Unfair Advantage

CHAPTER FOUR



Dani hadn\'t called her parents in almost a week. Recent events made her reluctant to try making small talk with people who worried incessantly over her. They’d recognize her scattered mental state at once. She didn’t wish to add fuel to the fire of their concern.



They stilled lived in Illinois. Same two bedroom house, sitting on the edge of the town she\'d spent the first fourteen years of her life desperate to escape.



As she sat on her porch watching the morning mist roll over the lake, she considered how in a manner, she\'d come full circle. Despite the determined early entry and graduation from college, ruthless ascension of the corporate ladder, here she sat. Living a quiet life outside a small rural town.



Perhaps when it came to Fate, you could run, but never hide.



The phone rang. She considered ignoring it, then rose and went inside. "Hello?"



"Hey, lady!"



Ashlyn\'s bright greeting made Dani smile. "Hey back."



"I\'m coming out to get you. Don\'t argue. There\'s an inn that just opened. We\'re going to have the brandied lobster bisque and wild mushroom-baby spinach salad they advertise."



How very normal and pleasant. "Will I have to change from my hikers?"



"Girl, get your fine butt into something other than jeans and boots! I\'m ten minutes away."







Ashlyn stopped her red vintage Camero beside Dani\'s Toyota. She hopped out, hurried up onto the porch, would\'ve let herself in. However, she saw her friend walking along the lake. She still wore casual clothes, walked barefoot. Ashlyn\'s nape prickled.



"Michael!" Dani called, broke into a jog. "Come back! Please!"



Sharon Allen had contacted Ashlyn about her son Michael\'s death. It seemed Dani\'s ability see spirits had returned.



She followed her friend, silently observed.



When Dani halted, Ashlyn spoke. "Honey?"



Dani whipped around, burst into wracking sobs and sank to the pine needle-carpeted ground. "He\'s come twice. But ... I can\'t get him to tell me anything! I can\'t ... learn something to help find the bastard that killed him!"



Ashlyn rushed to her. "Come on, get up. Let\'s go inside." She dusted off the needles and soil, slid her arm solidly around her friend\'s waist.



By the time she got her friend indoors and seated, Dani\'s face had lost color and she shivered violently. Not even going barefoot accounted for the wracking chills. The temperature had already reached a somewhat unseasonal sixty-nine degrees. Ashlyn grabbed a burgundy fleece throw from the chair back, tucked it around Dani.



After a few moments of chafing Dani\'s shoulders through the blanket, Ashlyn asked, "Will you be okay long enough for me to nuke some tea?"



Dani\'s teeth chattered. She nodded.



Ashlyn broke the laws of physics hustling a big mug of steaming Earl Grey. Bringing it back she said, "The bergamot in this is often good for the mental state."



Dani\'s hands shook too much for hot drink. Ashlyn helped. Finally after many grinding, long moments, the shivering began to lessen.



Ashlyn\'s concern did not. "Honey, can you tell me what happened?"



"I went to change. Took off my hikers and socks" Dani gently nudged away Ashlyn\'s hands. "I can hold it now, thank you."



"Okay." She sat cross-legged on the floor.



"I decided to go to the closet in the other bedroom. The clothes I kept from before are in there."



"Yes." Before meant from the old life. The one she led prior to the accident.



"I opened the door. In that old mirror hanging inside, I saw Michael behind me."



Ashlyn nodded. "Do you remember how he looked?"



A slight frown of concentration. "Fine, I think. But, I saw the burns and bruises."



"What next?"



"I turned." Dani\'s pale haunted eyes met hers. "Only movement in the hall made me follow. I saw him disappear through the front door. I ran out. Then, I could see him. So clear, Ash!"



She took the tea, set it on the floor, gripped her friend\'s cool, slender hands. "On the shore?"



"Yes. He kept glancing back. I tried to catch him, ask questions." Tears welled. "He vanished. I failed. Again."



Ashlyn leaned forward. "It hurts, honey. Try to focus. Why do you think this spirit has come after not seeing any for so long?"



"That\'s the torment! After everything I\'ve experienced, I understand nothing!"



Ashlyn groped about for an answer. "Maybe because you touched his body. Grandmere Graimeaux believes touch can link living to the dead."



"Did I prevent his moving on to ... whatever? Have I done far more harm than good?"



She couldn\'t prevent a rueful smile. "Of all the people to be struck by The Gift. Why a girl who didn\'t know what she believed anyway?"



