Page 20 of Wicching Hour (The Sea Wicche Chronicles #3)

TWENTY

Double Vision

D eclan walked me to the passenger side, opened the door, and showed me the handle for pulling myself up and in. Even though I wasn’t having trouble, I still felt his hand on my butt, guiding me to the seat. Odd, that.

The drive back to the gallery was fun. I kept wanting to push buttons to see what would happen but didn’t want to irritate or distract Bracken. When Declan got his, though, I was pushing the shit out of all the buttons.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” I said. “Aunt Elizabeth and her family are coming for dinner tomorrow night. Can you join us? They want to help us find Calliope.”

He nodded. “You already told me. Do you have something to serve, or should we go to the market?”

Hmm, did I? “I always have frozen lasagnas in the freezer now because of Declan. It’s also not unusual to find steaks in my refrigerator. I never see him add them, but they’re there.”

Bracken chuckled. “I’ve always like Elizabeth. When I was still occasionally visiting the family, I saw she was a kind child. She wasn’t the strongest wicche but didn’t seemed to care one way or the other, which I found refreshing.”

“That was my take too.” I put down the sun visor, as my head was starting to hurt. “Lately, though, I’ve begun to question that. I think she’s been hiding her gifts.”

Bracken glanced at me and then focused on the road again as he turned onto Lighthouse Avenue. “Really? That’s interesting.” We got stuck in traffic near where the whale watching boats launch. Bracken hadn’t been back long enough to remember to avoid this intersection. “Is it silly that I love the color?” he asked.

“Not even a little bit. I’ve been trying to restrain myself from touching everything. And you can drive around with the top off, if you want?—”

An image of a woman in a topless Jeep superimposed itself over the road we were driving. It was like a strange, disorienting double exposure. She drove down a short driveway, hit a button on a remote attached to her rearview mirror. Her garage door opened and she made the sharp turn inside to park. She stepped out of the Jeep, grabbed a handbag and a water bottle, and then hit the remote again. As the door came down, a narrow rectangle of light was visible for a split second as she walked into her condo.

Feeling seasick, I watched Bracken drive and turn but I was also watching that woman’s garage door. A man stood beside a fence across from the garage, out of sight of the street. Waiting.

Curtains in the woman’s front room opened. She came out, got her mail, and walked back in as she shuffled through envelopes. Once she was in, he moved toward the back of her unit.

“Arwyn? Are you okay?” Bracken’s voice broke through the haze. We were at a stoplight, but I was also watching the killer find a new spot to hide. There was a little copse of trees between the townhouse village and the property next door.

“I’m not sure what I am,” I said slowly. “I’m awake. I can sort of still see the street you’re driving on, but I’m also watching a killer stalk his next victim. I’ve never had a vision while I’m awake. I—I think this is happening right now.”

“Oh dear.” He pulled over. “What can I do?”

I fumbled in my pocket and pulled out my phone. “Can you call Detective Hernández for me?”

He took it from my hand and then I heard ringing over the speakerphone.

“Hello, Arwyn,” Hernández said.

“Hey. I’m having a weird vision right now. I’m awake, driving with my great-uncle, but I’m also watching a person stalk a woman. I’m not sure what’s going on.”

“Okay. Give me a sec.” I heard rustling and then— “Ready. What are you seeing?”

“A young woman was in a Jeep. I was thinking about Bracken being able to take the top off his new Bronco and drive in the sunshine and then I saw her. It’s like a double exposed image. One on top of the other.”

“She’s driving a Jeep,” Hernández said. “What else can you tell me about her? Did you see the license plate?”

I shook my head and then remembered I needed to speak. “No. It’s a black Jeep. The spare tire in back is covered in a pretty rainbow kaleidoscope. I don’t think there’s any writing on the tire cover. It’s behind a garage door now, so I can’t tell you.” Bracken held my gloved hand and helped me settle.

“I understand,” Hernández said. “Tell me about the woman.”

“Uh, I mostly saw her from the side and behind. She’s twenties, maybe. Tanned with long, shiny black hair pulled into a ponytail. She’s wearing black shorts and a white polo. Maybe a waitress uniform or something? I don’t know. Maybe she just doesn’t like color.”

“Rainbow tire cover,” Hernández reminded me.

“Right. If I had to guess from what I could see of her, I’d say she’s Asian. As for him, I can only see what he’s seeing. He hasn’t looked at the rest of the buildings, so I can’t tell you the name of the community or anything.”

“That’s okay. Tell me what you can see,” she said.

“It’s light gray with white trim. One-story end unit. It looks beachy. Not that it’s on the beach, just that builders around here make the condos look like they should be on a beach.”

“Got it,” she said.

“The garage is on the side. She drove down a narrow drive, hit the remote, and made a sharp turn into the garage. The door came down as she walked in. He didn’t try to follow her in. He waited by—you know how complexes often have communal dumpsters in a fenced area so it doesn’t look crappy?”

“Sure.”

“It was like that. The fencing is painted the same light gray as her unit. There’s a tall fence at his back. I can’t see what’s on the other side, but I think it’s a house—no idea why. That’s just what I think.”

“Okay,” she said.

