A Glimpse of the Dark Side: Adult Paranormal Erotic Romance Collection (4 page)

January could feel the color leaving her face.
It sounded almost word for word like what Lori had told her the
night she was murdered. The image of her friend swinging her leg
over the windowsill came to her again, fresh and bright as though
fifteen years had not passed.

"Ms. Morrison, are you alright?" Agent Talbot
said. She was sitting in the seats facing them, across the small
table where Lianna's file was spread out.

January collected herself. "Yes, I'm fine. May I
have a glass of water, please?" she asked. Agent Talbot got up to
get it.

"Do we know anything else?" she asked Agent
Sterling, trying to deflect his attention off her.

"Not very much," he told her. "We have agents
back at the office checking on a few leads, but so far, we're in
the dark."

He continued to look at her. She knew he had
seen her become upset, and she didn't want him to think she was
some kind of shrinking violet. She glanced back at him defiantly,
but in his eyes she saw none of the pity-or worse-that she was used
to seeing in the eyes of police officers she had dealt with. Just a
calm curiosity, as if she were the most interesting thing he had
ever seen.

"We should be landing in just about thirty
minutes," he said. "After we check into the hotel, we'll go meet
with Lianna's family. Hopefully then, we'll know more."

JANUARY STARED AT the pastel painting on the
wall of her hotel room, trying to decide whether it was a flower or
a very runny plate of eggs.

There was a knock on the door. It was Agent
Sterling.

"Please, come in," she told him. "I'll be ready
to go in just a few minutes. I was just unpacking and got
distracted by the... whatever that is." She motioned at the
painting, feeling ridiculous, wondering why she had needed to
explain herself at all. Why did he make her so nervous?

To her surprise, he turned around and studied
the painting earnestly. "It's either a very ugly water lily, or a
very beautiful breakfast."

He took everything she said seriously, even
things she regretted saying. It made her feel oddly safe in a way
she did not often feel with people, especially people she had just
met.

She hurriedly finished putting away her things
and stepped into the bathroom for a final once-over. She spoke to
Agent Sterling over her shoulder and through the open door. "Did
you find out anything else about the night Lianna disappeared?"

He sat down in a scratchy mauve armchair.

"Not much that we didn't already know.
Apparently, she went to this meeting at around midnight, but nobody
missed her until morning. Her mother said good night to her around
11:30 PM, and then Lianna had gone to a convenience store for a
bottle of juice just before midnight. We talked to the cashier. He
said she seemed very excited, and said she was off to a special
date." Agent Sterling shifted in the chair. "Then she left the
store and that's the last anyone saw of her."

In the bathroom, January closed her eyes. Her
head began to spin again like it had back on the plane, when she
was looking at Lianna's pictures. The story sounded more and more
like Lori's with every new detail.

She came out of the bathroom and sat down on the
bed to catch her breath.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, Agent Sterling, I don't
think I am." She looked at him. "Are you aware of what happened to
me when I was sixteen?"

Agent Sterling did not miss a beat. "Yes, we saw
your file. I understand there are a lot of similarities between
this case and Lori Daniels'. That's another reason we thought you
would be an asset as we look for Lianna."

"An asset,"
she laughed bitterly, the
pain suddenly as acute as it was ten years ago. "Well, Agent
Sterling, I don't think you read my file very carefully, because if
you had, you'd know I was not much of an
asset
to Lori. She
died
."

"I can't say I agree with you completely," Agent
Sterling said. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on her. "I read
your file cover to cover. You tried to talk Lori out of going," he
said, "and then you went to the police as soon as you knew she was
in trouble. You faced them even when you didn't know how to explain
that you knew she was in trouble. And when you found out where her
body could be found, you told the police. Even when you know you
would be ridiculed." He paused. "It had to be tough for a
sixteen-year-old to admit to being special. I can't even imagine
what you went through after that."

January's eyes felt hot. She wished he would
stop talking, but he went on.

"The report said you were nervous but steady.
You never broke down, not even once."

Tears ran down her cheeks and she reached into
her purse for a tissue. Agent Sterling got up and gave her his
handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her face. It smelled like
him: clean and strong.

"Do you know what the worst part was?" she
whispered. "All the time that I was missing her, and horrified at
what had happened... I was also relieved." She looked up at him
through her tears. "I was relieved that it wasn't me. That I was
still alive. Isn't that horrible?"

She was crying now, hot angry tears. She didn't
care anymore what she looked like, or what he thought of her. She
waited for him to launch some awkward platitudes at her and make a
beeline for the door, like most people did when confronted with a
crying stranger.

To her surprise, he sat down next to her. He was
so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest beneath his
shirt.

"No, it's not horrible," he said. "You
should
have been relieved to be alive. Lori's death made you
realize how valuable life is."

She let out a bitter laugh and rolled her eyes.
"You sound like me, talking to my clients. Maybe I should take my
own advice every once in a while."

Something like sadness flickered over his face.
"I think your line of work and mine are not too different. When
you're around the dead and the miserable all the time, it makes you
forget what's good about life."

For the first time, he smiled at her-a genuine,
dazzling smile-and she felt a sudden wave of inexplicable joy.
Their eyes held.
I think I'm starting to remember
, she
thought.

There was a knock on the door.

She sprang up from the bed and dabbed at her
face frantically with the handkerchief. "Come in," she shouted,
hoarsely. Agent Sterling had somehow, noiselessly, returned to the
armchair.

Agent Talbot opened the door. She glanced at
January, then at Agent Sterling. "The Morgans are expecting us,"
she said. "You guys ready to work?"

January grabbed her jacket and purse. She was
sure the other woman was staring at her tear-stained eyes, and
sensing her nervousness. If Agent Talbot gave any sign of noticing
anything amiss, she was too graceful to show it.

