"So are you calling to see if my wife can come do her particular type of profiling for your case? I should warn you that Adrienne already tried everything related to Paige's case when it first occurred."
Brett rubbed his forehead. "No, I guess I was just looking for confirmation that everything I know about how law enforcement cases are solved might be incorrect."
Conner sighed. “Not incorrect. The Jeffries sisters will just force you to open your mind to other possibilities that might also be correct. But it does take some getting used to.”
No doubt about that.
Conner continued. "I have to admit I don't know Paige very well. Adrienne and I had just gotten married when the attack occurred and Paige hasn't really been interested in a lot of outside company since then."
"She draws these pictures in her sleep." It was difficult to even say the words out loud. "I know that sounds crazy, but I've seen it myself."
"Trust me when I say I understand. When Adrienne is sensing an object she goes into a sort of trance. Damn scary."
"I'm not sure if that makes me feel better or worse."
Conner chuckled. "All I had to do was open my mind to the possibility that it could work. Adrienne's track record pretty much spoke for itself."
"I'll go talk to Paige right away. Figure out what other pictures she might have that she hasn’t been willing to show."
Why would she? Every time she showed a picture to someone in law enforcement they either told her she was crazy or threatened to have her arrested.
“Good,” Conner said. “Use them. If this guy is a serial killer like you think, forget about whether it makes sense as to when or how these pictures were drawn. If this helps you catch this guy that's all that matters in the long run."
"And look," Conner continued. "I don't know if Paige is anything like Adrienne, but if she is then using this gift costs her. Physically takes a toll on her body. I'm able to help offset the physical price Adrienne pays, but I don't know that Paige has ever had that."
Brett had seen the physical demand the drawing had taken on her. Paige very definitely pays the price for these drawings.
"I'll do what I can to help her."
"And you're going to have to protect her. I don't think you're going to have any more doubts after you watch what Adrienne can do, but not everybody is going to believe. You've got to protect her from the people in your department who are going to want to make a judgment call without all the facts."
"It's understandable. I've seen her actually draw one of the pictures and I still can't believe it."
"You're going to have to run interference for her. You can't just bring these drawings into the station and expect everybody to not want to know where they came from."
"Believe me, I know."
“And if you’re right and her case is connected to a killer, then you’re going to have to be even more careful. Paige has never been in much danger because it's well known that she could not remember the face of her assailant. If he finds out she's working with you and she knows more than has been let on…"
"Then a murderer might be back on her trail."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Paige was pretty surprised when the security at the front gate announced that Brett was back. It was late afternoon and after how he looked when he left last night she wasn't sure she'd ever be seeing him again. His face. The way he'd been so torn. She knew that was only to be expected, after all he was a police officer and everything he did was based in logic. In fact.
Drawing murder victims in her sleep did not exactly lend itself towards the logic and fact side of things. She’d gotten his call last night. Had purposely let it go straight to voicemail because she couldn't bear to talk to him. He said that he’d call today, that he wasn't mad, that they would work this out.
But how could they? She felt like every time she saw him she dropped another bomb on him: I drew a picture of myself in a coma two months before it happened, I paint auras, I draw dead people in my sleep.
Her life wasn’t just like an episode of the Twilight Zone, it was like a whole damn season.
And the worst part was she still hadn't told him the worst part. Hadn't shown him. Had another bomb to drop on him.
She needed to show him the portfolio. The one full of pictures of the women she’d drawn. If he had thought seeing the one picture of Teresa Cavasos was hard, seeing them all really wasn't going to sit well with him.
Paige rubbed at the ache in her chest. There wasn't any way her relationship with Brett was going to survive this. She wasn't even sure how she was going to survive it.
Now that she knew how isolated she'd really become, how was she going to just go back to that?
Especially when the only person she really wanted to be around her was Brett. Everywhere she looked around this house now all she could think of was him. Of them. Of their lovemaking.
When she heard his knock on her door she didn't falter in her steps to it. Better to just rip the band-aid off. She would show him the pictures, all of them, and he would hopefully be able to use them in some way. If Teresa Cavasos was a real person then maybe all the other drawings were real women also.
Paige rubbed her chest again. They were all dead. She knew that too. She might've always known that.
She braced her hand against the door frame, before opening it, taking a deep breath. She could survive this. She'd survived worse.
She opened the door to let him in. He looked at her so intensely she had to glance away, and couldn't stop the small flinch when his knuckles grazed her cheek gently.
"Are you okay?”
A loaded question. She couldn’t look her best, not after not sleeping all of last night. She'd stayed up for hours trying to draw. Trying to draw the way she did while she was sleeping. Trying to force her mind to come up with the images of the women she knew were in her subconscious.
It's hadn't helped. Hadn't done anything but exhaust her physically the way she'd already been exhausted mentally.
She felt Brett's arms slowly slide around her. There was nothing more she wanted to do than lean into his strength. To steal these moments while she could, because she knew soon enough they would be gone.
But she couldn't. It was time, past time, for her to show him the pictures she’d been hiding. At least with Brett she knew she wouldn't be arrested.
She pulled back from him. “There’s something I need to tell you. I know hearing those words from me have to send a chill up your spine, but it's important. And yes, strange.”
"There's more pictures, aren't there? That you’ve drawn. Other women.”
Paige's eyes flew up to his. "How did you know?"
"I figured it out sometime this morning. Something you said in passing last night."
"Yes, that's what I was trying to tell you."
He nodded. "I know. And I'm sorry that I didn't let you get it out, but honestly it was probably for the best. Sometimes I just have to process stuff in smaller doses.”
"I feel like I drop a bomb on you every time I see you."
His arms wrapped around her again and this time she did lean into his strength.
"My bomb shelter is pretty strong. But I will admit I do hope that this is the last one for a while. You’re not some sort of shape shifter or something, right?”
She appreciated his attempt to put her at ease, but she was afraid when he actually saw the pictures he wouldn't be able to find any humor in any situation.
"I hope you still feel that way once you see these. My only defense is, that until Teresa Cavasos, I didn't know that these were actual real people. Real women. I thought that maybe it was my subconscious playing out some issues from my attack."
She pulled back from his arms and led them into the living room where she brought the portfolio, wide horizontally and vertically but without much depth. It was meant to store different sized papers or canvases to be carried.
She didn't know why some of the paintings were larger and some were smaller any more than she knew why she drew these to begin with.
The portfolio was on the coffee table. She opened it and looked over at Brett.
“I’ll admit I’m a coward and couldn’t go through them. I haven’t ever gone through them once I put them in here.”
He just nodded.
“I’m going to go get some water and let you look through this on your own for a while."
She didn't want him to have to hide his reaction from her. Wanted to give him the opportunity to look through things objectively without her in the room.
Plus, she knew what was in there. She didn't want to see the pictures of these women again. They were burned into her mind forever.
He trailed his knuckles down her cheek again. She nodded. "I'm just going to stay out. Call me when you're ready for me to come back in."
She didn't wait for him to answer. She didn't go into the kitchen like she planned, knowing that was just going to drive her crazy, wondering what he was thinking in there.
Instead she headed to where she'd always gone when things were too much. Her art studio.
"Paige, stop."
It took her a second to focus, to figure out what was going on. She’d been so deep into her painting that she's lost track of everything around her.
It wasn't the first time it happened but usually it was because she was lost in the joy of her art.
She looked at the easel in front of her. She'd painted what any neutral observer would've called a black hole. Umbra, penumbra, and antumbra --the different types of shadows-- filled the entire canvas.