Touch

Gayleen Froese

Description

Anna Gareau has a secret. Unwanted visions of strangers' lives haunt her when she touches certain objects. What she wants most is a normal life but Anna is far from normal. Travelling through Victoria, BC, Anna gets an unwelcome glimpse into a murderer's mind. She meets Colette Kostyna and senses Colette may be the next victim. Caught between her desire for self-preservation and her knowledge that she may be the only one who can expose the killer and save Colette, Anna is drawn deeper into a dark and gruesome world. Should Anna use her visions to solve the case, or should she keep her hands in her pockets?

Sujets

• Science Fiction
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: NeWest Press
• Date de parution: 01 décembre 2005
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781897126844
• Langue: English

Extrait

Touch
Touch
Gayleen Froese
Copyright Gayleen Froese 2005
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior consent of the publisher is an infringement of the copyright law. In the case of photocopying or other reprographic copying of the material, a licence must be obtained from Access Copyright before proceeding.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Froese, Gayleen, 1972 - Touch / written by Gayleen Froese.
(Nunatak fiction) isbn 1-896300-93-6 I. Title. II. Series. ps 8611. r 634 t 68 2005 c 813 .6 c 2005-903533-1
Board editor: Anne Nothof Cover photo: Tobyn Manthorpe Cover design: Ruth Linka Interior design: Solo Corps
NeWest Press acknowledges the support of the Canada Council for the Arts and the Alberta Foundation for the Arts, and the Edmonton Arts Council for our publishing program. We also acknowledge the financial support of the Government of Canada through the Book Publishing Industry Development Program ( bpidp ) for our publishing activities.
NeWest Press 201 - 8540 - 109 Street Edmonton, Alberta t6g 1 e 6
[phone] www.newestpress.com
NeWest Press is committed to protecting the environment and to the responsible use of natural resources. This book is printed on 100% post-consumer recycled and ancient-forest-friendly paper. For more information please visit www.oldgrowthfree.com .
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printed in canada
To all the odd people who make the world interesting.
Every contact leaves a trace. -Edmond Locard, early forensic scientist
Well, my life s back to normal now. I do the things I always do. Cept once a week I meet with twelve Other folks who ve been abducted too. I tell my story. They tell theirs. I don t believe them, though. -Dan Bern, Talkin Alien Abduction Blues
Never know where they re coming from.
Never see them until they re close, white wings on black sky, swooping in for the eyes.
Oh, God, not my eyes.
If I could lift my hands I could push them away.
My arms won t move, but maybe that s good.
Maybe if I keep very still, they won t notice me this time.
There was no feeling in Anna s arm, which wasn t a huge surprise. She slept on it whenever she lacked a decent pillow.
Enough light in the room to read a watch, so she grabbed the numb wrist and twisted until Snoopy s pinwheeling arms came into view. 7 am . If she d known she was going to have another nightmare, she would have put in a wake-up call for six.
She flipped the blanket over and looked at the tree trunks she used for legs. They needed a shave, but that seemed like work and unless there were courtesy razors in the bathroom, it just wasn t going to happen.
Hell, without some kind of a bribe, this whole morning was not going to happen.
I promise, she said softly, coughing to break the seal on her throat, if you make it to the coffee-shop by eight, you can have a white chocolate croissant.
As she swung her legs out of the bed, it occurred to her that there might well be razors in the bathroom, along with shampoo and a shower cap and enough other freebies to fill her travel bag. Curtis had actually put her into a nice hotel.
She reached under the bed for her purse and decided that it was well enough Curtis should choose a nice place, since-
Oh, goddamn it. Forget being in the coffee-shop by eight- she needed to be in the pool and sauna room, yesterday.
Anna made it down to the lobby in good time, considering the fogginess of the hour, but her momentum died when she caught sight of the gathering just outside the adjoining coffee-shop and pool room. If somebody had asked her what she did not want to see at that moment, a swarm of cops and reporters and hotel security guards would have been near the top of her list. She nearly turned and ran.
The only thing that convinced her to stand her ground was the dim realization that all this commotion couldn t possibly be for her. Not for one little gun.
She stepped closer. A tourist would. A tourist would be fascinated by the stretcher that had something person-shaped under that white sheet and sweet Jesus, what a cock-up. Anna was not, not impressed with herself.
She jammed her hands into the pockets of her sweatshirt and pushed forward.
Excuse me, Ma am . . . you can t go in there.
Security. Of course there d be security. Can t have just anyone wandering into a crime scene.
