A Glimpse of the Dark Side: Adult Paranormal Erotic Romance Collection Read online

  She called all of her appointments for the next four days and cancelled them, telling her clients that she had an unexpected emergency. Then she quickly packed a small bag.

  The agents stood up as she walked into the sitting room. She saw that Agent Sterling had been looking around her house, taking in every detail. She knew it was part of his job, but she felt a sudden self-consciousness.

  She had always thought of the simplicity of her home as tasteful, but now, seeing it though his eyes, it just looked drab: the gray sofa with slightly soiled armrests, the plain white walls with no paintings.

  Her eyes fell on the silly Valentine's Day card from her mother, and her face grew hot.

  She suddenly didn't feel wise beyond her years. She felt every inch a sixteen-year-old.

  "Let's go," she said sharply.

  The agents followed her outside.

  At the airport, they turned off on the road that led to the private airstrips. January would have felt a shiver of excitement, except that she knew there was a missing girl at the end of this trip, and the faster they got to her, the better.

  Agent Talbot's cell phone rang. "Talbot." She listened for a few seconds. "Yeah, we're good. We're about to board." January watched her. She moved confidently and was quick to smile. She was the kind of person that made other people feel at ease immediately-the kind of person January liked to be around, but could never seem to emulate herself.

  "You really travel in style," she said as they got out of the car and walked toward a small jet plane.

  "It saves time," Agent Sterling said absently. He was already opening his briefcase and leafing through files and photographs. He walked ahead of them and climbed the stairway into the plane.

  "Does he ever...I don't know, smile, or anything?" she asked Agent Talbot as they climbed the stairs after him.

  Agent Talbot laughed. "No," she admitted. "Not that I've ever seen." She looked after him. "But he's the best agent I've ever worked with. Maybe the best I've ever met. He's..." she paused to think of the right word, "unusual," she finished.

  January watched the other woman's face as she spoke. What she saw there amused and irked her at the same time. She knew she could not compete with Agent Talbot. A woman like that could have any man she wanted, even someone like this Sterling guy, who didn't seem interested in anything but his work.

  January wondered why it should bother her so much.

  Aboard the plane, the agents briefed her on the details of the case, as they knew them thus far. They told her about their interviews of Lianna's family and close friends, and showed her Lianna's file.

  January's heart broke as she looked at the smiling young girl in the photograph.

  Chapter Six

  LIANNA WAS VERY pretty and so young.

  Curly hair like a blonde mop on her head, a small, pert nose, and mischievous eyes: they looked so much alike, she could have been Lori's sister.

  Agent Sterling sat next to January as she leafed through the photographs. She could smell his aftershave- pine and fresh snow. It was making her dizzy, but she tried to concentrate on the smiling picture of the girl in the photograph.

  "We did get something from her best friend that was interesting, but so far nothing has come of it," Agent Sterling was saying. "It seems Lianna told her friend she would be meeting someone special on the night she vanished. She wouldn't tell her who it was or where they were meeting, only that she was very excited about it."

  January could feel the color leaving her face. It sounded almost word for word like what Lori had told her the night she was murdered. The image of her friend swinging her leg over the windowsill came to her again, fresh and bright as though fifteen years had not passed.

  "Ms. Morrison, are you alright?" Agent Talbot said. She was sitting in the seats facing them, across the small table where Lianna's file was spread out.

  January collected herself. "Yes, I'm fine. May I have a glass of water, please?" she asked. Agent Talbot got up to get it.

  "Do we know anything else?" she asked Agent Sterling, trying to deflect his attention off her.

  "Not very much," he told her. "We have agents back at the office checking on a few leads, but so far, we're in the dark."

  He continued to look at her. She knew he had seen her become upset, and she didn't want him to think she was some kind of shrinking violet. She glanced back at him defiantly, but in his eyes she saw none of the pity-or worse-that she was used to seeing in the eyes of police officers she had dealt with. Just a calm curiosity, as if she were the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

  "We should be landing in just about thirty minutes," he said. "After we check into the hotel, we'll go meet with Lianna's family. Hopefully then, we'll know more."

