“You are married.” No, wait. That didn’t feel right. I got psychic ‘hits.’ Strong impulses. Strong feelings. This didn’t feel right. “You were married,” I corrected. “To the fake blond. Oops, sorry. Didn’t mean to say that. Anyway, you were married to the blond in the photographs along your piano and fireplace mantel.”
“Jesus.”
I waited for more information to come through. It always came through in a variety of ways. With Peter, the information was coming through in feelings, too. Sometimes it came through in symbolic images. Or, if I was getting a particularly clear remote viewing hit, I could just have a look around the tangible environment. I was doing that now, combining my seeing with feeling.
Yeah, I was weird like that.
But I wasn’t getting a hit on the daughter. No surprise there. Not being a medium, I couldn’t see or feel the dead. Also, I wasn’t a mind reader, so I wasn’t privy to what Peter was thinking or what he knew. I got impulses of information. Also, I could not control how much information came through, or what kind of information was revealed. I simply opened myself up to the information...and hoped for the best.
Peter stood and wiped the tears from his face. I saw him pacing in his big living room. I even saw his footprints forming and reforming in the elegant white carpet. He ran his fingers through his hair with his free hand.
As he did so, I began getting more hits, this time flashing images. Horrific images, and as I received them, I spoke with rising alarm. “Your daughter was killed. Strangled to death. She was found in a park nearby. Jesus. Local kids found her. The police don’t have a suspect. This was years ago. Maybe two or three years ago. Your wife has long since left you. I’m so sorry. Jesus.”
I saw him bury his face in his hands as he sobbed even harder than before.
“You still wear your wedding ring,” I said.
As I sat in my cozy chair in my living room, with my protein drink next to me and my eyes closed, I saw him look down at his hand and study the diamond-encrusted band. “How...how could you possibly know that?”
“My strength lies in remote viewing,” I said.
“I’m not following...”
“It means I’m watching you now.”
He shivered so much he nearly dropped the phone. He began turning in circles, looking around in a panic. As he did so, which I reported seeing, he next went to the front door and looked out, which I also reported seeing.
“That’s incredible,” he said. “You see my every move.”
“My boyfriends all hate it,” I said.
“Have you always been like this?”
I thought of my vampire friend. “It’s been getting stronger lately.”
“What am I doing now?”
I laughed. “You just touched your nose.”
“Are you looking into my house somehow?”
“That’s one way of putting it, but not in the way you’re suggesting.”
He sat heavily on the big couch. “I guess you know I just sat down.”
“Yes.”
“I think I called the right person to help find my daughter’s murderer.”
“Maybe,” I said. “I can’t guarantee anything.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t control my psychic hits. You do realize, Peter, that most of my clients are lonely women wondering if they’ll ever find true love.”
I saw him nod. “Yes. I can’t imagine you get very many calls like mine.”
“No.”
“So, what do we do next? I need to know who killed my daughter. I have to know. He has to be found. It’s killing me inside.”
It wasn’t ethical for me to meet a client outside of work. I was not running my own business here. I worked for The Psychic Hotline. My bosses could be listening. Actually, I had a strong sense that they were not listening. Not this time.
I bit my lip, thought hard about it. As I thought about it, the one-legged bird continued watching me. I believed in animal totems. My animal totem was a hawk. In some states, seagulls were called sea hawks. If a one-legged seagull could make the journey to see me, I figured the least I could do was make the journey to see Peter.
Finally, I said, “I’m going to need to get to know your daughter a little better.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ll need to see her things, touch her things. That kind of stuff.”
Now he was nodding enthusiastically, wiping his red nose. “Yes, definitely. Should I give you the address?”
“No,” I said. “I’m good.”
He laughed a little, even as he wiped the tears. “When can I expect you?”
“Tonight,” I said. “Around eight.”
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll see you tonight at eight.” He hung up.
He might have hung up in the physical sense, but he and I were still very much in contact in the psychic sense. I watched him toss aside his house phone, sit back on his couch and cover his face with both hands. One thing I knew above all else, Peter was not his daughter’s killer.
I pulled back until I was outside his regal home, and noted the street name and street number. I swung further out and returned to the park I’d seen, the park where his daughter had been found dead. I noted its cross streets. Yes, I was a living, breathing Google Map App. A psychic one.
Such a freak, I thought.
I opened my eyes and gave myself a few seconds to fully return to my small, but cute, apartment in Beverly Hills. I wrote down the street names and address on a pad of paper next to me.
After sipping my protein drink and clearing my thoughts, I took my next call.
“Hi, this is Allison. Thank you for calling The Psychic Hotline. How can I help you see into the future?”
Chapter Three
Later, I pulled up to the park.
Yes, the very same park I had seen in my mind’s eye when talking to Peter. I was freaky like that. Especially these days, thanks to my friend, Samantha, and before her, Victor. That they were both vampires was no coincidence.
I sat in my car, feeling a deep sadness that I knew was not my own. It was dusk, and the park was mostly empty. A young woman watched two kids swinging. She was looking down at something glowing. It was too big to be a phone. It just might have been one of those Kindle or Nook thingies. Whatever it was, its ambient glow highlighted her lower face and eyes, touching on cheekbones, the tip of her nose, her chin. She highlighted well. The two kids swung and shouted and laughed. The woman ignored them and read, although she glanced up every few minutes.