Out of Body

Chapter 4

This was the right place and the right man, Marley thought. Archer’s body had tensed, and he leaned toward her. His face was a study in reluctant curiosity. Curiosity, she understood. Why reluctant, she didn’t know.

“How are you connected to them?” he said of Liza and Amber.

Archer was the one she’d come looking for, but…she looked sideways at the man seated in a chair…this one had the power, a special power. A gripping, a tightening around her midsection disoriented her. Who was he and why was he here?

Archer cleared his throat. “I asked how you know Liza Soaper and Amber Lee,” he said, not attempting to hide his irritation.

“Yes,” she said. There was a pull, an attraction, but not necessarily of the kind she was happy about.

The other man didn’t even glance at her. But Marley studied him closely. His hair was dark with hints of time in the sun, roughed up and skimming his collar, like her brother Sykes’s had been the last time she saw him. Only Sykes had black hair—an anomaly in the Millet family and cause for grave concern. Quixotic he might be, but she longed for Sykes’s presence, his assurance that anything could be overcome, or “accomplished,” as he would say. She could try asking him to come. They had their way of signaling each other, only Sykes had a rule, they both did: If you call, there had better be blood on the floor.

There probably was somewhere.

Marley shuddered.

“Detective Archer asked you a question,” Gray Fisher said, startling her. Still he didn’t look at her. He had one of those deep male voices that managed to sound as if laughter wasn’t far away.

“I think you’re rude,” she told him, and immediately felt embarrassed. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re not the—”

“Ignore him,” Detective Archer said. “He used to be on the force. Sometimes he forgets he’s not anymore. Take your time explaining.”

““We don’t have time,” she said, her face flushing. “You’ve got at least one dead woman and there are going to be more if we don’t hurry up.”

The problem was that although she had sped along Royal Street, trying her best to think up a way to tell her story without giving away the things that would get her kicked out of here, she had not come up with a solution.

“You know two of the missing women?” Detective Archer said, sounding testy now. “What about Shirley Cooper?”

She shook her head and sighed. “No. I wish I had known her, poor thing, but she didn’t come to me.” Marley put her lips firmly together. Her mind rushed in useless circles. “This is the last place I want to be, but I understand responsibility. I can’t deal with all this on my own. It wouldn’t be right not to talk to you.”

Gray Fisher shifted beside her. This man’s features were angular, harsh even, his brows dark and winged. He had yet to give her a chance to really see his eyes.

He hunched his shoulders and rubbed the back of his neck. Then he rounded his back. Then straightened it. A fidget. Being still, listening quietly and without comment were disciplines Marley had been taught very early. Keeping opinions to herself was a skill that still needed work.

She thought he must be tall, and he looked athletic.

His thoughts were all about her. And he was trying to figure out if she was…dangerous?

Shocked by feeling his thoughts touch her mind, she began to cut off the connection.

Better to know potential enemies, she heard him think. His efforts were undisciplined, perhaps even accidental.

Marley didn’t allow the probe to deepen.

Telepathy was something she shared with her siblings, to differing degrees depending on how firmly their guards were up. Outside the family, Marley could choose to read minds. She never did so lightly. This was the first time she had been aware of a stranger making casual contact with her.

Her own shield was firmly in place. There would be no reciprocal probing. Willing exploration by two telepathists who were strangers risked a dangerous depth of intimacy.

He was looking sideways at her, watching her watching him. Speculative eyes that reminded her of whiskey. How long had he been aware that she was sizing him up?

A sharp current traveled from her neck down her spine, startling her to sit very straight. The electric sensation curved forward to her belly and buried itself where she least expected to feel any reaction at all.

A sexy connection.

Now warmth shot across her body. Fisher shifted in his chair and the expression in his eyes made her look away.

“What did you come to tell me?” Detective Archer asked. “Do you know where Liza and Amber are?”

Marley cleared her throat. Every word had to be weighed. “Not exactly.”

