Hide'n Go Seek (14 page)

"Of course he's different in another way, too. He's a psychic. He often paints his visions. It helps him set the details."

Her breath caught and held. "He left me his card. Something about him being a psychic consultant?"

Grant nodded. "And famous. His success rate is phenomenal. He works with law enforcement all over the world." He shifted casually in his seat. "Of course, that very work is often the source of his demons."

She considered the point. "The disasters are the reason I paint. Occasionally I paint for pleasure, but it's more an outlet for my pain, instead. If I draw something, it's concrete and clear and real. Once it’s on canvas, it's out of my mind. If I leave the stuff in my head, it rolls around in an endless rewind."

"Sounds like the system works." He reached for the sketchbook, paused, and looked at her.

She nodded, returning to blowing gently on the hot brew in her hand.

He flipped back the cover to the first page and stopped.

"Kali?"

"Huh," she looked over at him.

"Is this the picture you worked on today?"

"As it is the only picture in there, yes, I'd say so. Why?"

Grant quickly leafed through the rest of the pages before returning to the front of the book.

"Do you remember what you drew?" His curiosity was palpable enough to make her uneasy.

"I didn't draw anything. It's just doodles. An outpouring of pent-up images and emotions."

"Where do these images come from?" His voice held an odd tone.

She looked over at him. "Like I said, my SAR work supplies a never-ending film of horror stills. Why?"

He stared at her intently, ignoring her question. "Do other people know about your art?"

She leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Surely there was something more productive for him to do. "Probably. It's no big deal. Artists are everywhere."

"Kali?"

She opened her eyes to find him holding the sketchbook in front of her. At first glance in the poor light, she couldn't make anything out. "I can't see in this light."

"Sit up. Look." Urgency threaded through his voice. He changed the angle of the sketchbook.

Shifting forward, she took another look.

And froze.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

In stark black and white, dominant strokes depicted a woman curled in a fetal position, jammed inside a box of some sort, and buried under the ground. A pipe extended upward to the surface to let in fresh air. Blood dripped from a head injury. The woman appeared to be unconscious or...dead.

Kali shook her head. "I didn't draw that."

"Didn't you?" he asked, leaning closer to study her face. "It's the only picture in the book."

She glowered at it. "I suppose I
must
have - but I didn't realize it at the time. Not sure I believe it now, either," she muttered. Her pencil
had
moved at a furious pace. She'd let everything pour, not caring if it made sense or not, like her painting sessions - hoping to lose herself in another world when her physical one had became too much.

And just like the painting sessions, something very unexpected had popped out. Reaching for the drawing, she studied the details intently. She bolted upright.

"Oh no." Her shocked voice faded to silence. Her fingers clenched around the pages.

"What?"

"I know this woman." She tapped the picture with her finger, unable to tear her eyes from the sketch. Then she stopped and frowned. "I
think
I know who it is?"

"You do? Who is she?" Grant leaned forward and peered closer to the sketch. "How can you identify her from that little bit?"

"Her name is Julie." Kali choked back the emotion threatening to overtake her. "I’m not sure, though. Her hair looks like Julie’s, the line of her nose, the body shape." She studied the sparse details. Doubt crept in. "It's hard to see when she's bundled up like that. It could be Nancy." Tears sprang to her eyes. She swiped them away. "Julie comes to the center a lot. She likes to help out because she’s a survivor herself. She was in Thailand when the tsunami hit in 2004." Kali looked over at Grant. "She's a very sweet lady. About 35 and single - at least I think she is."

"Do you know where she lives?"

"Close to the center. That's all I know. Stan will have her contact info."

Grant pulled out his cell phone. Kali reached across to grab his arm. "What are you doing?"

"Going to call Stan and ask."

Her fingers clenched on his forearm. "Because of this?" She lifted the book. Her painting prodded at her. She’d never drawn or painted anything like these pictures before. She wasn’t about to count on them being right, though. Far from it. And there was no way she’d have bet this picture depicted Julie. It could represent any smaller framed woman or teen.