“He watched from that spot as she went out the front door and grabbed her mail, still wearing the black and white. It felt like he knew that was what she was going to do, like he’s been watching and clocking her routine. When she went back in, he walked down the narrow drive to the back of her unit, where there’s a bunch of tall trees.”

“Trees again,” Hernández murmured. “Is he hiding in them?”

“Yes. Oh, there’s a strip of lawn behind her place and then a tall fence with vines hanging over it. It’s a weird cyclone fence hybrid with wooden slats going through the metal, so you can kind of see through it. A little, because the vines are blocking the view too. I’m piecing together the glimpses I’m getting, but I think it’s a large—I don’t know—soccer field, I guess, with a group of buildings on the far side of the field. Maybe an elementary school?”

“Good,” Hernández said. “A condo village that backs up on an elementary school. The last unit before what might be a private home. A possibly Asian woman in a black Jeep.”

I sighed. “Sorry. That’s like a needle in a haystack.”

“Not at all. You’ve given me a lot of angles to work. What’s he doing now?”

“Still standing in the trees, watching the back of her unit. It feels like he’s waiting for something,” I said.

“I’ll get started. I’m already pulling up maps of the elementary schools in town. We’ve got hours before the sun goes down. If you see anything else, let me know.”

“Wait,” I whispered. “The sliding door just opened. This was what he was waiting for. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top now. She turned on a water valve and is carrying a hose to a couple of pots filled with flowers. Her back is to him as she waters. He’s moving.”

“Moving where?” she demanded.

“He’s sneaking up behind her. She’s finished watering and is leaning down to turn off the valve. A gust of wind is shaking the trees. He’s using the sound cover to move in quickly. He’s right there. I can see the goose bumps along her arms. She’s standing. He’s behind her. One hand covers her mouth while his other arm wraps around her waist and picks her up. He’s carrying her through the back door.”

“ Shit. He’s escalating. He hasn’t hit in daylight before. Arthur!” Hernández shouted.

She was filling him in on what was happening, but I was no longer listening. The killer had put the young woman down and spun her around. “Her eyes are so wide. Her pupils dilated,” I told whoever might have been listening. I was past caring. My heart was racing right along with hers.

‘“Fucking bitch,’” I spat out, his words in my mouth. ‘“Not talking down to me anymore, huh? Still want to go above my head and file a complaint?’”

“The woman’s having trouble breathing. Her lips are parted but her chest is frozen. She’s looking up at him, but I don’t think she’s very tall. She looks petite and fragile.

“‘What, you ran out of big words?’ He slaps her and knocks her off her feet. He shakes out his hand and makes a fist. A thrill of excitement races through him.

“He’s yanking her to her feet. Tears are streaming down her face. ‘Please,’ she whispers, sounding hopeless, like she knows there’s no escaping him. He punches her and her eyes roll back as she flies back into her couch and then slides to the floor.”

My vision goes black. I can no longer see my world, only hers.

“He shoves the coffee table out of his way and then straddles her, sitting on her legs, and waits.

“Little flinches, hands, eyes, lips, and then finally her lids flutter open. She sees him looming over her and it all comes back. Terror fills her again.”

I was vaguely aware of hearing Declan’s voice, but then it was gone and I was trapped in that room again, narrating a murder.

“She opens her mouth to scream and he lunges forward, wrapping his hands around her delicate throat.”

I couldn’t breathe. My eyes went wide as I clawed at invisible hands strangling me.

“Arwyn!”

The killer was crushing my neck. A heavy pressure sat on me. And then Declan was kissing me and the double exposure was gone. I’d lost the vision and regained my sight, my ability to breathe, albeit labored.

Bracken’s fingers touched my throat and breathing became less painful.

Declan was there, holding my face in his hands. “Nice slow breaths in and out. Are you with me now?”

I nodded, blinking back tears.

“Arwyn, what happened?” Hernández demanded. “What’s he doing?”

I followed the sound of her voice and saw my phone on the dashboard. I was confused by the question. Hadn’t I been speaking out loud? “I told you.” My voice was a harsh rasp. “He’s killing her.”

“And he almost killed Arwyn,” Bracken said, outraged. “She’s given you everything. She’s done now.” He tapped the screen and disconnected the call. Shaking his head, he added, “They ask too much of you.”

I leaned into Declan, clutching at his shirt. What would have happened if he hadn’t been here, his nulling touch dispelling the vision?

“How are you here?” I croaked.

He kept his arms wrapped around me. “I noticed a brand new, shiny green Bronco with temporary plates by the side of the road and stopped to see if there was a problem.”

“And there was,” Bracken said.

There was something about his voice. I turned my head and found him ghost white, staring back at me. I reached out a hand and he took it in both of his.

“I’m sorry you had to see all that,” I said. “I’m okay.”

“You most certainly are not. You were experiencing what that poor woman was. You told the officers that he was strangling her and then you stopped breathing.” He shook his head. “I felt as though my own life was flashing before my eyes. I didn’t know how to help you.” He rubbed at his forehead. “And then Declan arrived, saw what was happening, and acted before I could explain.”

My phone buzzed, making Bracken and me jump.

“If it’s that detective again,” Bracken began, but then he tipped the screen toward me. Mom.