As the tingle started she acknowledged this was one she connected with, and she focused on forming the room in her mind. The familiar door opened slowly, almost cautiously, and Cass waited for impact.
A powerful blow shot to her midsection, causing a whoosh of air to escape. She could sense both men looking at her, but she straightened slowly and ignored their curiosity. Instead she smiled and concentrated on breathing.
A serene face greeted her on the other side of the door. Beautiful. Blond.
Lauren.
“So, you’re Malcolm McDonough? And your sister was Lauren,” Cass stated.
He merely stared at her, his eyes moving up and down, taking in first her sneakers, then the rest of her apparel, with a slight sneer.
“You don’t look like a consultant.”
“I got her out of bed,” Dougie told him. “Can’t really expect her to be at her best at this hour.”
“I suppose.”
“I think I need some coffee,” she said.
Dougie hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. He walked off, his agile gait eating up the distance between the desk and the coffee machine.
Carefully, the man in front of her took his seat again.
You have to help him. He won’t know what to do. How to handle this.
Cass felt the words inside her head and tried to make sense of them even as she focused on the seated man. It was sort of like trying to have a conversation with someone while listening to someone else speak into her ear. Like people tried to do with their hands-free cell phone units and usually failed. However, for Cass, keeping the two conversations distinct while acting normally had become an art form. While dramatic pauses made for great television for TV psychics, in real life they tended to make people uncomfortable.
The space between the desks was tight, and she found herself having to step over McDonough’s feet in order to get to the chair that was across from Dougie’s desk. Turning the chair a little, so she could face him, Cass struggled with what to ask him.
“Long day?”
His face hardened noticeably. “Yes.”
He’s so hurt. I can’t leave until I know he’s going to be all right. Make him talk to you.
“What’s the matter with your eye?”
“I’m sorry?” Cass looked up and met his gaze.
“It’s bruised. Did someone hit you?”
“Uh…no…uh, I’m clumsy and I bent down and you know…bang.”
He said nothing.
“I know that Lauren lived on Addison. I live on Addison. It’s a nice neighborhood, but it’s going downhill a little. I just moved a couple of blocks down the street to avoid the danger zone.”
He continued to say nothing.
“Did she have any friends that lived nearby?”
“Of course she had friends. She was a very sweet girl.”
“Anyone you know?” When he remained silent, she pushed. “Were you two close?”
“No.”
“Oh.” She waited for him to say something else, but she was getting the impression that he wasn’t the type to volunteer information, so she had to ask the obvious. “Why not?”
His jaw clenched. “There were several reasons. She is…was…my half sister. There were many years between us. And we were very different.”
We were close. As close as he would let anyone. He loved me. He wouldn’t hurt me. Remind him…about the nurse.
“I think you loved her. I think you’re putting on a pretty good facade right now, but inside you’re hurting.” Cass gulped when his face remained impassive. “You strike me as someone who needs to be in control. I hear you’re somewhat of a big shot. You have your own business. Something like this happens, and all of a sudden nothing is in your power. Nothing that you can change. I imagine it’s extremely difficult to accept that. But you have to know that Dougie, Doug, will find whoever did this.”
“Who are you?”
Cass avoided the question and instead turned her head, searching for Dougie. He was still on the other side of the room with two cups of coffee in his hands, waylaid by one of the other detectives.
“I’m…a consultant,” she answered pathetically.
“I see. What kind?”
“I’m not sure that matters.”
“Oh it absolutely matters,” he told her, his voice colder than it had been when speaking to Dougie. “You suggested that this was difficult for me? This afternoon at my office two police officers came to inform me that my sister was dead. That she was slain in her apartment, murdered in cold blood, stabbed several times and, for the final injustice, had her tongue removed with a knife. The blood that poured out of her mouth seeped into the floor so that eventually it could be seen by the people who lived in the apartment below her. That’s how they discovered she was dead. I demanded to be taken to her apartment to see what had happened, and now that image will forever be burned into my memory.
“Since then I’ve been made to sit here for hours while I’ve been asked and have answered the same questions over and over again, including those about my whereabouts during the time in which she was murdered. All this while my sister’s killer continues to walk free. And then the detective gives me you. You with a coat that I wouldn’t give to the Salvation Army. You, who, if I had to guess, is barely over the legal age limit. You, who has absolutely no idea what you’re doing. So I’ll ask again. Who are you?”
Tell him about the nurse.
The door to her room closed, and Cass now focused all her attention on Lauren’s brother. Who was innocent of his sister’s murder.
“My name is Cassandra Allen, and Dougie wanted me to talk to you.”
“Detective Brody wanted you to talk to me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Cass shrugged. There was no point in lying to the man. She’d stopped hiding who and what she was years ago. But somehow she suspected that what she had to tell him was not going to go over all that well.
“He’s hoping I’ll be able to determine if you killed your sister.”
He breathed audibly. “And how exactly will you be able to determine that?”
“Actually, he was hoping Lauren would tell me.”
“Is this some kind of joke?”
“No, sir. You see, sometimes…the dead…they speak to me.”
His jaw dropped slightly, then his eyes narrowed. “You’re a psychic.”
Although the way he said the word, it sounded more like “fake.”
“I have a gift.”
“You see things?”
“No. I’m not clairvoyant.”
“Feel things then. Isn’t that how it’s done?”
“That’s clairsentience. And I don’t have that gift either. I can’t read your mind or see the future. I’m a medium, Mr. McDonough. I make contact with those who have passed through their loved ones. That’s all.”
“That’s all,” he repeated, his voice calm and moderated but as sharp as glass. “You disgust me. People like you who prey on the innocent and trusting. The grieving. A gift? More like a sham. You are the worst sort of con artist. How do you live with yourself?”
“I’m sorry you don’t believe me.”
“Don’t apologize. Detective!” He stood then and raised his voice enough so that Dougie turned and came rushing back to the desk. “Are you part of this ridiculous scam?”
Dougie looked at Cass, and she merely shrugged in defense. “Mr. McDonough, Miss Allen has been a consultant for the PPD now for some time and…”
“I don’t give a damn what label you stick on her. I am done with this pretense of an investigation. Psychics! That’s who you bring in to help. No wonder you haven’t found Lauren’s killer. Is the mayor aware of your current police procedures?” He shook his head. “I’m leaving. If you insist I stay, you’ll be insisting to my lawyer.”