Chapter 7

Staring out through the glass wall overlooking his swimming pool, David watched dark clouds move swiftly across the sky, which seemed odd because the air was heavy with humidity and dead calm at ground level. Lightning flashed, and a few seconds later the rumble of thunder rolled by. It will rain soon, he thought. Did Nora tell the truth? Did she run three days a week, rain or shine? He glanced at his wristwatch. She was late. Perhaps she took a look at the weather and decided she'd run another day.

He had information that would help her in her investigation and wondered how he could give it to her without revealing his flights of consciousness. He could always tell her he was a psychic, a canard he'd used successfully in the past. Deep down, he wanted to tell her the truth and deal with the privacy issue now, not later. He remembered how Darla had reacted, how completely devastated she'd been. Denise's response had been almost as negative.

A buzzer sounded. Nora had arrived. He pushed a button that opened the main gates and moved toward the front door to greet her. As he opened the door, rain started to fall. Big, heavy drops splattered the brick-paved, circular driveway with a syncopated beat. Plunk. Splash. Plink. Plunk. Splash. Plink.

Nora braked and soon stepped from her car holding a large purse, which contained a change of clothes, David assumed. With a small smile, she turned her lovely face to the sky, and raindrops pelted her. She laughed gaily, and rushed toward him, her strong, bare legs flashing as she ran. He caught her in his arms and spun her around. When her feet touched, he kissed her, a good-morning kiss, but Nora wanted more.

The last thing David wanted was to deprive Nora of anything she desired, especially a serious kiss, so he pulled her close and concentrated on her warm full lips. They tasted sweet and felt soft. Incredibly feminine lips. Very demanding. They both wore running shorts, so when she plastered her lithe body to his, their bare legs brushed, and entwined. She squirmed closer to him as her fingers moved through his hair. Deepening the kiss, her tongue invaded his mouth, but quickly retreated, inviting his tongue to chase hers. He enjoyed the chase, especially when she let his tongue catch hers. The world around him turned fuzzy, out of focus. Touch became his vision. He sensed only the woman in his arms and reveled in the sensation.

A flash of lightning and the crack of thunder forced him to face his reality again. The rainstorm had turned into a deluge. Fortunately, they stood under an overhang protecting the main entrance to his home.

Nora jerked her head back and gazed up at him. Her green eyes blazed. They were happy and alert, with just a touch of mischievousness around the edges. "Wanna chase me around a bed for our morning run?"

Thinking she was teasing him, he laughed and shook his head. "Coffee's perked, oranges have been squeezed, and I wanna talk."

Her faux pout gave voice, "Spoilsport."

"I have a makeshift gym for inclement days. If you don't like exercise machines or free weights, you can use the treadmill," he said as they moved toward the kitchen.

"Is it makeshift like your running track?"

"Similar."

She grinned. "Okay, coffee, orange juice, a talk, and we'll check out your professional makeshift gym."

He poured coffee and orange juice, and they settled on a built-in lounge, part of a bay window overlooking a lush garden.

"I like your house, David. It brings the outdoors indoors."

"Thanks."

"You wanted to talk. What about? I hope it's not a serious subject. I feel happy and energized this morning. Lighthearted. My boss finally put me on a real-live case, and he gave me an attaboy when I made my report."

David knew all about the attaboy. What the hell? Get it over with now. If she can't handle what you are, what you can do, it's better to know now than later, after you've fallen head over heels in love with her. "I know," he said.

"You know? How could you know?" Her green eyes glowed with curiosity.

"I was there. I heard him tell you... let's see, his exact words were, 'Good work. That's the kind of detailed look at the victim's last days we needed. Keep me posted.'"

Nora's eyes widened and anger darkened them to a hunter green. "Impossible."

"I was also with you when you spoke with Jenny. I think she shocked you a little when she asked, 'Why haven't you arrested the fucker who killed Hanna?' Incidentally, I apologize for sending the roses to your office. I didn't know they'd make your boss sneeze."

