Deadly Touch Page 6

  “No, um, sure. I mean, I do eat at home, but I love restaurants, too. It will be a very, very, very late lunch...not even early for dinner anymore—it’s after seven. Food sounds great. So, where—where should we go?”

  “I haven’t been here in a long time. Any particular type of food? Anything good on the way?”

  She laughed, glad that, for once, she didn’t think the sound was awkward. “Oh, come on! You haven’t been gone that long! You can have just about any food you want and there must be a hundred plus places on the way. What do you like?”

  “Food. Any kind. And you?”

  “Anything.”

  He glanced her way. “I guess this is good. I guess it means we’re both polite enough to defer to one another on food. But we should pick something—in the interest of actually eating.”

  She smiled, lowering her head. He was good-looking; he always had been. Intriguing, different—and different in the right way. Today, she was liking him too much.

  Maybe she should have gone straight home. And maybe she shouldn’t have said he could come to the fundraiser.

  And maybe she should just enjoy time spent with him.

  “Cuban? You may not get the best wherever you live, just because this is Miami. Or something South American or Caribbean. Oh, there’s a great Jamaican place down on Bird!”

  “It’s a go for me,” he assured her.

  Within a few minutes, he had followed her directions to the Jamaican restaurant. Once seated, they surveyed the menu and both opted for the jerk chicken. Raina found herself rambling again—inanely about food—until they’d been served.

  Then she set her fork down and looked across the table at him. “I’m still so lost. You believe in me. Andrew believes in me. I’m thinking the Miami-Dade Homicide cop we met—Detective Ferrer—trusts in what you say, too. Okay, they’re friends. They trust you. But...you’re not out of the FBI office here, right? You said you’re with an unusual unit. Please, give me something here. I don’t like to feel as if I’m being humored or—”

  “You think I’m humoring you?”

  “I never saw that ghost ship again.”

  “Maybe you were never in the right place at the right time again.”

  She was quiet for a minute. So was he. He was busy eating his jerk chicken. She realized she was starving, too, but...

  “I need more,” she said softly.

  He set his fork down and looked at her. “Okay, I’m going to start scientifically.”

  “Right. We only use ten percent of our brain—”

  “That’s not really true. But it is true we don’t always use all of it, and it’s very true every brain works in an individual way. Some people can draw. I’m incapable of so much as a straight line. Some have great control over their bodies and manage to be great athletes or gymnasts. Some are brilliant and become scientists. And some can touch what can’t be seen. How—I have no idea. Nor do I think there is anyone out there at this moment who does completely understand something so very complex. We have worked with all of the many unusual methods to find the truth.

  “I think I told you that one young woman, now a friend, went into a past-life regression and saw things that were impossible to see. She herself didn’t go to the past—which I seldom believe, anyway, and trust me, I shouldn’t be a doubting individual. But in her case, she could see and feel as another woman. Again, how? I have no idea. And we don’t tell everyone our methods, or why we’re interested in certain witnesses or individuals who can’t be considered witnesses—physically. You saw what you saw, and you led police directly to a victim. We’re not judge and jury, we’re law enforcement. But for victims—and their families and others—justice is important. And we bring what methods we can to the prosecutors so they can find justice for the victims—the dead and the living.

  “Oh, and we try to do so as quickly as possible, though quickly is often impossible. You’ve seen the news. There will always be a case solved decades after it happened. It can take days, months, even years. But in this case...this killer has been at it awhile. It needs to be solved as quickly as possible. Or more will die.” He looked at her over his plate for a minute, gaging her reaction.

  Then he shrugged.

  “Good choice. The food is great. You should try eating yours.”

  If she hadn’t been so hungry, she might not have eaten. She wasn’t sure if she’d been chastised or not. And she was still uneasy. It had only been that morning when she had been at the police station with officers thinking she had to be guilty of something.

  She picked up her fork again. The rice and meat were very good, so she concentrated on her food.

  He winced suddenly, pausing to look at her again. “I’m sorry, sometimes there’s no explanation for what we don’t really understand. Even in my unit. We go with what we get. We don’t hold the secrets of the universe, or life or death. Though I will tell you this—my work has led me to the definite assurance that there is more.”

  “I suppose that’s good to know,” she murmured.

  “So a lot of you who went through the school system together are still friends, huh? That’s nice. I feel like that’s rare.”

  “You’re still friends with Andrew and Detective Ferrer.”

  “I am. Good point. And I don’t live here anymore. It will always be home, of course. And I’m glad when they send me here. But it doesn’t mean you get to spend your weekends supporting the home teams with old friends.” He offered her a dry grin.

  “Do you support your home teams?”

  He grinned. “Sure. Were a lot of these friends on that school field trip years ago?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. Elly Taylor—running the event—was in my class when we came on that trip. I still see Mya Smith—she was Mya Myers then. And, of course, Lucia Hampton, Tate Fielding, Jordan Rivera and a few others. Tate and Jordan both went into law. They’re a few years older. I think it was my first year at the school and they were juniors,” she said. “Mya had a major crush on Tate. But she met Len Smith a few years later when he transferred in from the north, and they became an incredible couple, in love then, through different colleges and, now, as a married couple.

