Two of a Mind (16 page)

One-step at a time, Dez.

I needed to track down the PTs of the murder victims before I could think about how to contact them. Even if I found out who they were, it wasn't going to be easy getting in touch – “Hi. I'm Dez and I heard your PT's dying thoughts.” Not a good opening!

After our lunch, I persuaded Seth that we should go straight home to continue our research. I think he would've rather spent the afternoon mooching around in town, trying to do what ordinary couples do, but now I had a focus I needed to make some real progress before I lost the momentum.

“And anyway,” I argued, “you still owe me big time for keeping schtum about your non-existent PT!”

“You're gonna keep bringing that one out every time you want your own way, aren't you?” Seth groaned in defeat.

“You bet!” I grinned and ran off towards the tram-stop.

“Have you decided what you're gonna do about it?” I asked as he joined me in the queue.

“About what?”

“Your PT.” I lowered my voice so that the other people in the queue couldn't hear.

Seth scowled and whispered back, “Not yet. And let's not discuss it in public, okay?”

“Sorry.” I stretched up to kiss his cheek in apology. His scowl vanished and he reached for my hand. We got all the way to his house before he let go.

We started up the Holo-Comms system to study the full-sized chart that we'd created. The kitchen table once more reflected the register of death and loss. Was the killer showing Elizabeth that he was unstoppable? Had he become so proficient that he could organise these killings without worrying about being caught? And how did he manage to subdue multiple victims? The Parisian couple; four backpackers lost in the Romanian Alps; and, the last news entry in Elizabeth's
Handi
, a minibus full of Austrian schoolchildren travelling home to Innsbruck. They were returning from an outing to the quaint village of Vipiteno in northern Italy. The mandatory speed restrictor and impact warning devices which automatically cut the vehicle's power if a collision is imminent had been inspected prior to the trip. Despite these, the bus had plunged from the New Europa Bridge. There was no explanation other than the suggestion of a freak malfunction of the safety equipment. No survivors. This final entry seems to have been the tipping point for Elizabeth. The attached pop-up quote, from ‘The Scarlet Pimpernel', seemed to say it all:

‘The weariest of nights, the longest of days, sooner or later must perforce come to an end.'

“Still wanna convince me she didn't set out to kill herself that night?” asked Seth, sombrely.

“I'm not sure, Seth. Maybe she was going to confront the bastard. Maybe she thought she could stop him somehow.”

“Come on, Dez. Read the letter again. It's obvious she wasn't expecting to come home.”

“She may have thought she wouldn't survive – she
was
going to see a killer.”

“That's if your theory is right.” Seth was dismissive of my alternative to his belief that Elizabeth had taken her own life. Did he
want
her to have done so? I preferred to think she'd gone out to stop the murders by any means possible and committing suicide wouldn't achieve that.

“Sorry if it sounds callous but that's a side issue at the moment. It's more important to nail the killer then we can think about what happened to your mum,” I said, hoping he wouldn't think that I didn't care about Elizabeth's death. A brief flash in his eyes showed how he felt about my calling it a side issue but he nodded in resignation.

“Share your deductions then, Sherlock,” he said, putting his arm around my waist and leaning over the table to study the notes with me.

I squeezed his hand where it rested on my stomach then pointed to the reports about Dale Johnson.

“How about we go see him? Maybe we can find something out about his PT from his wife. The report didn't identify the PT but he came forward at the time to try and help. He might be willing to talk to us if Mrs Johnson asks him.”

“What makes you think she'll want to speak to
us
?”

“Wouldn't you want to try anything to find out what happened to your partner?” I asked.

“Yeah. But – as your dad so ably put it – we're kids! Why would she think we can do anything to help?”

“We might be kids – but I have a super-power, remember?” I took up the classic Superman stance – hands on hips, head thrown back, chest thrust forward. Seth's eyes fixed on my boobs which were now brushing his shoulder as he leaned over the table.

“A-hem.” He cleared his throat. “Do you mind moving those out of my line of vision please? You're distracting me!”

