(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (33 page)

10:03 am

Brandt yawned, feeling his face crack and splinter. God he was tired. He shouldn't have come in to work without catching a few hours of sleep, only he'd felt driven by the need to do something constructive. Besides, he might never sleep again. Not after that crime scene. That poor woman had been sliced and diced and Brandt could only feel grateful the killer hadn't been into cooking and eating too.

The forensic evidence wasn't in yet. The autopsy would be soon. All Brandt could do was wait.

He laid his head down on his crossed arms on the desk. He'd just rest his eyes for a minute. That's all he needed.

His phone rang a little later. Bleary-eyed he stared, uncomprehending at the noisy black machine. Sam? Rubbing his hand over his face, he reached for the receiver.

"Hello," he mumbled in a grainy voice. Reaching for his coffee cup, he took a drink to ease his throat. He choked and spluttered on the clammy cold drink, grimaced, and drank another sip. Caffeine was caffeine.

"Brandt, are you okay?"

Not Sam.

His mother. Damn, he'd forgotten. "Mom, I'm fine. How's the colonel?"

"He's still unconscious, but he does appear a little more peaceful now."

"But he hasn't woken up?" Brandt tried to smother a yawn and failed. He needed to talk to the colonel, if and when that was possible. He wanted to call Sam too, just to hear her voice. A warm light wrapped around his heart.

"No. Not yet."

Maisy sounded as tired as he felt. He hurt for her. It was hard to sit and wait when someone you cared about was hurting.

"Brandt, are you there?"

Brandt shook himself. "Yeah, Mom, I'm here." He checked at his watch. "Are you still at the hospital?"

"I'm here again now. I went home, had a shower, and came back in. I don't want him to wake up alone."

"It's almost lunchtime. Why don't I come by and pick you up? We'll go out for a bite to eat together." He could still check in with Sam, take his mom out for lunch and be back in time to tackle his heaped desk.

Maisy hesitated.

"Mom, come on. It would be good for both of us."

She capitulated. "Alright. But just for a bite."

Brandt checked his watch. "Good. I'll finish up here in another hour or so. Then I'll come by and pick you up."

Brandt rang off and stretched. He needed to check his emails and talk to his boss. Neither should take too long.

Bringing up his email, Brandt checked the couple of dozen messages waiting for him. One of them was from the librarian he'd met a couple of days ago. The librarian confirmed various ring patterns used over the decades for class rings and the similarity of the sketch to one used by a specific fraternity.

Brandt couldn't believe it. Finally, a breakthrough. His euphoria died as he read on. The ring design was in use for close to a decade with variations by year, except it had been out of circulation for two decades. Over five hundred of them could have been purchased. The professor who'd informed the librarian, didn't have any figures or names available as the system hadn't been computerized back then. He did offer a few names of other people who might be able to help.

Brandt weeded through his messages, taking care of priorities. Before leaving for lunch, he walked over to the largest of the file cabinets and carefully hid, then locked Sam's journal inside. That would do for the moment.

"Hey, Brandt."

Brandt turned to find Kevin at the door. "Hey what's up?"

Kevin grinned. "The captain wants to see you. And for a change, I had nothing to do with this one. The grapevine apparently told him about Sam's vision and the latest murder."

"How the hell did the grapevine, or you, even find out?"

Kevin shrugged. "I don't know where I heard about it first, but it's true, isn't it?"

"Is what true?"

"She saw this victim as she died, didn't she?"

Brandt groaned and closed his eyes. "Shit, did I slip up and say something to Adam? God I must have been really tired to have done that."

Kevin snapped his fingers, almost laughing out loud. "Yeah, that might have been who told me."

Captain Johansen's door was ajar when Brandt arrived. He knocked and pushed it open.

"Come in, Brandt. Take a seat." The captain gestured toward the single chair not piled high with file folders.

Closing the door behind him, Brandt made his way to the lone chair and sat.

The captain glanced at him. "Brandt. What's this about your psychic and another murder?"

Brandt said, "It's true. Sorry, I haven't had a chance to catch you up on the latest since coming in from the crime scene."

"You know what will happen if this gets out?" Captain Johansen always had the department's image on his mind. "How close was she?"

"Spot on."

"Damn."

Brandt understood how he felt. "It's not as if we're the first department to have used psychics." Brandt swept his arm toward the wide expanse of glass. "Besides, this is department stuff and the media shouldn't ever know – unless someone tells them."

Captain Johansen glared. "What about her? How are you going to stop her from stepping into the limelight? She could make a huge promo out of this case."

"Sam's not the type."

Brandt watched in fascination as Captain Johansen's beetle brows crinkled, almost meeting in the center of his forehead.

"Everyone is the type. You just have to have the right circumstances to bring it out."

Brandt stared out the window, refusing to be drawn. Captain Johansen was a hard-ass who'd apparently run the department fairly for many decades. His beliefs were little enough to put up with.

"Well, I'm saying that Sam isn't like that – but believe what you want."

The captain shuffled the papers on his desk. "So what did she see and what did she miss?"

It took a few minutes to give him the rundown. He finished with the one thing Sam hadn't seen. "She didn't mention the ear. And we don't know why her ear was cut off or where it is."

"That's how it works with psychics. They get some of the information right and they get a lot wrong." Captain Johansen doodled on a notepad in front of him, obviously deep in thought.