  JANUARY STARED AT the pastel painting on the wall of her hotel room, trying to decide whether it was a flower or a very runny plate of eggs.

  There was a knock on the door. It was Agent Sterling.

  "Please, come in," she told him. "I'll be ready to go in just a few minutes. I was just unpacking and got distracted by the... whatever that is." She motioned at the painting, feeling ridiculous, wondering why she had needed to explain herself at all. Why did he make her so nervous?

  To her surprise, he turned around and studied the painting earnestly. "It's either a very ugly water lily, or a very beautiful breakfast."

  He took everything she said seriously, even things she regretted saying. It made her feel oddly safe in a way she did not often feel with people, especially people she had just met.

  She hurriedly finished putting away her things and stepped into the bathroom for a final once-over. She spoke to Agent Sterling over her shoulder and through the open door. "Did you find out anything else about the night Lianna disappeared?"

  He sat down in a scratchy mauve armchair.

  "Not much that we didn't already know. Apparently, she went to this meeting at around midnight, but nobody missed her until morning. Her mother said good night to her around 11:30 PM, and then Lianna had gone to a convenience store for a bottle of juice just before midnight. We talked to the cashier. He said she seemed very excited, and said she was off to a special date." Agent Sterling shifted in the chair. "Then she left the store and that's the last anyone saw of her."

  In the bathroom, January closed her eyes. Her head began to spin again like it had back on the plane, when she was looking at Lianna's pictures. The story sounded more and more like Lori's with every new detail.

  She came out of the bathroom and sat down on the bed to catch her breath.

  "Are you alright?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No, Agent Sterling, I don't think I am." She looked at him. "Are you aware of what happened to me when I was sixteen?"

  Agent Sterling did not miss a beat. "Yes, we saw your file. I understand there are a lot of similarities between this case and Lori Daniels'. That's another reason we thought you would be an asset as we look for Lianna."

  "An asset," she laughed bitterly, the pain suddenly as acute as it was ten years ago. "Well, Agent Sterling, I don't think you read my file very carefully, because if you had, you'd know I was not much of an asset to Lori. She died."

  "I can't say I agree with you completely," Agent Sterling said. He leaned forward and fixed his gaze on her. "I read your file cover to cover. You tried to talk Lori out of going," he said, "and then you went to the police as soon as you knew she was in trouble. You faced them even when you didn't know how to explain that you knew she was in trouble. And when you found out where her body could be found, you told the police. Even when you know you would be ridiculed." He paused. "It had to be tough for a sixteen-year-old to admit to being special. I can't even imagine what you went through after that."

  January's eyes felt hot. She wished he would stop talking, but he went on.

  "The report said you were nervous but steady. You never broke down, not even once."

  Tears ran down her cheeks and she reached into her purse for a tissue. Agent Ster
ling got up and gave her his handkerchief. She took it and dabbed at her face. It smelled like him: clean and strong.

  "Do you know what the worst part was?" she whispered. "All the time that I was missing her, and horrified at what had happened... I was also relieved." She looked up at him through her tears. "I was relieved that it wasn't me. That I was still alive. Isn't that horrible?"

  She was crying now, hot angry tears. She didn't care anymore what she looked like, or what he thought of her. She waited for him to launch some awkward platitudes at her and make a beeline for the door, like most people did when confronted with a crying stranger.

  To her surprise, he sat down next to her. He was so close she could see the rise and fall of his chest beneath his shirt.

  "No, it's not horrible," he said. "You should have been relieved to be alive. Lori's death made you realize how valuable life is."

  She let out a bitter laugh and rolled her eyes. "You sound like me, talking to my clients. Maybe I should take my own advice every once in a while."

