Lingering Touch: The Summer Park Psychics, Book 3 (17 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Wake up. Wake. Up.

Finn’s head was pounding. He blinked his eyes and looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. His shoulders ached. He couldn’t move his arms. Pain lanced through his wrists as rough rope bit into his skin. He was tied to a chair.

A moment of panic shot through him. He had dreamt something too close to this over and over again. He had to calm himself down. Assess his situation, his surroundings. Directly across from him, Jazz was tied to a chair too. Her head was bowed forward, her dark hair obscuring her face.

More panic, but longer than a moment. She wasn’t moving.

“Jazz!”

Finn tugged against the ropes, tried to hop his chair closer. The floor of the place was sand. He couldn’t get enough purchase to move.

“You pathetic fool.”

He jerked his head to the side, trying to find the voice. The world spun around him and he felt nauseated. He closed his eyes till the feeling passed.

“I can’t believe you let him catch you. I only left you alone for a few minutes.”

Finn looked around more slowly. They were in some kind of shed, the dark wood pitted from time and exposure to the elements. The door was open, giving Finn a view of the swamp outside. And it was actual swamp.

The water line was only a few dozen feet from where they sat. If a gator decided it wanted a snack, it could walk right in.

He looked around the room some more. Gators became the least of his worries.

Tables lined the walls of the shed. They were covered in a mix of pelts, hunks of wood in vaguely animal-like shapes, and tools. Sharp, jagged tools. Some of them he recognized as being for woodworking. The rest he could only imagine were for carving…other things. It looked like they were in a torture chamber.

He pulled against the ropes again.

“You disappoint me.”

Where the hell was that coming from? The guy’s voice sounded like it was right in Finn’s ear. Even closer.

He looked around the place again. It must be Travis’s taxidermy studio. He and Jazz were the only ones there. Finn craned his neck around to try to look over his shoulder.

Two forms lurked in the shadows.

Shit.

They were small, but in his current state, there was nothing he could do to protect himself or Jazz. If only he was free. He could take them—

“What kind of private investigator were you?”
The voice was thick with mockery.

Finn’s neck hurt, but he kept looking. The figures didn’t move. They were holding too still. Mannequins. They were female mannequins. More specifically, they looked like the frames sitting on the tables. The ones Travis must use for…

Oh shit!

He turned back to Jazz, his breath coming so fast he was almost hyperventilating.

“Yes,”
the voice practically purred.
“Frames for my little mad elf’s workshop. I see you can imagine what he plans to do with them.”

“Who are you?”

“Tsk. It’s just the two of us in here. I’d rather keep our conversation private. Besides, you don’t want Travis to hear, do you? Once he knows you’re awake, he’ll come back inside.”

Finn looked at the open doorway. Yeah, he didn’t want Travis coming back. Not until Finn had figured a way out of this and could kick the sick bastard’s ass.

“So violent. You need to learn control. There’s so much that you’re capable of. You didn’t even scratch the surface of your powers.”

Finn closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“Who are you?”
he thought.

“Better. Much better. But too little, too late.”

The light dimmed as Travis stepped into the shed. He was wearing a faded gray and white checkered shirt, jeans, and heavy boots. He glanced at Finn and did a double-take.

“He thought you’d still be sleeping. He didn’t know I’d be here to prod you awake.”

Finn ignored the voice. “Travis. It’s Travis, right?”

Travis’s mouth tightened into a line, his lips disappearing almost completely. The guy was a rail. His cheekbones stuck out on his face, his thin arms were corded with muscle and sinew—no fat to soften him anywhere.

He walked behind Jazz and checked her ropes. She stirred. Finn’s heart was pounding. He had to get her out of there. Travis headed toward him, stepping behind Finn’s chair.

If Finn could reach him—touch his skin—he would push him to let them go. He didn’t give a shit about the consequences. He just wanted Jazz safe.

“Do you think it’s that simple? That you can turn on that power like a switch, without studying it, practicing it?”

Travis checked the ropes, pulling on them tight enough to make Finn wince. He reached for Travis—tried to anyway. His hands didn’t respond.

“That is how it’s done. Finesse. Slip in between the cracks so they don’t even know you’re the one in control. Learn how they think so they can’t tell which voice in their mind is their own.”

Shit!
Travis walked to one of the tables. Finn had to think of another way to reach him.