  “I’m sure you’ll have at least seen many of the others who will be in attendance. It has a lot of local support. Lucia is teaching at an inner-city school, and she’s convinced a lot of kids on the road to bad places that their lives can be changed with a little bit of help—and exposure to something better than the crack houses they grew up in. Oh, and our old chaperones will be there—Loretta Oster and Frank Peters. Those two are still taking kids on field trips out to the Glades. I’m not sure who and how many, but I know we have representatives from both tribes—Seminole and Miccosukee—coming, too. Once it’s up and running, I’m imagining airboat rides, ecology and Native culture will be involved in the programs and events offered.”

  “And you and Titan...perform?”

  “I talk about the positive approach to training. And also about the fact that if you haven’t read up on big snakes and don’t want a pet who will grow to be many feet long, you shouldn’t get one. The Everglades is not a good place to dump pets. Then I talk about my work with dogs, and Titan does a little math, a few tricks, interacts with a guest and sings. We lighten up the mood—make people happy to give money.”

  “Well, that sounds great. I’m glad I’m going to get to see it.”

  “Do you have a dog?”

  “I did once.” He glanced her way. “You might remember him. Great animal. My folks watched him while I was in the service.”

  “You don’t have him anymore?”

  “He made it to almost eighteen years old. Then he passed away.”

  “And you don’t have a dog now?”

  “I would love to have a dog. Right now, I don’t. I have a cat. Friends—coworkers—look after him when I�
�m traveling. It works with a cat. I travel too much to have a dog.”

  “A cat,” she repeated, amused.

  “Cats are funny?”

  “Cats are great,” she said with a laugh. “Just—big, tall guy, FBI. I pictured you with a bull mastiff or a Great Dane or some such pet, not a kitten.”

  “Sheila’s not a kitten. Full grown, very old cat. She’s a Hemingway cat—you know, six toes. I adopted her before college. Someone had thrown her out on the Tamiami Trail. She was a kitten then, so I’m thinking she’s about fourteen or so now. Still healthy.”

  Raina couldn’t help but smile.

  “Hey! There’s nothing wrong with a rescue kitten!”

  “I’m a huge believer in rescuing pets. I think it’s great that you rescued her.”

  “So what are you smirking at?”

  “I’m not smirking!”

  “You are.”

  “No, no. I’m just smiling. Sheila—it just seems a bit odd for a pet. I mean, I’ve heard odder. I just didn’t think you’d own a cat. Named Sheila.”

  “Hey. I had named her Sheena. You know, like a jungle cat. ‘Sheena, Queen of the Jungle.’ A lot of the little kids kept coming out with Sheila. I gave up and called her Sheila.”

  “I like it. Great cat name. What was your dog’s name?”

  “Timothy. Fantastic animal. He had belonged to a tribal member who was moving, and I always loved the dog, so at that time, my dad was still alive and he and my mom were in the area... Anyway, it’s not important. The food here was great. Thank you for stopping with me.”

  “Thank you. It was great to eat. I’m happy to get the check—”

  “No. My unit thanks you. I’ve got it, and I’ll get you home.”

  He rose, seeking their server, who quickly saw them. In a minute, they were back out in his car, and soon they reached South Miami.

  He didn’t just leave her but hopped out of the car and came around. He stood there, thanking her again for all that she had done.

  “I’ve probably ruined any chance of you seeing anyone at the dress shop. They close at nine and it’s just after now.”

  “That’s all right. I’ll go by tomorrow if they haven’t gotten anything yet from fingerprints or dental work. People call in missing persons. They might already have something. I’m going to get some sleep.” He seemed to hesitate. “I’ll call you tomorrow, and if you think of anything—”

  “I really hope I don’t.”

  “I understand. But if you do...”

  “I’ll call. I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  He lingered; she thought he was about to say something else. Something he didn’t want to say—or something awkward.

  “I...well, it won’t matter tomorrow. It might later.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t need to see an autopsy.”

  “No, I don’t,” she assured him.

  “But maybe...”

  “Maybe?”

  “I might have you come to the morgue with me. If you’re willing.”

  “I—I’d help in any way I could. But I don’t see how. I don’t believe I knew her. I really think I would know if I did. So...”

  “Seems to me it’s all in the touch,” he said, and he hesitated again and then added softly, “All in your touch.”

  Four

  “A pretty thing, she was,” Brianna Adair, the clerk working the late shift at the dress shop Thursday night, told Axel. Brianna had informed him that she was from County Cork, but loving South Florida. A delightful lilt sounded in her voice as she spoke—and yet her Spanish sounded darned good when she spoke to a customer, as well, telling her she was welcome to try on several outfits and not to worry if she left them in the dressing room.

  It wasn’t a busy night and Brianna seemed to have a calm and easy temperament—perfect for dealing with the public.

  She’d been somewhat skeptical when Axel had first asked her about others who had tried on the almost-pencil-line blue dress. But he had shown her his credentials and after assuring her the shop was in no trouble, he was just seeking help, she became determined to tell him all she could. He had a photo on his phone of the dress, so that there was no confusion which one they were talking about.