  Something like sadness flickered over his face. "I think your line of work and mine are not too different. When you're around the dead and the miserable all the time, it makes you forget what's good about life."

  For the first time, he smiled at her-a genuine, dazzling smile-and she felt a sudden wave of inexplicable joy. Their eyes held. I think I'm starting to remember, she thought.

  There was a knock on the door.

  She sprang up from the bed and dabbed at her face frantically with the handkerchief. "Come in," she shouted, hoarsely. Agent Sterling had somehow, noiselessly, returned to the armchair.

  Agent Talbot opened the door. She glanced at January, then at Agent Sterling. "The Morgans are expecting us," she said. "You guys ready to work?"

  January grabbed her jacket and purse. She was sure the other woman was staring at her tear-stained eyes, and sensing her nervousness. If Agent Talbot gave any sign of noticing anything amiss, she was too graceful to show it.

  Chapter Seven

  THE MORGANS LIVED in a pretty neighborhood full of tall trees and clean, brightly colored houses. As they drove down the street, January watched children playing in driveways, shooting basketballs, and rolling down the sidewalks on tricycles. It reminded her of her hometown.

  Mr. and Mrs. Morgan opened the door together when Agent Talbot rang the doorbell. They seemed nervous, but collected.

  "Please, come in," Mrs. Morgan said. She showed them into the living room.

  Mr. Morgan was a silver-haired gentleman of around fifty. Mrs. Morgan seemed quite a bit younger than he, a quick, garrulous woman with a small face and lively blue eyes. They were very anxious to meet January, hoping she could really help the cops find their daughter. She thanked them and left most of the talking to the agents. She was starting to get nervous that she would not be able to help them; or worse, that she would, and what this would mean for their only daughter. She was also still shaken by the episode at the hotel with Agent Sterling. She tried to calm herself so she could do her best.

  "If you don't mind," Agent Sterling was saying, "we'd like to get started, and give January a chance to do her work."

  January turned to the Morgans. "Mr. Morgan, Mrs. Morgan, I want to do whatever I can to help you. You don't know how badly I want to be able to find your daughter. But there's something you must know. When I'm able to see the victim, it means that they have already... gone. You must be prepared for that possibility."

  Mr. Morgan put his arms around his wife, and they glanced at each other. Mrs. Morgan had tears in her eyes.

  "I understand, and I thank you for being honest with us. But all we have now is hope, and you're part of that hope. Of course, we want our daughter back alive and well. But if it's not meant to be, I won't be able to stand it if she's out there somewhere and we never find her. So anything that you can do is greatly appreciated."

  January nodded. "I'd like to go to Lianna's room now," she said. "I need to be around her things."

  Once there, she sat down on the edge of the bed and looked around. The walls were a surprising shade of lime green. There were posters of rock bands she didn't recognize, and a print of the old war flyer showing Rosie the Riveter flexing her muscle.

  "WE CAN DO IT," it read.

  There was an extremely messy desk with a laptop still on, set to a screen saver cycling through a picture slideshow: Lianna and a dark-haired boy dressed up in evening wear, both looking slightly uncomfortable; Lianna and her parents, wearing mouse ears at Disneyworld; Lianna in a sober gray dress, standing at a podium, speaking.

  January closed her eyes. She started to repeat the little rhyme she always used to send herself into her receptive state:

  Once he will miss, twice he will miss,

  He only chooses one of many hours.

  For him nor deep nor hill there is,

  But all's one level plain

  He hunts for flowers.

  She didn't remember where she had first heard it, but its rhythm and haunting words always seemed to do the trick. She felt herself falling away from the world and into a yawning blackness.

  At first, there was nothing. Sometimes it took a few tries. It depended on the person she was trying to contact.

  "Lianna, where are you? I can't help you if I can't find you. I need for you to hear me and lead me to you."

  She repeated some variation of this for the next few minutes.