"I don\'t know," Dani wailed softly. She leaned forward, rested her forehead on their joined hands.



"What do you see when you touch me?"



Her friend didn\'t lift her head. "I see and feel peace. Kindness, understanding. Beauty beyond your - let\'s face it - spectacular physical perfection. Strength grown from loss that flows into generous, empathetic sweetness."



Ashlyn\'s own eyes teared. "Damn, girl. Why couldn\'t you be a man?"



Dani straightened. A watery smile curved her lips. "Because then I\'d be gay."



Ashlyn laughed and leaned forward to embrace her friend. Living for the better part of her life outside New Orleans, submerged in Cajun culture made her more open-minded than most. She hugged Dani. Vowed to protect her friend from anyone who might attempt harm.



Of any sordid variety.







"Larkin!"



Across the double desk, Fielding cringed. "That\'s the chief. It\'s feeding time."



"Yeah." Roarke stood. "My ass is on the menu." He walked through to Captain Nicco Ferreli\'s office, closed the door behind him. Roarke didn\'t get an invitation to sit before the shouting began.



"What the fuck were you and Fielding doing in Connecticut yesterday?"



"I intended to speak to you today about that."



"After I heard about this hocus pocus bullshit from that Allen woman, or before?"



"I didn\'t realize she\'d be seeing you again so soon. Else I would have come first thing."



Captain Ferreli slapped an open hand on the metal desk. The worn blotter jumped an inch into the air. At six foot eight, three hundred pound of pure muscle, Ferreli cut an impressive figure. "Some broad claims to have psychic insight on a case. The case making pain in this precinct’s collective ass! You don\'t come to me?"



"Sir, I apologize. Professionally and personally. I felt the same way about this woman\'s input. Until I could grant credibility, I didn\'t want to involve you."



The captain more fell than leaned back into his chair. Ran a big scarred hand over his shaved-shiny head. "This tears it. The world\'s gone to Hell. Forget the handbasket. It took the fast train."



Roarke sat in the uncomfortable chair. "Next evaluation you should request better furniture in here."



"Yeah." Ferreli continued to rub his slick scalp as he often did under duress. "How did this happen? We\'ve had five murders. Vics from all over the Metro area. All dumped in our back yard. We\'re catching shit from every direction. The Feds are frothing at the goddamned mouth to get a piece of the action if we could ever prove the same guy’s responsible."



He shifted, tried to find a better position. "My working theory about the dumps is history. One perp or twelve, there\'s a beef with this precinct."



Ferreli\'s thick black brows hiked. "Interesting. I could do some checking with employee records. Look for anyone cut loose on bad terms."



Roarke nodded. "I don\'t believe this paranormal shit. That said, a lot of people do believe this woman."



"Suppose her crystal ball shows us our perp. Then what? We try getting a judge to issue warrants based on Esmerelda the fucking fortune teller\'s mystical insight?"



A twinge of protective indignation made Roarke far more uncomfortable than the stupid chair. "I depend on you to figure that out, sir."



Ferreli sighed. "I\'ll make inquiries about precedents and protocols."



"I’ve done it. We’re in No Man’s Land. Damned if your right, damned if your wrong.” Roarke leaned forward. “With your permission?"



The captain waved him off. "Follow up on crystal ball lady."



Roarke paused at the door, turned back. "Skepticism aside. The information she gave us confirmed the pathology reports from the coroner. She nailed every detail."

F

erreli\'s brown eyes squinted. "So would anyone who saw the crime or knew the culprit. Keep close to her, Larkin. She may be playing us."







Dani woke before dawn, dressed for a hike, left. The pre-dawn dark didn\'t hinder her progress. She knew every dip, hill, bush and tree for miles. As she paused on the far side of the lake to watch the sun top the trees, she considered Michael Allen\'s visitations. For some reason she\'d made a connection. A link that caused him to seek her.



In the time since the accident, Dani spent many hours researching the paranormal. Rather than provide answers it had raised more questions. Why had she seen ghosts so vividly and frequently at first? Why had that changed? How could she help find Michael\'s killer when she didn\'t understand her own abilities?



She hiked around the shore at a rapid pace, kept her heart rate in the aerobic zone for almost fifty minutes. Back at the cabin, she unlaced her soft-soled boots, glanced at the answering machine. One message.



Dani hit \'play\'.



