Comes The Dark Part 5

"Peace is something you need in your life, is it? What do you do for a living?"

The waitress had returned with the check, and Maris reached into her purse for the cash to pay the bill. "I'm a librarian."

"A-a librarian?" Laughter erupted from his lips.

"Yes, that's the old-fas.h.i.+oned term, but I prefer it. Keep the change." This to the waitress. "What's so funny?"

"Just trying to picture you in a room full of books, that's all. And why the need for peace with a job like that."

"There's more to my job than returning books to their proper place. Besides, it's the a.s.sistants who do that. Students mostly. I like books. I like being around them. Better than people, if I must be honest."

"I see. So you're not a people-person?"

"No."

"Could have fooled me," he said.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Maris gathered her purse, dropping her napkin onto her empty plate.

"I don't know." Dan grabbed his sungla.s.ses from the table. "I don't. But you don't strike me as a loner."

"Well, that's exactly what I am."

Dan followed Maris out, observing the way she moved. What did a woman do with all that s.e.xuality when she spent her days avoiding people? A quick picture flashed into his mind that he swiftly dismissed. He didn't need to go there. He was trying his best not to be enticed by Maris Granger. He really was.

He unlocked the car, and she climbed into the pa.s.senger side without waiting for him. As he approached the driver's door, his phone chirped in his pocket. He yanked it out. "Stauffer."

Opening the door, he stood outside the car, the phone against his ear. Maris leaned across the seats, peering up at him. He ignored the concern on her face.

"Dan, it's Rankin. Glad I didn't place a bet on that Mabry woman. Not natural at all. Looks like somebody poisoned her."

Chapter 6.

Maris frowned at Dan, blinking with each smack of his hand against the steering wheel, her stomach sinking into her ankles at his reaction.

"I never should have let you into your aunt's house. Stupid mistake. A rookie mistake. The kind of thing that'll get your a.s.s handed to you."

"What's happened?" Maris asked for the third time. "Tell me."

"You mean you don't already know?"

"Sarcasm? Lovely."

Dan inhaled and released a slow, steady stream of air. "I'm not being sarcastic. Your great-aunt didn't die of natural causes. The ME is thinking poison and testing for the type and how it was administered. I'm sorry. And I've screwed up by bringing you to her house. It's a crime scene, and now it's been compromised."

"You didn't know."

"No, but you did. Or at least you hinted that you did. That opens up a whole different can of worms."

"You don't think-"

"I don't know what I think."

Maris bit her lip, staring out the window. Dan leaned closer to the wheel, yanking his right hand off it and curling the fingers into a fist, which he smacked once in the middle of his forehead.

"What? Dan, what?" Calling him by his first name appeared to calm him in some fas.h.i.+on. Jaw set, he leaned back in his seat.

"I remembered something. No big deal. I'm going to take you back to your car, and you'll head over to your hotel and stay put, got it? Where are you staying, by the way?"

Rubbing her eyes, Maris shook her head. "Nearby. I don't remember what it's called. Some little place." G.o.d, she hoped there was a motel matching that description in the vicinity. "I'll call you from my room when I get there to give you the exact name and the main phone number."

"Okay, fine. Wait a second. Where did you get my number?"

Maris pulled her cell phone out and waved it a couple of times in the air. "You called me, remember? It's in my phone."

"Oh for the love of-right. I forgot."

"You need to stop being so suspicious." She turned in the seat to get a better look at him. "And jumpy. And skeptical. And secretive."

"Secretive? What does that mean?"

He knew exactly what she meant. His eyes told all, as did the fact he'd zeroed in on that comment above the others. He'd never admit to it, of course, but he understood the secrets she referenced. She decided to drop it, though. Now was not the time to address those things he kept hidden. Nor was it any of her business. She had no right to the knowledge she received, whether intuitive or clairvoyant, and no duty to impart it. That was one of the problems of being gifted in this fas.h.i.+on. It was very difficult to decipher when to open your mouth or when you were better off stuffing what you had seen into some deep, dark corner.

