Abby Cooper, Psychic Eye

  "Cat…" I croaked out. Tears welled in the corners of my eyes. I wanted to hug my sister. I wanted to be held and told that everything was going to be all right, because the magnitude of what had happened to me was just starting to hit home.

  She must have heard me, because she came running into the room, followed by the fuzzy outline of a man in a long white coat. "Abby! Oh, honey, we were wondering when you were going to wake up." She came close to my bed and leaned in to wrap me in her arms, being careful of the tubes and my injured arm. I held on to her for dear life, and the tears turned into embarrassing sobs.

  The white-coated man stood off to one side, allowing my sister and me to have our moment. Finally Cat released me and stepped back to survey me with a critical eye. "How are you feeling?" she asked, stroking my cheek.

  "Thirsty," I said, my tongue sticking slightly to the roof of my mouth.

  Cat nodded, walked briskly into the bathroom and returned a moment later carrying a plastic cup with attached straw. She looked at the doctor, who nodded, then she handed it to me. I drank deeply, savoring the delicious taste of cool water. When I'd had my fill I looked back at her and asked, "Do you know where my glasses are?"

  Again Cat was in motion. She swept over to the other side of the bed and pulled my glasses out from a drawer in a small nightstand. Coming back across the room, she handed them to me and I put them on, bringing the room into focus. Cat leaned in again and swept a stray hair out of my face, then kissed my cheek. I could see that my usually reserved sister had tears of her own in her eyes, and as I took her in I noticed there were deep lines of worry on her forehead and circles under her eyes that indicated she'd gotten even less sleep than normal. "We were worried about you," she said, her voice softened with emotion.

  The doctor stepped forward. He was a tall man of Indian descent, and he had kind eyes. "Abigail, how are you feeling?"

  "Like a golf ball after it's been hit by Tiger Woods.".

  The doctor laughed politely. "I'll bet. You've had quite an ordeal, young lady. We performed surgery on your arm, and we don't think you've sustained any nerve damage, the knife seems to have damaged only the bone. We had to insert a pin because you sustained a small fracture. You lost a great deal of blood, and when you first came in here it was pretty dicey. However, we've given you several new pints, and if you're feeling up to it I think we can release you as early as tomorrow."

  I heard everything the doctor was saying, but it was really difficult to take it all in. I nodded absently and suddenly was overcome with lethargy. I looked at Cat and she read my mind. "That would be wonderful, Doctor," she said. "Now I think Abby is very tired and needs a little more sleep." The doctor smiled and nodded, taking his cue and leaving the two of us alone.

  I lay back on the pillows and let out a heavy sigh. "How did you know?"

  "Your Detective Rivers called me. Your landlord at the office had me listed as the emergency contact, and I flew out as soon as I heard. I could strangle you, you know, for not telling me about all of this." I looked at my sister and realized for the first time how I'd hurt her by keeping her in the dark about everything that was going on.

  "Cat," I said and grabbed her wrist with my good hand, "I knew you'd do something stupid like fly out here and kidnap me and squirrel me away. I guess I just had to see this thing through."

  Cat flattened her lips into a thin line, and I saw several emotions flutter across her face. She had always been the mother figure to me, replacing a real mother who'd never really cared. It was so hard for her to let me fly on my own, and even harder when she knew I was taking chances. "Well, missy, if you ever keep me out of the loop again, I swear I will charter a private plane and do exactly that!"

  "So, what you're saying is that it's a win, win either way, huh?"

  "Exactly. Now, you need to lie back and rest. I can see that you're tired. You don't need to worry, I'm taking care of everything, so you just get some sleep, okay?"

  Uh-oh. When Cat said she was taking care of "everything," she usually meant it, and I was worried about what that might mean. I closed my eyes, thinking that if I just rested them for a minute I could pick the argument back up, but instead I fell fast asleep.