After a brief giggling and kissing interval, we turned our attention back to the problem of getting to Dale Johnson's PT. Seth tapped a few commands into the Holo-Comms system. Its blisteringly fast net access meant that, within seconds, we could
Swift-Search
the Johnsons. We watched holograms of Dale accepting business awards, with his pretty wife by his side. There were corporate events where he gave motivational speeches and sponsorships for young talent, charitable organisations and sports fixtures. As the timeline progressed the holograms showed the growth of his family with the final video being of Dale, his wife and their three gorgeous little daughters at a party. They were laughing and hugging – not a care in the world.

“HELP ME!”

I staggered and almost threw up as my stomach reacted to the intense pain that suddenly filled my head. Seth reached out to catch me as I sank to the floor, moaning and holding my throbbing temples.

“Dez! Dez can you hear me? What's the matter? Hang in there.” He ran to the sink, filled a glass and brought the cool refreshing water to my lips. “Here, try to take a sip.”

I felt completely drained but the pain had gone by the time I'd finished drinking.

“Thanks,” I said, handing the empty glass to Seth and manoeuvring myself onto a kitchen chair. “Phew, that was … well, bloody awful actually. But I think I heard Dale Johnson.”

“What do you mean? I thought he'd lost his telepathy with the brain damage he suffered.”

“I'm sure it was him, Seth. It was a man's voice, desperate and loud – very loud!”

“What did he say?”

“Just ‘Help me.' He's trapped. Lost inside himself and I could sense his fear that he'll never find a way out. We've got to help him, Seth. We've got to bring him home.” I was crying, possibly from the adrenaline rush of that unexpected connection or from the feeling of desolation that Dale projected.

“Jeez, Dez. You never do anything by halves do you? Let's see if we can find any contact details for the Johnsons.” Seth slid his finger-stylus across the Holo-Comms screen and scrolled through the pages of information. “Here we are. A blog from Mrs Johnson. She's keeping all his good works going whilst he's incapacitated. She's convinced he's going to get better one day and wants things to be ready for him to take up the reins again.”

“Is there a private contact? I don't fancy leaving a message on her blog for everyone to see.”

“No. But there's a link for funding applications. Apparently, Mrs Johnson personally looks at each request. If we apply for a grant, maybe we could put something in to catch her eye.”

I wasn't sure it would work and I had the feeling of it being not quite right, but Seth was so enthusiastic about the idea that I couldn't refuse to follow through. After all, it
was
my suggestion to contact the family in the first place. I couldn't back down without good reason.

“What do you think she'll be most interested in?” I asked.

“I suppose she'd be keen on anything to do with researching brain injuries. We could say we're students doing a thesis on ‘connective tissues and nerve pathways researching a consistently successful treatment to by-pass the damage and get the brain accessing previously redundant areas thereby restoring lost functions.'”

“Dammit! You sound like you've swallowed a medical textbook. How'd you come up with all that so quickly?”

He looked down, nervously and started picking at a loose thread on his t-shirt. I clamped my hand over his to stop his fidgeting. “Come on, Seth. What's up?”

“The usual … Mum,” he sighed. “When she was getting more and more of her ‘moody-blues' I thought she had something wrong in her head. I started looking up stuff about brain malfunctions, injuries and diseases. For a time I thought I'd try to go in for medicine – I'd even thought up that title for my university thesis – but I'm not really clever enough. I'd never get the grades to go to the right uni. When my PT didn't start up I started to think I'd inherited some mental illness so I've been reading up again.”

“Why didn't you talk to me?” I knew from my own recent experiences what Seth must have been through. Why hadn't he felt able to confide in me?

“It was something I needed to sort out for myself. I didn't want you to know about Mum's condition and I certainly didn't want you to think I was going bonkers!”

“Wallis, you've always been bonkers to me!” I pulled him into a hug. “In a silly let's-find-out-if-bolognese-sauce-makes-worms-taste-like-spaghetti way – not a mentally-ill-needing-brain-surgery way.” I hastily added. He laughed at the reference to his first attempt at cooking – left-over pasta sauce dribbled over a bowl of worms harvested after a heavy downpour. Elizabeth had caught us halfway through the banquet. She'd given us salt water to make us throw up then she brought out the ice-cream to placate the tearful four-year olds.