Nora jumped up and paced, her steps nervous, jerky. She folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. "What did you do? Did you plant a listening device on me?" She stopped pacing, and her angry eyes fixed on his. "I should place you under arrest right now, you son of a bitch!"

Good. She's pissed, not frightened. "Be nice. No, I didn't wire you for sound, Nora. I have the strange and wondrous ability to take what I call flights of consciousness." He chuckled. "My mother says my flights are as much a curse as an ability, and from your reaction, you feel the same way. I can see you need proof. Please sit down, relax if possible, and I'll give you proof."

"Impossible! Liar!"

"Please try to be nice, Nora. By the way, I spent a good part of yesterday, when I wasn't with you, checking out the individuals involved with the Hanna Jenkin's case. I found a boy who might have seen the killer. Before you leave, I'll give you his name. He won't come forward voluntarily because he wasn't supposed to be at the mall when he saw the killer. He was grounded at the time, and he slipped out a window when his drunken father passed out in the living room. The boy's afraid to help because his father will find out he left the house and will beat the crap out of him. I checked out his father. The boy has the S.O.B. pegged correctly. Please sit down, Nora. Please."

Her lovely golden mane waved when she shook her head. Anger had fled. Now she looked shocked, and some fear had crept into her expression. She slumped onto a chair at the kitchen table.

"Prove it!"

"Stay where you are. I'll go into my bedroom and close the door. When my consciousness takes flight, it leaves my body. Over the years, my consciousness has learned to experience the five senses while on a trip. It can also speak in a variety of voices. I'll phase out, and my consciousness will join you here in the kitchen. Don't be frightened or alarmed when I touch you, or when I speak to you in my normal voice. Okay?" He rose to his feet.

"You can't be serious! It's some kind of trick."

"No trick. You'll see."

A minute later he hovered over her. "I'm sorry my ability disturbs you so much," David said.

Her head spun left and right, searching for the source of his voice. "It's a recording."

"No recording. Ask me a question. A recording couldn't possibly anticipate every question you might ask."

"What's my boss's name?"

"Colin Pierce, or at least that's what the nameplate on his desk says."

"Jesus!" She shook her head in denial again. "I know! You're a ventriloquist, and you're not really in your bedroom."

"I'm going to touch your hand now."

His hand caressed hers. She jerked it away. His fingers toyed with her hair. She tried to slap them away, but her hand met only air. The fear in her eyes multiplied tenfold.

"Take my hand, Nora, and we'll walk together to my bedroom." He took her hand in his and pulled her to her feet. "My body is on the bed. It's in a deep Delta state, a coma actually." She tried to jerk her hand from his grasp but failed. "I know you're frightened and upset, but please try to open your mind to the possibility that I'm telling you the truth."

He opened the door, and they stepped into the dim bedroom.

Criminy! He's holding my hand and lying on a bed across the room at the same time! What have I gotten myself into? Wild, frightened eyes searched for the apparition holding her hand.

"Let go of my hand," she ordered, anger surfacing again. She felt his ghostly touch release its grip.

"Let's go back to the kitchen," he said. "I'll return to my body and we'll talk."

"Uh-uh. The only place I'm going is outta here!" She turned and hurried away. In the kitchen, she grabbed her purse and rushed toward the front door.

"The boy's name is Robert Green," David said as she opened the door. "His friends call him Bobby."

She hesitated and turned toward the sound of his voice. "I don't know if you're perpetrating an elaborate hoax or telling the truth, but in either case, stay out of my life, David Stanley. Just leave me the hell alone!"

She slammed the door and hurried through the downpour to her car. Just as she reached for the door, it opened.

"Call me when you want to talk," David said.

Frantic, she moved into the driver's seat, and too impatient to search through her purse for her keys, she dumped the contents on the passenger seat, grabbed her keys from the pile, and started the car.