  When I woke up again the room had the half-light of dusk about it. I couldn't see again, so I looked around and saw that my sister had considerately removed my glasses and placed them on a sliding table next to the bed. As I reached over to put them on I noticed movement in the corner of the room. I sucked in a breath of alarm and hurriedly pushed the glasses onto my nose. Dutch came into focus, one hand outstretched in a hold on there gesture. "It's just me, Abby. You're safe. It's okay."

  My breath had quickened and I put a hand on my chest to slow the rhythm down. Dutch came forward and kissed my forehead, then pulled a chair up to sit by my side. "How long have you been here?" I asked.

  "Only for an hour or two. You're cute when you sleep, you know."

  "I've been told," I lied. If this guy thought any part of my disheveled self was cute right now I wasn't about to spoil the myth. "Can you tell me what happened?"

  Dutch's face grew stern. I saw a great deal of emotion flash in his eyes, but what those emotions were I could only guess. After a moment he asked, "What do you remember?"

  "Well," I began, suddenly uncomfortable, "I remember Frank lunging at me across the desk, and I remember getting stabbed in the arm." I winced as I recalled what that had felt like. "He had me by the hair from behind and I saw the knife in front of me. I remember thinking I was a goner and then … I don't know. I think I hit him with something?" I said this last part as a question, because the details were just too foggy.

  Dutch was nodding. "Yeah, you hit him all right. You rammed some sort of porcelain angel figurine right up his nose. In fact the coroner had to remove one of the wings from his eye socket."

  My heart dropped low into my chest. "Coroner? You mean I killed him?"

  "No, Abby, Royal Oak's finest did that. Luckily the station is just down the street from your office, and those guys got there just in time to pump a few into him. I'd like to think he felt the bite of that statue before he died, though. I thought I'd go insane when that bastard hung up the phone on me. I've never moved so fast in my life. I got there just as they were pulling you out from underneath him."

  I was playing with the bedsheet, trying very hard to compartmentalize the whole event. "He was crazy, Dutch. I mean, I saw it in his eyes."

  "Yes, he was. When Milo and I got to Toledo we could tell right away something was wrong. The Milfords' house was locked up tight, but there was a pretty distinctive smell coming from the backyard. We called Toledo police and they broke the door down and led the investigation to the backyard. Karen Milford probably died the night of Allison's phone call. Like I told you before, we think Allison talked to Karen, told her what Frank had done and he caught her trying to flee. We found some of her clothes stuffed into a suitcase.

  "We also know that Frank was obsessed with Alyssa. We got onto his hard drive and found that he diligently worked a public records search for her until one day he got lucky and found the application for a marriage license on Alyssa and Marco. We found some pictures of her in his glove box, pretty much like the ones he sent you. We also found all of her other journals, the ones Allison took out of the storage unit. We haven't gone through all of them, but Alyssa used to write a lot about her abusive husband and how she and Allison fled to Michigan.

  "He must have been following her for a couple of weeks, and knew she was in the habit of taking an afternoon nap now and then. We think that's when Frank made his move. He shot her while she was sleeping, ripped up her dress and left the suicide note.

  "Allison never bought the suicide theory, and your reading, Alyssa's journals, and the photos she found that Frank sent Alyssa confirmed it for her. She went in search of him and finally found him through Karen. We're pretty sure she called Karen to warn her that her husband was a killer and to run before it was too late.
br />   "After killing Karen, Frank headed to Michigan, and waited to make his move. We think he probably waited in the bushes the night she met Marco, and when she got home he attacked her from behind. It's just too bad Allison didn't listen to your warning. If only she'd come forward with all of her evidence to us, maybe most of this could have been avoided."

  Dutch and I sat silently for a minute, letting that sink in and thinking about how different things would have been. After a moment he continued, "Oh, and we found the rest of the 'suicide' note. It was actually a three-page Dear John letter to Frank, begging him to leave her alone and not come after her, dated about six years ago. Just sheer luck that those last cryptic sentences were alone on the third page, making it really look like a suicide note. We also found a latent print on that screen that you found behind the bush at the girls' house. You were right—it was Frank's."

  I sighed deeply, lines of sorrow furrowing my forehead. "Is there anything tying him to Mary Lou's death?"

