Deadly Prophecy: A Second Sight Series Spin-Off, Page 2

  Declan slammed down his computer keyboard and catapulted out of his desk chair. Disappointingly, no major abductions were popping up on the crime forums he frequented. He not only needed a distraction, but also wanted to immerse himself in a high-profile abduction to get his new psychic investigation firm publicity. Presently, he chased down cases, researched reward purses, and contacted families directly to offer his services. With the new venture, ideally the clients would come to him for help—hopefully eliminating the need to try to sell psychic phenomenon. Because many times when he had offered to assist on a missing person case, even after putting on an elaborate dog and pony show for the client’s benefit, he was told to take a hike.

  Declan and Kate worked well together because different things drove them. Kate wanted to help people—she seemed to get a strange rush from reuniting lost loved ones. She would allow clients to pay her in Hallmark cards with pictures of cute puppies and flowers if he allowed it. Declan was the realist of their duo. He was certain he came off as shrewd and callous, but he had been on the other side. Having absolutely nothing bred his materialism. He had been a painkiller addict living on the streets with no friends and no family to turn to. His psychic gift, a curse before he knew how to make his abilities work for him, was what saved him.

  When Declan was eighteen, he was in a ski accident that should’ve killed him. One second he was racing down the hill; the next was “lights out” as he plowed into a tree. He was dead for all intents and purposes, but some unknown force decided to shove his sorry ass back inside a broken body. It also decided it would be hilarious to send him back with a psychic ability—an ability that felt like one long mind-fuck. Before he learned meditative techniques, he had zero control over whose head he ended up in. He had to become a keeper of everyone’s secrets—mostly a bunch of mundane garbage he didn’t want to know in the first place. All the while, he was going through physical therapy hell to regain mobility. Fun times.

  After a few years of squandering his powers, he finally started attaching a price tag to his visions. Abductions were what he and Kate specialized in. He would try to enter the victim’s head and uncover information about where the victim was being held. If the victim had died, he wouldn’t connect with the mark. He could actually sense the nothingness as he tried to see the dead’s memories. If alive, a memory would materialize in his head. He remained unseen within the confines of the vision, a mere viewer of a memory from the recent or distant past.

  Premonitions, flashes of the future, were rare. He could count on one hand how many prophecies he had seen since his near-death experience. Only two had actually come to pass: his uncle’s fatal heart attack and a kiss with Kate. Both memories were agonizing to revisit.

  For the remainder of the day, he posted a few ads online and created a website and Facebook page. He had gotten into a text war with Kate over their business name, but had allowed her to choose KD Psychic Investigations. In return, Declan’s name would appear first on anything advertising the business.

  Also, he had hired a realtor a couple of weeks back to show him a few office spaces. He was trying to choose a location between his town and Kate’s. Kate lived in Franklin while his house was an hour away in South River, New Jersey. The neighborhood he lived in was nice, albeit he was the only single man living on the street. His scars and tattoos must have made him labeled as the creepy guy on the street. It hadn’t escaped his notice how mothers walking their young children home from school would cross the street when passing by his house.

  Declan wasn’t concerned with being domesticated alongside his neighbors. His focus was on his business alone. He could tell Kate was surprised by his ambition. She had Jared, so she’d never get it. His family hated him and hadn’t spoken to him in years. His father died while Declan was in his teens and his mother threw him out of the house while on drugs. He had an older sister, Radha, but when she sided with their mother, he never spoke to her again. Three years of no contact and he had become a master of pretending his family didn’t exist.

  His familial relationships taught him to avoid romantic complications. Declan swore his mother’s vileness sent his father running to an early grave. If he had been stuck married to her, Declan would’ve been at the cemetery, digging his own plot, praying for death. For his own sanity, Declan never dated anyone long enough to learn her last name and he never had any “bros.” He was sexy as fuck, making most guys turn into haters who didn’t trust him alone with their girls. At the end of the day, he had his work and Kate.

