(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (39 page)

"Not this time."

David, an older man,, walked in, smiling at her. "Good news, huh?"

"Yeah. But I'll feel better when he's behind bars." With one last glance at Sam, he said, "I won't be long, but it's important to get to the hospital as soon as possible. We need every bit of evidence we can to nail this bastard. I shouldn't be more than a couple of hours."

Sam nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to leave. She couldn't quite believe that this was almost over. This worry had been with her for so long. It didn't seem possible that the end was near.

She smiled at David. "Thanks for coming. I'm heading to bed. Maybe I'll be able to sleep for the first time in weeks."

David tipped his cap. "Go rest easy. We'll get this guy."

Sam nodded, as expected, and walked to her room. She didn't have the same level of confidence. She knew this asshole had evaded cops for decades. A car chase was small change for him. He'd taken out a guard and injured two nurses tonight alone.

Who knew what other damage he could inflict this night?

2 am

Brandt drove fast, carefully. The long, twisting dirt road didn't offer much opportunity for speeding. He hated to leave Sam. Reaching for his cell phone, he called Captain Johansen for the latest.

"I don't have an update. I'll get one and call you back. Where are you?"

"Almost twenty minutes out from the hospital." Brandt hung up, turned on his sirens, and slammed his foot down on the pedal. His stomach churned with nerves. Leaving Sam was the last thing he wanted to do. They'd better have this bastard locked up by the time this night was over.

His cell phone rang.

"Hello." Brandt glanced in his rear view mirror. Other than a semi that he'd passed a few miles ago, the highway was deserted.

"Brandt, turn around," yelled the captain. "The cops pulled the car over. A stupid assed kid had been paid a hundred bucks to drive the car north as far and as fast as he could. The cops tracked the car. It was stolen yesterday."

"Shit!" Brandt hit the brakes. His tires squealed loudly as the vehicle spun sideways before coming to a violent, rocking stop across the highway. He turned the wheel and hit the gas. "Call David and warn him. I'm on my way."

If Brandt thought he drove fast on the way into town, he burned rubber heading to Sam.

A diversion. A fucking diversion to leave Sam open – and defenseless.

Christ.

He tried calling Sam's cell phone. No answer. Shit! She hadn't turned the damn thing on. He called David. No answer.

Oh, God, please let him be in time.

2:24 am

Sam headed to bed. She couldn't help feeling terrible about the guard and nurses. She didn't even know how the victim had fared in that confrontation. Hopefully, everyone would survive. Sam really wanted a happy ending to all of this. With the blankets pulled up to her chin, she found herself listening for the phone downstairs announcing the good news. Uneasy, without explanation, Sam found herself giving extra thanks for her bodyguard downstairs. Brandt...well, he'd be home whenever he was done.

Home. That had such a nice cozy ring to it. Maybe when this mess was over... After twenty minutes of not being able to stop her mind from circling uselessly, she compromised and took a, herbal sleep aid. It wouldn't knock her out the same as a sleeping pill.

Brandt. A warm contentedness filled her mind. An irritating pinch on her arm made her frown, but then his hands slid over the smooth surface of her hips. Mmmm. Heat flushed through her veins, awaking nerve endings she'd forcibly capped for the last few days.

Moving sensuously under his soothing caresses, Sam moaned in joy. She reached for him, but let him turn her hands aside as his caresses explored the soft valley of her abdomen. He was purely delicious. He was also too good at what he did. Lost in the sensations of building lust and the unique experience of enjoying her lover's attention, Sam slid deeper under his spell. Placing her hand over his, sliding her fingers gently through and over his, Sam explored his strong muscled hands before sliding slowly up his wrists. They felt different.

He still had clothes on.

With a slight moue, she tugged at the sleeve that interfered with her exploration. Gently, he grabbed her hands and raised them over her head, holding her in place. She murmured in delight and tried to tug. It didn't work.

He bent his head and nuzzled the plump side of her breast through her pajama top.

Sam moaned and twisted under him. Her stomach roiled, at odds with the rest of the sensations happily flickering though her body. She frowned in confusion.

His mouth fondled the pouting nipple under the cotton material.

"Please," she pleaded.

Silence.

A tiny bit of doubt crept under Sam's guard. It seemed so real. But so were her visions. A weird fog rolled through her mind. Shit. Realization was slow to come. Brandt was gone. This was another vision. No. Surely not. Sleepiness mixed with the images overlapping in her mind – all in bright Technicolor.

Heat flashed over her skin at the memories of her previous lovemaking with Brandt. Overlapping were sensations on her skin even now. Hands moved to cup her breasts and squeeze gently. She sighed. But her mind wouldn't relax. Caught in limbo between worlds, she struggled to stay real in another woman's dream. Wanting it to be Brandt, yet knowing the killer had taken another victim.

His mouth tugged and teased, tantalizing her nipple, bringing her back to a sensual high, all the while her mind operating in the background, struggling to remember Stefan's lessons.

Teeth clamped lightly on the end of the sensitive nipple.

Then bit down hard.

The woman screamed. Sam screamed.

Her spine arched and she tried to curve away from the pain. Her hands were held above her head, keeping her captive. Her eyes opened. Then closed again in despair.

Oh God. It
was
him. She was caught in another vision.

Sam struggled to separate the vision from the reality.

Oh, God. Oh, God. The poor woman. Sam knew she could do nothing, but endure. Locked inside her mental labyrinth, Sam felt the victim's pain and horror, as she finally understood.

