(Psychic Visions 01) Tuesday's Child (37 page)

"Hello."

Captain Johansen's next words had Brandt hopping out of bed to the far side of the room. He stopped in front of the window. "What?" he hissed.

Brandt shook his head at the next piece of information. "He what? What the hell was he thinking? Yet, he says he
didn't
give them her picture and name?" Brandt, remembering Sam was still asleep, took several deep breaths. "Do you believe him?"

Brandt, tucking the phone against his shoulder, quickly pulled on his briefs and pants. Trying not to wake Sam, he walked downstairs and into the kitchen.

The captain's heavy sigh was unmistakable. "Yes. I do. He's an idiot, mostly a harmless one. Do you have a picture of her in the file?"

"No, I don't."

"Right, and he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of digging one out. He's too damn lazy for that. Chances are someone else did it. I just don't know who yet. The station did admit this information came from a different source than the one who provided the ring – which confirms Dillon's story."

"Christ, what a mess." Knowing the captain agreed didn't help any.

"Brandt – you know what has to happen. I'll deal with Dillon. You have to get her to a safe house."

Brandt laughed a short angry bark. "That's not as easy as it sounds. She's not going to be happy."

"To hell with keeping her happy. At this point, I'm only concerned with keeping her alive. If she won't come willingly, you know what to do."

The captain rang off, leaving Brandt glaring at the phone in his hand.

Someone had deliberately put Samantha in danger. Whoever had done this might as well have pointed a gun at her head and pulled the trigger himself.

What if that was exactly what this asshole intended? Deputy Brooker came to mind. The more he thought on it, the more his suspicions grew. It shouldn't be too hard to pick him up. Adam had been working on tracking where he was staying earlier today. Brandt quickly made a couple of phone calls. Within minutes, an APB was put out on the vehicle, and Adam was heading into the office to pull a photo off the database to circulate as well. Then he'd be taking the photo to the newsroom to confirm Brandt's suspicions.

Could anyone else have done this? Sam said only a few people knew about her skills. After today's mess at work, that select few had grown considerably. Several of those might have wondered about her skills before – not after today. God damn it. He highly doubted Kevin would have done something like this, particularly after seeing Sam in action today. Besides, he'd have never put the department at risk like this.

"What won't make me happy?"

Startled, Brandt turned around to find Sam, with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, leaning against the doorway. Tousled and tiny, she appeared so lost Brandt couldn't help himself. He walked over, tugging her into his arms.

He didn't want to tell her. Brandt grimaced. There was no way around it. She had to know.

"That was the captain. One of our detectives has fessed up to telling the media that you were helping the police with this case. He swears that's all he said. But on the news tonight there was a little more to it than that."

"Exactly how much more was there?" Her voice was quiet, too quiet. So were her eyes.

His heart sank. She already knew.

"Your name and picture."

She froze. Brandt rubbed her back soothingly. "It's okay. I won't let anything happen to you."

Stiff and unyielding, Sam didn't answer. After a few moments, Brandt tilted her chin so he could gaze into her eyes. Searching deep, he tried to find out what she was thinking.

Her eyes were frozen blanks.

"Oh, God, Sam. I am so sorry." Brandt tugged her closer, rocking her gently in his arms. "Captain Johansen wants you to go to a safe house where we can keep an eye on you."

Sam shook her head vehemently. "I'm not going."

Brandt winced. "I'm afraid it's not a choice."

Sam reared up, glaring at him. Brandt, damn his hormones couldn't resist noticing the gentle sway of her breasts. Now that he knew what those God-awful sweaters covered up, he whole-heartedly approved of them. He didn't want every other male getting an eyeful. God, she was gorgeous when she was mad. Peach flushed her normally pale skin, giving her a lively bloom that was so often missing from her skin.

"Like hell. You can't force me," she declared defiantly.

He sighed and tried to tug her down against him, only she was having nothing to do with it.

"Actually, I can, but I don't want to have to." He shifted slightly, realizing his body's interest in her nude state wouldn't be received well at the moment, but knowing there was damn little he could do about it. "Sam, try to be reasonable. The killer now knows who you are and it won't take him long to find where you live."

"Do you realize what you've done? It's not just the killer. It's my job and my friends." Sam stopped, a stunned look on her face. She snorted. "Okay, so they may not be friends in the 'forever' sense, but they were friendly to me. Why is it, I'm only just understanding what that means, now that I'm about to lose them?"

"Not everyone will see the news."

Sam snorted. "This is a small town. Whoever doesn't see the news will be told by 9 am tomorrow."

She was probably right. "That doesn't mean they will treat you any differently." Besides, he couldn't let anything else matter. She had to stay safe. Nothing else was acceptable.

Fine tremors ran through her. "I don't think I can I live here if I'm an outcast again."

Brandt ran his fingers through his hair. He couldn't imagine what her life had been like up to now. She'd built herself a life here. He didn't want her to lose that.

"I can understand how you feel."

An angry laugh escaped. "Can you?"

Brandt could feel the slow burn he'd stomped on earlier, start to flare up. Her anger was nothing in comparison. He couldn't let it be. This was beyond serious. She had to leave and now. Staring out into the black of night, he realized they didn't have much time. The killer could already have found her location and be on his way. His voiced his thoughts. "You have to consider that he could be on his way right now."

Sam aged before him. His heart went out to her.

"Sam, I'm sorry. But this is the way it has to be."

Sam blurted out, "The animals. I can't take them to a safe house. Soldier needs this place as much as I do. To take him anywhere else will hurt his rehabilitation, magnify his trust issues if you take him away from his new home."

