Deadly Visions Part 9

She glanced through the floor-to-ceiling windows toward the nurses'station. "The plump nurse with the red hair thinks I won't make it past Friday."

Joe turned and spotted the nurse, who was at the desk, filling out paperwork."How do you know?"

Monica managed a smile even though the effort was obviously painful."I'm psychic, remember? She's been leaking information to a tabloid newspaper."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. She even promised to snap some pictures of my body after they wheel me down to the morgue."

Joe stared at Monica in shock.

Monica nodded."She wants ten thousand dollars, but they're willing to pay only five. Poor thing."

"If you're sure about this, I'll talk to her supervisor on the way out."

"Don't. At least not yet. She has a call in to one of the paper's compet.i.tors, and I'd like to see if they meet her price." Monica closed her eyes, obviously fighting a wave of pain. After a moment, she glanced back at Joe. "You're dying to find out how I know this, aren't you? I have no telephone, and no one else has come to see me today."

"Look, I didn't come here to debunk you."

"But you do want to ask me about the sketches you found in my hotel room."

Joe raised the large manila envelope he was holding. "Very good. Do you know what I want to ask?"

"I'm not in peak form. Fill me in on that one."

Joe pulled out the sketches and showed them to her. "Did you draw these before you actually visited the crime scenes?"

"Of course not. You were there when I gathered my impressions."

"It looks like these were drawn without any knowledge of the actual area."

"I display my drawings on my website and in my books. When I'm in the field, my sketches are often rushed. Sometimes I like to refine my drawings. If the settings look a bit different, chalk it up to artistic license." She gritted her teeth and suddenly turned away.

"Do you want me to get someone?"

Monica turned back."No."

Almost anyone else would have gladly taken a morphine drip, Joe thought. The lady was a fighter. He put away the drawings."Okay. I'm also here to ask you who might have done this."

"How could I possibly know that?"

"Well, given the fact that you're a world-famous psychic-"

"Are you actually giving some tiny shred of credence to my abilities?"

Joe pursed his lips. "You're a very intelligent and intuitive person. I'd be remiss if I didn't get your impressions."

She settled back and stared at the ceiling. "I have no idea. I haven't been able to sense anything since this happened. Whatever it is, I still don't think it's human."

"So you're standing by that."

"Of course."

"Listen to me. Whoever is committing these murders may be afraid of you. They may have somehow engineered this attack to keep you from discovering them."

"I've thought of that."

"I know your show and website are making a lot of noise about this 'spirit killer'angle, but it may be obscuring the real issue here. There may be a flesh-and-blood murderer out there who wants you dead."

"I appreciate your concern."

The plump nurse walked into the room carrying a clipboard."Don't mind me, keep talking." She studied the instrument readings.

Monica raised her head."There's a disposable camera in your locker, isn't there, honey?"

The nurse suddenly wore a startled expression. "Uh-yes, ma'am."

Monica nodded. "I can see it. Tell me, dear, why would you want a camera in a place like this?"

The nurse turned red. "Well, there's a-a party later."

"A party? Hmmm. I'm getting a slightly different reading. I can't quite put my finger on it. I see the camera, its flash going off-"

"I'm sorry, I have to run." The nurse bolted from the room.

Joe chuckled. "I still think I should talk to her supervisor."

Monica closed her eyes again, but this time she wore a faint smile. "Only if I don't make it. In the meantime, I'll enjoy torturing that poor girl."

What a bunch of clowns, Shawn Dylan thought.

Sitting at a window table of a tiny coffee shop, he watched Derek Haddenfield and his woefully inexperienced team scouting the area around the Grady Memorial Hospital. They were obviously looking for sites to set up surveillance on Monica Gaines's room. This wasn't their specialty, and they were using technology that was at least two years out of date. What the h.e.l.l did they hope to gain from this?

Dylan paid his tab and walked toward the hospital. It was dark enough that Haddenfield and company wouldn't spot him, though he doubted they would recognize him anyway. They were always so wrapped up in their insular little world.

He pa.s.sed a group of Monica Gaines's fans standing vigil with signs and candles. A teenage girl sat cross-legged on the sidewalk, rocking back and forth, chanting,"I love you, Monica, I love you, Monica...."

Dylan shook his head. Wow. Gaines's fans were nuttier than he thought.

What utter bulls.h.i.t, he thought. Not the prospect of Monica Gaines's psychic abilities, but the mere fact that an operative with his training and experience would be mixed up in this. Another town, another a.s.sumed name, another set of disguises. There was a time when Mother Russia led the world in psychic research, and other countries sent agents to spy on it. it.But that time was long past, and here he was, scrounging around for G.o.dd.a.m.ned table sc.r.a.ps. He'd heard of the old guard's experiments in grooming psychic spies; interesting stuff, he thought, but he'd never seen any proof that the attempts succeeded.

This could change all that. In this new era, such a force could be more important to his people than ever. Not merely to obtain state secrets, but high-tech innovations that could replace trillions in research and development. If this panned out, it could be huge: the information-age equivalent of the atomic bomb. This engine could bring an entire economy back from the dead and restore his government to its rightful place in world power.

He stared at Haddenfield. It was incredible that such an awesome power could rest in this foolish man's hands. He appeared to have discovered the Holy Grail of psychic research. Yes, it was worth the time to come here and confirm the project's results.