“What is it that you want?” Finn asked.

“He wants to be like me,”
the voice whispered.

“Shut up!”

Finn’s stomach seemed to drop through his body, carried away with a feeling of déjà vu. This conversation wasn’t new. It had been going on since yesterday at least. Intrusive thoughts that Finn believed were his own, even though they weren’t like him at all.

He’d thought Michael’s memories were affecting him—getting under his skin—until Jazz shared her theory in the darkroom that Michael was the one haunting him. That somehow his spirit was still hanging around. Hanging around
Finn
.

Maybe he had used Finn’s bond with Rachel or used the connection Finn made when he read objects. Either way, Michael was back. And he was in Finn’s head. Under his skin.

The voice in his head laughed.
“‘Under your skin’ is going to have a very literal meaning for you soon.”

Travis turned from the table, a long thin blade in his hand. A skinning knife.

Shit!

Finn drew out the word in his mind. He couldn’t help it. That panic from earlier was back in full force.

“Come on, man,” he said. “You don’t have to do this.”

“He
wants
to do it. Don’t you see? He’s trying to live up to the standard I set—to prove he’s as good as me. It’s pathetic, really.”

“Travis, please. This isn’t you. I saw the kid you were before Michael started messing with your head. Don’t let him turn you into this.”

“Oh, please. I’ve been sculpting his mind for decades. Do you think you can undo my work with platitudes? When I came to live here, he was a plump little thing just approaching manhood. Disillusioned with the world, but still open-minded enough for me to squeeze in. I would pick at him till he attacked me, then set his mother against him as well. They were excellent practice for learning to control others. You, though. You have so much raw power. Power you never bothered to use.”

Dammit. Finn almost felt bad for Travis. The guy’s hand was shaking. He really didn’t want to do this. Michael had fucked with his head so bad.

“I can help you,” Finn said.

“No you can’t,”
the voice said.
“You can’t help anyone. Not yourself. Not Ms. Zhou.”

Finn was trying to figure a way out of this, but coming up empty. The sand kept him from getting enough purchase to shift his chair. Travis was right there with them, armed and absolutely dangerous. Jazz was unconscious, at his mercy.

“Please,” Finn said. “I’m begging you. Let her go.”

Travis was staring at the knife in his hands. He was working up his nerve. Finn had to reach him quickly.

“As if he would ever let either of you go. You both know about what he’s done. He’s too much of a coward to go to prison. He’d rather kill you.”

“Of everybody in this room, I think
you’re
the one he’d most like to kill.”

Wait… That just might work.

“Travis, I know Michael hurt you. Made your life hell. I know you hate him and you want to prove that you’re better than him.”

Travis finally spoke, his voice rusty as if he seldom used it. “You don’t know a damned thing.”

“I do. I know because he’s here. Michael is here.”

Travis finally looked at Finn. His eyes were wide and his mouth dropped open. He glanced around the small space, shifting the knife in his hand so he wielded it like a weapon.

“You’ve felt him too, haven’t you? You know he’s still around.”

“My traps…” Travis murmured. “They were all set off last night.”

How could Michael have managed that? Finn wished that he and Jazz had talked more about what ghosts could do instead of focusing on Finn’s problematic powers. In the movies, sometimes ghosts could move things. Setting off a bunch of traps seemed a bit much.

The voice in his head laughed. Mocking him again.
“You really are clueless.”

Finn was missing something. Michael had already taunted Finn about not knowing what he could do with his powers. And Michael had said he was practicing using them. Finn looked at Travis again, the way his eyes glazed over, the terrified look on his face.

“They weren’t empty, were they?”

Travis’s gaze flicked to Finn’s again and he snapped his mouth shut. Finn went over everything he knew about Michael, remembered the dream about Travis.

Traps.

What if Jazz was right and Finn did have the ability to control animals? What if Michael had been practicing on them while working his way up to controlling Finn’s own body with his powers, overriding his mental commands?

“It was squirrels,” Finn said. “They had run into the traps and set them off.”

Travis’s eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. He flashed the knife toward Finn. “How do you know that?”

“Because Michael is in my head. You want your revenge? Take it. He’s right here for you. But let Jazz go.”

“Pathetic. As if ending your life would end me.”

