No Artful Refusal (Devyn and Cade #3)

Chapter 1

In a deep velvet darkness, Devyn waited. Utterly focused on the one question in her heart and mind. One name. One image.

Ginny Culpepper.

Short blonde hair, blue eyes, tall and lean. Mid-thirties. Mother of two. An ultra-marathon runner, Ginny had gone out on a trail run days ago and never returned.

In the darkness something glimmered, a wisp as subtle as smoke. Devyn was no longer alone.

Ginny Culpepper.

She kept the face, the name, the details about the woman at the front of her mind.

Where is Ginny?

She projected the question into the dark, from her mind to the source of her psychic gifts.

The family was desperate to find Ginny. When she hadn’t returned on schedule, when calls and text messages were met with an “out of service” message, her husband had driven what he could of Ginny’s usual route.

He’d called the police, and rather than waiting another full day to file a missing person report, he’d gathered friends and started a search.

They’d followed the trails, searched for hours with no results.

The next day the police got involved. With no signs of foul play, they coordinated with the Park Service and set up a grid, retracing Ginny’s steps.

No results. No one had any idea where she could be. It was as if she’d simply been plucked off the planet. Impossible, obviously. But where was she?

Ginny Culpepper.

In the middle of the night that second day, her husband, desperate, had reached out to Devyn. By phone and email, pleading for any insight or advice.

Devyn let herself remember his worry and pain. His love for his wife. The fears that were spiraling out of control.

We need to find Ginny Culpepper.

The wisp swelled and swept closer to Devyn—a brush of awareness across her senses. Alive. A wave of heat and spike of pain followed.

Ginny’s injuries were severe. Devyn could smell the damp rot of a forest floor and feel the cold night pressing into Ginny’s skin as her will to live faded.

Devyn latched onto the singular detail: Ginny was still alive.

Show me where.

It wouldn’t be much comfort to the family if they couldn’t find her.

Now that she had the connection, she asked for the details to locate and rescue Ginny. Deep in her heart, Devyn prayed they would find the woman before it was too late.

Please help me see her. Show me where she is.

In this place that defied time and normal perception, the darkness parted like a curtain slowly rolling back to reveal a stage.

There, hovering over what she thought of as the abyss, images took shape. Trails and trees, the rhythm of Ginny’s shoes meeting the path. A slip, a scream. The scene rolled on and Devyn made notes as details slipped in and out through a hazy fog.

No, no. Not a haze. Fog itself. Fog was the image—the challenge Ginny had faced alone.

The rush of it pushed her back, shoved her right out of the quiet darkness. It was as if someone had dropped her through the ceiling into her office. Not at all the calm way she usually exited her searches.

The urgency wasn’t lost on her.

Scrambling to her feet, she grabbed her phone and dialed Sally McKinnon, the park ranger leading the search team.

“McKinnon,” the woman answered.

“Hello. It’s Devyn Norris. There was fog the day Ginny went missing,” she said. “Ginny went off her normal trail, got lost, and fell down a steep hill.”

McKinnon swore. “You’re the psychic. Mr. Culpepper said he’d called you.”

“Yes. But you know the area I’m talking about.”

“Mm-hm.” McKinnon hesitated. “It’s outside of the grid we’re working. It’s not on the route her husband told us she’d taken.”

“I understand. Will you please look anyway?” With her informants pressing insistently, Devyn was near begging. “You’ll find her caught in a tangle of trees, alive, but fading fast.”

“She’s been out here three days,” McKinnon said. “It’s a miracle you think she’s alive.”

“I know it. She is alive. But time is running out.”

Devyn’s next call would be to Mr. Culpepper letting him know where to search. She only hoped the search teams would get there first.

“I’m going,” McKinnon grumbled. “I can’t believe I’m saying it, but we’ll go right now.”

“Thank you.”

All Devyn could do now was wait for news. She didn’t expect anyone to call her right away. The priority was Ginny. Getting her out of the park and to the hospital. Reuniting her with her husband and kids. Starting the recovery.

She looked around her office and knew she wasn’t going back to bed.

Although her sources had quieted, she remained restless.

She took the time to document Mr. Culpepper’s call, her decision to help, and how the abyss had delivered the information.

Over the last several months it seemed her communication with her psychic sources was changing. Nothing easily defined, just a sense.

Thankfully, not a sense of detachment or pressure. On the contrary, her bond felt stronger than ever and somehow lighter. She’d been carefully journaling every encounter to sort out her feelings from her searches so she could spot any trends that might indicate trouble on the horizon.

