Shades of Gray Page 2

  “This is a great start.” As usual, I was struck with how little was left behind, a mere hint of who Dennis had been to those who didn’t know him well. “You know what it is I do, don’t you?” I wanted to make sure she wasn’t expecting miracles.

  “Tawnia said you could sometimes see scenes or feel emotions left on objects.”

  “Not just any object. It has to be something frequently used or treasured by a person, articles that aren’t often washed or forgotten. Or it can be something a person touched while experiencing a great emotion—love, sadness, anger.” Hate. Guilt. Terror. Jealousy. The list was long, but some were better left unsaid.

  Sophie frowned. “I don’t know if I brought anything useful.”

  “I can always go to your house later. Or to his office.”

  “Thank you.” In her chest carrier, Lizbeth was moving restlessly in sleep, her dark, fuzzy head tilting side to side. Sophie swayed back and forth to soothe the child.

  “Not at all.” I removed the four antique rings from my fingers, including a tourmaline and a black-and-white hard-stone cameo. Two of the rings were silver, another a tricolor of elaborately twisted gold, and the cameo was set in rose gold. Each had once belonged to a woman who’d given them comforting imprints, now long faded into a pleasant buzz, a barrier for me against any sudden shocks when I was out and about in the world, which happened more often these days than was comfortable. In the year since my gift had appeared, I’d gone from being open and friendly to everyone, even strangers, to being careful not to touch personal items belonging to anyone. You’d be surprised at how often we do that without thinking twice.

  Jake was usually my official ring-holder, but he was still in the back room making tea, and the anxiety on Sophie’s face nixed any idea of waiting for him.

  I needn’t have worried. He was there before I set them on the counter, his warm fingers giving mine a subtle squeeze as he took them from me. I smiled at him, and he winked.

  Slowly, I extended my hands over the items. Imprints were there—I could feel them already, but I didn’t know what they would tell me. The moment of truth was here. I let my hands drop.

  Sometimes when I did a formal reading like this, I’d flash back to the day my ability first manifested itself. On the day of my adoptive father’s funeral, I’d picked up the picture of my mother that he’d treasured, but instead of seeing her face as I’d always seen it, I was looking at her through Winter’s eyes, experiencing his love for her as his worn finger stroked the lines of her face. Though the imprint was tender, I’d dropped the picture in my shock, shattering the glass. In that moment the photograph, always cherished, became even more treasured.

  I touched Dennis’s books first, but they had nothing to tell except a hint of concentration. If Dennis had loved these books, it was not for themselves but for the information he’d long ago internalized. The baseball was different. It held a distinct imprint of love and pride, yet it was an old imprint, one from a young boy. It made me smile.

  “What?” Sophie asked, sounding out of breath.

  “He really loved this ball—when he was a boy, I mean. He hasn’t left any recent imprints on it.”

  The hammer gave me an image of hitting a thumb, the screwdriver a sense of satisfaction. From the letter, I felt a sense of deep love, followed by an image of Sophie’s face. I ran through the rest quickly—the portrait (hint of pride and love), the stamp collection (fading youthful eagerness), and the baseball cards (vague regret). From the phone charger and the electronic book reader there was nothing except a slight annoyance that might have derived completely from my imagination. While reading vivid imprints was similar to experiencing a real event, especially of late, some of the fainter imprints often made me wonder if I was reading my own feelings instead of the owner’s. The pen and pencil set and the tie had no imprint at all, real or imagined.

  I shook my head and met Sophie’s eyes. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing here that says he was planning to leave or that he was in trouble.” I motioned to the letter, whose address was facing down on the counter. “That’s from you, isn’t it? He loves you very much. I can feel how much he treasures that letter.”

  Tears filled her eyes. “What am I going to do?” She brought a hand to her mouth as though to stop from crying out loud.

  I put a comforting hand on her shoulder at the same time Tawnia put an arm around her. Sophie blinked rapidly, calming herself, before patting my hand in silent thanks.

