BRINGING BENJY HOME Page 6

  Just the thought had her shrinking deeper into her seat, away from him. She'd spent too many years trying to shield herself from human contact, avoiding the accompanying knowing that inevitably ensued. Few people took any pains to keep their thoughts and emotions hidden far beneath their surface, anyway. The most casual of touches could transmit them to Jaida, leaving her feeling buffeted and exhausted.

  She sliced a glance at Trey from the corner of her eye. He'd circumvented her usual responses from the first. The few occasions when she'd been unable to avoid it, his touch had evoked powerful currents, the mere memory of which could still send her reeling. She hadn't received peeks into his emotional corridor at those touches, but the resulting sparks that had leaped between them were even more frightening for their unfamiliarity. There was no way she was going to invite that again. And there was really no reason to. The one thing that was easy to read about him was his complete disregard for her.

  Trey glanced at the woman by his side. She hadn't said a word since they'd left the house, not on the way to the airport, not since they'd boarded the plane. He knew her well enough by now to be certain this silence was uncustomary for her. Noting her pale complexion and drawn expression, he gave an inward sigh. "You aren't going to toss your cookies, are you?" he asked abruptly.

  She closed her eyes in embarrassment, then opened them again to glare at him. "Thank you so much for your delicately worded expression of concern. But I'm fine."

  He grunted and turned back to his magazine. "Well, you don't look fine. You look ready to keel over at any moment."

  "If I look nauseated, it's only in reaction to your performance with the flight attendant," she retorted. She leaned over and snatched a handful of magazines from his lap, taking care not to touch him.

  That remark recaptured his attention. "My what?"

  "Your performance," she enunciated. "You know. That little act of oh-so-charming civility. Why, with charm like that, you could make a killing selling Bibles at a Baptist revival."

  His gaze narrowed at her gibing tone.

  "I suppose that polished pretense goes a lot further in getting you what you want than, say, outward distrust. Although we both know that's really how you view the world." She stopped then, her wayward tongue as usual running ahead of her brain.

  "You know so much about me?" he questioned sotto voce. "Your psychic abilities must be something indeed for you to have arrived at such an in-depth understanding." He made a gesture of invitation. "Go on. Let's hear this insight of yours."

  She returned his stare with one of her own. Wiser women than she would hurriedly retreat from that silky tone. Unfortunately, she wasn't one to back down from a dare, and that was exactly what he'd issued. Added to the fact that she was at her absolute worst when she was hungry or sick, he had the makings of a human storm on his hands.

  "You're an accomplished liar," she said simply. At the look of menace that crossed his features she raised her eyebrows. "Do you deny how easily you lied to your sister? Boise, Idaho, my granny's left foot. Don't you think Lauren deserves to know the truth about our destination? Especially since it concerns her son?"

  "I have my reasons for not telling Lauren we're going to Boston. Reasons," he added meaningfully, "that have nothing to do with you."

  "Of course they have nothing to do with me. I'm just the person you've dragged across the country and back to help you," Jaida agreed mockingly. "You couldn't trust me with your precious reasons, just as you couldn't share the information with your sister. Because there's only one person in the world you really trust, and that's Trey Garrison."

  He surveyed her from beneath lowered lashes, battling, not for the first time, an urge to throttle her. "If that's the extent of your half-baked abilities, you wouldn't even make a decent living telling fortunes in the circus." After a pause he added deliberately, "But perhaps you've already found that out for yourself."

  The plane hit an air pocket then, and Jaida's stomach did a nauseating roll. She swallowed hard and concentrated on his demeaning words. Circus fortune teller indeed. The big jerk. "You have a lot of nerve believing I'm a fake, when you're one of the biggest phonies I've ever met," she shot back.

  "Lady, you'd better be damn careful," he warned softly. "You're really starting to annoy me."

  "Great," she said smugly. "Because you've had that effect on me since yesterday. I'm used to people being skeptical about me, and that's okay, I can handle that." She even preferred healthy doubts to the macabre fascination some reserved for her abilities. "But just remember, you came to me. I didn't seek you out. I'll help in any way I can to find Benjy. But I'm getting darn sick and tired of being treated like some kind of fraud. And it wears a little thin, coming from you."

  She halted abruptly as the flight attendant stopped beside them and spent an inordinate amount of time providing just the right snack for Trey. As an afterthought, she inquired about Jaida's preferences, turning quickly away when Jaida shook her head.

  "That's exactly what I mean," she muttered, intercepting the easy smile he bestowed on the woman. "You've got hot-and-cold running charisma, and you use it so effortlessly when you want to. But it's nothing but a means to an end. If anyone is a fake around here, it's you."

  He tamped down his annoyance with conscious effort. The fact that her words had a grain of truth to them only fed his irritation. That certainly didn't mean he gave credence to any special powers she claimed, only that, as he'd suspected, frauds like her made a study of human nature. And he'd been admittedly lax about keeping his opinions of her and her abilities to himself.

  "Do you have any other pearls of wisdom for me, or are you going to let me eat these—" he raised his food packages "—in peace?"

  Her stomach roiled. "You should be aware—" she managed the words through suddenly dry lips "—that I'm a straightforward person, and I expect to be treated the same. I don't like games."

  "And you should be aware that any games I play, I play to win."

