(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (26 page)

Brandt was silent. "Can someone really live a life like hers?"

"She is." Bald and clear, there was no arguing with the logic.

"What if I can't?" There it was – the secret fear. The fear that had kept him awake all night as he lay on his couch as she lay opposite on hers. That sat stewing in his mind all morning, keeping him from focusing on his job. What if he couldn't accept Sam, couldn't accept the life she led?

Stefan's heavy sigh came through the phone. "If you can't, you can't. It would surprise me though. I've certainly pushed the envelope of your beliefs – so what's different this time?"

"This time I find I'm searching for an anchor, a point of reference. Something to help me place what I witnessed into my belief system, my reality."

"That is exactly how you felt the first time I spoke to you about a killer on one of your cases. I even told you something similar at the time."

Brandt vaguely remembered that time in his life. "Was I that bad?"

"Absolutely. You might also remember something you've said to me in the past. You told me that you'd never married because you couldn't see anyone accepting your life. Now you're thinking about rejecting her because you can't accept
her
life."

"I'm not rejecting her..." And he wasn't. He was rejecting her gift. God he was an ass. But Stefan continued to talk.

"Good. Think about this. See how you feel about it all tomorrow. Call me if you need to talk."

Stefan hung up after that, leaving Brandt alone with his thoughts. Brandt had seen a lot of things in his life. Police work often demanded finding a way through lies and deceit to arrive at the truth. In this case, the truth stared him in the face. He could no longer doubt what he'd seen. It had just taken some time to accept. That something impossible, something that broke all the laws of life as he knew them – had happened – whether he like it or not.

8:45 am

Not working a normal nine to five, Monday to Friday job made for a great week, but damn it, she hated to work on weekends.

Peering into the mirror, Sam curled her lip. It's a good thing Brandt had left early this morning. She resembled the homeless woman everyone thought she was. Her hair hung lank around her shoulders. If there were any highlights then they were hidden in the shadows. Pulling a brush through hair she didn't have time to wash, she ran.

She was ten minutes late.

Two other staff members worked at opening the front office while Sam started feeding the animals. It must have been a busy day yesterday. There were several new animals and Sam's heart bled for each and every one. It took hours to make them comfortable. The hospital was short-handed. Twice, she was called away to help the front staff, once with an unruly canine, and the second time with a tomcat that wasn't interested in having his wayward ways changed.

Working with the animals out front, helped Sam to see other aspects of the business. Working with the injured animals in the cages gave her a lopsided view. She loved seeing them before they ended up in her care.

"Good morning, Sam."

Lost in thought, she spun around, almost falling to the floor from her crouching position. "Good morning, Dr. Wascott."

"How is Soldier doing?"

A big grin split her face. The vet stopped, a stunned expression emblazoned on his normally peaceful face.

"Soldier is doing wonderfully. He's walking around more and slowly gaining strength. He had his last medicine this morning, and he should be fine now."

The doctor moved his head from side to side. "Honestly, Sam, I don't think I've ever seen you this happy. I'm glad the dog is bringing some life into your world."

Heat bloomed on her cheeks as she realized she'd been babbling. "Sorry," she muttered.

The older man sported a boyish grin. "No problem. It's quite a nice change, actually."

Still, she couldn't help a sheepish grin, feeling a little more of her normal reserve drop off. She felt more comfortable with him than she ever had before.

"There's a phone call for you, Dr. Wascott." One of the vet assistants walked into the room, smiling. "Good morning, Samantha. How are you today?"

Feeling unnaturally peaceful, Sam nodded to the other woman. "I'm fine, thank you."

"Good. There's fresh bread, a new grainy recipe from the corner bakery, in the lunchroom. Lucy also brought in some fresh creamed honey. Make sure you have some before your shift is over."

The idea of fresh baked bread made her mouth water. "Thanks, I'd like to try it."

"You're done now. There's a fresh pot of tea in there, too. Go enjoy." Dr. Wascott nudged Sam's arm before walking out of the room.

The treat sounded too irresistible to ignore.

Sam slipped into the lunchroom, slightly disappointed to find it empty. With a frown, she considered that. How long had it been since she'd relished company?

The bread smelled luscious. A fresh yeasty aroma wafted free as Sam cut of a thick slice. An open canning jar full of creamy honey sat on the counter. In the light, the honey had a deep opaque milkiness to it. Opening the lid, Sam sniffed the contents. Using the tip of her knife, she tasted a small bit and rolled her eyes as the flavor exploded on her tongue. Oh my God, that was so good. Quickly, Sam slathered the top of her bread with a thick layer before sitting at the small table with her tea.

"It's good, isn't it?

Sam started in surprise, so lost in the snack she hadn't heard anyone enter. With her mouth full, she could only nod.

Lucy grinned, cutting herself a slice.

Afterwards, Sam headed to the library for more research books. From there, it was a quick hop over to the grocery store for a couple of items.

She stood in line, waiting to pay for her purchase. She should have come here earlier and avoided the rush. Crowds gave her a headache. She reached up to rub her temple when she felt it.

A long finger of evil reached out and brushed her soul.

The grocery store disappeared, the line of people morphed into a small tidy room. The smell of medicine and aftershave assailed her nose. A gruff cough poured from her chest. Sam bent to rub her sore leg, surprised to see a cane in her right hand and plaid slippers on her feet.

Her hand went to her chest as she shuffled over to an easy chair, stiff movements jarring her spine with each step. Evil surrounded her –
him
. Only she didn't think he knew about it.

