Into a Dangerous Mind (13 page)

She continued to play, and the music became a living thing.
 
It rose in its fury and anguish like a hurricane ravishing the countryside.
 
She sat in the eye of the storm, like Mother Nature creating unimaginable power with only her two hands.
 
The notes continued to whirl and twist, the vortex tightening and spiraling until the climax and crescendo of the storm of music crashed across the living room like lightening.

Suddenly, a deadly silence exploded inside the room and hung in the air suspended for what seemed like an eternity until, finally, she pulled the bow across the strings once more.

This time the music held sadness with loss and loneliness lacing each ripe note.
 
The tension that previously suffused the room now heavy and leaden, the notes becoming long and languid.

Slower and slower they came until finally on a long low note she removed her bow from the strings and let the last of the sound die away inside the room.

Sensing someone behind her, she turned to see Kathy in the doorway with fat tears running unchecked down her pale cheeks.
 
“Cassidy, I’ve never been able to play with that kind of emotion—it was so beautiful.”
 
Her voice was a reverent whisper.

Self consciously, Cassidy stood and leaned her cello against the wall.
 
Turning the screw on the end of the bow to loosen it, she placed it on the dining room table.
 
Her insides were empty and hollow like she’d just had a good cleansing crying spell.

Cassidy had never been shy about people listening to her play, but this was more intimate somehow, like Kathy had looked into her very soul.
 
And the music had been born of the sadness and helplessness she’d experienced last night as Tia had slipped into death.

Kathy wiped the last of her tears away, careful not to smudge her perfectly applied eyeliner.
 
“What were you playing?
 
I didn’t recognize it.”

“I don’t know—I just played.
 
I do that sometimes when life just becomes too much.”
 
Cassidy knew she sounded far away and distant and struggled to bring herself back to the present.

Kathy looked shocked.
 
“You wrote that?”

“No.”
 
Cassidy shook her head.
 
“I played it.
 
I can’t write anything, but sometimes I can sit down and let the notes come.”
 
She walked across the room and picked up a bag Kathy had set down just inside the door.

Kathy followed her.
 
“Cassidy, you should record your sessions and then write those out.
 
It was amazing—you could have a solo touring career with material like that.”

Cassidy stopped in mid-motion of reaching into the bag and looked into Kathy’s green eyes, still glistening with tears.
 
“Are you serious?
 
I’m a good cellist, but I’ve never deluded myself into thinking I could compose.”

Kathy arched her brow.
 
“What the hell do you call what you just played, if not composing?
 
Just because it flows out and you would have to tape it to capture it again, doesn’t make it any less of a miracle.
 
You should think about it.”

Cassidy had always wanted to compose, but even in her music theory classes in college, she knew she’d never have the knack.
 
She pictured composing as sitting down with a piece of staff paper and writing down notes out of your head—each one carefully selected to fit into the right chord progression, while sounding brilliant and unplanned.

What if Kathy was right?
 
What if she taped herself playing and then transcribed the music onto paper later?
 
She’d have to give it some serious thought.

Kathy reached past Cassidy and into the bag.
 
“Anyway, since I haven’t been able to talk you into a girl’s night out, I brought the girl’s night out to you.”
 
She pulled a large bottle of Parrot Bay Rum out of the bag and set it on the table.
 
“And for the entertainment, I brought us Gerard Butler, Sean Connery, Ryan Reynolds or Arnold.”
 
She said the last with an overdone fake accent.

Cassidy reached beyond the pain and grinned.
 
Maybe Kathy could help her take her mind off of her troubles.
 
She’d turned down the invitation to go out because Zach wasn’t sure he could keep her safe in an exposed arena without agents surrounding them, which would definitely arouse Kathy’s suspicion.

“I say Gerard—he’s got a great bare butt shot in that one.”
 
Cassidy held up the DVD and waved it meaningfully.

“Good call—I’ll get the Diet Pepsi and limes.
 
You’re the bartender tonight, so all I can say is, pour heavy.”

Cassidy sighed and tried to push Tia and Brian and everything else out of her mind, even if only for a few hours.
 
She needed this.

Two hours and a bottle of
Parrot
Bay
later, they were watching Gerard’s butt shot in slow motion for the hundredth time.
 
“That is the kind of ass I would love to have framed and hung on my wall,” Cassidy slurred.

Kathy giggled.
 
“I can think of a lot of things I’d rather do with his ass than frame it—where’s your sense of adventure?”

Cassidy considered and paused to study Gerard’s anatomy.
 
“I don’t know if I’ve ever really had one.”

“Bull.
 
What about BOB?”

Cassidy snorted and took another drink, letting the smooth coconut rum roll around on her tongue.
 
“That was different.”

BOB stood for Battery Operated Boyfriend, the name she’d given to a blue gel vibrator she’d bought a few years ago in
Paris
, when she and Kathy were on tour with the symphony.
 
BOB had started out as a joke, but she had to admit, she’d had more satisfying dates with BOB in the past few years than she’d had with any flesh and blood man.