He paused, his gaze going from the book to her. He shrugged. "Yeah."

Shit. "Uh. This is just a sketch. Something I drew while I was upset." She shook her head. "It's not a photograph. It's just a combination of random drawings. It probably means
nothing
."

Closing his phone, he took a deep breath and faced her. "Where did that image come from, Kali?"

She stroked a finger along the edge of the book. Her gaze locked on the image rendered with horrible clarity. "My mind?"

"Kali, is there is something you want to tell me? You know you can, right? I'm not going to judge you."

Uh-oh.
Here it comes
. She shifted uncomfortably. He could say what he wanted, but that didn't mean she believed him.

"I've worked with Stefan a long time."

She wrinkled her nose. Stefan the psychic. Maybe Grant would comprehend. Still...

"Kali, surely you recognize what's going on."

She swallowed hard. She didn't know how it had happened, but for the first time she had to talk about something she'd kept hidden from everyone. He stared at her so patiently, his gaze seemed so understanding.

Did she dare?

How could she not? "I've never spoken of this to anyone."

He reached for her hand, cradling it in his large capable ones. His thumb stroked the side of her fingers gently.

"You're psychic?"

There. He'd asked her a direct question. She sighed heavily. "Honestly? I don't know what I am. My grandmother called it The Sight. She had it, too. I see things. Know things."

"Paint things?"

She half-laughed. "Apparently. And sketch them, too."

"Can you explain what happens to you? How you perceive the information?"

She shrugged. "Not really. It's been changing so much I don't have a handle on it. When I think I understand how it works...it changes. Sometimes, I just know things. Sometimes, I see ribbons of energy that point me one way." She frowned. "That painting in my studio is a first. I woke up in the morning with paint on my hands and a faint memory of my actions." She stared into his deep eyes, more than a little unnerved at what had happened. "I went into my studio and there it was."

His eyes widened. "Wow."

She gave him a lopsided grin. "Yeah."

"Is it the same way with your sketches? You just close your eyes and draw?"

"I don't know. Now that you mention it, that does seem to be my process. I close my eyes, as if I'm asleep." She thought about it. "All I can say is this is all new to me. Six months ago, I was working a different disaster. We lost a lot of people, including a little girl that Shiloh and I found. The loss really affected me. After that, all this stuff," she tugged one hand free to wave at the sketchbook, "went wild. Before then I had some inkling of where to search for victims on a site, just an instinct that told me where to go. I could find my friends' lost jewelry, keys, pets when I was growing up. It was always minor stuff. Now..." She shook her head, unable to finish the thought.

Silence hung between them.

"Then maybe we should give it a free reign and see what comes." He straightened, still holding her right hand. Waves of energy slid off him and toward her.

"Huh?" she eyed him and the energy curiously. The more time they spent together, the easier their energy blended, almost joining into a single color. Odd. Comforting. Intriguing.

But he'd gone from being a friend to being an agent in that nanosecond it had taken her to understand. And that switch, no matter how intriguing their energy match, was disconcerting. Now he was making calls...again. He dropped her hand and stood up while he talked on his phone. Then he strode inside to his team.

Kali stared at the sketch. Just when she'd figured he'd forgotten about her and the stupid picture, he returned, all business again.

"Kali, Stan's headed to the center to find Julie's contact information. Apparently she moved recently. We're going to meet him there."

Kali jumped to her feet. It didn't matter that it was past one o'clock in the morning. Shiloh watched her, waiting for the signal to say she'd be coming along. She'd be needed if Kali had to search, but that would mean figuring out where to start looking. It would, however, be nice to have her with them. She packed up the sketchbook and pencil to bring along, just in case.

"It’s not likely to be Julie, you know." She muttered glancing sideways at him. "Just saying."

"Maybe it isn't. Let's find her and we'll know."