“So are we gonna fill in this application or what?” Seth said.

We entered the required contact information and an outline of Seth's suggested thesis. The funding request was in respect of the costs involved in travelling to major specialist clinics and surgeries throughout the world to gain first-hand interviews and materials as evidence for the project findings. It seemed a bit flimsy to me but Seth had a point – Mrs Johnson may grasp any opportunity to find a cure for her husband. With a flourish Seth pressed the “Submit” button on-screen. As he did so, I felt a sharp tightening in my stomach – the sort of feeling you get just before the rollercoaster starts its first dive.

I hate rollercoasters!

Right you lot, behave yourselves.

It was silly talking to the voices in my own head, especially as I knew they couldn't hear me, but it was the only way I could handle the weirdness. I was going to try to isolate individuals and was scared that I'd be opening the floodgates and letting all the connections out at once. I remembered the first time they had hit me full-on and I didn't want to experience
that
again. Seth had insisted that I wait until the morning following our application to the Johnson Foundation before I attempted anything. He wanted me to be fully rested after that unexpected shout from Dale had all-but floored me. Rested? Who was he kidding? I hadn't slept a wink all night. My mind churned, trying to work out how we were going to find the murdered victims' PTs and what I would say to them when, or even if, we did.

“You look worn out this morning,” said Mum, as she passed a plate of scrambled eggs to me.

“I'm fine.” The yawn turning my assurance into a lie. “Just miles away.”

“Have you got any news for your father? He's beginning to fret about that diary of Elizabeth's.”

“Mum, we've only just started to look at it properly, but I really don't think Dad's got anything to worry about. It's not like we're about to jet off to some secluded castle and confront a megalomaniac holding the greatest weapon of mass destruction!” I joked, to cover my own doubts. I was nervous enough about playing around in my head and that was before I considered what we were going to do if we ever did find out who the killer was.

“Mm,” she muttered. “Well, keep us informed and don't do anything silly will you?”

“Yes we will and no we won't, Mum!” I said, grinning cheekily to lighten the mood.

I knew that Mum would continue to fuss over me if I didn't finish my breakfast so I struggled to get the eggs down and swigged my lukewarm tea before dashing off to get ready for Seth. He'd promised to come around as soon as Samuel had gone off to work so I needed to get a move on. In my room I rooted around to find a decent top and was half-way through applying make-up when I heard the doorbell.
Damn!
Then I gave my reflection a quizzical look.
When have you ever worn make-up for a day with Seth? Who are you and what have you done with Dez?
This romance thing was all a bit unnerving. I wanted Seth to think I looked good but I'd never been a girly-girl so why start now? He'd probably be in his tatty jeans as usual. I grabbed a wipe and smeared the eyeliner down my cheek –
oh, very attractive!
By the time I'd finished my cheeks were red and my eyes watering from the excessive rubbing.
To hell with it,
I thought and ran down the stairs to find that Mum had already let Seth in.

“Oh!” I skidded to a halt, taking in the vision of manliness waiting in the hallway. Seth had washed his hair and slicked it with gel so that it framed his face like a fiery halo – for once the curls were staying in place. He was wearing a new shirt with the top two buttons undone but I was sure I could see the tip of a tie peeping out of his pocket. His jeans were pristine, not a pinprick of oil to be seen. He held a large bunch of flowers and a box of chocolates in outstretched hands as though he couldn't wait to get rid of them.

“These are for you, Mrs Hanson,” he said, presenting the chocolates to her, “and these are for you.” He pushed the flowers into my arms, blushing furiously.

“That's very kind of you, Seth,” said Mum. “Isn't it, Desirée?” she added, pointedly.

I realised I'd been standing there with my mouth open and shut it quickly, licking my dry lips as I did so.

“Yeah … yes. Thanks Seth,” I managed. With a quick glance at Mum to make sure she wasn't going to interfere, I reached up to kiss his well-scrubbed cheek. I smiled as, beneath my lips, I felt the stubble that he'd missed when he'd shaved.

“Shall I put them in water for you, Desirée?”