“I still can’t believe we got kicked out of that coffee shop.”
 
Cassidy smiled at the memory.

“I can’t believe you asked the cute French guy if he would give us a live demonstration so we’d know how to use BOB.”

“Yeah.”
 
Cassidy sighed and took another drink before continuing.
 
“But how was I supposed to know he was a priest?
 
He wasn’t wearing his collar.”

Both women erupted into gales of drunken laughter.

*****

“Dix—come on, I need you to help me secure the witness.”
 
Zach stood up from his kitchen table and slapped his friend on the shoulder.

Instantly alert, Dix glanced up at Zach.
 
“Is she in danger?
 
Is the Reaper back?”

Zach motioned Dix to relax.
 
“No.
 
But from the sounds of it, she’s drunk off her ass.”

“From the sounds of it?”

“Don’t ask—I tuned out after they started talking about Gerard Butler’s ass.”
 
He thought men were bad, but these women had a detailed discussion about the actor’s anatomy like they were discussing a fine piece of art.
 
He wondered if he had been a topic of discussion as well before she’d gotten so drunk she was broadcasting her every thought.

“Can I finish my pizza and wings first?
 
And what do you mean
they
?
 
Who’s over there with her?” Dix asked around a mouthful of hot wings.

Dix frantically wiped hot wing sauce off his fingers and inspected his clothes to see if he was wearing any stains.
 
“But, she is
not
the witness.
 
Besides, I’m hoping she has a thing for red heads.”
 
He smiled and wiggled his eyebrows.

“Okay, stud, but I need to get over there to Cassidy.
 
She’s broadcasting loud enough for the whole west coast to hear—including the Reaper.”

Dix seemed to have forgotten he didn’t believe in psychic abilities.
 
“I thought you taught her how to put up blocks or shields or whatever you call them.”

“I did, but she’s drunk, which lowers the inhibitions and usually the shields.”
 
Zach picked up his Glock 9mm off the bar and tucked it into his waistband at the small of his back, pulling his T-shirt over it so it wouldn’t show.
 
The Glock was like his American Express card—he never left home without it.

Five minutes later, Zach rang Cassidy’s doorbell and hoped the women heard it over the gales of drunken female laughter.
 
“Cassidy,” he yelled through the door.
 
“Open up, it’s Zach and Dix.”

He heard the chain slide open, the deadbolt unlock, a thump and then a click, which unlocked the door handle.
 
“Come in.”
 
Cassidy spread each word into two sing-song syllables.

Zach opened the door and immediately figured out what the thump had been—Cassidy lay on the floor giggling.
 
“Cassidy, what are you doing down there?
 
Are you okay?”
 
He reached down and helped her up.

She leaned heavily on him.
 
“Perfectly,” she said with the careful enunciation of the intoxicated.

Dix walked over to the couch to look for the second source of giggling.
 
Kathy crawled on her hands and knees diligently searching for her shoes—which Zach noted were still on her feet.
 
Zach heard Dix’s thoughts about Kathy’s mini-skirt and what wonderful things it exposed by riding up.
 
He cleared his throat and looked over at Dix.

“Right, I’ll help Kathy up.”
 
Dix pointed to her.

Zach struggled to keep Cassidy upright, mostly because she kept leaning over trying to look at his butt.

“I bet yours is as good as Gerard’s.”

Zach ignored the comment.
 
“Why don’t we get you to bed, Cass?
 
I’ll get you some aspirin and a glass of water.”

“Are you coming to bed with me?”
 
She twined her arms around his neck and pressed the line of her body against him.

“Come on, Cassidy, I don’t think you’re up for anything like that right now.”
 
He leaned in close to her ear and whispered, “You’re drunk and have dropped all your shields, and the Reaper and half the neighborhood are probably picking up everything you’re thinking.”

Cassidy pulled back, her eyes glistening with unshed tears and pain.
 
He felt like a heel, but his comments seemed to have sobered her better than anything else he could’ve done.
 
“Damn you, Zach.
 
You won’t even let me forget for one night, will you?”
 
She pushed farther away from him, anger and hurt making her steadier on her feet.

“You’re used to dealing with death and danger and fear and mind rapes and God knows what else, but I’m not.
 
I’m terrified Brian is going to find me and I won’t be able to protect myself, besides the fact I don’t know if I can stand to feel more women die.”

She swiped brusquely at her tears with the back of her hand.
 
“And most of all, I feel guilty—guilty for being alive while Tia and all the others are dead, and guilty for being glad it wasn’t me.”

Zach stepped toward her and took Cassidy in his arms.
 
She melted against him as her tears flowed.
 
“Shhh, it’s okay.”
 
He put his shields up for both of them and fervently hoped neither the Reaper nor Kathy had heard the exchange.

From across the room, Zach heard Kathy’s sultry voice.
 
“Cassidy, are you okay?”

Zach cuddled Cassidy closer against his chest and looked over at Kathy.
 
“She’ll be okay.
 
The attack is taking a bigger toll on her than she’s willing to admit.
 
I’ll take care of her, I promise.”