Touch Page 12

  “But you must know some of the details.”

  “I know he was wearing a shirt like yours on the day he died. Even though he didn’t own one. He must have taken it from your highly fashionable clothing collection.”

  “Don’t get sassy with me, girl.” Sean glanced down at the logo on his shirt. “Clever bastard. Trying to link himself to us in that way. Won’t do any good though. No one will find his body.”

  “Yes they will,” blurted Marco, crossing his arms.

  “Is that right? You psychic too?” Sean laughed. “The only thing that’s going to be found is the goddamn money he stole from us and hid somewhere. A thief, your father was.”

  “If he stole anything it was probably to try and give it back to whoever you stole it from.”

  “Ah yes, such a Good Samaritan, that David. Smart, too. You obviously didn’t inherit that.”

  I stepped forward and clamped my jaw tight. Marco held me back.

  “So, the money. It’s obviously not at your house; at least you were smart enough not to hide it there. Though we did have to check, make sure we covered all bases.”

  The break-in. I’d completely forgotten. The thought that he or one of his accomplices had been in our family home was incomprehensible. Knowing they’d gone through our things, our private space.

  “So where is it? And if you really don’t know, don’t worry, we’ll be asking your mother. And if she doesn’t know then she’ll pay up anyway, we’ll make sure of that. But in the meantime…” He walked slowly down the stairs, one menacing step at a time, Marco and I stepping backward with each of his steps forward. “How does this ability of yours work?” He reached the bottom step. “Do you need to sit cross-legged and chant or something?”

  No way was I going to let it out that my sisters and I shared this gift. No way would I put any of them in danger too. I could bluff my way through this, maybe try to feed them false clues to give the authorities time to find us.

  Sean stepped closer to us where we stood against the back wall. “You knew something about me and my past. Now tell me something about your dad and the money.” He leaned closer, and his breath almost made me gag. Marco gripped my waist tightly with one arm and my arm with the other.

  “She’ll need time,” said Marco. “And space. Maybe if you just leave us alone for a while, give us some water, some food, she can—”

  Sean hit him right across the cheek.

  “Marco!” I brought my hand to his face. “Are you okay?”

  He turned his face and nodded, his lips drawn tightly together.

  My legs wobbled.

  “I’ll decide what you need,” Sean declared.

  “I might have some kind of clue,” I lied.

  “Talia,” Marco warned. He knew, and I knew, that if by some strange twist of fate I was able to tune into a higher power and discover where this supposed money was, once they found what they wanted they would not need me anymore, and then it would be over. But if my dad had hidden proof of the brothers’ involvement in his death along with the money, then the best chance of convicting them would also be over. And I may never find out what happened to my father, despite Marco’s apparent confidence and glass-half-full attitude.

  But this man standing right in front of me knew what happened to my dad. And no way was I going to surrender and give in without trying to get some information out of him.

  “Do tell,” he said. “What do you know?”

  “I’ll tell you my clue, if you tell me what happened to my father,” I said. “I—we—just want to know the truth, that’s all. Even if you’re not held responsible, we just want to know.”

  “Like a bit of negotiating do you?” He walked slowly to the side, surveying us like he was an animal and we were his prey. Which wasn’t too far from the truth. “Okay then, I’ll play along. But only because I’m actually quite proud of the little disappearing act we pulled with your father.” He chuckled. “But I’ll only give you a small clue. The more clues you give me, the more I’ll give you. Find the money for us, and only then will I tell you the whole story about your dad.”

  I drew a deep breath. I tried to think. If I was my dad and I wanted to hide money from these criminals, but hide it so that someday my family or the authorities might find it, where would I hide it? Safety deposit box? Library? Some remote outdoor location? All I had to do was give them a lead, make them go looking, which would give me more time to think about the next clue and pretend I was getting some psychic insight. I closed my eyes for effect. “I keep seeing a storage facility, some kind of industrial type of place. I just can’t figure out where yet.” I scrunched up my face in effort.