Dan pulled alongside her car, his vehicle facing the wrong way on the street. She got out, bending to look in at him, her fingers curled over the doorframe. "Thanks for the company at breakfast."

"Thanks for asking...and buying. Do not, and I repeat, do not leave the area. Go back to where you're staying and dig in. You might be there for a while. You call me, or I'll call you. There are going to be questions, I'm sure."

Maris nodded and straightened, noticing two police cars parked in front of her aunt's house. She pulled her car key from her purse and pressed the b.u.t.ton to unlock the driver's door while shutting the pa.s.senger side of Dan's. He pulled away slowly and up against the curb, still facing the wrong way. He'd climbed out before she'd gotten into her vehicle. She hovered outside to observe his energetic stride as he took the steps two at a time, stretching an arm out and yanking the door open before he'd reached the top of the stairs.

Maris slid down into the seat and shut the door. She clutched the cross bar of the steering wheel with both hands. Poison. Was this, then, why Alva had reached out to her at the very end of her life? To insist on the truth? But no, there had to be more. The results of testing would have been the same whether Maris had insisted on further investigation or not. Apparently, the medical examiner had made the discovery in the process of doing his job despite the belief held that Alva had died of old age.

"Who did this to you?"

But no answers came to her out of the air. If only it were that easy.

Knuckles rapped on the pa.s.senger side window. Maris jerked and turned, finding Dan's eyes gazing in at her through the gla.s.s. She rolled the window down.

"You're still here."

"I know. I'm leaving. I was just thinking about Aunt Alva."

"Understandable. Since you didn't leave yet, would you mind coming inside for a couple of minutes? Hands in your pockets, like I said before."

Maris's heart began a faster rhythm in her breast. Without a word, she disconnected her seatbelt and got back out. She stood a moment in the street with her hand on the roof, steadying herself. "What is it? What's wrong?"

"Come with me, please. I need to show you something."

Oh, G.o.d, oh G.o.d.

"Maris, are you all right?"

She nodded, her breath refusing to enter her lungs. She sucked in a gulp of air that sounded like a gasp in the sudden stillness. Dan shot her a look but said nothing and stepped around the back of the car to take her elbow. Maris let him, his grip strong and warm through the woven knit of her sweater. As they neared the porch steps, Maris removed her arm from his hand, climbing unaided to the front door.

What had they found? She'd been so careful.

"In here."

Maris allowed Dan to take her arm again, steering her toward the parlor. Once there, she pushed both hands down into the pockets of her skirt, balling them into fists. Beside her, Dan nodded his head toward the table. The tiny hairs on her nape danced like a field in the wind.

Aunt Alva's cards, in the family for at least two, if not three generations, lay in an entirely different pattern across the paisley tablecloth.

"Head between your knees. Don't get up yet. What the f.u.c.k just happened?"

He had a mouth, Dan Stauffer did. Maris might have laughed if the s.h.i.+fting blackness wasn't still threatening her. That and the nausea. She really didn't want to throw up in front of this man. Not in front of any of them. From the corner of her eye, she could see the officers' gazes focused on her, some concerned, others speculative. She bent her head forward again, burying her brow into the sling of her skirt between her parted knees.

Breathe. Breathe, child. The Sight will sometimes do this to you, but it will pa.s.s.

She did, in and out, hampered by her position on the floor. Fingers kneaded the back of her neck. Dan's. He couldn't have had any awareness of what he was doing. She hoped none of the others noticed his ministrations. She was quite aware of the intimacy of his actions, but perhaps the men around him would view his touch as merely functional.

"You all right now? Let me help you up."

"Sure. Just..."

"Give me your hand."

Did he not hear his own voice? He sounded like someone who cared. He had no business using that tone with her. Not here. Not in front of men who would wonder. Ignoring the fingers he held out to her, she pressed her palm to the wall for balance and stood without a.s.sistance. The room spun a little and settled.

"There we go," he said. "Right as rain."