  "Yeah. Footprints we found at the back of your property by the fence exactly match Frank's shoe. There were also some fibers we pulled off Mary Lou that didn't match her clothing, and we're hoping we can trace them back to Frank. We also found the cassette holder from your reading with Allison in Frank's hotel room, along with the newspaper article about Mary Lou. The scary thing, kiddo, is that Frank was actually staying in the same hotel you were."

  "How's that for creepy?" I said. Then something dawned on me. "How did you know which hotel I was staying in?"

  "We found two key cards at the scene. One was yours, the other was Frank's."

  I shuddered as a flash of me in my hotel room with Frank chasing me around the bed came into my head. I abruptly got the feeling that if I hadn't arrived at my office at exactly the moment I did to receive Dutch's phone call, Frank would have spotted me at the hotel and would have done me in before help could have arrived. I shivered as I thought about how close I'd come to buying the farm. Wanting to change the subject, I said, "So, tell me about Mrs. Rivers," my good hand back to twirling the bedsheet.

  Dutch looked at me for a really long time, his midnight blues pinning me to the pillow. I couldn't read his expression; the man should play professional poker. Finally he answered me, sort of. "Her name is Fenia, and I swear to you, Abby, that she is a part of my past. You, however, I'd like to make a part of my future."

  I waited, listening with my intuition for the sound I expected, and it wasn't there. For once my Liar, liar indicator was silent. Hmmmm. "I see" was the only witty comeback I could think of.

  "No, you don't, but you will," he promised. Dutch smoothed his hand over my head and leaned in to kiss me softly on the mouth. Then he walked out of my room and into the night.

  The next day I was released from the hospital, and Cat was prancing around me like an excited poodle, opening doors, helping with my luggage, fastening my seat belt. I wanted to sock her. "Will you just—" I said a little too loudly.

  "What?" she asked, blinking innocently.

  "Cat, I'm not broken. I can click the friggin' seat belt already."

  "Of course you can, Abby," she answered patiently and waited as I fumbled with my left hand to do just that. My casted right arm wasn't of much use, and I had a hell of a time trying to get the buckle to snap into place. After a full five minutes, I finally gave up.

  "Fine! I can't do it by myself! Whatever!" I flailed my good arm in the air. I was frustrated, and pissed, and Cat's soft laughter wasn't helping any.

  "Abby, you are a stubborn mule, you know that?"

  "Like I said, Cat. Whatever."

  My sister gingerly leaned over and fastened my seat belt, clicking it into place like it was the easiest thing in the world. She then pulled away from the hospital curb and drove me in the rental car to my house. We parked in my driveway and I had the same damn trouble unfastening the seat belt that I'd had fastening it, and again Cat had to help me out. This was just getting stupid, if you asked me.

  Free from the seat belt, I managed to open the car door and get out as Cat raced around the side of the car and withdrew my luggage. The door to my house opened just as we made it to the front walkway, and a chubby brown bundle of excited energy bounded to me and tried to climb up my leg. "Eggy!" I cried. God, it was great to see him. "Mommy missed you!"

  Eggy refused to hold still long enough to be hugged, so I settled for letting him slobber my face until it was good and wet.

  Then I heard a familiar voice above me say, "Well, it's about time you two got here! I've been waiting all morning."

  "Hi, Dave!" I was so glad to see him I nearly cried.

  "Hey there, Abby. Eggy's been underfoot all morning. I think he knew you were on your way home."

  I stood up and moved with Cat into the front hallway and came up short. I must have entered the wrong house. This house was freshly painted and fully furnished. "What the…?" I said aloud as I gazed at my unfamiliar surroundings.

  "Well, what do you think?" Cat asked at my side, nearly dancing with mischievous excitement.

  "But I thought we agreed, Cat, that you weren't going to overdo. Remember our pact from when I bought the house? No furniture?"

  "Oh for God's sakes, Abby! You were in a coma!"