Anna s first impulse was to show the security guard her very best smile. A fine idea, considering that she d left her best smile upstairs with her toothbrush and make-up. She had no feminine charms this early in the morning. Good thing she was freakishly tall.
I m with the police, she told him, standing close enough that he had to crane his neck to meet her eyes. Close enough to notice she hadn t showered, but what the hell, her state of disarray went to support her story. I ve been called in as a consultant. Can you believe they called me at six thirty in the morning? Excuse me.
A tight smile, a quick shove, and he was easily moved aside.
She wasn t going to run to her purse. She wasn t even going to look to see if it was still there. She was a police consultant, very interested in what was going on at the deep end of the pool.
It wasn t interesting. The body was gone and you couldn t put a chalk outline on water, so it wasn t even possible to see where it had been. Not that she wanted to see that. She wasn t morbid.
Her hands pushed at her pockets until the seams began to tear.
The police were pulling things from the astroturf with tweezers, but whatever those things were, they were so small that Anna couldn t even see them from where she was. She tried to look thoughtful until the few people who had noticed her got tired of staring and looked away.
There were two people beside the chair she d occupied the night before. One was a policeman who was wearily scrawling in a beat-up notebook. The other was a skinny ghost of a man with scholar s glasses and an intelligent face. He seemed to be doing most of the talking.
She moved slowly and quietly until she was able to sit in the chair. If she didn t move, they probably wouldn t even know she was there.
You must have noticed, the skinny man was saying, that this is one incident in a series of-
To be honest, the cop said, yawning, I was too busy noticing the dead woman in the pool. What did she want to meet you about?
She didn t say.
The cop rubbed his eyes. You go to a lot of mysterious meetings, Mr. . . . Echlin?
Of course I do. Do you know anything about what s going on at The Rail ?
That ll be all for now.
Quickly enough that Anna was startled, spidery fingers shot out and grabbed the cop s jacket.
What do you know about it?
The cop stared at Echlin s hand. Echlin smiled nervously and relaxed his grip. Um . . . sorry.
The cop sighed. I don t know anything. I m busy, okay? I have to tell you to stay in town for a few days. You gonna do that?
Are you kidding? I wouldn t miss this.
The cop shook his head and wandered off. As soon as his back was turned, Anna let her hand fall and felt for her purse.
It was there, which meant she could breathe again. At some point she d given breathing up and not even missed it. Just as her fingers closed around the strap, the back of her hand brushed against a dark blue coat. She was suddenly furious, caught in an emotion so strong she could have sworn it was her own.
You were late! she hissed. She heard the words as if they had come from someone else. Echlin spun around, looking sick and pale. What?
You were late, Anna repeated, but the anger was sliding away. She looked into Echlin s shocked blue eyes and bit her lip. She d made an ass of herself in front of a stranger. Again. Funny how she never quite got used to it.
I . . . uh . . . I m sorry. I don t know why I said that.
Echlin s white lips were shaking a little, and she realized he was trying to smile.
I was late. If I d been on time. . . . He shrugged and fell into the chair next to her as though he were a dropped marionette. Do I know you? How did you know I was late?
She was not there to discuss the mysteries of the universe. She was there to get her purse and get out, preferably without anyone remembering her.
You don t know me. I m a police consultant, she told him. In behavioural sciences. I m sorry I said anything. I have a big mouth.
From the way his eyes were gleaming, she guessed she d chosen the wrong lie.
That s amazing, he said. How did you know I was late? The way I m dressed? I got dressed in a hurry this morning.
Join the club, said Anna, glancing down at her sweatshirt and torn jeans. Yeah, I guess it was your clothes. I don t always know how I know things. We in the crime-solving business call it having a hunch.
Echlin laughed. His voice was a little reedy, probably from stress. Anna didn t hold it against him.
That s funny. You re funny.
They sat in silence for a moment.
I should go, Anna said.
Perfectly casual, she reached down again to grab the purse strap she d dropped. Her eyes naturally followed her hand and she saw the coat she d touched earlier. A woman s coat. Anna had a strong suspicion that it belonged to the woman under the white sheet.
No wonder she d reacted.
This is a rude thing to say to a stranger, Echlin said, rising to his feet as she rose to hers, but you look sick. Have you had breakfast?
That white chocolate croissant now seemed to be an especially vile form of torture.
I m not really hungry.
Oh, you think so, Echlin said, putting one of his thin hands under her elbow, but you re wrong. That sick feeling is your stomach telling you to eat. And this annoying voice in your ear, that s me telling you I ll even buy. You don t know me, but I m so cheap I steal packets of Nutra-Sweet and strip bus tickets to make two out of one. Still, I m offering to p