Travis turned back to the table and set down the knife. He kept scanning his tools, shifting them, lining them up in perfect rows.

“He’ll never let her go. You only have one chance at making it out of this alive.”

Finn knew the devil was about to offer him a deal. He could feel it. And he didn’t have any options to counter whatever Michael was about to say.

“Which is?”

“Let me talk to him.”

It couldn’t be that easy.

“Step aside and let me take over.”

“As if.”

“I’ll convince him to let us out of the chair and remind him of his place.”

There was no way Finn was letting this sick bastard take his body for a spin. The things he might do… No. No way.

“Then die here. Both of you.”

Shit.

“You know he’s going to kill you. You’re helpless to stop him. If I can talk to him directly, I can convince him to let you go. After that, all you have to deal with is me.”

That last part caught Finn’s attention. Michael noticed.

“This is your body. Do you really have so little faith in yourself that you don’t think you can reassert control after you’re free?”

Finn wasn’t sure. It was too risky. He had to think of another way. Fast.

“There is only one way out—if he
lets
you go. He will never cut you free. But he will free me. It’s been fun to mess with you, but if he kills you, I can always find someone else to possess. Either way, the choice is yours.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

Holding still while Finn talked to Travis was taking all of Jazz’s willpower. She kept her head dangling loose on her neck, letting her hair shield her eyes as she surveyed the small space where they were held captive.

She could see tables out of the corners of her eyes. Their phones were sitting on one of them, along with carving tools, blanks waiting to be used, and some that had already been shaped into frames for more of Travis’s work—including two life-sized female forms just behind Finn.

The hair on her arms lifted as she thought about the implications of those two mannequins. They were the same size as Elsa and Rachel.

Her stomach knotted. There was an acrid scent permeating the air as well. Something had been burned nearby recently. The wind carried the smell just inside the shed occasionally as it shifted. Char and chemicals. Lighter fluid.

There was sand beneath her feet. Her legs were tied to her chair at the ankles—around her boots. If they could get Travis to leave, she would be able to get her feet out of her boots. She could walk to the table and get a tool to cut herself and Finn free.

It was a big if.

Finn was trying to convince Travis to free Jazz. He had been, anyway, before he lapsed into an unexpected silence. Travis was standing at his tables, sorting through his tools. She risked a glance at Finn. His head was bowed against his chest. Had he given up?

No, he was a fighter, like her. What was he doing then? All of his focus seemed to be directed internally. Maybe he was trying to sort through Michael’s memories to figure out a way to help them.

That didn’t seem safe. The more he delved into them, the more of a foothold Michael seemed to get. And in this dark place… They were in his home territory. She could feel it.

She had listened to their conversation. Finn hadn’t been able to reach Travis. Maybe she could. She lifted her head cautiously and kept her voice low and neutral.

“Travis.”

He stiffened, but didn’t look at her.

“Hi. I’m Jazz.”

He kept picking up one tool after another and setting it back in place.

“You haven’t done anything wrong yet.” It wasn’t exactly true, but she needed to win him over. “You can still let us go. Put a stop to this. You have the power to do that—to make that choice.”

He said something, but his voice was too low for her to hear.

“What?”

“Be quiet.”

“Travis, please. You need to listen to me.”

“Shut up.” He was still picking things up and putting them down. Over and over.

“It isn’t too late.”

“Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!”

He turned to her, eyes wild, then he leapt at her. He grabbed her by the throat with both hands, squeezing till she couldn’t breathe.

“You are
materials
! Materials don’t talk!”

The sound of blood rushing through her ears was distorting what she heard. It had to be. Because Finn was laughing.

“Pig!” Finn shouted. “Pig, pig, piggy!”

Travis’s grip went lax. Jazz sucked in air, the room spinning around her.

Travis turned around, his voice eerily quiet. “What did you say?”

Finn laughed again, then made a horrible squealing sound. His eyes were closed, and his head listed to the side. A bizarre smile stretched across his face.

“Finn…” Her throat was sore. She couldn’t manage more than his name.

“I said shut up!” Travis backhanded her.

Pain blurred her vision and blood started to pool in her mouth. She blinked away the tears so she could see Finn more clearly. His head had rolled forward, his chin resting against his chest.

“Travis, how many times do I have to tell you?” Finn lifted his head, his smile spreading to show all of his teeth. He paused after each word when he spoke. “Don’t damage the canvas.”

