Entering his living room, he stumbled to the couch, where he collapsed, groaning. Almost with the same force that he hit the couch, as if his mind had opened up, and he heard more. Like a hard step, as somebody’s shoe hit a metal surface. And there he was, once again staring down at the river.
The smell of the salt water filled his nostrils, and the breeze ruffled his hair, as the face of this person, whoever this was, stared out at the water around him. Same place, Lions Gate Bridge. He was desperate to pull his phone from his pocket and text Kate, but he couldn’t move; he was completely paralyzed and locked into this vision. The fact that he was once again helpless and unable to do anything made him all the more frustrated. And it wasn’t even the frustration that was the hardest but the sense of helplessness and hopelessness.
There was also that same confusion, that same focus that the world was better off without her. And again, it was a her. He wasn’t sure if it was the same her, but something was vaguely familiar about her, something that made him once again reach for bits and pieces, so he could try to confirm who she was. Why didn’t people think in terms of their own names? Why didn’t they think in terms of the names of their family or friends? Something. Dates? Places? Something that Simon could lock down and find.
But, of course, she didn’t think of any of that. She stared at the water, and the thoughts running through her head were everything fromThe world’s better off without metoJimmy would be better off without me. Of course he glommed on to that. But who was Jimmy? Was that a son? Was that a boyfriend, a sibling, or a parent? How could Simon possibly know?
Then came that other voice, that said,Just do it. Just do it, and get it over with already.
That could easily be her subconscious pushing her to do something. That part of her that set her on the pathway to get to this bridge, even though it’s not what she necessarily wanted to do. Yet it’s what she felt she had to do. Like a split in her own consciousness between opposing forces, one pushing her to do it, another pulling back.
He understood bad decisions; hell, he understood all kinds of ugly decisions. But how did one get to the point where these decisions made any sense? He didn’t know. How did one make decisions that were just shitty all around? It bothered him a lot, as he sat here, locked in this vision, staring at the beautiful water, because it was beautiful; it really was. There was something absolutely peaceful and still, when looking down at that flowing rush of cold water, and yet something was mystical and magical. It was life. It was true. It was real, but it was also calm and terrifying.
He was being affected by her thoughts. He had never looked at water that way. He’d loved water, but he wanted to be on a sailboat out in the water. He sure as hell didn’t want to be floating or even thinking about dropping down into something like that. The force would pull him under in no time, and there must be such a horribly strange feeling when you were stuck between the surface and the bottom of the ocean. It was so easy to get turned around and so easy to not know which way was up. And the farther down, the darker the water got, until it became all-encompassing.
Often people did get turned around, and they didn’t know where they were going. It was not an easy thing to deal with. It was also such a weird thought that somebody would willingly want to go deep into the waters, where you didn’t know what was underneath you, or what was lying in wait there, or if anything was coming from underneath to grab you. Because a lot of unknowns were in the ocean. It was just as full of predators as anything above the sea.
Simon kept talking to her, sending a message ofDon’t, don’t. He then repeatedly gave her a positive message.This isn’t worth it. There’s another answer. But the other answer wasn’t exactly coming his way from her. He was getting a million other thoughts, but none of it was helping. He did everything he could to try to push away her thoughts, which overwhelmed him. There had to be another way to get to her. He wished he could lift her arm, but, even as he tried to lift her right arm, she lifted herself, grabbed the railing, gripping it hard.
He called out, “What’s your name? Talk to me. Who are you? What is it you want? Why are you doing this? Surely there’s another answer. There’s always another answer,” he cried out, his voice frantic. When she put her foot on the bottom railing and stepped on it, he screamed at her, “No, no, no!”
When she stepped back off again and stood there and stared, he could almost feel the breath in the back of his throat slowly sliding back down again. Maybe, just maybe, she would walk away. He needed her to walk away. Hell, he needed her to walk away and to stay away. Mentally he tried to cut the tie, to cut the channel that had opened up between them.
And not for the first time he wished he knew how to help himself, that he had asked his grandmother for more help, but he’d been so against any of this that he hadn’t even gotten the basics.
With sheer determination he mentally slammed a great big steel plate down in the mental tunnel, cutting the connection in half. Almost instantly he felt the cool warmth of his apartment around him. He opened his eyes. “Thank God,” he cried out, as he sagged against the couch. He sent a text to Kate.She’s on the bridge. Damn it, I can’t stop her. She did step on the railing, but the vision’s gone.
Sorry.
Chapter 15
Kate’s Wednesday Morning
Kate woke thenext morning, quiet and controlled, enjoying the peaceful silence of her mind. She couldn’t imagine what chaos Simon’s mind was in as he dealt with this psychic stuff all the time. She once again looked at his text from late last night.
She hadn’t said anything more thanSorry.
What was she supposed to say? He was apparently tormented by a connection to a woman who was thinking about committing suicide. It could connect to Kate’s jumper cases, but Simon had no details for Kate, like to know who Simon was connecting with, for one thing. Again no physical evidence that it had anything to do with her cases, and it left Kate stuck, not knowing how to handle it.
She also didn’t know how to handle Simon. A part of her still didn’t want to believe; a part of her still thought it was all gobbledygook. She knew that some of the guys at work wished she would ask for more information, but she had asked, and there wasn’t anything to report. That was part of the problem. If this was all real and true and factual, then why the hell wasn’t there more information? She understood that some psychics could get more information than others, and it was really not a case of getting better at it, as much as it beingtake what you get or leave it.
It was so frustrating.
She got up, had her shower, and headed into the office.
As she got in, Rodney looked at her. “What? No marital bliss?”
“Why would there be?” she asked, confused.
“Aren’t you spending most of your off time with Simon?”
“No, not at the moment,” she said. “Both busy.”
“You might be busy,” he said, “but remember. Our relationships keep us sane and functioning, when the rest of the world goes crazy.”
She looked at him in surprise. “I didn’t know you cared.”
“I’m just a little worried. You’re very intense when it comes to this work, and we want to see you last and not burn out.”