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Marc arched a brow. “You’re a ball-breaker, Casey, but you’re also five foot four and petite, not to mention untrained in hand-to-hand combat. If someone is following us, I’m a lot more qualified to do significant bodily harm and to scare the shit out of them.”
“I’ll have to take that chance. I need your skills out here.”
At that moment, Amanda returned from the hall, the handles of a small, somewhat crumpled shopping bag in her hand.
“Here they are.” She extended the bag to Claire.
Claire took it and sank down on the edge of the bed as she removed the items one by one. First, the sunglasses case, then the unwrapped peppermint candies, and finally the suction-cup heart. She lingered over each item, starting with the eyeglasses case.
“Blood,” she murmured. “The image of a car seat saturated with blood is strong. This eyeglasses case must have been near the driver’s seat.”
“It was,” Amanda confirmed.
Claire’s expression intensified. “I keep getting the same conflicting vibes. Darkness and light. Resolve and hesitation. And pain. Not just physical pain, emotional pain. Regret—and yet, purpose. It’s like Paul was perpetually torn in two about who he was and who he wanted to be. His energy… It turns on, it turns off. In surges.” Claire pressed her fingers to her temples. “The impact is powerful enough to make my head ache.”
“Do you know how he was killed or hurt?” Amanda asked, visibly unsure if she wanted to hear the answer.
Claire shook her head. “There was a struggle. Many struggles. I’m not getting any clear images. Just flashes and sensations. I can’t get a grasp on any of them. They just keep slipping through my fingers.” She picked up two of the peppermint candies and rubbed the cellophane between her fingers. “Nothing. Paul didn’t touch these that day.”
“Not exactly a shocker,” Marc commented drily. “People fighting for their lives—or faking their own deaths—don’t generally stop to freshen their breath.”
Claire didn’t laugh. She was too busy holding the suction-cup heart, moving her hands over it. “You’re right about the sentimental value in this, Amanda. I’m feeling deep emotional attachment.” A pause. “This was the last thing Paul looked at. Then he was gone.”
“Gone, dead? Or gone, gone? Did he die? Was he dragged to another car? Did he just walk away and never look back?”
Claire shut her eyes tightly, concentrating as hard as she could as she clutched the plastic heart.
“A black car,” she murmured. “Not Paul’s. But he was in it. I don’t know if he was dragged. He’s crumpled on the floor in the backseat. I’m not picking up life—or death. Just urgency from whoever’s driving the car.” Claire gave a sigh of frustration. “It’s like there’s a filter separating me from the events, from the feelings. A plan is in motion. I don’t know what, why or how. And I can’t zero in on any vibes from Paul. They just keep disappearing. The harder I try, the more nonexistent they become.”
“Does that mean he’s dead?”
“No.” Claire was determined to protect Amanda from the worst-case scenario, since she herself was swimming in unchartered waters. “It means that, for whatever reason, I’m not connecting. That doesn’t always imply death. It could imply secrecy, or just an unlucky coincidence. I can’t control what I sense. And that doesn’t always work in our favor.”
“I see.” Amanda’s shoulders sagged. “What else can I do to help you get that connection?”
“Right now, nothing.” Claire released the heart. A troubled look flickered in her eyes. “You should get back to the hospital,” she said.
Amanda’s expression was one of sheer panic. “Why? Is Justin…?”
“He’s the same. Nothing drastic has happened,” Claire reassured her quickly. “I just feel as if it’s time for you to be with him. He’s fussier since the fever spiked. He’ll be soothed when you’re holding him. Most of all, so will you. We’ve reached a place where your anxiety is escalating. It’s to the point where it’s the strongest aura I feel. Soon it will block out all the other energies.”
Claire rose, placing all the objects back in the shopping bag. “Let me take these three mementos back to the city with us. Let me handle them when I’m alone.”
“I thought this process works better if you’re in an environment where Paul spent his time.”
“That’s usually true. But sometimes it’s the other way around. Sometimes when I’m in the quiet of my own space without interfering energies, I can focus only on the object I’m holding.” And I can try to make sense of this binary energy, she added silently.
“Okay.” Amanda dragged both hands through her hair. She was visibly coming apart at the seams. Claire’s assessment of her was accurate. “I’m sorry,” she murmured. “We have so many places I didn’t have the chance to take you. Places where Paul and I used to go.”
“We can come back,” Claire replied. “But this is enough for one day.”
“Amanda, I’ll be staying out here for another day.” Marc spoke up in that deep, calming voice of his. “I’ve got some old-fashioned detective work to do. Give me a list of the places where you and Paul hung out. I’ll show his picture around. I know the cops already did that, but I might have more luck.”
That panicky expression was back on Amanda’s face. “What kind of detective work? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Nope. I just want to talk to some of Paul’s poker buddies, maybe his neighbors.” Marc purposely omitted whatever bigger purpose Casey was about to share with him. “The passage of time is a funny thing. Sometimes people forget. Other times, they remember. You’d be surprised at how often clarity occurs later rather than sooner.”
A slow nod. “All right.”