  My stomach jolted. “Wait,” I said, grabbing her hand. Around her slim wrist was a gold charm bracelet decorated with a variety of interesting charms, including several heart lockets for holding miniature pictures.

  “What?” Sophie asked, alarmed.

  “There’s an imprint on your bracelet. Can I see it?” Though it had only brushed against me, the imprint had been strong, sending me the image of a suitcase.

  Sophie struggled with the clasp, finally allowing Tawnia to undo it for her. Tawnia slid it into my hands.

  I saw Dennis on Wednesday, two days earlier, standing before the mirror of the dresser he shared with Sophie. Also reflected in the mirror was a small suitcase with the tags still on it, sitting on the bed. Items had been haphazardly thrown inside without care for organization. The imprint was strong and vivid, pulling me inside until I was looking out of Dennis’s eyes into the mirror. He/I stared down at his hands at the bracelet, the anniversary gift he’d bought for Sophie. There was a sense of disconnection, a surreal, subdued determination. He/I was leaving. I wanted to leave. Now. It was the right thing to do. I reached out to set the bracelet back in the box on the dresser. The image vanished.

  There were no more imprints, and there was no use trying again. I never saw any more. Never. Even if I didn’t understand what I saw the first time, or if what I saw wasn’t complete, the images and emotions wouldn’t change. The bracelet slipped through my fingers to the floor before I realized I’d let it go.

  Sophie gasped. “What did you see?”

  I looked at Tawnia, who watched me with her mismatched eyes, the right eye hazel, and the left one blue. Heterochromia was the medical name, and in our case the condition was hereditary, but we didn’t know from which side of our birth family it had come. She started to shake her head but stopped, knowing that I wouldn’t hide any information from Sophie. She deserved to know.

  Jake’s hand went to my waist, his warmth encouraging and comforting all at once. Since the day of Winter’s death, he’d been there for me—no, even before that. First as a friend and now as something more. We’d spent hours together, working and playing. We’d faced danger together more than once, and I trusted him without question.

  I found my breath. “I saw a new suitcase with tags attached and things piled inside. He was standing in front of a dresser with a mirror holding that bracelet. It was on Wednesday afternoon.” Pinpointing the exact day was easy this close to the day of imprinting. “I’m sorry, Sophie, but it seems he left of his own will. He thought it was the right thing to do. You weren’t home, were you? He knew that.”

  “Then why go out and buy me this bracelet?” She bent down awkwardly to pick it up, the baby in the carrier giving a sleepy grunt of discomfort. “Our anniversary isn’t for two months. He never remembers. I found it this morning before I drove here. That has to mean he left it for me to find. Why would he do that if he wanted to leave me?”

  A good-bye gift? I wouldn’t say it aloud. “I’m sorry,” I repeated. “I know it’s not the full picture, but Dennis bought a suitcase and packed his own bag before he left. He planned it.”

  Sophie stared at me, tears leaking from her eyes. “There has to be an explanation. He loves me!”

  “I’d be willing to try to find out more.”

  “I don’t know. What if . . . what if . . .? What about his job? He loved that. He’d never quit.”

>   “Have you talked to the police?”

  “Yes, but I didn’t get the feeling they thought anything was suspicious. They gave me odd looks. I caught one rolling his eyes and looking at the kids as if they were a disease.”

  “We’ll do whatever we can to help,” Tawnia said to her.

  Sophie was shaking her head. “No. This was a mistake. I won’t believe it. Any of it. Dennis loves us!” In two steps she was at the stroller, gathering the toy soldiers from her son and tossing them onto the nearest shelf.

  “Wait! Those ones are mine!” Sawyer protested. Sophie gave him back one of the soldiers and then a second one he pointed at before hurrying to the door.

  “Sophie, stop!” Tawnia started after her friend. “What about Dennis’s things?”

  But Sophie shrugged her off and fled outside.

  I sighed.

