Seven Bridges Page 6

Leo could have sworn he heard a whisper in the car. No, it was coming from inside his head. Or was it?

  Izzi reached over and took his hand. They both looked down at the same time, seeing her small white hand in his, the sharp contrast between skin tones and size so striking. It was strangely fitting in a way she couldn't describe. His gaze returned to hers, and she smiled.

  "Have you ever heard of a viewer, Agent Grant?"

  "Leo. And yes, why?"

  "Because I am one."

  "How do you know?"

  "I've been examined more times than I can count, remember? Psychologists and psychiatrists find me of interest. I nearly lost my sight but recovered, and along with restored eyesight, new abilities manifested."

  "I didn't read anything about this in your case history."

  "Because it's not part of the case. And I can't take a chance on him knowing."

  "Him? Him, who?"

  "The person you're looking for."

  "The Seven Bridges Killer?"

  "Is that what you call him? Why?"

  "I'm not at liberty to discuss certain aspects of our investigation."

  "Of course not. You're here to ask questions, not provide answers."

  "Sarcastic much?"

  She couldn't help but smile. "A three pointer for the short guy," she said, good-naturedly. "Sorry."

  "My apology, Izzi. I'd love to be able to give you all the information I have, but I can't."

  "I know. It's okay."

  "Thank you."

  "Where do you want me to start?"

  "Don't you want coffee?"

  "No, let's just sit here in your car, if that's okay."

  "It's fine. Do you mind if I record this?"

  "That's fine."

  "I couldn't help noticing that stone you've been rubbing since you got into the car. Is there something special about it?"

  "It's a worry stone."

  "A worry stone? Where did you get it?"

  Izzi offered the stone to him, which surprised her a little. As a rule, she hated for people to touch it. "My grandfather gave it to me when I went to live with him and my grandmother. This one is rose quartz and my Pop carved it by hand. He taught me how to carve them. It's a time-consuming process."

  "Why is it so hot? And it feels like it's vibrating. Is that normal?"

  "It is when I've been holding it."

  "Fascinating. It's pretty. Very smooth. What's the purpose?"

  "From what I understand, rubbing the stone creates a sense of relaxation and generates a sense of calmness." She gave him a slight smile. "Sort of like getting someone to talk about something familiar and comforting to put them at ease."

  Leo chuckled and returned the stone to her. "I was sincerely interested."

  "I don't doubt your sincerity or your methods. Now, ask your questions."

  "If you're certain?"

  "I am."

  "Very well." Leo took a small digital recorder from his jacket pocket, turned it on, and held it up in front of him. "This is Special Agent Leo Grant. I am with Isabelle Adams at the University of North Carolina in Charlotte."

  He recited the date and time, then set the recorder on the dashboard between himself and Isabelle.

  "Miss Adams, what can you tell me about the murder of your mother and brother?"

  "You mean aside from what I've told everyone else who has interviewed me?"

  "Yes, is there anything other than what you've already given in previous statements? What can you tell me about that day?"

  She leaned her head back, eyes focused on the ceiling of the car. "First, and for the record, if there is one, I truly despise that question. I hate being asked, and I hate being someone it happened to. That man…"

  She turned her head and looked at Leo. "I don't think I'll ever stop being angry. Or sad. Not ever. He did such horrible things, caused my mother and brother such terrible pain. He's a monster. A psychopath.

  "I didn't know he was there. We were in Donny's room, Donny and me. He was playing Mario on that old game console, and I was playing solitaire. My mother taught me and gave me a deck of cards.

  "Donny didn't care about playing cards and didn't care that I did. He just liked having me in the room with him while he played that video game. He loved that game. Anyway, our dad wasn't due to be home for another day. He'd been gone a while this time. I heard my mother say on the phone that dad was picking up some extra trips so they could get her car fixed.

  "The door opened, and my mother…" Izzi's gaze returned to the ceiling of the car.