"Don't hold your breath," she hissed as she put the car in gear and pushed the gas pedal to the floor.

That went well, David thought cynically as he watched Nora pull to a stop to wait for the gates to open. He joined her inside her vehicle and watched her pound the steering wheel with the palm of her hand.

"Fuck!" she shouted. "I called it. He was too good to be true. Talk about an ugly reality behind a perfect façade!" Tears stung her eyes. She brushed away the tears as the car shot through the gates. "He isn't an illusionist. He's a freak! That's what he is. A fuckin' freak!"

Devastated, David returned to his body and trudged through the rain to his mother's house. He found her drinking coffee on her covered patio enjoying the storm. Slumping onto a chair across a glass table from her, he muttered, "She thinks I'm a freak."

"Who? Nora?"

"Yeah, I told her about my flights." He angrily wiped his wet face with his wet hands. "She told me to stay out of her life and called me a freak."

"Ah, I'm so sorry, David. I thought she'd..."

"Win some, lose some. She'll be worried I'm watching her, invading her privacy. If she asks, tell her not to worry. I'm not interested in her anymore. I'll never visit her again." Tears flushed his eyes, and he was thankful the rain in his hair and on his face camouflaged his moist eyes. "When the weather breaks, I'm flying to Sedona. I'll curl up with a good book, dine in that French restaurant next to Oak Creek, commune with nature. Wanna come?"

"David, I can't. I..."

"I understand." He pushed himself to his feet. "I hope you have better luck with the Patterson clan than I." He turned and lumbered through the rain to his house.

Fuck her. Like she says, she's a chick from the sticks. A chick with a closed mind, no sense of adventure, no curiosity about the unknown. Did I have her pegged wrong, or what? I'm not a freak, dammit!

Nora's day didn't go well. She couldn't get the idea that David was watching her out of her mind. She felt harassed, even stalked. Spending the day figuratively looking over her shoulder exhausted her, and she was jumpy, startled by the slightest movement around her.

Young Bobby Green was the one bright spot in her day. It hadn't taken much to convince him to tell all, and the boy spent two hours with a sketch artist. They now had a possible likeness of Hanna Jenkin's killer. Her boss's praise was bittersweet because David deserved the attaboy, not her. She spent the afternoon interviewing Bobby's friends, hoping one of them could corroborate Bobby's sighting of a man watching Jenny and Hanna, but came up empty handed. Tomorrow, she'd pass the sketch out to Jenny and the other kids working on the lists. She'd take Jenny to the mall and retrace the steps she took with Hanna the afternoon before Hanna disappeared. Nora would keep digging. Someone besides Bobby saw something out of sync, saw a man, the killer, watching Hanna.

Watching. David watched. He watched like the killer. With a shudder, she suddenly realized she didn't know how long David had been watching her, stalking her. Had he watched her dress and undress? Go to the bathroom? Pick her nose? Masturbate? Have sex with Tim? The more she thought about David watching her, the angrier she became. Her privacy had been invaded, and it pissed her off big time.

At the end of the workday, she stormed into her apartment, slammed the door after she entered, and muttered curses as she strode into her bedroom, slamming that door, too. She started to strip to take a shower, and stopped with her bra half off.

Was he watching her now? "David, if you're watching, listening, I have one thing to say to you. Fuck off and fuck you!"

"Such language," her father said on the other side of the closed bedroom door. "Shame on you. I taught you better, young lady."

"Fuck you, too, Pops."

"Keep it up, and I'll wash your mouth out with soap like I did when you were twelve. I'm having a drink. Scotch. Want one?"

Her shoulders slumped, and her bra fell to the floor. "Sorry, Pops. It wasn't fair of me to take out my vile mood on you. It's just that David has me so angry I could chew nails. Yes, I want a drink, a double, at least. I want to shower first, though." She felt dirty. Could she wash away David's lurking, leering invisible eyes?