She hadn’t quite finished when her phone hummed with another call. Recognizing Culpepper’s number, she answered right away.

Ginny’s husband sobbed and sputtered. “They found her. Alive. Just as you said. Exactly where you told them to look.”

“I’m so glad.”

“The park ranger said the fog must have rolled in and confused her,” he continued. “Somehow, she slipped off the path and fell down the hill. She’s alive. Already apologized for worrying us.”

“I’m glad you have her back,” Devyn soothed. “Give her my best wishes for a speedy recovery.”

“I don’t know what to do.” He paused and blew his nose. “Sorry. I just don’t know how to thank you. I mean, obviously, we’ve paid your fee, but there must be something more we can do.”

The one thing Devyn asked for—to keep her name out of any press coverage—was rarely granted. So she’d stopped making the request. These days, she was strong enough to cope with the fallout. “Just be well and be happy,” she said. “That’s all the extra I need.”

“Okay. Thank you. Again. Forever, thank you.”

Smiling, Devyn fixed herself a cup of tea, and went to her screened-in porch for some restorative solitude. Cuddled under a crocheted throw her mother had made, she embraced the quiet and thanked the sources who reliably rose from the abyss in wisps and images to guide her. To help others.

She hadn’t always appreciated her unique and unusual gifts, but every day she was more thankful now that she’d found a way to accomplish good things. To add to the beauty as well as the mysteries of the world.

Being psychic had never been a picnic. As a child, her untrained gifts had caused so many problems. Once she’d learned to control her talents, she tried to hide them. The ridicule for being different was brutal.

But hiding hadn’t helped, only backfired.

It had taken years of training and loads of practice developing a thick skin, but she eventually found the right balance.

Her successes had become a career, built between word of mouth and a website that focused on counseling rather than her psychic skills, allowing her to use her gifts to help others without constantly battling against the judgment and backlash of skepticism.

Healthy skepticism, she had to admit. There were plenty of people in the world who made big claims and couldn’t deliver. And many who used true extra-sensory talents solely for their own gain.

She had to accept the hurdles they created. No way to control those people or easily undo the damage they caused. Devyn’s gift was true, the real deal, regardless of outsider views. She had to walk her own path.

She finished her tea, watching in wonder and awe as the sunrise painted her backyard in soft sweeps of yellow and gold. Inside, her cell phone sounded with the ringtone she set for her friend and mentor, Marlene.

Reluctant to move, she scolded herself for leaving it behind.

Her body ached a little as she left the comfort of the rocking chair. Her search for Ginny had been intense. Still, she smiled as she answered the call. “Good morning to you.”

“Good morning, beautiful.” Marlene replied. “You sound good. Success, I assume?”

“Yes. A life saved,” Devyn replied. “Surely you knew already.”

It was highly unusual—even for two people as uniquely talented as Devyn and Marlene—but they shared a telepathic connection. No doubt a result of the intense training when Devyn had been so young and impressionable. As good friends, they were careful not to abuse the connection.

“I wasn’t about to go poking around in case you were working,” Marlene said.

“Fair enough.” Devyn appreciated her friend’s restraint.

Marlene had taught Devyn to see, appreciate, and lean into her abyss visions to build a frame for the source of her psychic talents. But once she gained control, her mentor was careful not to abuse their link, allowing Devyn to search and work without any undue interference.

“I just finished a cup of that restorative tea you sent. It’s a delicious blend. Thanks again.”

Marlene laughed. “You thank me every time you make a cup.”

“It’s that good.” A vision of her friend filled her mind. She wore a kimono this morning in a strong teal color and her strawberry blond hair—streaked generously with silver—was loose around her shoulders. “How are you feeling?” Marlene had been fighting a cold for the past few days.

“It’s too early in the day to ask me that,” Marlene teased. “Seriously, I’m on the mend.”

“Good.”

“Would you be willing to come and visit for a few days?”

Devyn’s first reaction was to decline. Marlene lived in Chicago and Devyn’s recent visits had been far too eventful. But something in the query tickled the nape of her neck. Marlene needed something more than a friend to join her for a spa day or a shopping trip.

“Of course. What can I bring?”

“Just yourself,” Marlene replied. “And the book you’re reading. Once you’ve finished it, bring it with you.”

“Happy to.” She traced the edges of the hardback book on her counter. It was an adventure-thriller featuring a married couple whose daring explorations solved mysteries.

“Love you, love you,” Marlene said, in her familiar pattern.

“Love you back,” Devyn replied as they ended the call.

With no pressing cases or client calls and the entire day ahead, she brewed another cup of tea and carried her book back to the porch.