He looked up at her. His eyes were bright, bright blue.

“No…” Jazz whispered.

Travis pulled back his fist, aiming for her face. He froze when Finn yelled, “Pig!” again.

“You will listen to me, you filthy little pig.”

Travis took a menacing step toward Finn. “Stop calling me that.”

“But it’s what you are. My piggy bank.” Finn laughed again.

Travis’s face went pale. He lifted a hand to touch his chest just above his heart, his breath coming fast. If they were lucky, maybe he would pass out and Jazz could try to figure out a way to fix this, to bring Finn back to himself.

Travis stumbled toward Finn. So much for luck.

“You… You can’t say that. You can’t say these things. You can’t know these things.”

“I know everything about you. All your dirty little secrets.”

“No. You can’t be him. She killed you. That Rachel, she killed you.”

Finn grimaced. “She was
paint
. Do you really think she could end me? Do you think
anyone
can end me?”

Travis shook his head. His hands were twitching, forming fists that Jazz doubted he was even aware of.

“This is a trick,” Travis said.

“You know it isn’t. Otherwise you wouldn’t look like you’re about to wet yourself.”

“Shut up.”

“That’s it. Hide in the mud, piggy. Hide from the truth, the truths I know. Like that you’re a gutless coward.” Finn cocked his head to the side and pursed his lips. “Is that why you like to play with dead things? Hollow them out so they’re like you? Is that why you stole everything Auntie cooked for
me
. Trying to fill yourself up?”

“Stop it.” The calm of Travis’s voice worried Jazz more than his shouting. Shit, Michael had done a number on this guy. She couldn’t imagine living with a psychopath.

“You never even had the courage to kill any of your playthings without your pathetic little traps. I had to do it for you. You’d have nothing without me. You
are
nothing without me!”

“Stop!” Travis punched Finn in the jaw viciously.

Jazz gasped. Maybe the pain would snap him out of it, let him escape from Michael’s memories. Finn spat out a mouthful of blood and smiled again.

“I’m sorry,” Travis stuttered. He dropped to his knees next to Finn. “I’m sorry, I just get so mad. You know how I get mad.”

“It’s all right, Travis.” Finn’s voice was smooth and cool, like a snake’s skin. “I forgive you. I understand. That’s always been your problem. Your violence is always a reaction. Never a
decision
. Never a choice. My violence always has purpose.”

Travis was nodding, his gaze on the floor and his hands clasped in front of him like some sort of sick disciple. “I know, Mikey. I know.”

“Let me show you,” Finn said. “Let me give you purpose.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have a grand goal. I applaud you on that. But you need to practice. Beyond your little pets.”

Finn looked at Jazz for the first time. Hope swelled in her heart, then burst when she saw the coldness of his eyes. Finn wasn’t there.

No. Dammit, no. She could still save him. Help him save himself. She wouldn’t give up on them again.

“If you let yourself become angry, you’ll bruise the skin and ruin the piece,” he said.

“You’re right. You always think of these things.” Travis looked at Jazz too, an assessing gaze, one that didn’t see her as a person. She was just materials to him, to them both. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.

“These ropes on my wrists sure as hell are chafing. Might want to do something about that if you’re trying to keep my skin all pretty.”

Travis took a menacing step forward, but Finn… No,
Michael
, stopped him.

“Ah-ah, Travis.”

“She keeps talking to me.” Travis bit the words out, his jaw so tense, muscles were twitching on both sides of his face.

“Then stop her. But do it better.”

“How?”

Michael-in-Finn’s-body leveled a malicious stare at her, grin wide, head lowered like a predator. “Cover her mouth with your hand and pinch her nose shut.”

“Oh, that’s perfect.”

“Wait…” Jazz said, but Travis was already on her, covering her mouth and nose. She tried to bite him, but he was too strong. When she flailed her head, he grabbed her hair with his other hand and kept her still. Her lungs started to burn, her eyes watering.

“Not too much,” Michael said. “We’re not done with her yet.”

Travis let go, and Jazz gulped down air again.

She was getting a good idea of how this would end. The worst of it wasn’t even that she was going to die. Finn was going to keep on moving, trapped in his body while he was being controlled by Michael.

She had to do something. Any time she opened her mouth, it set Travis off. But words were her only weapon.