Soon the secret might be his, Dylan thought. When that happened, Derek Haddenfield would be totally expendable.

Nikki scooped up the Risk game pieces and dropped them into the box. "You just got lucky, Dad. Next time I'll slaughter you."

"I have no doubt." He'd beaten Nikki tonight, but just barely. He didn't dare lose intentionally; she could spot any attempt to throw a game from a mile away. Whether she won or lost, she was a good sport. She enjoyed her wins and carefully a.n.a.lyzed each loss to keep from making the same mistakes again.

She hugged him."Good night, Dad. I love you."

"I love you too, honey."

She pulled away and bounced to her room. "Next week, you're annihilated, Mister!" She closed her door behind her.

He smiled. It was all part of their regular Wednesday game night. After Angela's death, it seemed important to maintain a sense of order in the household, with regular meals and set times to spend together. Although work had recently intruded more than he liked, game night was off limits to anyone-or anything-but Nikki. They always ordered a pizza and took turns deciding which music would be played. Nikki preferred cla.s.sical pieces, while Joe chose '70s or '80s rock.

He turned off Nikki's Ahn Trio CD and plopped into a chair. How many more years would their game nights continue? Nikki insisted they'd continue via computer modem long after she moved away and had a family of her own, but he knew that probably wouldn't happen. Life tended to get in the way of such nice, cozy plans.

He settled back into the couch. How long had it been since he'd talked to his hisfather? It was ten-fifteen. Dad would be sitting in the projection booth at his Celluloid Palace movie theater in Savannah, catching up on his reading or just listening for audience laughter if a good comedy was playing. Dad beamed whenever the crowd cracked up at a Laurel and Hardy routine or Billy Wilder flick, as if he'd just performed it himself.

As Joe decided whether or not to call him, Nikki's bedroom door flew open. She ran across the room and threw her arms around him. My G.o.d, she was crying....

"Honey?"

"Daddy, I heard her." "Who?"

Nikki trembled. "Mommy. I heard Mommy. She just talked to me."

Joe moved across Nikki's bedroom and checked the windows. Locked. "Where did you think the voice came from, honey?"

Nikki sat on the bed, her cheeks still red from crying. "I don't know. Kind of all over the place."

He glanced around. It was a small room, ten by twelve feet, with windows on two adjoining walls. Thick padded carpet covered the floor, and posters of Nikki's cla.s.sical music heroes shared wall s.p.a.ce with the latest Teen Beat Teen Beatheartthrobs.

Joe sat next to her. "You're sure it sounded like Mommy?"

"It was her. I know it."

"Tell me exactly what happened, okay?"

She pulled a pillow into her lap and held it close."I was asleep, but something woke me up. I think it was the whispering. Mommy's whispering."

"What made you think it was her?"

"I remember how she sounded, the way she talked when she tucked me in." Nikki laid her head on his chest."She was here, Daddy."

"What did the voice say?"

"When I woke up, she kept saying,'Time to toddle, time to toddle.'"

Joe stiffened. "Time to toddle" had been Angela's way of telling Nikki it was bedtime, always spoken in the same singsong voice.

Nikki sat up to face him. "And she called me Mon-keyhead."

Another Angela-ism. He looked away. Just hearing Nikki say those words brought back a tidal wave of memories.

G.o.d, he missed her.

He stroked Nikki's hair back from her temple. "Sweetheart, do you think you might have been dreaming?"

She shook her head."It was so real."

"I know, honey, but think about it. You've been following the Monica Gaines case very closely, and you know about the voice she said she heard the other night. Plus, you yourself said you'd been sleeping. Don't you think it's possible that you may have dreamed it?"

"It didn't feel like a dream."

"That's the way it is sometimes." Joe pulled the covers up."Lay back down, honey."

Her eyes opened wide. "You're not leaving, are you?"

"No. I'll stay here as long as you need me."

"Good." Nikki lay back and pulled the covers around her chin."You think I'm crazy, don't you?"

"Of course not. When Mommy pa.s.sed away, I talked to her all the time."

"I thought you didn't believe in spirits."

Joe scooted to the foot of her bed. "Well, I imagined what Mommy would say back to me. It made me feel better. After you and I would see a movie, I'd pretend to talk to her about it. We'd almost always disagree. Your mother and I had a lot of things in common, but we didn't have the same taste in films."

"I guess that explains all the Judd Nelson videos."

"Yes, that and the Vanilla Ice movie. But we always agreed that you were really great. The point is, we all imagine what it would be like to talk to people who are gone. There's nothing wrong with that. Maybe you were sort of doing the same thing."

"She sounded so real. Especially when she said-" Nikki let the thought hang.

"Said what?"

"What does it matter if it's only a dream?"

He shrugged. "I'm curious."

"Mommy wants you to be careful. She thinks you may be in danger."

"Only you, Bailey, could find someone who sets himself on fire for a living."

Joe and Howe stepped over the cables snaking over and around the Smyrna filming location of Blood Avenue, Blood Avenue,a straight-to-video action movie. The thirty-five crew members were preparing to film a car roll on a suburban street. It was a few minutes past eleven A.M., and Joe had done almost nothing but worry about Nikki in the previous twelve hours.

She seemed fine on their morning drive to school, but it was so hard to tell; she was good at hiding her feelings, especially when she knew he was worried.

What had brought on this imaginary visit from her mother? Maybe a father who wasn't around as much as he should have been?