She had a point – just a small one. He was concerned about her though, not the dog.

"Staying here is out of the question."

"Why?" she interrupted.

"There's too much cover for a predator. It would be hard to defend."

"Not true," she answered shaking her head. "Someone could stay in the house with me."

"We don't want to use you for bait. He's going to come looking for you and you know that. If we take you to a safe house, he won't be able to find you."

"Really? You mean until another detective leaks that information too. Thanks but no thanks. I didn't trust the police before, and the behavior out of your office hasn't changed my opinion one bit." Sam walked over to curl up on the couch with the blanket wrapped around her body.

Sadly, he watched as those beautiful curves disappeared from view.

"Besides, if he can't find me, he'll just kill other women. You..." her voice choked, "or someone else has already set me up as bait. So you might as well make good use of the job." Bitterness edged her voice.

Shit. Brandt sat down beside her. "Sam, I'm wondering if this isn't part of Deputy Brooker's machinations. If the killer found you, it would be an easy solution to his problem."

Sam shot him a considering look. A sweater lying over the couch caught her eye. Dropping the blanket to her waist, she pulled the sweater over her head, tugging it down under the blanket. Oddly enough, it was that action that made him suddenly very nervous.

"God damn it Sam.
I
didn't set you up. You know what a media frenzy is like. Once they sniff out a story like this, there is no letting go."

"Thanks, but I don't need the reminder." Sam curled into a tiny ball and stared out into the night.

3:15 am

Now fully dressed, Sam curled up in a small ball in the corner of the couch where she could look out. Darkness still blanketed the valley, giving it an eerie glow. She wasn't going to leave her home. The police had created this situation, so they could damn well fix it. She wasn't being stubborn; she was being sensible. They wanted to protect her, fine. They could do it here.

Moses pushed his cold, wet nose against her arm. "Hey boy. That's right, isn't it? We couldn't possibly move you and Soldier. He's just starting to adapt to this place as it is."

She peered around at the simple room. This was her home and she wasn't leaving. She knew better than most what this killer was capable of doing.

Brandt walked down the stairs. Her heart twanged. She didn't want to see him. She didn't like this sense of betrayal. If Brooker had done this, then it wasn't Brandt's fault. Except he'd promised to keep her name out of this. Unfair or not, there it was.

She geared up for the fight to come. Still, the feelings of resentment were hard to maintain as he walked toward her. Her nostrils flared. Her heart and mind flooded with images of last night. It couldn't be. She refused to be swayed by sweet memories. Damn it.

Ruthlessly, she forced down tears.

Brandt gingerly stepped over the sprawled dog to sit on the couch with her.

"You may not be feeling very generous toward me at the moment, however, I need you to understand and believe in one thing – I didn't set you up. I wouldn't – couldn't – do that to you. And I will do everything in my power to keep you safe."

When she stared at him, but stayed quiet, his shoulders sagged.

"Please," he whispered, "Just believe in me, in us, that much. We'll work out everything else. I promise."

This time, she couldn't hold back the tears. They pooled at the corner of her eyes before slowly running down her cheeks. Burying her face in her arms, she tried hard to stifle the sniffles. When his arms wrapped around her, lifting her to his lap, the dam broke.

Brandt held her tight, murmuring nonsensical things in her hair.

Finally, her sobs ran down until she rested quietly in his arms. Where did she go from here? How to go on? She'd lived so isolated for so long, she didn't think she could handle being pointed and laughed at again. She shook her head slightly. Tough as that might be, losing Brandt would be the worst. For the first time, she experienced this connection, this sense of belonging with another person. He fit like her other half, making her whole.

"Honestly, I don't think many people will recognize you. Apparently, it's an old picture."

Sam stilled then tilted her head. "Did you read my mind?"

He smiled and dropped a tender kiss on her nose. "No. I figure that's your department."

She leaned against him, not sure how she felt anymore. She hadn't really thought he was to blame. That responsibility belonged with the asshole who'd released the information. Still, how much did she really know of Brandt? Sure, her mind mocked. You only know him well enough to have wild, uninhibited sex with him. Sam winced at the reminder.

"What's the matter now?"

Deciding to be honest, she answered, "I'm realizing that I've only known you for a few days."

His arms tightened. "You know all that matters."

She wondered about that.

6:10 am

Several sleepless hours later, Brandt walked into the kitchen expecting, even spoiling, for a fight. "I hope you've reconsidered."

She pulled the bread out of the toaster and buttered the two pieces and didn't answer.

"I hope you're prepared to be reasonable." Brandt knew he should shut up, yet found himself aggressively defensive. He needed her to understand, to care about staying safe.

She shot him a look. "Reasonable? Take another look at what has happened to my life, then tell me that."

"Damn it, I have. I wouldn't have wished this on you for anything. But it doesn't change the facts. You have to be protected, and we have to catch this asshole. This could be the same guy I'm hunting, or it may be an entirely different asshole. I don't care – we have to get him off the street. You have to stay safe." His voice rose at the end of his sentence. He visibly struggled to regain control, but it was tough. She was fighting him over something that was inarguable.

She finished buttering the toast on the plate and carried it over to the table. "I don't have a death wish, but I do want this to be over. I can't live in a cell, and I have to have some space for my..." Out of words, Sam wafted her hand in the air. "For my abilities or whatever you want to call them. I can't live the same as everyone else. Don't you understand? These things happen and I don't know when they will. I have to feel safe in my world." Glancing around at the cabin, she added, "It's not much, but it is home. I feel good here, rested. Being in the real world all the time hurts me." She paused briefly. "I don't want to leave this place."