Forbidden Territory & Forbidden Temptation: Forbidden Territory / Forbidden Temptation. Paula Graves
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THE MIST PARTED to reveal a small, blue-clad figure. Lily’s heart quickened at the sight of dirty red curls. “Abby?”
The child didn’t respond.
The mist dissipated, revealing a tiny room with mottled faux oak paneling and faded yellow curtains splotched with sunflowers. A tiny bed occupied the entire wall under the metal-frame window. A prefab house, or maybe a mobile home.
“Abby?” she whispered again.
The child sat on the cot, huddling in a ball against the wall, tears sparkling on her grimy cheeks. With horror, Lily realized one of the smudges there was a bruise.
Abby stirred, her blue eyes darting around the room.
“Abby, it’s me. Lily. I talked to you the other day. Remember? In the car?”
The little girl’s eyes widened. Her pink rosebud mouth opened, making words without sound. But Lily heard her thoughts, as clearly as if the child had spoken. “Are you a ghost?”
“No, I’m not. I’m not scary at all.” Lily touched her. “Can you feel that?”
“Yes,” Abby whispered back in her mind.
“Good. See, I’m not hurting you, am I?”
Abby shook her head.
“My name is Lily. I teach at your school. Maybe you remember me from there?”
“I can’t see you,” Abby replied.
Lily wondered if she could make herself visible to Abby. Was it even possible? She concentrated on seeing herself in the vision. She looked down at Abby’s arm and visualized her own hand gently squeezing the soft flesh. But nothing happened.
Abby’s eyes welled up. “I can’t see you!” she whimpered.
Aloud.
“Shh, baby, don’t say it out loud.” Lily held her breath, fearing the arrival of Abby’s captors. After a few seconds passed and no one came, she exhaled. “Remember, Abby, you have to think everything. We don’t want the mean men to hear you.”
“Why can’t I see you?” Abby’s thoughts were a frantic whisper. “Where are you?”
“I’m at my house, but I’m thinking real hard about you, and my mind is touching your mind.” Lily didn’t know how to make Abby understand. She didn’t really understand it herself.
“Like a psychic?” Abby asked. “Like on TV?”
Close enough, Lily thought. “Yes.”
“Can you tell my future?”
“I know you’re going to be okay. I’m going to help you.”
“I want to go home.” Abby started to cry. Lily put her arms around her, surprised by the strength of the mental connection. She felt the child’s body shaking against hers, heard the soft snuffling sound. Warm, wet tears trickled down Lily’s neck where the little girl’s face lay.
“Soon, baby—” Lily stopped short.
Something began to form at the edge of her vision.
Her eyes shifted to the emerging image, her grip on Abby loosening. She drew her attention back to Abby, but not before she saw a shape begin to take form in the mists.
Another little girl.
“Lily? Where are you?” Abby jerked away, her body going rigid. “They’re coming!”
Suddenly she was gone, and Lily was alone in the fog.
But not completely alone.
In the distance, she still saw the hazy shape of the unknown little girl. But as she approached the child, the image shimmered and faded into gray.
The mists began to clear, and Lily found herself in her living room, slumped on the sofa. The afternoon sunlight had begun to wane, shadows swallowing most of the room. Maybe ten minutes had passed since the vision started.
Real time. I was really there.
But who was the other little girl?
“Ms. Browning?” The sound of Lieutenant McBride’s voice made her jump.
He sat on her coffee table, his expression shuttered. He’d shed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt to his forearms. “Back among the living?” he asked dryly.
Her head pounded from the fight she’d put up to hold off the vision until she could tell McBride about the call. Staggering to her feet, she headed to the kitchen for her pills.
The detective followed. “Another headache?”
She swallowed a pill and washed it down with water from the tap. “If you’re just going to mock me for the rest of the afternoon, go away. Don’t you have a tape to analyze?”
“The feds are on the way to pick it up. They’ll give Sergeant Baker in my office a copy to take over to Mr. Walters.”
At least Mr. Walters would know why she didn’t make their meeting tonight, she thought.
McBride sat down at her kitchen table and waved toward the chair next to him. “I’m all yours for the evening. So why don’t you tell me what the hell just happened in there?”
“I need to lie down.”
His eyes narrowed. “Fine. I’m not going anywhere.”
She ignored the threat and staggered to her room, wincing as sunlight sliced through the parted curtains, shooting agony through her skull. Too ill to draw the blinds, she groped her way to her bed and lay down, covering her eyes with her forearm.
She heard quiet footsteps approaching on the hard-wood floor. She could feel McBride’s gaze on her. “You okay?”
“I just need to sleep.”
“Do the headaches usually come when you have visions?”
“Only when I fight them,” she murmured through gritted teeth.
“Why would you fight them?”
Couldn’t he just leave her alone? “They scare me. I don’t usually like what I see.”
His footsteps sounded again, this time accompanied by the sound of drawing drapes. The thoughtfulness of the action surprised her.
His expression was hard to read in the darkness, but she thought she detected a hint of gentleness in his craggy features. “Thank you,” she murmured.
His expression hardened. “Don’t thank me yet.”
He turned and left her alone in the dark.
* * *
“THE FEDS WILL BE bringing you a copy of the tape,” McBride told Theo Baker over the phone. “Get it to Andrew Walters ASAP.” Maybe Walters would recognize the voice.
And maybe pigs would fly.
McBride hung up and slumped on the sofa, tension banding across his shoulders. His gut churned like a whirlpool, but his antacids were at the office.
How convenient that a day after he’d mentioned the fact that the kidnappers hadn’t yet called, Lily Browning should be the one contacted. Surely she saw how guilty it made her look. Yet she’d phoned him instead of Andrew Walters, who’d be far less skeptical about her motives.
What kind of game was she playing? And why had the caller sounded so spooked when she’d accused him of hitting Abby? “What the hell are you?” he’d asked. Either the guy was a heck of an actor or he didn’t know Lily or what she claimed to be.
There could be an explanation for that, of course. Maybe the kidnappers were hired thugs, and Lily’s connection was to whoever had hired them to grab the girl. Paul Leonardi? McBride had