He sounded jovial now, distant. Good. Stay there. The other officers muttered a few words as they moved away, good-natured on the surface as if thankful she had recovered, but she sensed their underlying confusion. Maris drew several more breaths until the nausea abated. Dan stepped closer.

"What the h.e.l.l just happened? I'm not kidding."

Wow. The man was all over the place, his emotions bouncing like a ping-pong ball. Maris looked him in the eye, held his gaze, tried her best to steady him. After a moment, the tempo of his respiration began to match hers. He took a step back.

"Well?" Gentle now, but official.

How could she tell him the impressions swirling in her brain? If they made no sense to her, they certainly wouldn't to him. She jerked her chin toward the table. "I didn't do that. Is that why you brought me in here, because you thought I did?"

He frowned. "d.a.m.n it, I know you didn't. I had my eyes on you the whole time you were in here last night...this morning. But somebody did it."

That somebody could have been her. He didn't know that. She could never let him know that. But when she left the house this morning, the cards were where they had been.

Alva?

Nothing.

Maris wiped the back of a hand across her mouth. "Why did you want me to see this? I don't understand."

Dan came in close again, brus.h.i.+ng her cheek with breath scented with juice and the smoky smell of bacon. "Does it mean something, the layout? I'm trying to figure out if someone might have left this as a message. A taunt, perhaps. You're into this type of thing, aren't you? Tarot reading?"

The condescension, the skepticism, had returned. Maris tucked her hair behind her ear, running her index finger along the length of the small white feather. Peace, Maris. Peace.

She nodded at the table once more. "May I go closer?"

"Don't touch anything."

"I think I got that message already, Detective."

He made a noise in his throat. Shock, disapproval, amus.e.m.e.nt? She couldn't follow him anymore. Better to leave her thoughts away from his and concentrate on what was being shown to her.

Through narrowed eyes, she studied the array of cards. Her fingers tingled, longing to reach out and handle them. She could sense the energy even with her hands tucked deep into her pockets.

That's right, Maris, you extraordinary child. Close your eyes and feel the narrative unfold...

"What are you doing?"

Maris jumped, eyes flying wide. She pulled her open hands back from the static-filled air above the table, forcing their return to the warm folds of her skirt. "Sorry. I wasn't touching."

"You were pretty d.a.m.ned close."

"Right." When Maris had seen the spread before, the layout had been somewhat confusing to her, but now ten cards were positioned in the most common form of the Celtic cross. She chewed her lower lip as she again studied the cards. Her heart rate slowed, her respiration evened out. "What is it you want me to tell you?"

"Is there any significance to what's on the table?"

There's always significance, she wanted to say. "If you're trying to determine some message left for you, I have no idea."

"That card there is fairly obvious," Dan said, pointing. "A confession, perhaps?"

Maris curled her lips at his words. "The Death card? You think someone is saying I killed her' with that card? There are many meanings to the Death card. It could mean something as positive as becoming a new person." One of the officers standing nearby snorted. She ignored him. "This one here, the Hangman, could imply the suspension of disbelief." She gave a significant look first to the amused officer and then Dan. "Here, the Seven of Wands, one of the Minor Arcana, could be interpreted as being true to yourself, your principles, despite the pressure of others to make you see differently. This, taken alone? Possibly a truce of sorts. This one? Despair. However, these cards together tell a story I cannot see because I didn't lay them out. The psychic connection is missing."

This time the officer laughed out loud. Dan turned to him with a word of dismissal, sending him away. "What about that one?"

Maris sighed, pus.h.i.+ng down the image that came to mind. "Desire."

She heard his breath catch behind her. "That card means desire? It looks like-I don't know what it looks like."

"That is the impression I get from it." Heightened, of course, by the fact he had pointed it out. She couldn't control the visualization. "Of course, it could mean many things. Like I said, I didn't have any command over the cards. This is a cold reading. All I can tell you is that I don't think someone sat here and thought to lay out a confession to a crime with pictures."