  “Not good, huh?” Jake placed a small poetry book in my hands, and joy arched through me as if someone had turned on the light. A man and woman stood together exchanging wedding vows. My adoptive parents, Winter and Summer Rain. My energy level soared. Sometimes Jake knew me so well it was scary.

  “It wasn’t a bad imprint. Just vivid. Determined. And sad because he left of his own will.” Though I appreciated Jake’s foresight, I tucked the little book under my arm, keeping my contact as brief as possible. I didn’t want my parents’ imprints to fade under my own. The imprints of that book and the other few possessions they had left meant everything to me.

  “You ready for tea?” Jake put an arm around me.

  “I am.” Tawnia moved down the aisle like a woman with a purpose. “But first I have to show you both something. Autumn, I know you’ve never been wrong about an imprint before, but maybe there’s a first time.”

  If she’d experienced imprints herself, she wouldn’t suggest such a thing, but I’d hear her out. She was my twin, and I knew she didn’t take my ability lightly.

  She reached for her oversized bag on the counter next to the items Sophie had left. “I was so sure you’d find someone had taken him or something. Because what you said doesn’t explain this.” She slapped a sketchbook down on top of Dennis’s books. “If Dennis wanted to leave Sophie, why did I draw this?”

  I stared at the paper. My sister also had an unusual ability that we’d only become aware of within the past month. During the problems at the commune, she had used her talent to help solve the mystery, but since then it had disappeared.

  Apparently not for good.

  The sketch showed a man in a sedan, fear distorting his handsome features. Behind him were two men in another car, one with his hand out the window firing a gun.

  “That’s Dennis,” I said, recognizing the man in the front sedan.

  “And his car.” Tawnia chewed on her lip. “I don’t know who the other men are, but I was trying to come up with a new billboard for Mr. Lantis today, and this is what came out instead. It’s why I urged Sophie to come here.”

  “Did you tell her about this?”

  “No.” Reluctance laced Tawnia’s voice. She still didn’t admit to having an ability, but I’d already seen proof that she could draw things happening miles away, involving people she’d never met.

  “So, it’s okay if you have a weird sister, but not if you’re weird yourself.”

  “It’s not like that, Autumn. I just—this comes from the pregnancy. I know it. Or something connected to you. It’s not me.”

  I sighed. It wasn’t like my sister to hide from the truth. The woman had moved to five different states in ten years searching for something—for me, it turned out—and she still didn’t believe she was special.

  “Whatever it is,” Jake interrupted, “this guy needs help now.”

  I turned back to study the page, thinking that if Tawnia had drawn the reality of Dennis’s situation, we might already be too late.

  Chapter 2

  No one said anything for several seconds, and then Jake was pouring tea and pushing cups into our cold hands. Tawnia moved heavily around the counter to sit on the stool, while I stood staring at the drawing.

  “We have to do something,” I said. The imprints on Sophie’s bracelet hadn’t hinted of danger, but regardless of why Dennis had left, he was in trouble, about to be in trouble, or had already been in trouble. We didn’t know how time factored into Tawnia’s drawings, though I suspected her drawings came from past events, like my imprints.

  “What about that detective?” Tawnia smiled as Jake poured a bit of raw agave nectar in her tea. She would have preferred sugar, but I never had the stuff around.

  I knew Tawnia was talking about Detective Shannon Martin. We’d worked together before, and he’d even saved my life when Tawnia’s pictures had urged him to the commune.

  Jake snorted. “Him?” He and Shannon didn’t get along, and lately he had tolerated the man even less. Whether because Shannon had saved me when Jake hadn’t, or because Jake viewed Shannon as a threat, I really didn’t know. Whatever the emotion, this reaction wasn’t like the normally easygoing Jake.

  “Tawnia’s right,” I said. “I’d better go see him.”

  “Sophie said she went to the police already, and the imprints didn’t show anything new for us to tell them, right?”

  I met Jake’s gaze without flinching. It wasn’t my fault, this rivalry between him and Shannon; I’d done nothing to encourage it. “If I show Shannon the drawing, he’ll understand the importance of finding Dennis right away. I know he will. He believes in us that much.” Reluctantly, of course. Most days I had the feeling Shannon would rather see me behind bars than reading imprints. “He can get information that I can’t.”