  Sean narrowed his eyes. “You telling the truth?”

  “Why would I lie? I want to know what happened to my father. I gave you a clue. Now tell me.”

  “Hmm,” Sean mumbled.

  “I’ll need some more time to figure out where the place might be; the stress from all this, it’s making the visions difficult.” I rubbed my head.

  He stood in front of me. “I’ll give you fifteen minutes on your own.” He turned to walk up the stairs.

  “You’re forgetting something,” Marco said.

  Sean turned around. “It was really quite easy to take your father. When he thought we had one of his daughters held hostage and that we were going to take him to her, he willingly got in the car. No need for force, no need to look suspicious if anyone saw us in that parking lot near his store. Funny now, we actually do have one of his daughters. And he’s not here to do a damn thing about it!” He laughed and walked up the stairs. Before he closed the door on us he said to one of his men, “Brent, make a list of all the industrial storage facilities within about a fifty-mile radius from the city.”

  I wanted to laugh, at the fact that they were wasting their time looking into a false clue, and to cry, knowing that my dad had thought one of us had been in danger. I let my legs go weak and slid to the floor, suddenly tired. Marco joined me, his arm still around me. “What else can I say?” I asked. “What clue could I give next that has to do with a storage facility?”

  Marco breathed deeply. “They’re not going to find it at a storage facility, are they?”

  “Seriously doubt it. I just made it up. God, when they find out I’m lying…” I buried my face in my hands.

  “What about telling them you got another vision, and that now you think it’s somewhere else, like, um… some kind of garden, or a cemetery or something?”

  I turned to face him. “But I can’t go and say something else now. They won’t trust me again.”

  Marco sighed. “You’re right. Okay then, how about…” I noticed the reddening on his cheek deepening from where he’d been hit. “Say it’s about twenty to thirty minutes from the city? That might be about an hour’s drive from here, and could buy us some time while the cops try to find us. And add some detail like a number four, and a number eight, but that you’re not sure if it’s forty-eight or eighty-four, or two separate numbers. Oh and a color… gray, or something that’s bound to be at a storage facility.”

  I managed a half smile. “You’re good,” I said. I leaned my head against his, amazed at how, suddenly, I felt as though I’d known him all my life. That was the power of a life-or-death situation; it brought people together in ways that daily life couldn’t, broke through the barriers of protection and falseness that people built around themselves to keep up appearances. But appearances didn’t matter here. Surviving did.

  The door unlocked again around ten minutes later, and Sean stepped in.

  Time for round two. And time to find out what happened next on my dad’s journey to his final moments.

  Chapter 17

  “Which one?” Sean held a tablet in front of me and scrolled down the screen with his finger, showcasing an array of storage facilities.

  How were they even getting Internet reception out here? It felt like we were on some other planet. “I’m getting a sense that there’s a lot
of gray, and also, maybe the number four, or eight, or both, I’m not totally sure.” I eyed the list, which included facility names, addresses, and thumbnail logos or photos of what they offered. I seriously hoped that my additional clues would show up on one of them. “Can I?” I asked, hovering my finger over the screen near one of the listings.

  Sean shrugged, and I pressed the link, opening the website. But there were no number fours or eights, and the facilities were ultra-bright white with orange frames. I went back to the list, then to another site, but no luck.

  “I hope you’re not just delaying things,” Sean said. “Get a move on, girl.”

  “I’m trying, I’m trying,” I said, narrowing my eyes at the list and pretending to get a psychic sense. And then I wondered—what if I wasn’t really making this up, and somehow my dad was helping me and the clues I guessed and that Marco was giving me were actually real? Could it be possible?

  I found one with an address that had the number 427, so I clicked the logo. Bingo. Dark gray-framed storage containers, with lighter gray doors. It was a smaller facility that didn’t look as upmarket as the others. “This might be it.”