THE MORGANS LIVED in a pretty neighborhood full
of tall trees and clean, brightly colored houses. As they drove
down the street, January watched children playing in driveways,
shooting basketballs, and rolling down the sidewalks on tricycles.
It reminded her of her hometown.

Mr. and Mrs. Morgan opened the door together
when Agent Talbot rang the doorbell. They seemed nervous, but
collected.

"Please, come in," Mrs. Morgan said. She showed
them into the living room.

Mr. Morgan was a silver-haired gentleman of
around fifty. Mrs. Morgan seemed quite a bit younger than he, a
quick, garrulous woman with a small face and lively blue eyes. They
were very anxious to meet January, hoping she could really help the
cops find their daughter. She thanked them and left most of the
talking to the agents. She was starting to get nervous that she
would not be able to help them; or worse, that she would, and what
this would mean for their only daughter. She was also still shaken
by the episode at the hotel with Agent Sterling. She tried to calm
herself so she could do her best.

"If you don't mind," Agent Sterling was saying,
"we'd like to get started, and give January a chance to do her
work."

January turned to the Morgans. "Mr. Morgan, Mrs.
Morgan, I want to do whatever I can to help you. You don't know how
badly I want to be able to find your daughter. But there's
something you must know. When I'm able to see the victim, it means
that they have already... gone. You must be prepared for that
possibility."

Mr. Morgan put his arms around his wife, and
they glanced at each other. Mrs. Morgan had tears in her eyes.

"I understand, and I thank you for being honest
with us. But all we have now is hope, and you're part of that hope.
Of course, we want our daughter back alive and well. But if it's
not meant to be, I won't be able to stand it if she's out there
somewhere and we never find her. So anything that you can do is
greatly appreciated."

January nodded. "I'd like to go to Lianna's room
now," she said. "I need to be around her things."

Once there, she sat down on the edge of the bed
and looked around. The walls were a surprising shade of lime green.
There were posters of rock bands she didn't recognize, and a print
of the old war flyer showing Rosie the Riveter flexing her
muscle.

"WE CAN DO IT," it read.

There was an extremely messy desk with a laptop
still on, set to a screen saver cycling through a picture
slideshow: Lianna and a dark-haired boy dressed up in evening wear,
both looking slightly uncomfortable; Lianna and her parents,
wearing mouse ears at Disneyworld; Lianna in a sober gray dress,
standing at a podium, speaking.

January closed her eyes. She started to repeat
the little rhyme she always used to send herself into her receptive
state:

Once he will miss, twice he will miss,

He only chooses one of many hours.

For him nor deep nor hill there is,

But all's one level plain

He hunts for flowers.

She didn't remember where she had first heard
it, but its rhythm and haunting words always seemed to do the
trick. She felt herself falling away from the world and into a
yawning blackness.

At first, there was nothing. Sometimes it took a
few tries. It depended on the person she was trying to contact.

"Lianna, where are you? I can't help you if I
can't find you. I need for you to hear me and lead me to you."

She repeated some variation of this for the next
few minutes.

Nothing was happening. She was starting to
wonder if this was going to work at all. There was some kind of
block at edge of her consciousness as she tried to reach out for
Lianna-a corner of blackness she could usually slip through...

Then, something started to happen.

Around the edges of the black, she stared to
feel colors and sounds. She could never pinpoint which of her
senses she was using-it was all of them, and none.

January focused harder and grabbed onto the
snippets of color and sound.

"Lianna, is that you?"

She felt a moaning and then crying. Still,
Lianna was not appearing to her. January's forehead grew hot.

What is happening?
she felt the girl say,
Who are you?

"Lianna, my name is January and I'm here to
help find you and bring you home. Can you tell me if you're
alright?"

Y-y-yes, I think so. My head hurts really bad
and it's dark here.

The crying continued.

Oh God! Please help me! I don't know how
you're doing this but if you can hear me, please come find me! I'm
so scared! Oh no, he's coming again! I can hear him! Hurry!

Then the connection was gone.

January stood up from the bed, her head
spinning. She opened the door to the bedroom.

The Morgans were sitting in the little alcove at
the top of the stairs, just outside Lianna's room. They were
holding hands. Agent Talbot was biting her manicured nails and
Agent Sterling was leaning against the wall.

"She's alive!" January told them.

"DID YOU get any idea of where she is?" Agent
Sterling was pacing back and forth in front of the living room
sofa, where January was seated with a cup of hot tea. It was the
first time she had seen him excited about anything.

January shook her head. "No. It took everything
I had just to get through to her. She wouldn't appear to me; that's
how I knew something was different. It's harder to reach a person
who is still alive." She glanced up at the Morgans. Mrs. Morgan was
still wiping away tears of joy and relief. When January had come
out of Lianna's bedroom with her announcement, she had collapsed in
her husband's arms.

"Tell me, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan," January said,
"Is Lianna an especially 'sensitive' person?"

The Morgans looked at each other. "What do you
mean?" Mr. Morgan said.

"Well, I'm not sure, exactly. Does she, maybe,
know things that other people don't? Or, does she seem especially
intuitive; almost like she can read your mind?"

Mrs. Morgan furrowed her brow. "Yes, come to
think of it. She has always been very... I don't know, I guess
perceptive
is the word. Ever since she was a child. She
always seems to know the right thing to say." She laughed. "And we
always joke about how much she loves to finish people's sentences
for them." She looked up at January with a sad smile. "We just
figured she was smart and kind. Could there be something else?"

"She may have a gift, like I do," said January.
"The few times that I have been able to find people who are still
alive, it was because they had abilities similar to mine. It's just
that not all of them knew it."

Mr. Morgan sat down on the couch. "I can't
believe it," he said. "It's almost too much to think about." He
shook his head and looked up. "I just want her back safely."