She felt Gray Fisher continue to watch her quietly.

“What does that mean?” Archer asked.

“I saw Liza about ten days ago, and I was with Amber this afternoon.”

If she had produced an assault rifle, she doubted these two men could be more focused on her.

“Go on,” Archer said.

“Well.” Her fluttering hands annoyed Marley and she dropped them to her lap.

Archer inclined his head in question and jutted his chin.

“They were both…They couldn’t get away from where they were.”

She wanted to give in to the lure and look at Gray Fisher again. Instead, she studied the office. This wasn’t a place where she’d like to spend a lot of time. It smelled musty, like wet laundry left to dry in a heap. Mold. And old smoke.

“Why couldn’t they get away?” This time Archer tried to look relaxed in his chair. You could almost think he was relaxed, as long as you didn’t look at his tight mouth and jaw.

“Someone didn’t want them to leave,” she told him.

“Who?”

She really was overheating, even in her white cotton dress. Long and fairly thin, it began to feel too tight across her chest. “I heard his voice.” Marley didn’t want to recall that dark, smooth, persuasive voice or the power it had over those women.

“You didn’t see him?”

“No. He hid himself,” she said with sudden inspiration. Talking about disembodied voices wouldn’t help buy her either respect or action. “They both know him. When he talked, they expected to hear him speak and did what he wanted.”

Skepticism hardened Archer’s eyes. “And he wanted what?” he asked.

There was a full, blue plastic bowl of Tootsie Rolls on the desk. She was reminded that she still felt drained from the journey.

“He wanted them to go into a sort of locker place in one corner of the big room and stay there,” she said. “It’s got a big, heavy door with no handle on the inside. Each of them did what he said.”

“What room would that be?”

“Like I said, the locker is in a bigger room and I think—” Too many vague references would make them suspicious.

“No, the bigger room. Where is that?” Archer said.

Of course this was difficult, and it would only get more so. She couldn’t tell him about a luminous, watery funnel, a portal to another place by way of a peeling red lacquer dollhouse! “What have you found out so far?” she said, buying time.

“Not enough, but we will,” Archer said.

Beside her, Gray Fisher’s hands were curved into fists on his thighs. He’d given up on his notes. His presence, her response to him, alerted her to possible risk.

“Let’s come at this from another direction,” Archer said. “The locker? What kind of locker?”

“Like a meat locker,” she said, and swallowed hard. “Revolving hooks inside.”

Silence.

“It was cold in there. I saw an atmospheric phenomenon.”

Gray Fisher coughed. “Meaning?”

“Condensation, I suppose. Cold air meeting warmer air and billowing like fog.” She puffed at a curl beside her eye. “Oh, I don’t know. I’m not scientific—not in the way you think of. Just imagine opening a freezer door and seeing clouds of white vapor rush out.”

“You sound irritated,” Archer said, too mildly for comfort.

“That’s because she’s uncomfortable,” Fisher said.

Marley didn’t want his interpretation of what she might or might not feel, but she kept quiet.

“Just a minute,” Fisher said.

Hearing a light scratching at the door, he got up and let Winnie sidle in. She held her bone by one end and dragged it beside her as if it would be less noticeable that way.

Marley had heard the scratching, too, but she was preoccupied.

Fisher looked down on Winnie, who attempted to flatten herself to the wall beneath the row of windows. Her wrinkled face pushed up between round eyes so moist, anyone could expect tears, and she gave him a stare filled with an appeal for mercy. She raised first one front foot, then the other, as if abjectly apologetic and expecting to be told off.

“You shouldn’t leave her outside,” Fisher said. “Anyone could take her.”

Drawing in a short, furious breath, Marley waited until the man—and he was tall, muscular, and moved with purpose—dropped back into his seat.

“Winnie wouldn’t let anyone take her,” she said, her voice soft and low. “Winnie is an operator and she just worked a number on you. She wanted in here, and here she is.”

He shrugged and found his tatty little notebook again.