  If Declan was being honest with himself, Jared had probably become his first “bro.” The arrangement sort of sucked for Declan because life would be much easier if he hated the guy. But Jared was a legitimately nice, stand-up cop. He even let Declan off the hook for kissing Kate while she was dating Jared. Most men wouldn’t have been so forgiving.

  A month earlier, Jared and Declan had gone out one night to watch the playoffs. Two redheaded sisters sat at the opposite end of the bar eyeing them both up. After inviting them over, Declan tried to push Jared on the sexier sister. She was smoking hot: perfect face, ample breasts, and a sultry voice. Jared had turned her down gently, paid his tab, and left. Declan felt guilty later about the incident, but he swore his actions were only done for Kate’s benefit. Declan had only been testing to guarantee Jared was faithful to her. Since Kate hadn’t reamed Declan out, Jared mustn’t have told her—another point in the books for the Franklin detective.

  Much later, Declan lay in bed, staring morosely at the ceiling. Earlier, he had tried to find the motivation to go out, but couldn’t rally. He was in a dark mood and could have really used something to take the edge off. After his accident, oxy was his drug of choice. He kept taking more and more until his mind and body felt nothing. Washing the pills down with vodka had started to triple the effect. After overdosing on the grimy floor of a downtown shelter and having his second close brush with death, he stopped using. Withdrawal had been torture, but he had been clean for more than two years. Nothing stronger than an aspirin had gone into his body since then. And he wasn’t going back because he was grieving a hypothetical relationship.

  Maybe he couldn’t have Kate, but he needed something more. Since the idea of a girlfriend made him itch all over, he had to start small. Maybe buy a dog or something.

  The more he thought about it, the more he warmed to the idea. He’d have his business and his dog, and life would be fucking fantastic. He cared deeply for Kate, but he wasn’t likely to volunteer to take Jared’s place. He might have been only twenty-three, but he was already certain marriage wasn’t for him. And kids… he cringed at the prospect of having a whiny brat depend on him for everything. A monster of a child was a given, too, if he was dumb enough to combine his DNA with Kate’s. When looking up the definition of arrested development in a dictionary, Declan’s and Kate’s photos were likely to appear. He could be an incredible lover if Kate had chosen him, but husband and father material he was not. And he wouldn’t change his views, not even for Kate Edwards.

  ***

  When his phone rang the next morning, Declan really hoped it wasn’t Kate again with more of her “good” news. He wasn’t sure how long he could clamp down on his caustic mood if she kept pushing him to celebrate her engagement. People in love never realized how grating they came off to the unlovable schlubs of the world.

  Declan relaxed as he saw an unrecognizable number pop up on his cell phone screen. “Hello.”

  “Hi….” The voice was small and unsure. “I don’t know if I have the right number. I’m looking for KD Psychic Investigations?”

  Shit, he thought, should he have answered the phone with “KD Psychic Investigations, how can I help you?” But it wasn’t like he was running a pizza parlor. His dad had been a businessman and Declan would have benefited from a few pointers before he passed on.

  “Yes. This is Declan,” he said, trying to add a professional tone to his voice. Opening his closet door, he gazed at his reflection
in the full-length mirror. He practiced his best serious businessman faces in the mirror while waiting for the caller to continue.

  “Hi, my name is Jenna Carnavale. I saw your ad online and I wanted to see if you could help me.”

  “What can I do for you, Jenna?”

  “It’s about my brother.” The girl took a shaky breath. Declan recognized the sound of someone trying to hold back tears. He hated the crying part of his job. He was awkward when trying to extend sympathy, another reason he appreciated Kate’s part in their team. She could make connections effortlessly and was completely genuine about wanting to ease another’s pain. She had so much heart, completely unafraid to get emotionally involved in their cases. He stayed detached as a policy. Getting all worked up about a case wouldn’t help bring home anyone sooner. And he had seen firsthand what had happened before to psychics who couldn’t shut off their feelings. They ended up having mental breakdowns, put away in institutions, unable to distinguish reality from the visions in their head. Looking at the faint scars on his neck and lip, he came to the conclusion he deserved a much better future—a future featuring a McMansion and an Aston Martin in the driveway.