“Muuuum!” I wailed.

“All right, all right. I'll try to remember. Although why you have to shorten that beautiful name I've no idea.” A touch of the old irritation came into Mum's tone but she smiled as she took the flowers and gave Seth a nod of approval before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Wow. Don't you scrub up well?”

“If you're gonna make fun, I'm off,” he said. “I knew it was a bad idea.”

“No! No, it wasn't. It's lovely that you dressed up for me, Seth. Thank you. Sorry I didn't manage it. I tried, but make-up and me just don't get along together.”

“I thought we could go on one of those dates I mentioned and I wanted to surprise you.”

“You certainly did that!” I kissed him again. “But now you're gonna have to wait for me to get ready after all. Can't have people thinking you're dating a down-and-out, can we?”

I pushed him through to the kitchen where Mum was busy trimming the flowers and arranging them in one of her favourite vases –
Hey, remember they're mine!
I thought – aloud I said, “Will you look after Seth while I get changed, Mum?”

“Yes, yes.” She waved me away. “But hurry up. You shouldn't keep the poor boy waiting.”
Poor boy?
He must've made a big impression with those chocs to get her sticking up for him.

“Mu-um!” I called, after half an hour. “Help!”

What sounded like a herd of elephants came charging up the stairs.

“Dez, are you all right?” Seth shouted as he rattled the handle of my bedroom door.

I leapt towards the door and leaned against it to stop him getting in – I was only wearing my bra and pants and they didn't even match!

“Excuse me, Seth.” Mum's voice cut through Seth's attempts at breaking and entering.

“Oh. Er, sorry Mrs Hanson. I thought something was wrong with Dez.”

“I'll let you know if she needs anything.” Mum knocked on my door and I opened it just enough to let her in. “What on earth's the matter?” she asked.

“Look at me,” I wailed. “I'm no good at this.”

Mum looked around the room – clothes strewn all over the floor and my bed, make-up tipped out of my drawer onto the dresser top and a sickly mixture of all the perfumes I'd been trying. How did she always manage to look so damned gorgeous even first thing in the morning? She gave me one of her smiles – the ones so full of love that they made my heart squeeze – and I didn't need to hear her thoughts, I could see them in her expression:
Dizzy still needs me after all.

This was a first – Mum and I spending girly-time together – and I was surprised to find myself enjoying it. I'd expected her to go for sensible stuff and no make-up at all but she dug through the clothing to find a lacy little number that actually gave me a decent cleavage, matching knickers, a silky strap-top that I'd forgotten about, and a pair of skinny jeans with beaded embroidery. Finally, she produced a pair of strappy sandals from the back of my wardrobe. She turned up the bottom of my jeans so that my ankles were showing and put the sandals on for me as though I was Cinderella and she was Prince Charming's side-kick. Once she was satisfied she turned me around so that I could see myself in the mirror.

“Oh!” I lost my breath in that one word. Mum was a miracle worker! She'd managed to tame my hair into a smooth curtain of black silk, a single understated diamante clip holding the fringe to one side. Although she'd applied make-up it was difficult to see where the cosmetics started and my natural colour ended, so subtle was the effect. I'd always thought my eyes were a dull slate blue but now they shone like a sparkling clear ocean.

“Thanks Mum.” And my sight blurred slightly.

“Ah-ah,” she said, quickly grabbing a tissue. “None of that, you'll spoil the effect.” Although I could see she wasn't far off a few tears herself.

Mum went downstairs to assure Seth that I'd be down soon. I looked around for my small, cream shoulder bag – the big retro-denim one was a definite no-no today. I transferred my Comms kit, and Elizabeth's
Handi
into the smaller bag, dropping in a couple of tissues and my lip-gloss for emergencies. When I finally made it down the stairs Seth was, once again, waiting for me in the hallway, pacing impatiently. It was his turn to stop mid-stride and look in wonder.

Ooh, this feels good!
I thought and decided that I'd ask Mum to give me some more lessons.

“Shall we go?” I asked sweetly.

“Y-yes. Yes, of course.” Seth opened the door and almost bowed as I walked past him. I'm sure I heard Mum quietly chuckling behind us.