"The doodle might mean
nothing
," she stressed. "I’m not Stefan. I don’t do this stuff. "

"And it might mean everything." Grant's lips curved in a grim smile. "I’m willing to take a chance. We'll take my car."

Kali followed Grant, letting Shiloh into the back seat. Moonlight danced between the clouds. A chill had settled in. They pulled into the center a few minutes later. Stan's car was already there. Kali pulled out her keys and opened the front door. "Stan?"

"I'm in my office," he called back.

Shiloh raced toward him.

They walked in to find him frantically searching through drawers and stacks of papers; his sparse hair sticking out at all angles as usual. "I can't find it, Kali."

"Find what?"

Stan lifted another stack of papers before dropping them again. Frustration marred his face. He tugged at his shirt collar.

Was he still wearing pajamas?

"The volunteer list. The one with all the names and contact information on it."

Kali frowned. "The last time I saw it, you were carrying it and updating the information as you saw people. That was before Sacramento."

"Right. Several people had moved recently, Julie being one of them. Damn. Where did I put it?"

Kali stared at him, a growing pit of darkness in her gut. The list was important, and she had a good idea why it was missing. Then a new idea struck her. Horrible, but a possible explanation as to why Julie might have been targeted. "Stan, are there just names and phone numbers on the list? Or does it have more personal information

He looked up at her, puzzled. The usually vague expression sharpened. "It has names and contact information. So addresses, phone numbers, emails, and some information concerning their volunteer status and what areas they worked in. Also information on their readiness to leave at a moment's notice. So if they had kids, did they have a caregiver lined up? Or did they live alone, did they work for a living, were they retired and could they come to help out at odd hours. You know we come in and out all of here all the time. Some people are good with that. Others only want to help out on weekends." He shrugged. "We need more volunteers. We've had major changes here, so I was trying to see who was available to do what when. Like always."

Oh God, if the killer had somehow gotten that list, he'd have information on Julie that he might not have gotten anywhere else. "Did Julie ever talk about her time in Thailand?"

"Often. You know it helps victims to share their experiences. Even though it's been years for her, it still helps to have someone who understands."

Kali scrunched up her face and glanced over at Grant. "There wouldn't have been anything on that list to indicate she'd been a survivor from another disaster - would there?"

Grant went still. Kali kept her gaze casual but firmly locked on Stan.

With one hand running through his hair, sending the spiky mess into a new formation, he said slowly, as if thinking it through. "I don't think so...it said that she lived alone, worked at the bank, her hours, work number." He paused, an odd light coming into his eyes, before adding, "and that she would prefer to not be called on Thursday, as she meets with her online support group that night."

Online support group night? Kali shot Grant a quick look, to find him staring at Stan, a hard look in his eyes. She could just imagine how he'd feel about that level of information missing on this many people. "That's fine," she said to Stan, watching as his shoulders sagged slightly, relief washing the dread out of his eyes.

She didn't want to discuss this with him here. "Wait." Stan came to a stop, his eyes widening as if his brain and thoughts just clicked. "You're thinking the list has something to do with the letter writer?"

"I'm
afraid
it might. It's just one of many possibilities."

Stan nodded. "Then we better find it." He walked to the filing cabinet by the door. He
was
wearing pajamas and shoes.

Kali lowered her voice as she spoke to Grant. "Julie was a survivor from a disaster. So was the last victim in Sacramento. He'd survived the apartment collapse. Could be a link there? That letter said something about
even better, she's back where she's meant to be
or something."

"So since they survived a disaster they should be returned to the state where they were found?" Doubt colored his voice. "Both being survivors of a disaster is a link. Whether it's pertinent in this case, I don't know." Frustration glinted from his eyes.

"I don't know that they'd have to be returned to how they were found, but consider that the Sacramento victim was buried under the rubble of the apartment collapse. He was found buried close to the same location. Hell, the oxygen tank could even represent air pockets from the building that collapsed." She frowned. Damn it. They didn't have enough information. They needed more on the second victim. Whoever that was.