"True enough." Brandt leaned forward. "This isn't for discussion with anyone else, but I actually saw her go through a vision." He gave a brief version of what he'd seen at Sam's cabin that night. The memories of the cuts appearing on Sam's fragile body haunted him.

"You saw these cuts appear and disappear – and you weren't drunk?"

Brandt stared into Captain Johansen's eyes. "God's truth. I swear I watched the cuts appear and then disappear. There was blood everywhere. Jesus, I panicked."

"Why didn't you call 911?"

Brandt's lips twisted. "I almost did. I managed to get through to Stefan first."

The captain squinted up him. "That would have helped. Did Stefan have answers?"

Brandt nodded. "And thank God he did. I would have caused more damage if I'd touched her. Maybe permanently."

"I don't know what to think about this stuff, however, I know several good cops that swear by Stefan."

"Sam isn't as strong or as secure in her abilities as Stefan. The good news is he's going to help train her. Sam's fragile. She needs to learn to protect herself." Brandt geared for the blow. "And that includes being protected from this department."

The captain leaned forward, glaring at Brandt. "What does that mean?" Larger than life, the captain never backed down from a fight. He had no trouble calling a spade a spade, and he always stood by his men. At six-foot-six, he was built like the football player he used to be.

Brandt glared back. "I can't forget about the ring diagram incident. Someone could also take it into his head to release personal information about Sam." He paused.

"But why?" The captain pounded his fist. "It wouldn't be someone from here. They'd know the damage something like that could cause the department."

"More likely to discredit me."

He waited a beat. "There's another possible complication."

The captain leaned forward. "Let's hear it."

Brandt quickly related what he knew about Deputy Brooker and what had been done to Sam, years ago. And the couple of incidents in the last few days.

The captain very clearly, very succinctly, said one word, "Shit." He shifted his great bulk deeper into his chair. It took another few minutes before Captain Johansen spoke again. "Bring her in. I think it is time I met this person."

"And how am I going to do that?"

"I don't know. That's for you to figure out. Just do it."

Ten minutes later, Brandt reached Sam by phone. "When?" Her tone somehow managed to convey weary acceptance. Damn she sounded tired.

"Today. Now would be good." Now that she'd agreed, he didn't really care, just the faster the better.

"I'm at work. I have roughly another hour-and-a-half before I'm done. Say about 1:30 pm. Does that work for you?"

'That would be great."

He hung up the phone and then remembered. Crap. His mother. He glanced at his watch. He was going to be late. Ah hell. Grabbing his keys, he locked his office and ran.

1:07 pm

S
am sat stiffly in her chair in Brandt's office. As soon as she'd arrived, Brandt had excused himself. What the hell was up with that? He'd mentioned something about the captain wanting to speak with her.

Hearing a noise, she turned to watch as one of the clerks walked in, smiled, and dropped a stack of mail onto Brandt's desk. Of course, there was no Brandt.

Just when she'd determined to go searching for him, Brandt walked in, followed by a huge man who dominated the small office.

Sam shifted to the side, slightly intimidated at the outright bulk of the two males. She tucked her fingers under her thighs, hoping to still the nervous rapping on the chair.

"Sam, this is my boss, Captain Johansen."

Surprised, Sam could only smile and nod. She shifted to the one side of her chair again.

The captain gave her a gentle smile that was at odds with his size. "It's nice to meet you, miss." He sat down on the chair beside her.

Sam could feel her eyes grow wider. She struggled against the nervousness threatening to overwhelm her. The captain smiled again. It didn't make her feel any better.

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I've spoken to Detective Sutherland here." Captain Johansen glanced at Brandt. "And he's told me a lot about you."

Sam whipped around to stare at Brandt. "Did he now?" Her eyes bored a question into the hapless target. When he nodded slowly, she slumped into her chair and closed her eyes, just barely holding back a groan. "Great," she whispered barely above an audible tone.

"Now I'm not saying that I agree with all this stuff, but I'm willing to trust Brandt. He says you have some impressive data. The problem is, I don't really want the public to know that you've been helping us."

That made sense, sort of. "Good. Neither do I."

He pursed his lips, gave a decisive nod, and continued. "Then we agree on that." The captain fell silent, Brandt stayed quiet, and Sam didn't know what to say.

"Why are you're telling me this?" She was under attack again.

The captain gazed at Brandt, one eyebrow raised.

"Stop it. No silent conversations between you two. Talk to me," she snapped. She glared at the two men.

Brandt hid his smile.

Captain Johansen opened the discussion. "We'd like to be able to use any information that you have for us. Like the ring. You know about the ring sketch on the news, right?" At her nod, he continued, "That wasn't supposed to happen. Still, it is bringing in tips on our hotline. There is a slight possibility that other information was accessed at the same time, but only a very slim chance."

She didn't know what to say. "Am I in danger?"

Again, the two men exchanged glances.

"I don't think so. Your address is a PO box and not a house address, so that would slow down anyone searching for you," said the captain. He took one of her hands in his. "I just need you to be careful until we get to the bottom of this."

"That's a little hard when you don't know what the threat is or where it's coming from."

Captain Johansen spoke up. "The killer doesn't know about you – does he?"

That was a horrible thought. "No I don't think so. Unless someone told him, or he's psychic, too. The chances of that aren't great."