  Jake’s frown deepened, but he didn’t object. He cared about Tawnia’s friend every bit as much as I did. He was a lot like my adoptive father that way. Winter had cared about everyone.

  “Maybe you should try to read more imprints first,” Tawnia said. “For proof.”

  I tapped her drawing. “This is all the proof I need.”

  “What if Shannon wants to interview me? He makes me nervous.”

  Her and me both.

  Tawnia glanced at her cell phone. “Great. I’m going to be late getting back to work. I’ll return this cup later, okay?” Grabbing her bag and blowing a kiss, she ran toward my door where she hesitated, raising the tea. “What is this anyway? It’s really good.”

  Jake laughed. “A ginger blend. I told you I’d find one you’d like.”

  “Amazing. Save me a few packages.” She ducked out the door.

  I drank a couple of hot swallows before setting down my cup, the ginger plainly obvious to me. I wasn’t normally a fan of ginger, but this wasn’t bad. “I’m going to talk to Shannon.”

  Jake sighed. “I’ll watch the shops.” The recent change in our relationship hadn’t affected the way we ran our businesses. He owned the Herb Shoppe, which had once been my father’s, and the double connecting doors between our stores and our networked computers allowed us to help each other during the busy times. We also shared two part-time employees, one of whom was Jake’s sister, Randa, who was still in high school.

  “Thera and Randa will be here soon.” Not that it’d matter. Friday afternoons were always slow for Autumn’s Antiques. I did most of my treasure hunting on Fridays.

  “Don’t forget your rings.” Jake pulled them from his pocket.

  “Thanks.” I slipped them on one by one, enjoying the pleasant buzz of a life well-lived. Of laughter. I made sure that everything in my shop had either a good feeling around it or no imprints at all. I hadn’t yet discovered if there was a way to remove negative imprints, and until I did, I wanted nothing that had them in my shop.

  Jake caught me in his arms and gave me a kiss that made me wish I could stay. We’d come a long way, the two of us, and though neither of us seemed
to know exactly where to go from this point, I was confident we’d figure it out.

  The real jingle bells at the door to his shop broke us apart. Jake rubbed my hands, his fingers dark against my white skin. “If Shannon acts up, tell him he’ll have to answer to me.”

  “He’ll just threaten to put you in jail. Don’t worry. I can handle Shannon.”

  Jake nodded and swaggered to the double doors connecting our stores, muttering something under his breath about Shannon and jail.

  Grinning, I made sure the outside door to my store was locked, turning over the sign that told customers to use the Herb Shoppe entrance instead. Most of my regulars knew the routine by now. This way if anyone tried to swipe something, they’d have to sneak past Jake.

  The warmth on the sidewalk traveled through the tough skin of my feet and warmed me. The last time I’d worn shoes was all those years ago in college when the dean threatened to expel me. I hadn’t missed them since, and not wearing them was now a part of who I was. I liked being as close to the earth as possible. Lifting my face to the sun, I took a deep breath. I adored July, the heat, the glare of the sun. It made me feel happy. Lots of vitamin D.

  My rusty red Toyota hatchback, a sad-looking vehicle that had cost me more in repairs the last nine months I’d owned it than I’d paid for it in the first place, awaited me by the curb. I knew the way to the police station by heart, but I wasn’t looking forward to the visit. If Detective Shannon Martin was there, he’d drop everything, and it would only be that much more awkward because despite my assurances to Tawnia, I didn’t have much proof to give him. Okay, any proof. But Sophie needed someone, and I thought he’d help her because of me. For the most part, he never gave any hint about his feelings for me—his reluctant feelings—but I knew he was attracted to me despite his mistrust in my strange ability. I suspected he also felt somewhat responsible for me since I’d begun working as a consultant with the police department, a responsibility that had only increased since the commune affair and his saving my life.