***

I didn't know what to expect from this date and was rather nervous. And irritated – why was it now so unsettling merely being with my best mate? The shift in our relationship created a wariness that had never been there before. We'd had arguments in the past but they hadn't felt like our world was crumbling. We'd had rolling around on the floor play-fights but that physical contact hadn't felt like bolts of electricity whenever we touched. Now everything was so much more concentrated, more intense. I briefly wondered if we'd made a mistake taking this step. Maybe Seth was feeling the same way as he gave my hand a squeeze and took it to his mouth for a reassuring kiss.

“What's the plan, Stan?” I asked, trying to lighten my own mood, at least.

“Stan? Who's this Stan? Let me at him!” He jumped about, shadow boxing and grinning as I rolled my eyes in mock irritation. “I don't want to tell you the plan. It's a surprise.”

“Ah, Seth,” I sighed. “You know I hate surprises.”

“No you don't. You just say that 'cos you think it's modest. But deep down you love 'em really. Everybody does. It's shocks that nobody likes.”

“I'll reserve judgement.” I had to admit he'd got me tagged. I did think I wasn't supposed to like surprises, being the centre of attention, but it was exciting to think he'd planned something exclusively for me.

We walked towards the park and headed up the path to the wooded hill. I was glad we weren't going to the lake, it held too many memories old and new that I wanted to avoid for now. As we reached the peak of the hill, Seth steered me towards the little woodland café. One of the outside tables was set with a checked table cloth, matching napkins, and a small vase of wild flowers. Seth guided me to the table and gestured for me to sit. He headed into the café and eventually reappeared carrying two enormous ice-cream sundaes with sparklers fizzing so brightly that I worried his face would be burned.

“Ta-da!” he sang as he placed them on the table. “Pistachio
Surprise
Sundae.” He emphasised the surprise with a wink, but I knew that wasn't the end of his planned date. I laughed and stood, leaning across the table to kiss him.

“Whoa!” he said and held me at arm's length. Just as I was about to protest, he nodded downwards. I followed his glance and realised I'd been about to scorch my silky top on the still fizzling sparklers.

“Oops!” I grinned, self-consciously. Only a moment ago I'd worried about his lovely face being injured by the fireworks and there I was almost setting fire to my assets! “Thanks,” I added. “Thanks for this.” Sweeping my arm over the safe areas of the table. “Thanks for that.” Indicating his spruced-up appearance. “Most of all, thanks for always being here for me.” I lifted my ice-cream glass in a toast – the sparkler had fizzled out by now so my eyebrows were safe.

“Cheers!” he replied, mirroring my gesture.

It seemed the most natural thing in the world to sit there dawdling over our ice-cream whilst it melted. We talked about the little stuff – how we thought we'd done in our end of year exams, which of our Academy pals had got together and whether they still would be when we went back to class in September, and the latest mischief that Jeremy had been creating. The turmoil of the last few weeks was put to one side and I realised I'd barely a whisper of telepathic connections to cope with. Either the hypno treatment was doing the trick or relaxing with Seth was the best therapy to keep them quiet. But thinking about them brought to mind that I was supposed to be working on isolating individual connections.

“Seth,” I said, reluctant to break the mood. “This is really lovely but don't you think we should be getting back to work on your mum's
Handi
?”

A frown creased his face. “I wish I'd never let you see that,” he grumbled. “Maybe we should just give it to the authorities and be done with it.”

“NO!” He looked up, surprised by my outburst. “I mean, not yet. Please Seth,” I said more quietly. “I need to sort through it before we do, not just for your mum's sake but to clear my own head.”

“You see?” He threw his arms up in frustration. “That's why I shouldn't've got you involved. Now your head's all messed up too.”

“I think it would've been whether or not I'd seen the
Handi
. But now that I
have
seen it I can't ignore your mum's letter any more than you can.” I reached across the table and took his hands in mine, squeezing them tightly to make him see my point.

He shrugged and stood up from the bench, resigned to my suggestion. “Come on then,” he said. “The rest of the date'll have to wait.”

“Sorry,” I said.

There I go spoiling things again!