“I’m going to tell you exactly what happened,” she said, breathless. “Please just let me say everything before you interrupt.”

What she was about to do was reckless. “The abduction happened—”

“Which abduction?” Fisher said.

“Liza Soaper. It happened early in the morning. Of course, I didn’t know who she was then. I happened to be about because I couldn’t sleep and I like to walk when I think.” Partly true. Mostly untrue. Marley’s mind scrambled. “Liza was, er, kidnapped. I think she was lured into a car. I jumped in a cab and had the driver follow.”

“What kind of car?” Archer said. “You got the license?”

She was sinking. “I’m not good at cars and I don’t see well when I’m upset. I think it was a black car, a big one. I didn’t think to look at the license plate.”

“Great,” Archer said.

“It was still dark and I was so busy trying to keep the other car in sight, I didn’t notice where we were.”

It’s so much easier to tell the truth, Marley. That way you never have anything to explain or get embarrassed about. Great, now Mama Leandra’s voice wanted to twist the knife. Her parents—on the rare occasions when she saw them—remained full of pat wisdom, and Papa Antoine usually let his adored wife do most of the talking.

“Are you reconstructing what happened?” Archer said.

Marley looked at the makeshift candy dish and swallowed rapidly. “Do you suppose I could have one of those?” She pointed. “I, er, haven’t eaten enough today.”

A little noise to her left annoyed Marley. “I’m glad you find me funny, Mr. Fisher.”

“Call me Gray. I was thinking you don’t look as if you ever eat anything much.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn’t say you don’t look great. Perfect, in fact.”

Fisher cleared his throat and Marley figured it was his turn to feel awkward. Not that she didn’t like the compliment.

Archer held the bowl under her nose and she managed, with great effort, to pick up only one candy.

“Have more,” Archer said. “Wish I had a sandwich or something.”

Looking at him, she smiled and took a handful of Tootsie Rolls.

Fisher sputtered and she looked at her hand. The bowl had been withdrawn and she was left with a fist crammed so full that some candies stuck out between her knuckles.

Marley laughed at herself. “Overkill,” she said. She got up and dropped the extra candies back into the bowl. “Thank you,” she said and stuffed several pieces into a pocket. This was not a time or a place for fainting. She unwrapped two candies and put them in her mouth, packing one in each cheek. Her energy was fading again.

“By the time the big car stopped, I was frantic.” She shifted to the front of her chair, chewing and gulping as fast as she could. “I threw money at the cab driver and raced after Liza and whoever was with her. I was so agitated and it was so dark, I rushed behind them—being careful to stay out of sight behind, er, bushes, and managed to sneak through the same door they used to go into the building.”

“What building?” Fisher said.

Damn him. “I don’t know. Not the faintest idea. That’s where the cops come in. They’re good at that stuff. Now let me finish. I’ve got to get Winnie out for a run.”

Neither man commented. Good, off-the-wall comments could be used to shut them up.

“As I was saying, I slipped in behind them when they weren’t looking.” And? “They got ahead of me and I thought I’d lost them. It was pretty scary in there. Just concrete walls and floor—dirty and damp. Then the locker—big locker—opened in the corner and a woman in red—I mean, black, with black fishnet hose and very high shoes—came out. She was frightened, I could see it.”

“This was another woman?” Archer squinched up his eyes. “I thought you meant—”

“Liza Soaper? I did. Only I didn’t know it was her then. I didn’t know until I saw the picture of her on the TV today. I saw the mole above her mouth, too.

“She looked terrified and when she saw me, she reached out. But that voice came. Just like black molasses dripping into a puddle on a shiny floor.”

“You have a way with words,” Fisher said.

“Please just let me get through this, Mr. Fisher.” She should only have put one Tootsie Roll into her mouth.

“Gray,” he said shortly and bowed his head. He bowed his head but looked behind him at the same time.

