agony speared through him.

"I told you to get those headaches checked," she lectured in her patronizing voice.

God, he hated that tone. "And I told you I'm fine. I'm not going to see any more damn doctors."

"Well, maybe your medication needs to be changed. You are taking it, aren't you," she asked fearfully. "Remember what happened the last time you forgot?"

Irritated, Charles sat down across from his mother. She flinched. "And if I don't, what the hell could you do about it? You're nothing but a useless, washed out, alcoholic whore."

Pain mixed with faint tendrils of fear in her eyes. "Are you taking your medication?" she demanded sharply. "Are you?" At his sneering look, she reiterated, "Charles, you have to take it, do you hear me? Bad things happen when you don't. You're not yourself without them."

Her voice mocked deep into his weak soul. "Don't you mention that again, you bitch." He shoved away from the table, standing threateningly over her. "This time, I've made sure it will be
him
that gets locked up. Not me!"

Sandra face bleached white. "Dear God, what have you done?" Frail hands reached up to clutch at the antique gold necklace.

"You'll find out." He gave her a salute of mock respect and turned his back on her then walked out. "When it's too damn late to change it."

He left.

***

Sandra's heart pounded, as terror, never far from the surface in recent years, slammed into her head.

Dear God, what had her son done now? He was a good boy, really. But there'd always been something a little…off…but only sometimes. She loved him so much, but was so afraid there was something terribly wrong.

She'd always wondered if Charles had anything to do with her beloved Marie's death. They'd tried so hard to keep him stable. Like her, he was…delicate. Not always himself.

And it was when he wasn't himself…that she was terrified. Of what he'd do. Of what he'd done.

She gasped in pain. A decades-long torment rising once again to the surface. She tried to stuff it back down. Down where the other fears lived. The constant bruises, little accidents befalling her little girl. That horrible intuitive feeling a mother has…that something…someone was hurting her.

And the fear of finding out who. She'd drowned those horrible fears in her whisky, hating the suspicion always inside, eating away at her family, poisoning everything around her.

It had been easier to forget it all. Block it out. Black it out.

She clutched her hand to her heart.

It had been so hard to survive all these years after losing her only daughter.

Too hard. But she'd tried. Tried to salvage her marriage, tried to be a mother to her son.

Now, her frail, worn-out shell of a woman who'd seen too much, been dealt so many lethal blows, gasped and fought for air. The faint gasps finally gave out to a crushing, squeezing compression of her weak heart. She couldn't think as a gray fog filled her brain. Blue color slowly overtook the blank whiteness as she fought for air and against the pain. Stumbling off her chair, she collapsed to the hardwood floor, struggling to reach the phone on the side buffet. She crawled part way, a bit more – was almost to the phone – when a voice reached out to her.

"Oh my God, ma'am. Wait, hold on, I'm getting help."

The frantically struggling woman never heard the sounds of help arriving. Blackness choked her in an unending constricting torment until she slipped into blessed unconsciousness.

***

Kevin was beside himself. He could find no sign of Alexis on the physical or ethereal planes. Cruisers were out looking for both Alexis and Charles. With Stefan practicing his new technique, Kevin found it impossible to talk to him telepathically.

He desperately needed his friend's help.

He strode through the double doors of the hospital entrance, heading for Stefan's room. Never in his life had he needed his friend like he did today.

"Stefan?" He called out as he entered the peaceful room. "That's enough. I need you. You have to come back. Alexis is in danger or…or worse," he said.

"I know," whispered the faint voice. "What makes you think I can help more on this side than on the other?"