  She wasn't ready to tell anyone how she felt, then or now. Maybe she never would be. It would take more trust than she could imagine to allow someone hear her say what went on inside her, what she was made to feel.

  It was a shame she couldn't tell Agent Grant what he wanted to know, but she had no reason to put that much trust in him. Maybe one day. Or maybe not.

  If she made the mistake of truly opening up to someone, he would know, and the person she told might well be in danger.

  She couldn't allow anyone else to be in peril from that monster, and that's how she thought of him as something whose soul was spawned in hell. So, she'd give Agent Grant as much as she could, without putting him in peril.

  "God, the awful things he did. Her screams were–were agonized. I've never heard anything like that. I didn't want to hear or see. But he glued our eyes open, so we had to see.

  "It seemed like he enjoyed the screams. He laughed. I still remember that sound. Laughing, laughing.

  "Vomit kept rising up my throat, spewing out along with my screams and cries for him to stop. Mama kept pleading for him to stop, to let us go. He kept telling her to shut up and beat her more. But she wouldn't stop, so he used a big knife and a pair of pliers and cut her tongue out.

  He shoved it in Donny's mouth, and Donny vomited all over the place. The man laughed even more and cut out mama's eyes. He threw them at me. They landed right in front of me.

  "I wanted to hurt him so bad. At first, I couldn't stop screaming, but then I realized that the screaming made him happy. I didn't want him to be happy. I wanted him to be dead. So, I stopped and told Donny to stop.

  "It must have made him mad when we stopped screaming. Donny was just whimpering, and my mother was moaning and twisting on the floor, blind and bleeding. The man yelled at me. "You want to see what I'm going to do next?

  "I didn't answer, and he grabbed mama by the hair and started slamming her head into the floor. I screamed at him to stop and he did. "That's better," he said and sat on top of mama. Then he used that big knife and stabbed her so hard her whole body jerked. He didn't pull the knife out, he just sawed and sawed and all the while these sounds came from her that…"

  Izzi closed her eyes, trying to control her breath, which had accelerated, along with her heart rate. "Finally, he tossed the knife aside and jammed his hand into her. He tugged and pulled, and blood went everywhere, and when his hand came free, something was in it. Something that more than filled his hand. He turned to face me and said, "Do you know what this is?"

  "I couldn't have spoken even if I tried. He smiled, grabbed the knife and moved over in front of me. "Your mother's heart. Look. It's the last thing you'll ever see."

  Then he shoved her heart at my face, smeared it all over me, tossed it aside, and came at me with that knife. He cut me. My eyes. I've never felt that kind of pain. I heard the same sounds, the same screams coming from me that had come from my mother. I couldn't see."

  She glanced at Leo and saw the compassion on his face and in his eyes. He reached out and put his hand on the side of her face and a sob caught in her throat. She felt his emotions, his empathy, and sincere regret for what had happened.

  It weakened her without her even realizing it. She tilted her head just a fraction, pressing the side of her face ever so slightly against his big, warm hand. Sudden visions assailed her, completely took control. Her and Leo. Intimate moments.

  Izzi couldn't control them, maybe
she didn't want to. These weren't memories. They were visions of what was to come. God, was she projecting what she wanted, or was she seeing an actual future?

  His sudden intake of breath snatched her back to reality. Unable to look at him, she blinked back tears and closed her eyes. "But I could hear. I could hear my brothers screams and moans and when he went silent, I knew it was my turn. But the silence got deeper and then I heard a whisper. "We're not done yet, you and me. I'll be back for you, Isabelle. Make no mistake. You're mine."

  Oh shit. Izzi suddenly jerked away from him, unclenched her hands, opened the door, and looked out for a minute. She'd screwed up. She should never have told Agent Grant about what the murderer said.

  She'd let the visions rattle her and screwed up.

  "Is there anything you can tell me about him?" Leo asked. "Hair color? Skin color?"