Marley heard a familiar slithering sound and soon Winnie came into view. Flattened (as flattened as a solid little Boston terrier could get) to the floor, she pulled herself forward, inch by inch to join the party.

“No,” Marley said, but wished she could gather up her faithful friend and hold her close. “Back you go, please, Winnie. I’m having an important conversation and you do have a tendency to distract me. Do go and sit where you were before and wait until I’m finished.”

Another strangled sound came from Mr. Fisher.

“What now?” she snapped.

“Nothing. I was surprised by his level of comprehension, is all.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Her. Just as I don’t believe in baby talk for children, I don’t like it for animals, either. Back, Winnie. Now, can we continue?”

Fisher wore jeans that rode below his waist, and a black T-shirt. The T-shirt shouldn’t have to be so tight. Surely he could find one big enough for all those muscles. Men could be like that. They liked showing off what studs they were.

“Liza had a mark on her neck,” Marley said and her eyes widened. She hadn’t remembered that until now. “A round, red mark right in the front. I thought it was blood, but I don’t know for sure.”

Fisher snickered. Complete with bone, Winnie had dragged herself beside him and rolled onto her back. She lay there with all four feet in the air, displaying her pink tummy.

Absently, Marley pulled another candy from her pocket. Her dog was a floozie, letting a strange man scratch her belly.

“Can we stay with the program?” Detective Archer said.

“Happily.” She was amused at how easy it was to ward off Fisher’s attempts to read her thoughts. “As soon as I got closer to Liza, the voice got more intense.”

“What was he saying to her?”

Marley concentrated on the detective. “Honestly, just like I said before, I couldn’t see him and I couldn’t make out everything he said, except he wanted her to come to him. That was obvious. I think he was hiding in the locker.”

“So, you just heard sounds really?”

“More than sounds.” She frowned at Fisher. He petted the dog, but his motions were jerky. Twice he stopped to rub his hands together. Marley looked at her own hands. They remained cold. The nail beds were blue.

“And?” Fisher said.

Archer shrugged and grinned at Marley. “I told you he keeps forgetting he’s not a cop anymore.”

“And?” Fisher repeated. He had an unforgettable voice himself. She didn’t doubt it could be mesmerizing in the right circumstances.

“You think this guy was mesmerizing Liza?” Fisher said.

Stunned, Marley barely stopped herself from shooting to her feet. He had heard her think about a voice being mesmerizing. At least, he’d picked up that idea and twisted it a little, even if he didn’t realize it. “He could have been,” she said tightly. She had never encountered anything like this before.

“I’ve never believed in that,” Archer said.

“Well, you ought to,” Marley said. “There’s a great deal more in this world than meets the eye.” She had to stop getting goaded into careless statements.

“Liza backed into the freezer or locker or whatever it was and the door shut.”

“Did you try to get her out?”

She looked back at Archer with a horrified feeling. “Yes, but I couldn’t. I had to leave.”

“You were frightened?” Fisher said. “More frightened than ever. That’s understandable.”

“No,” she cried. “That’s not it. She stayed in that place and she must be dead. I know she is. I felt her die.”

The office door opened and Marley slumped in her chair, relieved by the interruption.

A uniformed officer entered, handed a folded piece of paper to Archer and left again.

But Archer didn’t take his eyes off Marley. “What do you mean, you felt her die? You’re sure she’s dead, aren’t you? How about Amber Lee?”

“I don’t know.” She swallowed. “I don’t really know what’s happened to either of them. If I try to explain, will you promise not to disregard everything I’ve told you?”

“Your report will be checked out,” he said. In other words, there was no commitment.

“There wasn’t a car or a cab. I made that up because I was afraid you wouldn’t believe the truth.”

He raised his brows, but didn’t interrupt.

“I traveled there.”

Still he listened without speaking, but he did look at the paper in his hands. Probably trying not to let her see his impatience.

“You see, I…Well, I’m psychic, but I also have out-of-body experiences. I saw each of them, Liza and Amber, when I was away from my body.”