  Sean looked closer, then saved the link. “Not open till morning, and there’s no online booking facility to check for vacant containers.” He glanced up the staircase and called out, “Dale, got any way of breaking into one of these things?”

  Dale, the nicely dressed man, wandered down the stairs and looked at the screen. “I might know someone who can help,” he said.

  “It might not be actually in the container,” I suggested. “I feel it could even be in the general area, maybe buried somewhere a little farther away that lines up with a particular storage container. This place backs up to the woods, see?” I said, showing some photos of the facility. God, was this sounding crazy?

  “Any others you get ‘a feeling’ about?” Sean went back to the list.

  Then another one caught my eye, and I almost laughed. Gray and Sons Storage Solutions.

  “Gray. Huh. Well there you go,” he said. “You are proving to be quite the entertaining captive aren’t you?”

  It was probably just a fluke. “This is it, forget the other one,” I said.

  “Open twenty-four hours.” Sean clicked a few links and asked, “What number?”

  I eyed the selection of available containers, the only one that slightly matched my pretend clue was eighty-two. Nothing with a four. I pointed. “But, what about the ones that are already in use? Surely the money wouldn’t be in a vacant container.”

  Sean didn’t respond, but read through some of the information on the site. “Long-term storage requires a credit check and direct debit. Your father would be on record if he used one.”

  “We can make them tell us,” Dale said. “Don’t you worry; I have a plan.”

  I trembled a little. “So you’re just going to go to the place and force the employee to bring up their old records?” I didn’t want anyone to get hurt because of me.

  Dale gave a single nod. “I have a way with people.”

  “But, it might just be in container eighty-two, hidden somewhere beneath something that they wouldn’t see unless they really looked. And anyway, I think it might just be near number eighty-two, like opposite somewhere.” Uh-oh. This was starting to sound too far-fetched. “You could just look first, make a false booking for a container and check it out.” Please don’t hurt more innocent people.

  Dale shifted his weight and crossed his bulky arms. “I think my way will be quicker. Find out if he ever used one of their containers. Go from there.”

  Sean lowered the tablet. “I agree. Go now, and pick up your friend on the way.”

  Dale gave another nod and went upstairs.

  “Well, looks like we have just over an hour or so to find out if your fortune-telling skills are as good as you say they are.” Sean chuckled, then strolled around the room as though he was thinking or planning something else. Marco checked his watch.

  A few moments later an engine started to rumble from behind the cabin, then there was the sound of pebbles and sticks crunching under tires. They must have had two cars. God, if we could just get the keys and get out that door, we could drive off in the vehicle we’d arrived in. If only it were that simple.

  “Time for more coffee,” Sean said, heading toward the stairs.

  “Wait,” I said. “What happened next? After my dad got in the car.”

  “Oh yeah, almost forgot about our little agreement.” He crossed his arms and cleared his throat. “Your dad was helping us with a little project,” he said. “He was hungry for cash. But when he realized what it was for, the bastard tried to rat us out to the cops. But we made sure he couldn’t. Blackmail is a wonderful thing.” Sean smiled.

  “But where did you take him?”

  “Just like you, he came for a little journey with us to the tranquil calm of nature.” He held out his hands like he was honoring the beauty of our surroundings.

  “Here?” I choked on the word. “You brought him here?” I shivered, wondering if Dad had stood right where I was standing now. And then I swallowed a lump, wondering if what had happened to him was going to happen to me. And Marco.

  “You’ll never find him,” Sean said. “He’s not here. So forget it.”

  “But then what? What did you do to him? Why did you kill him?” I wanted all the answers. Right now. Sparks of anger and grief shot through my bloodstream, searching for certainty.

  Sean exhaled. “I think that’s enough for now.” He turned.

  “Wait!” I stepped forward.

  He turned around, and my insides tensed as his creased, irritated eyes met mine, like he had walked into a dust storm. “I said that’s enough for now.”