  “Aye, yes, the last woman to try on the dress when I was working—before it was bought. So pretty and sweet and pleasant. The dress was a bit pricey, y’know, so it wasn’t a surprise when she wanted to think it over. Not everyone can wear such a dress—that’s why I remember so clearly. I believe the young woman was from somewhere near here or at least from the south of the country. She had that lovely drip to her voice. Definitely not Hispanic or Caribbean—or from New York,” she added with a grin. “I have come to know that one well. Then again, anyone can lose an accent, eh?”

  He smiled. “Sure. But I rather like accents—yours is lovely by the way.”

  “I do not have an accent,” she assured him.

  “Ah, yes, well...did you know the young woman? Had she been in before?”

  “Yes, I think she was in once before a few weeks back.”

  “Did she buy anything? Maybe with a credit card?”

  The woman was thoughtful for a moment. She shook her head. “As I recall, she bought a blouse on sale and paid cash. I remember because she told me it was her ‘mad’ money. She was lovely.”

  “Could you give a description of her to a sketch artist?” he asked.

  Brianna was quickly worried. “Oh, dear, no—did the lass do something evil? I don’t believe it, she was just too lovely.”

  “No, she didn’t do anything like that. I’m just asking for help. You can refuse me.”

  “A fine young man like you? I think not! Certainly. I don’t work in the morning—”

  “I can have someone here in thirty minutes. Would you mind? I realize you’re working, but I’d be delighted to buy you a late-night meal or snack or coffee or whatever you’d like at the café over there if you’d be willing to stay and give my artist a description.”

  She smiled. “You’re buying me a late-night dinner—that will be lovely, dear lad. Oh! You’re a government man, and I called you ‘lad.’ Forgive me.”

  “I found it quite charming,” he assured her. “And thank you. Come by the café when you close.”

  “I will,” she told him.

  He stepped outside, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. He hesitated, and then called the local office, gratified that Jackson Crow and Adam Harrison had long ago done the groundwork. He wouldn’t be questioned on a case when he’d been given the assignment to work with the local police.

  And he knew just the artist he wanted.

  Luckily, Casey McConnell was available.

  * * *

  “I tried to reach you all day yesterday!”

  Elly’s voice was dramatic, but then Elly was always a bit dramatic. It worked well for her. Raina had been with Elly a few times when she’d been describing a reception venue to a bride-to-be, and her enthusiasm and way of being a bit larger-than-life helped to enthuse others, as well.

  “All day? Elly, I missed one call.”

  “Yes, but two days before the event! This is a biggie. And other than the band, you and Titan are the main entertainment.”

  “I think the band is the main attraction. Titan and I are a bit of fun.”

  “No, Titan is a dog. A lot of rescue animals may be helped by this, and Titan is a dog who makes...who makes all dogs look good.”

  “Titan and I are just fine, not to worry. We won’t fail you, I promise. Hey, I know the importance of all this, too, Elly.”

  “Of course, of course.”

  “So?”

  “I was just checking. What were you doing yesterday?”

  There was no way to explain. Raina decided on an approach that wo
uldn’t be a lie. “I ran into in an old friend. Or acquaintance. In fact, I need a favor. The acquaintance is Axel Tiger.”

  “Axel Tiger?”

  “From years ago, the Everglades. The young man who was telling the story about the pirate ship and working with the Miccosukee guides and lecturers on that field trip—”

  “Oh! I remember him! Axel Tiger.” Elly giggled. “Like I know lots of people with the last name ‘Tiger.’ You know, I get some of the other names—Eagle, say. We have Eagles. We don’t have any tigers in Florida.”

  “I guess some people called the panthers tigers. I’m not sure.”

  “How did you run into him? That’s bizarre. I mean, were you running around in the Everglades yesterday?”

  “No, I was trying on dresses...and he ran into me.”

  That was close enough to the truth.

  “He ran into you while you were trying on a dress?” Elly asked. “Like, he was in the dressing room?”

  Raina could hear the confusion and amusement in her friend’s voice.

  “No, no, come on, Elly, really! I ran into him after I tried on the dress. Anyway, would you mind if he comes to the fundraiser? I kind of already told him he could, since it’s a fundraiser and all. I imagine he’s a generous man, but—”

  “He works for the federal government!” Elly said. She giggled. “He’s a G-man! I don’t imagine that government men make a lot of money. Oh, his work is prestigious enough—very, very cool, but—”

  “Wait. How do you know?”

  “Oh, I saw something in the paper on him a while back. He’s with a special unit. It was an article on a truly bizarre case that was solved—after twenty-something years—by his unit. I can’t believe I didn’t point it out to you. Maybe you were out of state working at the time. I noticed it, of course. We all had a crush on him after that camping trip. Who would forget a guy like that? My Lord, yes, bring him! I’d love to see him. Imagine—what were we back then? Thirteen, fourteen? Wow, that’s an age I don’t want to be again. Crushes on everyone, bodies in overdrive. Anyway, I’m really excited about this event, Raina. It’s almost like old home week in the best way. So many friends supporting such a great cause.”