Eyes to the Soul (9 page)

“That’s what we’re hoping you can answer,” said a higher-pitched voice.

She shook her head, bewildered. “Are you sure there wasn’t more, maybe elsewhere in the bathroom, like…” She threw up her hands. “I don’t know, maybe on the shower curtain.”

“The shower curtain?” the doubtful voice asked, just shy of implying she was nuts.

“I don’t know,” she muttered, “Why would anyone write a message on my mirror? Why not tell me directly? It’s not like they had a problem sneaking into my apartment while I slept to write a cryptic note.”

“Are you sure you locked the door?”

“Yes, and the doorman saw me coming in late last night. I woke up in the night thinking there was an intruder. I searched the apartment but there was nothing.”

“What time was that? And tell us exactly what you heard.”

She explained, listening to them scribble notes on paper around her. “Then I fell back asleep and didn’t wake up until I had to go to the bathroom this morning.”

“We’re almost done.” He cleared his throat. “Is there anyone you suspect of doing something like this?”

She stared, her eyes open and blind, directly at him. And said forcefully, “No. The people I know make beautiful music for others, not cryptic scary messages on people’s mirrors in the dead of night.”

“Right.” He straightened. “If you do think of anyone who might want to scare you or hold a grudge against you, please let us know.”

Sounds of material shifting and papers sliding across one another shifted through her ears. She could almost see him pulling a card out of his pocket. Just then a hard piece of paper was gently laid in her hand. “Then call me.”

She nodded, her fingers closing over the card. “I will.”

“By the way, who has keys to your apartment?”

She listed off the people who came and went when she needed help. There were only two – Jacob and Bruce.

“Also, did you use that bathroom last night?”

She nodded. “When I came home.”

“And what time was that?”

“Close to three a.m.”

“And you found the bathroom like this when?”

“A couple of minutes before I made the 911 call.” Her mouth moved, but her body had frozen into unnatural stillness.

“Good enough. We’ll be in touch if we need anything else.”

She waited. She just wanted them all gone.

“By the way, it might be a good idea to change the locks.”

She shrugged. “What’s the point? The two people who had the spares are either dead or severely injured, so obviously the intruder was neither of them.”

*

Stefan glared at
the phone in his hand. He’d been awake for precisely five minutes. He clicked to answer it and said, “Three times in twelve hours is too many times.”

“You’re right. But you’re going to want to hear this one.”

Stefan listened in shock as Detective Brandt Sutherland gave him an update on Celina’s night. “I was looking for an update on the pub incident and her name came up after she called 911. I just got off the phone with one of the responding officers as the file isn’t yet complete. He said it was the damnedest thing.”

Brandt’s voice changed as if reading off a written piece. “She opened the door, let them in, pointed to the bathroom then sat down in the kitchen. When they came back out it was as if she hadn’t moved a muscle. She was fully dressed but sitting like a stone in one place. He said her head was downcast and the stillness was odd. He said it was like she was waiting for a blow.”

“I imagine that would be a hell of a blow. Think about it. She can only imagine what horror might be in her bathroom.” He frowned not wanting to think of what she’d gone through.

“True enough. She didn’t ask the officers to search her place for the intruder, although they did a certain amount of searching anyways. But the blood was contained to just the bathroom.”

“And it’s been confirmed to be blood?”

“Yes. Human blood. We’re looking for a match right now.”

“Enough blood to suspect the person who lost it might be mortally injured?” Stefan’s voice was sharp. Inside he was stunned. What was going on in Celina’s world? “Can I see the crime scene?”

“Why?” Brandt asked. “What can you do? I doubt a disembodied entity or a ghost could smear blood all over a wall like that.” Brandt stopped. “Could one?”

“I’ve never seen one do that,” Stefan admitted, frowning, thinking of the roomful of ghosts he’d seen. “Then again, Lissa is painting, and who’d have thought she could do that? I know Celina has an affinity for ghosts. Maybe one of them saw something. I might be able to find out.”

“Hmm. I can’t just open up her house without reason, and neither can I have you as a paid consultant on this case as there is no way to warrant your–”

“I’ll do it for free.”

“Hell, of course you will.” Brandt fell silent, thinking.

Stefan stayed quiet. “That would make two incidents involving her in what, twelve hours?” Stefan said calmly, too calmly for his churning gut, but control was important. He wanted to rush to Celina’s side – and that he couldn’t do. “That’s two too many. I’m thinking that’s no coincidence here.”

“You think the crash at the pub and this blood on her mirror are related?” Brandt added slowly, “It could be a family member of one of the deceased, angry that she’s alive instead of their loved one.”

“Or maybe the driver of the vehicle knew she was going to the pub and thought to settle an old score.”

“And missed her? So he came back from the dead to threaten her?” Brandt held his amusement back. “That’s hardly possible, is it?”

“I no longer know what is possible – if I ever did.”