"Good morning, Miss Richards." Larkin\'s distinctive voice. Almost nothing of New York in the accent. Just the faintest exotic lilt. A gift from his parents. "Detective Fielding and I have gained permission to move ahead with this line of inquery. If there\'s any way you could make it in to stay a few days in the city, NYPD will gladly provide transportation and accomodations. Give me a call on my cell please. In case you misplaced my card, 845-239-2981. Thank you."



She played it again. After both of them inviting the use of first names, neither did. For him maybe professional habit. For herself, perhaps the illusion of distance. Whatever her personal preference, she had become part of this now.



Dani dialed his cell number.



He picked up after two rings. "Larkin."



"It\'s Dani Richards."



"I appreciate your prompt return call."



She bit her lip, then forged ahead. "I can come into the city a few days."



"Great. May we offer you a ride?"



"I\'ll drive, thanks."



"We\'ll reimburse any tolls and for mileage."



Something about his cool politeness grated Dani\'s nerves. She had answered his embarrassing invasive questions, granted him access to the most traumatic and painful period of her life, and now faced an imminent plunge into a nightmarish investigation. "That won\'t be necessary. Do I come to the station?"



"When do you plan to leave?"



"Soon as I shower and change."



"Yes, we\'ll meet you there around ten."



"I\'ll see you then." She clicked off the phone, dropped the handset into the cradle.



A quick shower and packing while her hair dried preceded an outfit of cream short-sleeved Henley tucked into chocolate jeans, brown belt and backless loafers. She blew the last of the moisture from her hair, a little sheer powder, mascara and lip gloss had her ready. Dani called Ashlyn, left messages on her home and cell, slid behind the wheel of the Toyota.



Near Havewick she stopped for a tall vanilla caramel latte. City traffic moved in a sluggish stream. Horns honked. Drivers shouted out windows. Bike couriers and pedestrians cut in between vehicles.



It seemed another lifetime ago she\'d sat in the back of the Rolls, using the time to work or return calls as Doug navigated the tangle. Finally she arrived, found a spot to park, went inside.



The first time she came to the precinct it threatened to overwhelm her. By the time she located Detective Larkin, she\'d felt ready to bolt.



"Miss Richards?" Detective Fielding spoke from behind her.



She turned. "Hello."



He flushed a little. "Uh, Larkin had to start paperwork for your participation. We\'ll need your signature."



"Lead the way."



He took her to an executive office. An attractive redhead sat behind a desk, managing to touch Larkin\'s hand every three seconds or so, smiling and whispering to him. The detective seemed oblivious. Almost emotionless. Until he glanced up at Dani. A flash of something - misgiving or doubt - passed over his handsome features.



"I believe we\'re ready for your part, Miss Richards."



She listened to his explanation of the legal release, departmental red tape, signed where told.



"Let\'s get you checked into a hotel. Then we\'ll start with discovery sites."







Roarke tried to convince her stay on the city\'s dime at a decent little hotel on the Upper West side. She insisted on the Plaza. Her funds. Drove her car behind them. They escorted her inside. Even dressed casually she possessed the \'something\' that said Money. The manager in the lobby looked like he\'d seen a ghost, then almost ran over two luggage attendants coming toward them.



"Miss Richards!" He walked at her side toward the desk. "So wonderful to see you! Reservations didn\'t inform me you were expected."



"Nice to see you, Francois." She smiled at him, kept her hands firmly on the bag she refused to let them carry. "This is an unexpected trip."



"Your favorite suite is available, may I book it for you?"



"Could I have that smaller suite? The one I stayed in last time?"



"Of course."



Roarke had never so much as entered this palatial hotel. Fielding\'s mouth hung open still. The manager hustled the desk clerk to make arrangements, looked up from the computer screen, lowered his voice. "You will have two guests?"



"No, Francois. I\'m helping these two detectives with an investigation. I\'ll stay alone."



Roarke noted the man\'s discreet survey.



"Please accept our contribution to your work. Room service will expect your breakfast orders compliments of The Plaza."



After they checked her car with hotel parking, dropped her bag in the spacious \'smaller\' suite, they took the elevator down to the lobby.



Roarke opened the cruiser door for her. Climbed into the driver\'s seat.

Fielding burst out, "I\'ve never seen anything like that place. Jesus Christ!"



She replied, "You two will have to come every morning to eat. Francois expects it."