The first thing she needed to do was get Finn free—his body, anyway. If she could reach him, it would only help if they weren’t both tied to chairs.

“You think you’re in charge, but you’re tied up just like me.” Jazz swallowed hard, then leaned back. “
Mikey
.”

Something dark crossed his features. Jazz really hoped she could reach Finn quickly. She was sure Michael would come up with some creative ways to punish her for pointing that out.

“Let me up.” Michael somehow made each clipped word a threat.

Travis was thinking about what Jazz said, but she doubted he would be able to go against Michael’s wishes.

“You’re going to be mad because I hit you,” Travis said.

“Not as mad as I’ll be if you don’t get these fucking ropes off of me right now!”

Jazz had never known Michael to swear. The fact that he did so now terrified her. He even dropped the condescending way he normally spoke. She might have gone a bit too far.

Travis could sense the change too—the danger. He started working on the ropes on Finn’s feet. When they were loose, he moved behind the chair to free Finn’s hands.

“I didn’t know you were in there. I wouldn’t have tied you up if I’d known, Mikey.”

“Stop calling me that.”

As soon as Michael was free, some of the menace seemed to drain from him. He rubbed his wrists and shook his shoulders. After a deep breath, he smiled at Jazz again, a look she’d seen dozens of times at the gallery.

“Where is it?” Michael asked.

“I kept it safe for you, Mi—”

Travis stopped himself, which was probably a good thing given the menacing look Michael cast at him. Travis reached into his shirt and pulled out a leather pouch on a loop of dark cord. He took it off and handed it to Michael.

Whatever was in there, Michael was delighted to have it back. He cupped the pouch in his hands, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths as he smiled. Then he draped it around his neck, pressing it against his chest above his heart—above
Finn’s
heart.

Michael opened his eyes and smiled at her. “Now then. Let’s get started.”

Travis was staring at Jazz too. He was shifting his weight from side to side. “What’s first? Should I get my knives?”

“The skin, Travis. You have to think of the skin.” Michael started moving around the room, picking over Travis’s tools.

“Right.”

Travis joined him in the search for something to use to kill her. He paused and stared at her. Jazz’s heart was pounding in her chest.

“Oh, I know!” Travis said. “We can drown her in the swamp.”

“That is a wonderful idea.”

Michael turned around, holding a large blank for carving a frame for one of Travis’s creepy companions. Never slowing his momentum, he smashed the block of wood into the side of Travis’s head.

Travis crumpled to the ground. Jazz wasn’t sure if he was alive after that vicious blow.

Michael tossed the blank aside, then dusted his hands together. “Well, my dear. Now that we’re alone…”

Shit.

But they weren’t alone. Finn was still in there, somewhere. She had to believe it. She had to reach him. And if he wasn’t…

Her vision blurred. She closed her eyes, feeling tears roll down her cheeks.

“Finn, I’m so sorry,” she said. “I never thought it would end this way. I didn’t think it was going to end at all. I thought Fate had given us a second chance.”

She opened her eyes to look at him. Michael was glaring at her, but there was confusion and uncertainty on his face. He grabbed a knife from the table and stalked toward her. She smiled.

“I’m glad we had a chance to work things out. I wish we had more time for me to make things up to you.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m him. Finn is gone. Permanently. You know who I am now.”

She nodded. “If that’s true—if Michael is all that’s left—then I’m ready to go. I don’t want to be in a world without Finn.”

He let out a snort. “You and he are a pair. Both disappointing. Everyone is always so impressed with you. You’re supposed to be a fighter. You’re supposed to be strong. How can you give up so easily just because one man is gone?”

Jazz shook her head and smiled.

“I love him.”

Michael’s mouth dropped open.

“I hope you’re in there, Finn. I truly do, if nothing else so that you can hear me say this. God, I hope you can hear me. I love you, Finn. I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

He clamped his mouth shut, his eyebrows pinched together above his nose. He was breathing hard, she could hear it, see his chest heave. He walked around behind her, put his hand on her forehead and pulled her head back. He put the knife against her throat.

She looked into his eyes, praying that somewhere in there, Finn was still fighting. She was fighting too, in her own way.

His gaze was so intent on her, he didn’t seem to notice that the hand holding the knife trembled.

Then he dropped to his knees and cut her free.