A thoughtful silence filled the line. “I’ll talk to the guys and see what their take is on this. If there is anything odd, then maybe I can get you to do a walk through. There’s no way to know if there’s anything paranormal about this mess.”

“Not yet. But there will be soon. The sooner I see it, the easier it is to trace the energy.”

“Trace the energy? So if you see the energy, can you track it back to the person responsible?”

“Not necessarily, but there is a chance I’ll recognize the energy signature. And I’ll certainly recognize it again if I ever see it.”

He held his breath. Then added quietly, sincerely, “Please, there’s no time to lose.”

“Can you check in on her bathroom psychically?”

Stefan started in surprise. “Yes. What I might be able to find depends how many energies are moving through the place and have messed up the scene.”

“Lots, unfortunately. They didn’t find any fingerprints. Or anything else, for that matter,” Brandt added. “And because there are lots of other energies there, does that mean you won’t be able to pick up any of the energy from the scene even if you are there in person?”

“You know it’s stronger when you’re right in front of it.” He needed to set up a psychic guard around Celina’s place. He should have done that already. He hadn’t seen the necessity, and his energy was always being forced in too many directions. But she needed him now, and he’d tap whatever reserves he needed to get this done. It was paramount that she stayed safe.

“I need in.” He stood up and walked out to his studio. “Do what you have to do, but I need in.” And he hung up the phone.

*

Jacob lay in
his bed, hating that he was here. It hadn’t taken too long to realize his life was completely screwed up. But how and why he didn’t understand. He knew he was in the hospital. And that he was in poor shape. But he had no recollection of what had brought him here.

A sense of urgency had ridden him since waking up. He’d needed to tell someone something. But he couldn’t remember what. Or even who he was supposed to tell.

He’d seen something. Heard something? Something important. But what?

And why couldn’t he remember? He stared at the white curtain divider. He could barely move because of his injuries. Still, from the bits and pieces he’d heard, he was the lucky one.

At least he was still alive.

A
ny movement had
Celina groaning like she’d hit her senior years overnight. Decrepit and worn out, like a clock that had worked long past its warranty date. She knew she’d hit a crossroads. Something bad was going on. God, she wished she had help. Again.

Her friend, Jillian, was beside her. Both were quietly drinking tea. In the years they’d known each other, Jillian had never mocked, laughed at, or appeared to be disgusted with anything Celina had said or done. That kind of acceptance was priceless. Then again, she didn’t know everything about Celina.

She’d been a passenger in the car accident that had taken Celina’s sight just three weeks after she’d lost her fiancé.

“You didn’t hear anything?

Celina shook her head, then voiced a fear she’d been quietly nursing. “Maybe I did it while I was asleep.” She winced as she heard the words out loud. “No, I couldn’t have, surely?”

“I don’t think so,” Jillian said, her voice barely above a murmur. “But what do I know? Is there anyone you can ask?”

Celina smiled a little. “I wonder if there’s a help line for stuff like this.”

“Maybe. You see and talk to ghosts; maybe one of them can tell you what happened?”

“That’s the trouble. I haven’t seen any of them since I woke up this morning.”

“As in whatever happened might have scared them, too? That doesn’t sound good.”

Celina’s chair creaked as she settled back. She hated the restlessness in her soul. Hearing a better understanding of the situation than she’d have thought from her friend, she asked, “Have you ever seen ghosts?”

Jillian hadn’t shared much of her family history. A private person, she also had an eclectic group of friends that she was seriously closemouthed about. Celina didn’t mind. She knew Jillian needed these people to keep her sanity. She was also a musician and was driven to compose, yet never shared her music. She said it was secret. Special. Personal. Couldn’t give it to the world. Actually, she’d said something one time that Celina had puzzled over. She’d said, “It’s not mine to give to the public.” After that she’d refused to answer any more questions about it. She often looked tired, worn out. As if she was battling demons of her own. And knowing Jillian she probably was. She’d always been one to cheer on the underdog and defend the underprivileged or help those in need.

And as warm as she was, she wasn’t one for physical touch. Celina had reached out many times early on but Jillian always stayed back, avoiding contact.

“Forget about me and my nightmare.” Celina leaned closer, worried about her friend. “How are
you
?”

“As always, I’m fine.”

Celina smiled at Jillian’s offhand comment. “But you aren’t always fine. You are often very depressed and try not to let others know.”

“Except you,” Jillian’s voice lightened with wry humor. “You always seem to discern my feelings at a level I don’t myself.”

“A side effect of losing my sight,” Celina said lightly. “I’m more sensitive to nuances in people’s voices.”

“When do you go back for your next checkup?”

“Coming up soon. I’m trying to forget about it.” She stared ahead, her thoughts consumed with dread at the thought of going back there. The last thing she wanted to do was to have the doctor repeat that there was nothing wrong with her. He wouldn’t say that in so many words, but the message would be the same. “If I go, that is.”