  “Your brother is missing?” he prompted as the silence extended.

  “No, my brother is dead.” No longer bothering to conceal the tears, Jenna let loose a devastated sob. Declan held the phone away from his ear as she let go. The sorrowful wailing made his gut churn uncomfortably.

  Once she quieted down, he pressed the phone to his ear again. “I’m very sorry.” A generic thing to say, but he didn’t know her and had no idea how to comfort her. Death had been the final outcome for several of his past cases with each person handling their devastation differently. Many privatized their pain while others like Jenna embraced it.

  Jenna hiccupped. “I’m sorry… it’s been three months… but it still doesn’t feel real. Sometimes I’ll be out somewhere and I swear I hear Derek’s voice. I’ll turn towards the sound and expect to see his crooked grin again.”

  “I’m not sure what you know about me, but my partner and I mostly handle missing persons cases….” He trailed off and waited for her reply. If Derek was dead, there would be no way Declan could communicate with him. However, he had helped with body recovery before and maybe it was what Jenna was looking for.

  “Yes, I read up on you and Kate Edwards. What caught my attention was the Melanie Pirola case you worked on together.”

  Swallowing roughly, he backed away from the mirror and sank down into his mattress. The name Melanie Pirola put a boulder-size weight on his chest. Her case was the failure that haunted him. They’d been so close to finding her, but they were a day late. If only they had scrutinized her killer earlier on, Melanie would’ve survived. Kate had been broken by the Pirola case and he had tried to offer comfort the only way he knew how—physically.

  Melanie Pirola brought back way too many memories—memories of the night he had come to Kate in her hotel room. They had kissed, her hands setting his skin on fire as she touched him. They spent the night in each other’s arms and he had hoped the night would mean something to her. The kiss was fated; he had seen the moment before even meeting Kate in person. But it was over for them before it even started.

  Jenna was still speaking. “Derek is dead. He went to Delaware for a weekend with friends and returned in a body bag. And no one can tell me why. His killer is out there living his or her life while my brother is cold in the ground. Declan, I need you to find out who murdered my brother.”

  ***

  Hours later, Declan arrived at his and Kate’s unofficial meeting space—their favorite sub shop in Franklin. Since Jenna lived closer to Kate’s hometown, the lunch spot worked best to meet their potential new client. After Jenna’s declaration, he decided to iron out the details with her face to face. She required a clearer understanding about how their psychic gift worked while he needed to know more about what happened to her brother.

  Derek Carnavale’s case was easy to locate online. Derek had gone to Dewey Beach in June with his girlfriend and four other friends. After a night of partying at the beach house, Derek’s friends would later tell the police he left on foot to pick up more beer from a bar a couple blocks away. He never returned. Two days later his body was found in a secluded wooded area near a local park, with multiple stab wounds. No eyewitnesses or damning physical evidence was found near his body. A torrential rainstorm soaked Dewey Beach the day following Derek’s disappearance, likely compromising the crime scene.

  The two key points found during the initial police investigation was Derek’s body had been moved. He had been killed earlier with his body then hidden in the woods. His wallet was not recovered, pointing to robbery as a possible motive. Derek was only twenty-five years old at the time of his murder.

  Declan’s eyes surveyed the tables at Jersey Mike’s, trying to guess if any of the patrons could be Jenna. In the back corner, a diminutive woman stood up and made eye contact with him. Declan’s muscles tensed as he stared back open-mouthed at the sexy blonde.

  Jenna was gorgeous with a small curvy body, round eyes, and a bow-shaped mouth. Her platinum blond hair fell in wild waves down to her mid-back. As he stepped closer, her green eyes widened in anticipation and a shy smile played on her lips. As he peered down at his vintage t-shirt and ripped jeans, he wished he had cleaned up his look a bit before coming. His eagerness to secure a client had made him careless. The least he could’ve done was run a razor over the ever-present scruff on his chin. In turn, Jenna was polished in a white sleeveless blouse and mid-thigh black skirt. Her black heels clicked against the tile floor as she walked over to greet him.