  "No. He wore black. All black. Black clothes and gloves and a black mask, the kind you see in kinky sex magazines. I couldn't even see what color his eyes were. I wish I could tell you what you want to hear, but I can't. I don't know." Right now, all she wanted was for this interview to come to an end. She didn't want to take the chance she'd slip up again.

  "It's okay,"

  Leo assured her. "Is there anything else you want to say?"

  "Yes," she turned in her seat to face him. "He was wrong."

  "About what?"

  "About my mother's heart being the last thing I'd see."

  "You saw something else?"

  "Yes. I saw an angel. She was standing behind him, and she said not to be afraid.

  "An angel. I – I'm sorry, but I don't believe in being disingenuous, so I must admit that I don't believe in angels. I do, however, understand that in extreme times of pain or fear, people can conjure up all manner of visions that feel very real to them."

  "Yes, and I know you think I'm nuts, but that's okay. I know what I saw. She had white hair. Like me– like mine became. When my hair all fell out, I thought maybe God was mad at me for being alive when my mom and Donny weren't. Perhaps that's why my eyes didn't get better.

  "Then, when I had the transplant surgery and could see again, I saw that my hair was just like the angel's. I thought maybe I had died and didn't know it and I was an angel, too. But I hadn't died. I was still here, and my dad could barely stand to be in the same house with me. My grandparents looked at me like I was some creature, and I was alone. But, I sure as heck wasn't an angel."

  "Well, you may not be an angel, but you're pretty as one." This time he reached out and took her hand. When he did, her gaze connected with his, and a current of energy seemed to bind them together, from their physical point of contact and from the connection of their eyes. It was strange and a bit disconcerting, but also quite interesting.

  "You're kind, Agent Leo." A ghost of a smile tilted the corners of her mouth. "Maybe next time I see you, we can get that coffee. Or even better, a milkshake. I love milkshakes. Do you?"

  "Yes, I do. But do you think there'll be a next time?"

  Her smile vanished. "I know there will be."

  His expression said he didn't believe her, but he was polite in his response. "Then it's a date."

  "Is it?"

  "Absolutely."

  "All right then. I'll be seeing you, Special Agent Leo Sebastian Grant." She released his hand, grabbed her backpack from the floorboard where she'd tossed it, and slid out of the car.

  Leo leaned over to better see her and smiled. "That will be my pleasure, Miss Isabelle Adams. Want me to take you back to where we met?"

  "No, I'll walk. Safe journey."

  With a wave, she turned and walked away. She could almost feel him watching her, but didn't turn around. Izzi had no doubt at all that she'd see him again. He was destined to be an important part of her life.

  What she didn't know yet, was his importance one that eventually led to happiness?

  Or more pain and loss.

  With the way her life had been so far, she'd reluctantly have to bet on the latter.

  .

  .

  Chapter Six

  2020

  Quantico, Virginia

  As ridiculous as it seemed, Leo felt like he was walking the path of his past, accompanied by another. It was almost like Izzi was there with him, reliving the moments they shared as it replayed in his mind.

  He dismissed the idea. Even had she known he was thinking of the past, she couldn't join him there. The past was done. It could be remembered and learned from, but that was it. Well, perhaps not. Right now, it seemed to have a powerful hold on him. Since there was still a bit of time before he and Galen reached their destination, Smithy's Bar, their hang-out since they first met, Leo gave in and let the past claim him again.

  2008

  In Route to Quantico, Virginia

  Leo spent the flight back to D.C. thinking about Izzi. What bothered him the most was the sudden attack of daydreams, visions, or imaginings–he wasn't sure what to label them– that had seized him.

  Him and Izzi. She was older, stunning, with longer hair and a figure that was more womanly, not so waiflike, but still petite. They were intimate, and more than merely physical. He could feel her in his mind. They were lovers.

  What was wrong with him to have had such imaginings? He was a good fifteen years older. Not old enough to be her father, but certainly too old to have such thoughts about a seventeen-year-old girl.

  Only she wasn't seventeen in the visions. Still, it wasn't right and was most definitely out of character. Since the day he first saw Margaux, his wife, he'd not lusted after another woman. Leo was ashamed and even more troubled. He would have to give that serious thought.