  Nothing was happening. She was starting to wonder if this was going to work at all. There was some kind of block at edge of her consciousness as she tried to reach out for Lianna-a corner of blackness she could usually slip through...

  Then, something started to happen.

  Around the edges of the black, she stared to feel colors and sounds. She could never pinpoint which of her senses she was using-it was all of them, and none.

  January focused harder and grabbed onto the snippets of color and sound.

  "Lianna, is that you?"

  She felt a moaning and then crying. Still, Lianna was not appearing to her. January's forehead grew hot.

  What is happening? she felt the girl say, Who are you?

  "Lianna, my name is January and I'm here to help find you and bring you home. Can you tell me if you're alright?"

  Y-y-yes, I think so. My head hurts really bad and it's dark here.

  The crying continued.

  Oh God! Please help me! I don't know how you're doing this but if you can hear me, please come find me! I'm so scared! Oh no, he's coming again! I can hear him! Hurry!

  Then the connection was gone.

  January stood up from the bed, her head spinning. She opened the door to the bedroom.

  The Morgans were sitting in the little alcove at the top of the stairs, just outside Lianna's room. They were holding hands. Agent Talbot was biting her manicured nails and Agent Sterling was leaning against the wall.

  "She's alive!" January told them.

  Chapter Eight

  "DID YOU get any idea of where she is?" Agent Sterling was pacing back and forth in front of the living room sofa, where January was seated with a cup of hot tea. It was the first time she had seen him excited about anything.

  January shook her head. "No. It took everything I had just to get through to her. She wouldn't appear to me; that's how I knew something was different. It's harder to reach a person who is still alive." She glanced up at the Morgans. Mrs. Morgan was still wiping away tears of joy and relief. When January had come out of Lianna's bedroom with her announcement, she had collapsed in her husband's arms.

  "Tell me, Mr. and Mrs. Morgan," January said, "Is Lianna an especially 'sensitive' person?"

  The Morgans looked at each other. "What do you mean?" Mr. Morgan said.

  "Well, I'm not sure, exactly. Does she, maybe, know things that other people don't? Or, does she seem especially intuitive; almost like she can read your mind?"

  Mrs. Morgan furrowed her brow. "Yes, come to think of it. She has always been very... I d
on't know, I guess perceptive is the word. Ever since she was a child. She always seems to know the right thing to say." She laughed. "And we always joke about how much she loves to finish people's sentences for them." She looked up at January with a sad smile. "We just figured she was smart and kind. Could there be something else?"

  "She may have a gift, like I do," said January. "The few times that I have been able to find people who are still alive, it was because they had abilities similar to mine. It's just that not all of them knew it."

  Mr. Morgan sat down on the couch. "I can't believe it," he said. "It's almost too much to think about." He shook his head and looked up. "I just want her back safely."

  "Can you try to contact her again?" Agent Talbot asked.

  "Yes, of course," January said. "But it's actually going to be difficult to find her because she is alive."

  "What do you mean?" Mr. Morgan said.

  January tried to explain. "Dead people have certain senses that we don't have. They're not tied to their bodies anymore, and they see things in ways that we can't. Lianna is still alive, thankfully, but she can only use what her regular five senses tell her. And she's scared, and in pain. It's going to be hard for her to tell me anything."

  The Morgans exchanged a worried glance.

  "But I will try. I will use every last ounce of strength I have to find her. The agents here might have to do the rest."

  "Of course," Mrs. Morgan said. "If there is anything we can do to help you, please, let us know." She clasped her hands together. "We are so grateful to you already. It's been so hard, not even knowing if she was alive."

  January nodded and stood up. "I think I'm ready to try again," she said.

  Agent Sterling followed her up the stairs to Lianna's room. "I'm coming with you."

  "What? No, I need to be alone. It's hard enough for me to concentrate in there without... someone else." Someone who makes it hard for me to concentrate anyway, was what she was thinking.