  “But you’ll tell me more, tell me the rest, after…”

  “Sure.” He sounded falsely eager. “If your clues help us find what we need, I’ll tell you the happy ending to the story.” He chuckled, then whistled as he walked up the stairs and locked the door behind him.

  This was the closest I’d ever come to knowing the truth. The possibility teased my mind like a breeze lifting drapes from a window. Bit by bit, what had happened to my father was surfacing. But depending on what they found at the storage facility, what I’d just heard from Sean could end up being all I’d ever discover about the truth.

  I turned back to Marco. He was moving around the room, picking up items, looking around.

  I went to the closet. Two large shirts hung from wire hangers. I pushed one back to see the front. Yep, Mountain Workwear. Same as the one Sean was wearing, and probably the one Savannah had seen Dad’s ghost wearing.

  My mouth went dry. I eyed the door near the closet and went to it, pushed it open with my foot. There was a toilet and, hallelujah, a sink. I rushed to the faucet and twisted it. It creaked and strained, and a few drops of water came out. A churning noise sounded below like it hadn’t been used in a long time. Eventually, water started flowing, a little murky at first, then clear. “Do you think it’s safe to drink?” I asked Marco as he appeared in the doorway.

  “Hope so. I’m thirsty.” He came up beside me and leaned over. He splashed water on his red cheek, then cupped his hands under the liquid stream. He took a tentative sip. “Maybe just have a little for now.” He sipped some more, and then I did too.

  There was no window or way to get out from the bathroom, though there was an uneven patch of wall that looked as though something had been plastered over.

  “What sort of stuff do they have in here?” I asked, gesturing to the bottles and boxes.

  “Nothing that useful by the look of things. Some mechanical fluids or cleaning solutions mostly. Old junk. Random books.”

  I walked over to the shelves and ran my hand along one, imagining my dad doing the same thing. Dad? Were you here? I wanted his memory to come to life in my hands, to tingle and buzz and give me some kind of clue. Anything. I reached the end of the shelf and put my hand on the one higher up, tracing it
along the wall. “Ow!” I yanked my hand away.

  “You okay?” Marco came over.

  “Splinter.” I held up my finger and scraped it out of my skin, then as my gaze returned to the level of the shelf, my whole body tingled. Something caught my eye. I peered closer, at the item next to an old amber-colored glass container.

  “What is it?” asked Marco.

  I picked up the small cotton threads, entwined together into a fraying bracelet. I turned it around in my hand, blew off some dust, and held it close to my eyes. The intertwining colors were muted, but I could make out blue, purple, and green. And, on the thread securing the end of the bracelet, there was a triple knot. A surge of familiarity weakened my body, and I gripped the shelf with one hand, holding the bracelet with the other. I knew. I just knew.

  “Talia?”

  “I made this,” I said. “When I was a kid. I made it for my dad.” I bit my bottom lip as an intense wave of emotion washed over me. “A triple knot. I always did a triple knot. And blue was his favorite color. I added purple because Mom likes purple and green because it reminded me of nature and I like nature.” My voice wobbled as much as my legs.

  Marco slid his arm around my waist. “Seriously? You mean that was his?”

  I looked into his eyes and nodded. “He was here, Marco. He was here. Those animals brought him here, just like they’ve brought us.” I slid the bracelet onto my wrist, though it was a little loose. “Dad must have left it here as a clue, but no one ever came looking.”

  “Wow.” Marco traced the bracelet with his finger like it was a delicate flower. His gaze deepened.

  “What is it?”

  He fiddled with the fraying end of the bracelet. “Nothing. Just, wow. So it’s been sitting here for how long?”

  “Almost ten years.” The realization of just how long had passed without answers stiffened my muscles. Too long. And now, here I was, closer to the answers than ever before, but also closer to the end of my life than I’d ever been. I looked into Marco’s eyes. “They’re not going to let us go, are they.” I wasn’t asking. “We know them, and they’re not trying to hide much. They just want what they want and then we’ll be of no use to them anymore.”