  The attraction was instantaneous. Clearly, Declan understood, he had to quell it immediately. Jenna was their first real potential client, meaning he had to keep it in his pants. Kate sure as hell wasn’t intent on bringing in any cash for their firm, so it landed on him to keep their business in the black. And judging by Jenna’s designer clothing and understated, but decidedly real, diamond jewelry, she came from serious money.

  “Hi, you must be Declan,” Jenna breathed, holding out her hand for him to shake.

  Her skin was soft and warm as he gripped her hand. Jenna gave him a confused look when he dropped her hand as if her palm singed him. Jenna gestured to her table, motioning for him to follow her to the linoleum booth. Dutifully, he trailed behind her and took a seat. Her eyes darted around the restaurant before she asked, “Is Kate meeting us too?”

  Declan nodded and glanced through the storefront windows. “Yeah, she’ll be here any minute.” Stiffening his back against the seat, he permitted his brown eyes to scrutinize her further. She was about his age, twenty-two or twenty-three, but had the composure of someone twice her age. Jenna fiddled with the diamond pendant around her neck as she stared at the table. He didn’t say a word, waiting patiently for her to begin. He picked up all of his interrogation techniques from binge-watching the Investigation Discovery channel.

  Finally, she looked up at him again. “I never really believed in psychics. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve gone to palm readers and stuff to find out how many kids I’m going to have and what my future career is going to be.” He gave an encouraging nod. Not a shocker. Before his accident, his lone interaction with a “psychic” involved a carnie telling him he was destined to be a seaman. Jenna continued on. “But then last year, I met a woman. Her name was Tilda and she was a widower. She lived in this gigantic house and she hired my family to prepare her house for a massive family reunion. My parents own a party planning firm and I pitch in when their calendar fills up.

  “Anyway, Tilda offered me extra cash to help her clean and box up her possessions before the party. She told me at first that she was moving into a nursing home and that was the reason she needed to get rid of everything. But the more I got to know her, the more she opened up to me. Tilda was psychic and foresaw her death. The party and the cleaning out her house was her way of preparing for the inevita
ble.”

  Her eyes fluttered closed. “Before she died, Tilda told me I would lose a part of me before the next summer’s end. She said my brother would be killed.”

  Declan stared down at the scorpion tattoo on his forearm as Jenna’s story replayed through his mind. Declan hoped Tilda had given Jenna more to go on because visions of the future were few and far between. And unlike visions of the past, prophecies were malleable. He had learned that lesson the hard way.

  “And did you tell your brother about Tilda’s prediction?”

  Jenna looked offended. “Of course I did, but he didn’t believe me. Tilda said in her visions she saw me standing in front of his casket crying, but I didn’t have any details on how or when it would happen. I told Derek to take precautions, but he blew me off.” Jenna’s eyes filled. “I couldn’t protect him and now he’s gone.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “There’s nothing I can do to fix it, but I’m not letting the person who did this get away with it.” Jenna tilted up her chin and stared at a spot on the wall above his head. “Tilda was almost killed in a car crash twenty years ago. She said when she woke up in the hospital she had the power to slip into the subconscious of others. The way she explained her powers were the same exact way you and Kate have described in interviews. It’s the reason I believe you can help me and find out who is responsible for my brother’s death.”

  He resisted the urge of banging his head against the table. A murder mystery wasn’t the kind of case he sought out. But Jenna was the precise type of client he wanted to attract. Besides her evident wealth, she was a believer. She had done her homework on Kate and Declan and wouldn’t need a lengthy explanation or a shocking display of powers to come on board.

  While taking a moment to digest what Jenna had told him, he looked through the floor to ceiling windows and noticed Kate hurrying across the parking lot. He pointed in her direction. “There’s Kate now. She’ll want to hear everything about your brother’s case too.”