  "I was unconscious…"

  "To-mate-o, to-maht-o," she said, waving a hand in dismissal. "Besides, I came here the other day when you were in the hospital, and I can't believe you've been living like this, it was like 'haute garage sale' or something—really appalling. Anyway, I noticed that you had a catalog from the Pottery Barn, so I just ordered, ordered, ordered!"

  "Cat, I've been in the hospital for four days. How the hell did you get this stuff here so fast?"

  "Where there's a will…" Cat sang. Nothing pleased her more than doing the impossible. She lived to hear someone tell her "no." "So, do you like it?"

  I looked around at the creamy suede couch and matching love seat, the deep wood end tables, the multicolored wool carpet, the ottoman, new lamps, new curtains, and wall hangings covering crisp clean soft yellow walls, and my eyes welled up. Cat had damn fine taste, and this place was gorgeous. "Very, very cool, Cat."

  Cat swung an arm around my waist and squeezed. "Wait till you see the rest."

  I shook my head. My sister was one of the most generous people I had ever met, and her gift was just leaving me speechless. We walked into the study, which had a new coat of pale blue paint and was now furnished with a new desk and a plush office chair, with a small settee in the opposite corner. Shelves had been installed on the walls, and I noticed that all of my books were neatly displayed. I took in everything, even the decorative candles that seemed to dot every surface.

  "The settee folds out into a bed for when you have company," Cat explained. I smiled because I knew that Cat wouldn't be caught dead sleeping on a settee. Whenever she came to town she always stayed in the penthouse of some four-star hotel; she believed in the kind of pampering that only twenty-four-hour room service and chocolate mints on the pillows could provide.

  We moved to the kitchen, where I found the walls coated in lemon yellow and the room newly furnished with a glass breakfast table, upholstered chairs and curtains to match the walls. The porch also sported a new table and chairs, and the backyard held two additional surprises. A hammock swayed softly in the morning breeze, and a koi pond had been started in exactly the place where Mary Lou had been killed. I grabbed Cat's hand at her thoughtfulness, and tears fell softly down my face. "That's amazing," I said, pointing to the pond.

  "I remember once you told me about a reading you'd had with a mother who'd found her son dead in her backyard. He'd overdosed or something." I nodded as the memory of that reading came back. "Anyway, I remember you told her that her guides wanted her to put in a koi pond to help change the energy of that space, to take it from a place of sadness to a place of peace."

  I was speechless, mostly because it was absolutely the perfect thing to do. Mary Lou would have loved a koi pond, and I vowed t
hat when it was finished, I would plant all her favorite flowers around it.

  We moved off the porch and Cat led me upstairs. Dave was in my bedroom standing on a ladder and screwing a canopy to the ceiling. I looked at the new wrought-iron bed and my mouth fell open. I'd always wanted one of those. "How did you know?" I asked my sister.

  "Abby, you've only told me like four million times how someday you were going to have a wrought-iron canopy bed."

  "Oh," I said, just nodding, now feeling very guilty about yelling at her in the car.

  Dave got off his ladder and came around to pat me gently on the shoulder, "You okay, Abby?" he asked, concern wrinkling his forehead.

  "Sure, Dave, I'm glorious," and meant it.

  Later that night after Cat had gone back to her hotel suite, I managed to shower and wash my hair, a real trick considering my right arm was bound up in a plastic bag. I wasn't quite sure I'd gotten all the shampoo out, but at least I was clean. I padded downstairs in cotton shorts and a tank top, intent on an evening snack. I checked out the cupboards and smiled. Cat hadn't stopped at just furnishing the house; she'd gone grocery shopping too. Rooting around for something sweet I moved from the cupboards, to the fridge, and finally to the freezer. My sister, the health nut, had lavished me with fruits and vegetables, avoiding anything that would rot my teeth. A little deflated, I reached for an apricot just as someone knocked on my door.

  Eggy went bounding into the living room and barked like a banshee, warning my visitor that he was on duty. Trying Dave's hand signal and marveling that it worked, I moved past a suddenly quiet Eggy and flipped on the porch light while peering through the peephole. The view was completely black. Rolling my eyes, I sang out, "Who's therrrrre?"