For no reason he cared to acknowledge, the entire scene irked Roarke. Decided to change the subject. "I thought we could visit the places the vics have been dumped." He looked at her briefly in the rear view mirror, returned his eyes to the stream of traffic on the street. Cabs crowded to drop off guests. "Maybe you can get something."



"I don\'t know if a location will help."



Fielding twisted in the seat. "Can you touch like the ground or a bench and see things the way you do with people?"



"Honestly, I don\'t know. The past thirteen months I\'ve devoted most all my energy to avoiding situations when, whatever I came out of that coma with, is stimulated."



Roarke edged out into the stream, managed to pull into the flow. Doubts about her abilities, frustration with the lack of case progression made him touchy. "Why?"



"I didn\'t ask for this, detective. I\'ve changed my life, learned to cope. But I don\'t want it."







Brand carried his digital camera with him as he walked Manhattan. He singled out a slender five or six-year-old red-haired boy on west seventy-ninth. Photographed him, his mom, the family Saturn\'s license plate.



He walked down Amsterdam Avenue to Broadway. There a black kid, maybe ten, rode a skate board. Very exotic. Chiseled features, big almond eyes. Clients would love that look. Brand followed him to sixty-sixth, got a shot of the boy, complete with a zoom on his backpack. An identity tag hung on the zipper with a street addy.



Walking back to Central Park, Brand kept a scouting eye out. On the west side of Cleopatra\'s Needle, a group of boys chased a soccer ball across the grass. Among them darted a muscular blond around thirteen. A little old for most of Brand\'s clients\' tastes. But, boys like that always incited tremendous interest. The blond wore a tee shirt with a school logo. Perfect. He\'d check the website, no doubt find him.



People made his line of work so easy.





Dani stood beside the dumpster in the litter-strewn alley. The stench of it combined with stale alcohol and urine made her stomach churn. Some monster left a little boy\'s body here.



She felt vulnerable. Exposed to the suffering. It seemed to freeze her body. Chill bumps contracted, tightened her skin.



"Miss Richards," Fielding said softly, "you okay?"



She met his blue eyes. The honest concern there struck a blow. "You\'re a far better man than you think you are."



"Don\'t start that again, please." He slapped around inside his blazer, until he located and withdrew a pack of Camel cigarettes.



For a few moments she just stood there. Unsure of her ability to glean any information from the location. Uncertain she really wanted to even if she could. Then she reached out, sensed an energy.



Images, scents, sounds, sensations assaulted her. She forced them into words.



"Omigod. Mathew Wiley. He knew when he was kidnapped that he would die. He didn\'t cry. Not even when.." Her throat closed. She sensed an agony, sexual violation. Determined, she whispered, "Not even when he was raped." Dani braved the horror, invited the residual information. "Something smelled like vinyl. Mathew heard the man who raped him say..." she strained.



Like vague memory or echo the words teased. With great effort she forced them to her.



She opened her eyes. "The man who raped Mathew said, \'This is what you get for a million point three."







Roarke caught her as she buckled at the knees. He carried her to the car. "Get in, Fielding."



"Christ." The cigarette hanging from his lip bounced with each word. "I told you she\'s the real deal."



"Get in the damn car." Roarke closed the back door, hopped in. He drove straight to the scene of the next dump.



"I don\'t think I can do this again."



He replied to her. "I\'m not offering you a choice." He flashed the dash light to cut across traffic. The need to prove her a fraud compelled him. Whether he liked it about himself or not, he resented she might hold all the cards. Keys to stopping kids from dying. He hated that she might smash his world. Alter reality by opening him to this \'paranormal\' plane.



Roarke stopped the car, jumped out.



"Larkin, you think we should take her to the Plaza?"



"No." He yanked open her door, practically dragged her toward the scene. Tattered police line tape fluttered from the doorway of the building.



She dug in her heels, turned. "I don\'t want to."



Roarke grit his teeth. Hauled her inside. "Too bad."



He felt the spasm pass through her. A bolt that inflicted a full body jerk. She began to cry and shake. Steeling himself, he propelled her forward, let her drop to her knees on the rotted floor.



"No more. No more." Her voice became a plaintive chant. "No more. No more."



"Larkin, maybe we should get her the fuck outta here."



Roarke watched her rock and shake. Lost his resolve. When he put his hands under her arms to lift her to her feet, she whirled.



Eyes wide unseeing she spoke.



But, a boy\'s voice emerged. "Please no more!"