Chapter 3
Devyn didn’t need any of her psychic talent to know when she wasn’t wanted.
This wasn’t the first time she would be chased out of a crime scene or an area where she had a vital interest. Wouldn’t be the last either.
Unless she chose to stop helping people, to stop responding to the cues from her extra senses. What had Laurier called it?
Oh, yeah. Her “special sources”.
She’d heard far worse through the years and somehow his phrasing nettled her in fresh new ways.
Ways she’d be better off forgetting.
Thanks to his obnoxious orders she was standing on the front porch.
No way to avoid it, she was shut out. Making a scene would get her nowhere, but she wasn’t ready to leave.
The energy she’d picked up in the bedroom wasn’t violent, but it wasn’t pleasant either.
The emotion was raw and unhappy. The violence was concentrated downstairs in the front room.
That’s where Nell and Daniel had argued.
And then it was as if Nell had been silenced.
Abruptly, yet not with any finality—Devyn was sure her client was alive—but she’d been removed from her home.
The why, how, and who were yet to be determined.
She wasn’t leaving until she got the lead she was looking for. Nell needed her. The certainty of that singular fact pressed gently against Devyn from all sides. As if the universe itself was guiding her toward the right answer. Toward Nell. And she wasn’t going to ignore those nudges.
Being mad or stubborn, ignoring her gifts, only created challenges and heartache that hindsight always proved were avoidable.
Devyn’s talents didn’t stem from fight or flight.
It was more like fighting caused immediate negative fallout and giving into any fear led her astray from any helpful insight.
It hadn’t been easy to learn how to stay calm in the storm or hold her ground when the answers were ugly.
From the start of her formal training, Devyn worked to conquer her fear, to seek answers that didn’t merely satisfy her curiosity but actually helped others. It had taken time to understand the cycle of helping others helped her as well.
These days, she didn’t need anyone else to understand her talent, her process, or her reasoning. Having accepted herself, being fully committed to her training and understanding her specific talent, she no longer needed outside approval.
Of course, she wanted to help her clients. She felt the obligation and importance of each person who reached out, of each situation that called her. She saw it as an honor to use her talents as often as possible.
And she’d always have a little bit of that need to make Marlene proud.
She didn’t see that as a failing, just one more facet of her interesting life.
As she walked along the front of the house, she heard others in her wake. The house was a hive of activity right now. She had to be careful or the grouchy detective would bluster at her again. Oddly enough, a pop song lyric sounded the ringtone fluttering across the cool morning air.
Devyn turned and saw Detective Laurier scowling at his phone.
She couldn’t quite reconcile the bright melody to the grumpy man.
As she watched, he moved away from the chaos, and thankfully her, toward the driveway.
She figured that meant the call was personal.
It was too soon to have any definitive results from the folks gathering evidence.
She brushed aside the small flash of annoyance ready to take root and derail her search. Not her place to judge Laurier or the situation, even if he’d judged her on sight. Bitterness only hampered her gifts, clouding her ability to interpret the information that flowed to her.
Detective Laurier wouldn’t be the last cop to doubt her or question the validity of her assistance.
She returned her attention to the home itself, determined to gather whatever information she could even from this distance. Her primary goal was to find Nell.
Alive.
A persistent pressure between her shoulder blades warned her time was limited.
The detective could do whatever he wanted with the husband or any criminal who’d taken her client. She believed in justice and the legal system, but her strengths led her to act according to her own code.
It wasn’t easy to concentrate with all the action around the home.
Law enforcement folks buzzed back and forth, gathering photos, sealing evidence bags.
Needing space, she walked across the thick green turf of the front yard.
Her car was across the street and there, she wouldn’t have privacy, but she’d have some space to quiet her thoughts and listen to her guides.
Between one stride and the next the summer sky overhead dimmed.
As if someone had drawn a curtain across the sun.
She tripped and fell to her hands and knees, panic stealing her breath.
As she gulped for air, a rush of tears blurred her vision.