"Hey, old man?"

The male body she inhabited jerked in surprise, turning somewhat awkwardly. The other man had a huge old lady's hat with flowers…and Christ, something that resembled a bird on top. A silk paisley scarf wrapped around the lower portion of his face, obscuring all, but his dark voracious eyes. Sam's stomach dropped. She knew that gaze. She wanted to close her eyes but they weren't her own. She wanted to jump free, but she was tied to this soul.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my room?"

"Just taking care of details. The mark of a professional is in giving every detail the same level of attention – no matter how small." The voice was muffled and rasping. Sam knew she wouldn't be able to identify it in real time.

"What do you want?" the old man asked querulously. "Get out of my room." Sam wanted to run from the room, to force the old man to move toward the door. She had no control over his limbs or tongue. She could only watch, paralyzed with horror, knowing what was to come. She tried to catalogue the details for later.

"Oh, I'm leaving, colonel. But I'll be back – you on the other hand, won't be."

Pain exploded at the crown of Sam's head, colors danced, blinding her. She groaned. The carpet rushed up to meet her, as she collapsed to the floor.

Darkness swirled, coaxing her into the center of the morass before becoming an all-encompassing shroud then blinking out all together. Sam hung suspended between time and reality. Not moving one way or another. Caught. Lost.

At the last minute, Sam heard a faint voice weaving through the darkness, "Serves you right, you old bastard."

Then the darkness was complete.

"Excuse me." Sam was nudged gently and then again, not so gently. "Excuse me? Are you alright?"

Sam came to, woozy and still in a half-blind state. She could hardly focus. A woman's concerned face, blurry and of an odd size came into partial focus. "Yeess." Her tongue had a fuzzy, thick feeling and if that was her voice, something was wrong. Very wrong.

"You don't look it." The woman spoke bluntly, tugging Sam to a chair nearby. The groceries were removed from Sam's arms and she was gently pushed into the chair.

Sam's eyes went black with pain. This wasn't transition, it wasn't reality either. It seemed a step in between – still painful with any movement, yet no bleeding, or other physical manifestations as far as she could tell. It would be a couple of moments before she'd be able to check.

"Are you a diabetic? An epileptic?"

Sam managed to shake her head slowly. "No," she whispered. "I'm fine."

The woman didn't appear convinced. "Do you want to just sit here for a few minutes?" She rose, taking several steps away. "I can return in a moment or two and see how you are doing?" She stopped her escape. "Or I could call for an ambulance?"

Sam eyed the woman again. Her eyes were huge with worry. Sam closed her own for a moment then reopened them again. The process worked much better this time. She gave her a tiny gentle smile. "Thank you," she murmured. "I'll just sit here until I feel better."

"Okay." Relief washed over the woman's face. "As long as you are feeling better, then I'll leave. I’ll check on you in a little bit."

Sam said thanks and couldn't hold back a sigh of relief that the concerned woman had left. She really didn't feel well. Yet, neither could she say that she felt really bad.

She couldn't explain in a way anyone would understand. Whatever had just happened had drained her energy. She needed rest, and soon. First, she needed to get out of the public's eye.

Surveying the area around her, she couldn't find her sack of groceries anywhere. They could be sitting close, waiting for her, not that she had the energy to look or to care. She'd shop later. For now, she'd be happy with getting to her truck.

Staying upright was a challenge. Using the wall for stability, Sam slipped through the double doors to the parking lot. Her truck was somewhere in the middle. She closed her eyes and leaned against the outside wall. The fresh air helped. Several deep breaths later, her eyesight had returned to normal. If she waited just one more minute, she might be able to walk there like a normal person.

Once at her truck, she struggled inside, shutting the door with more force than necessary. She took another deep breath and evaluated her state of health. Most functions had returned to normal. She didn't know about her speech. But the pain was gone. Achiness remained, yet that was liveable. Her motor functions had returned to normal.

She pulled her cell phone out and dialed Brandt.

"Hello."

"Brandt." She winced. No, her voice wasn't quite normal.

"What's wrong?" His voice had no problem – it damn near split her eardrum.

She held the phone away from her ear, groaning as her head pounded. "Don't yell, please."

He modulated his tone. "Then tell me what's wrong. You sound terrible."

"I'm just coming out of a vision." Sam coughed gently. "This one was weird. This time some old man was hit over the head."

"What?"

Sam could almost see his brow furrowed with concentration.

"Did you see the attacker?

"He was disguised as an old woman. The old man knew him. I think I've been at this place before. Not the same room maybe, but something similar."

"Sam. I have another call coming in. I'll call you right back. Where are you?"

"I'm sitting in the shopping center across from work. While waiting in line at the grocery store, the vision damn near crippled me."

"But you're okay now?"

"Yes. Call me soon." Sam rang off. She rested her head against the side window and closed her eyes.

1:20 pm

B
randt answered the second call impatiently. He needed to call Sam. Damn it all to hell. His fingers rubbed the ridge of his nose.

"Hello." He couldn't help the shortness in his voice.

He listened for a moment, and with the cries from the other end of the phone ringing in his ears, Brandt grabbed his keys and ran out the door.

It was a short trip, barely fifteen minutes before Brandt drove into the parking lot of the senior care home to be greeted by the all too common sight of an ambulance. He strode forward into the empty hallway. Arriving at his mother's suite, he was surprised to find that empty, too. But maybe he shouldn't be. She could always be found at the center of any gathering – and medical emergencies definitely qualified.