  Actually, he'd have to give everything about the time he spent with Isabelle Adams serious thought. He believed she'd been honest in what she said. He could detect a lie with ease, and she had not lied. But, neither had she been entirely forthcoming.

  She was hiding something, and he suspected it was something she'd not tell anyone because there was no one she could trust with that truth.

  I'll always protect you, Izzi. Always.

  He saw her sad smile, felt the touch of her hand on the side of his face. "As I will you."

  What the hell? Leo jolted in his seat. Was he having some kind of psychotic episode? He'd never once in his life had a vision. Now, twice in one day, images conjured out of nothingness held sway over reality.

  He needed to get a grip.

  Perhaps she'd rattled him more than he wanted to admit. She couldn't know his middle name, and yet she did. But she couldn't have. Not even if she had called to verify his identity after they spoke on the phone when he called to request the interview.

  "Then I'll be seeing you, Agent Leo Sebastian Grant."

  There was no explanation.

  "Maybe next time I see you, we can get that coffee. Or even better, a milkshake. I love milkshakes. Do you?"

  "Yes, I do.

  But do you think there'll be a next time?"

  Her smile vanished. "I know there will be."

  How could she know?

  Could she divine the future? Was she psychic? Leo had never been entirely convinced that anyone could see into the future.

  Have you ever heard of a viewer?

  He'd read reams of information on the topic of "viewers". Remote viewing, an alleged paranormal ability that allowed a person to perceive a remote or hidden target without support of the senses, once held scientific interest and even attracted the attention of the CIA, as a possible means of spy-craft. Despite a variety of programs and millions of dollars, no usable intelligence data was produced.

  No, he didn't believe remote viewing to be a dependable or even verifiable tool or ability. And that had nothing to do with her knowing they would meet again. Could she think of the term as something else? He wished he'd asked when she brought it up, then dismissed that line of thinking. He was about to dismiss the idea that she had any unusual ability at all when it popped back into his head again.


  I'll be seeing you, Agent Leo Sebastian Grant.

  Leo fished the miniature recorder from his pocket and stared at it. If he played this tape for his Unit, questions would arise from the things she'd said. Questions that might lead the BAU to consider her worthy of additional interviews.

  Why did something inside him balk at that notion? He realized with a good measure of surprise that he felt a strong need to protect her.

  Was that because of his own daughter, Ayanna, was the same age now that Izzi had been when she witnessed the murders of her mother and brother?

  It made Leo feel a bit ill to even consider something like that happening to his child. He'd gladly die for Ayanna, or her mother, Margaux. And he'd spend his life hunting down and killing whoever harmed either of them. They gave his life meaning, even when the road was a bit bumpy.

  Like now. Margaux hated his job, and there were more times than he liked to remember when they'd fought about it. She wanted him to take a position in the private sector. With his education and credentials, he would find many doors that would open for him.

  The problem was, Leo didn't want to leave the BAU. Margaux once said it was silly for him to think he was making a difference. Nonetheless, he did, and he hoped one day it would stop being a point of contention between them.

  Until then, he tried to use his time off to do all the things Margaux wanted to do, to travel and experience new places. Those were the times when he saw her for the woman he'd fallen in love with. The woman who wanted to travel the world, see all there was to see, to view and touch structures she considered brilliant architecture and hopefully let them inspire her to create some of her own.

  Sometimes Leo wondered why she'd fallen for him. He wasn't keen on travel and was far happier sharing a bottle of wine and helping prepare dinner that dining out in a fancy restaurant or breaking bread with Yak herders in a yurt.

  Opposites attract. He smiled as he remembered his father speaking those words. They certainly applied to Leo and Margaux, and while their relationship might not be as smooth a sail as he'd like, the one thing they'd accomplished quite magnificently was Ayanna.

  For that, he'd love Margaux forever and protect her and their daughter even at the cost of his own life.