The grass under her hands was cool and damp with dew.
She looked more closely at her palms when something struck the side of her head, making her ears ring.
Her first instinct was to run, to scramble away from the fear and pain. She resisted, digging her fingers into the lawn—the soft, dry blades of grass—letting it all come into her, giving the bond room to expand and inform.
She wasn’t living her crisis, but Nell’s.
Relief and courage pulsed through her. Despite being taken off guard, she was in her strength now.
She didn’t rely on procedure or incontrovertible physical evidence.
She didn’t care that the things she knew weren’t admissible in court.
She would and could help her client. Nell had extended such confidence and trust, Devyn simply refused to fail her.
The scene bloomed in her mind, a violent flower opening, releasing information instead of a fragrance. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath shuddered in and out. Devyn struggled against the survival instinct to bolt and hide, determined to keep watch, to spot something helpful.
She shut out the noise, the movement, focused on her goal.
“What the hell are you doing?”
The detective’s voice reverberated like distant thunder, threatening her concentration. She sensed him reaching for her, but she almost had it. “Wait!”
In her head, the command was a shout. She couldn’t be sure how it sounded to him or if he heard her at all. She tried to shift out of his reach, but wasn’t fast enough.
The second his hand touched her arm, her vision of Nell’s ordeal disappeared. Devyn was ripped out of that space. Rough. Wrong. Sunlight blazed and she blinked against the brightness. A new pain lanced across her senses. Not remnants from Nell, but a deep hollow ache from the detective himself.
Her heartbeat—hers, not an echo of her client—stuttered, then raced. Her focus fractured and senses reeling, her stomach pitched and fell back to her butt.
She retreated, scrambling back from the man looming over her. He wouldn’t stay back. The mid-day sun was an angry halo behind his head. “Stay back.” It was a weak plea and she wished she could’ve made it a command.
He advanced. “What the hell? Did you fall?” Looking up and around, he hollered for a paramedic. But the ambulance had left when no patients were present.
Devyn waved off his next attempt to help, gathering herself.
“Don’t touch me.” It wasn’t personal. Well, it was.
For him. She didn’t want to invade his privacy.
Had no interest in seeking out what troubled him.
That would be rude, the kind of breach she’d been trained to avoid.
A person’s thoughts were their own. Their feelings were their own.
Just because she could look and know, didn’t give her the right to do so.
Just because she could help without being asked, didn’t make that the best option.
Everyone had their own journey. The ups and downs were part of the process. Devyn’s purpose in life wasn’t to skip from one person to the next, smoothing out all the speedbumps. Who would grow if she did that?
“Listen, lady, you need to leave.”
“Yes.” Hadn’t she been trying? She pointed across the street.
“I’m...” She dragged in another breath. “My car.” If she could get to her vehicle, she could safely close her eyes and recover.
To search the fragment of that vision for clues.
She managed to gain her feet. “Find Nell,” she said, her voice hoarse. “Please.”
“That’s what I’m doing,” Detective Laurier snapped. “Whole lot easier without distractions like you.”
“Of course. I’m leaving,” she promised. She’d play the agreeable, remorseful intruder.
For now.
Anything to get away from him and the dark fog swirling at his feet. Something was very wrong in his life, but he wouldn’t take a warning even if she could give it in a logical manner.
Right now, her mind was too jumbled, the information flowing to her too fast to separate his pending crisis from Nell’s current predicament.
Her legs felt as if she were slogging waist-deep through mud.
With every inch of distance from the detective, it got a little easier.
She didn’t think that was a coincidence.
Finally, in the driver’s seat, she could breathe. She’d wait to drive until her hands stopped trembling. Until she could drive away with control and confidence.
She hadn’t seen it all, didn’t know exactly where the trail would lead, but she’d seen enough to start her own search. “I’m coming, Nell,” she whispered as she started the car.
One of the first lessons she’d learned with Marlene was that complete answers were rare, even for someone with her extensive gifts. It was often more important to make an effort, to take a step, before the next step became clear.