She twisted and struggled, hearing the words. "Please don't hurt me." Were they from the victim or her? Sam didn't know. It didn't matter. Both of them wanted this to be over. They wanted to be saved. And they both knew it wasn't going to happen.

Low masculine laughter filled the room.

"Please," pleaded the same voice. "Let me go."

Her arms were wrenched above her head and held in a punishing grip. The attacker pressed down hard on the wrist bones. Pain squeezed through injured nerve endings, ripping scorch lines throughout her body.

Sam, desperate to separate herself from the woman's pain, tried to seek the blackness of the etheric world. This torture was just beginning. Sam didn't want to be here and most definitely not this early on. She normally came in at the end, those precious few minutes to help the victims cross the line to death.

She was part of this experience to help the victims and if she could, to help the police find justice for the victims. She wasn't here to suffer. Her mind waffled then raced in different directions from what had to be drugs, sliding insidiously through the victim's veins. She wanted out. Stefan had given her some tips to try, what were they? Right. Grounding herself by following the line of her skeleton down to her feet and imagining them coming from the center of the earth. Except, she hadn't expected to do this under these circumstances. Concentrating was almost impossible. The woman's terror, her pain dominated. Sam struggled to free herself of the dark sucking energy.

"Samantha."

Sam's mind froze. Then her heart slammed into her chest.

Who called her?

Her eyelids flickered and she was suddenly more afraid than she'd ever been in her life. Never had a vision called her name. She wrinkled her nose. A fetid odor filled her head. Something awful wafted through the air. A metallic bloody smell. God, she didn't want to open her eyes and see what she knew would be there.

"Look at me, Samantha."

She forced her eyes wide.

And found herself in her own bedroom, staring up at the same whitewashed ceiling. She was home. Oh God. She was not alone.

This time, she was the victim.

2:29 am

Stefan slammed into awareness. Shoving his bedding back, he came to a standing position before he'd even realized what had happened. He couldn't see where he was, his bedroom was seeped in darkness. His curtains were open – still no light shone in.

Looking around, his hand went to his throat. Jesus. Sam. She was in danger. He reached for his phone. No answer. Shit. He called Brandt. It was busy. Fuck.

Pushing into a sitting position, he crossed his legs and sent himself deep into a trance. He had to find Sam. Soon. She needed help. Evil was wrapping her up in the dangerous torrent. He had to make her aware...and fast.

He tried to block out the unwanted thought, then realized it was stopping his gifts. Better to acknowledge the possibility so he wouldn't be crippled by the fear. He knew that before this night was over she'd be fighting for her life

Or...even worse, he'd be helping her cross over to the other side – to her death.

2:39 am

No!

She tried to struggle. Panic dimmed her sight as she realized there'd be no waking up this time. There'd be no last minute rescue for her. It was her turn to die.

It wasn't supposed to happen this way. Where the hell was Brandt? Even as she panicked, vestiges of old resentment rose to the surface. Why was there no one there to rescue her? Wait. David. Her security guard. She groaned. Oh no, the poor man.

I'm here.

Stefan.

Call Brandt!

He knows. He's on his way. Keep fighting.

I'm trying.

Fight harder.

Stefan's voice started to fade.
No. Wait. Remember your lessons
.
Disconnect.

Her mind cried out for him. There was no answer.

She glared at the asshole that had hurt so many people. She'd never even seen him before. This time he had no mask. Why? As she tried to focus in on the details of his face, his features zoomed out, leaving her with a faint impression of dark wide-set eyes with heavy brows and thick cheekbones and prominent nose – his eyes black empty holes. His face look oddly colored, out of proportion.

Drugs. Of course, he'd given her drugs. Different ones this time. Her mind tried to puzzle through the convoluted maze of thoughts, then quickly frazzled out. It didn't matter anymore.

"What kind of useless psychic are you? You couldn't even see this coming." His mouth twisted into a malevolent mockery of a smile.

"What did you do to my bodyguard?" She spat the words at him. She twisted in vain.

He reared backwards. "Must have been a cop. Just as useless as the rest of them." He shifted slightly for a better look at her face. With a big smirk, he added, "You were supposed to be a bigger challenge, being a psychic and all." Coarse laughter filled the room, grating on her ears and sending terror running through her soul. "I was looking forward to this." He stared around in disgust. "Nothing to it. Or you. God, what a loser. Look at this place. It's a dump."

Evil glistened from his eyes, sourced deep in his soul. It would be a bad day for those who'd crossed him. Like her.

She, remembering Stefan's lessons, searched for lightness inside her center of being. His blackness was overwhelming. The light sustained her. If she let the blackness gain control, it would be over. If it were her time to die like all the others, then she'd rather go kicking and screaming – and taking a piece of him with her.

She reached out in her mind's eye. She could barely sense the bodyguard. He was still alive. The dogs' energy was outside her bedroom door. She could almost hear them whining. The bastard had shut it, locking them out. No sign of Brandt or Stefan.

"Damn you to hell." She glared at him, furious at herself, and the situation.

He laughed. "Not like you planned, huh?"

She twisted her head to check the window. It was wide open.

If she screamed, the dogs still would not be able to get through the door. There was no lock, still she had yet to teach any animal to open the door latch. Soldier was an incredibly determined animal. He was strong enough to break the door down if he wanted to. Or if he were mad enough. If she could find the right trigger. What had she called him in the vet's office so long ago?