  It was clear that he considered the conversation at an end. Jaida wouldn't have been able to continue it at any rate. Oxygen suddenly seemed in short supply, and her stomach was doing gymnastics. It was several minutes before Trey glanced at her again. He noted her pasty complexion and the dampness that had appeared on her forehead. Swearing silently, he took immediate action, placing one hand on the back of her head and forcing it between her knees. "Breathe," he ordered. "Deeply." He grasped her free hand in his and squeezed tightly. "That's it," he said encouragingly, ignoring the current that transferred from her palm to his, and her efforts to extricate herself. "Slow, deep breaths. It's mind over matter."

  Jaida gasped at the jolt of raw electricity that sprang between them when he took her hand. Heat flowed from his hand to hers, with an accompanying charge of energy. When he didn't release her after a few seconds, the expected happened. The nausea, heat and electric charge faded and she felt as though she were being hurled at Mach-1 speed down a wind tunnel. Colors swirled wildly behind her eyelids, and then the colors receded, to be replaced with snippets of images, disconnected fragments that formed fleeting mental pictures.

  Smoke and fire poured from the ruined building. Trey stumbled out of it, almost falling under the burden he carded. People were racing past him, and finally he fell to his knees, sliding the man he'd hauled out of the building to the ground. A pool of blood formed around them, and Trey's face was a mask of anguish and determination. She could feel his pain as sharply as if she were experiencing it herself, and something else, a combination of fury and fear. A litany pounded through his head. Don't die, don't die, c'mon, Mac, don't die on me now!

  Jaida finally managed to wrest her hand free from Trey's at the same time that he let her raise her head. She pulled away from him and huddled deep in the corner of her seat. Her eyes were wide and her breath came in pants. Color had returned to her cheeks, a deep pink flush that didn't look any healthier than her former paleness.

  "Are you sure you're okay?" Trey a
sked, his voice tinged with reluctant concern.

  She raised a hand, as if by doing so she could keep him from reaching for her again. "Yes … I'm better. I'm fine. Just don't…" Touch me.

  After piercing her with a long stare, Trey gave a shrug and turned away. Reopening his magazine, he turned his attention to an article on computers.

  After several long minutes Jaida's breathing slowed, and she straightened in her seat. Noting that her hands still had a tendency to tremble, she clasped them tightly in her lap. Never had she experienced a vision as strong as the one she'd just had. Trey had touched her before, and the current that had run between them had shocked and, yes, frightened her. But it hadn't begun to match the vivid mental replay she'd just been a party to. She'd wondered several times in the past twenty-four hours whether Trey was capable of human emotion, at least toward anyone other than his family. She wouldn't wonder anymore. Now she knew there had been a time in his past when he'd been full of panic at the thought of losing…

  His only friend.

  The snippet of information flashed into her mind, unbidden. A chill pervaded her limbs, and she rubbed her arms frantically. She didn't like this at all. By some quirk of cosmic fate Trey seemed to have the power to heighten her uncommon powers, to magnify them. She managed a grim little smile. Fate did indeed, as Granny always said, have a warped sense of humor.

  For a moment, she wished mightily for Granny's comforting arms and her uncommon wisdom. Maybe she could explain Jaida's uncustomary reactions to this man in a way that made sense of them, that relegated them to the ordinary.

  But somehow she thought this strange pull that existed between her and Trey might even be beyond Granny's comprehension.

  * * *

  It seemed like déjà vu as they stood in line to rent a vehicle, a quick little Oldsmobile this time. Jaida waited off to the side, not even ofering to help and let Trey retrieve their luggage. She got into the car while he stashed their bags in the trunk of the rental. Then he slid in behind the steering wheel and tossed her a map.

  "Do you know how to read this?"

  "I think I can manage," she answered dryly, shaking the map out and folding it neatly on her lap. She scanned the metropolitan map of Boston and its vicinity as Trey drove out of the Logan International Airport parking lot. After a few minutes, she gave him directions to Highway 128.

  "So what's your plan once we reach the motel?" Jaida asked after long silent minutes had ticked by.

  Trey took his time answering, as if weighing how much to tell her. "I called the state police and told them I was coming. Hopefully they will have left an officer for me to talk to. There's been plenty of time for them to have gone through the place pretty thoroughly. If proof exists that Benjy has been there, they will have found it." He spoke with more confidence than he felt. He hadn't been completely assured when he'd talked to the police that they were giving his nephew's disappearance top priority. And when they'd pressed him about the "tip" he'd received, placing his nephew at the Glenview, he'd been noncommittally vague. He didn't doubt that their questions would be more pointed when he arrived, and he felt a sense of distaste at the upcoming interview. He didn't believe any more than they did that Benjy had been there, was certain, in fact, that this whole thing was a lame hoax, perpetuated by the woman sitting next to him.

  And yet … he couldn't deny the surge in his stomach as he drove toward the motel. He couldn't help remembering the complaint to the night clerk about the crying child. Not that he put any stock in psychic nonsense. Yet, in spite of his steady disbelief, there was a tiny seed of hope unfurling deep inside him. A bloom not nurtured by any faith in Jaida's ability, but born of his abiding love for his young nephew and his fervent desire to hold him safe in his arms again.

  Jaida wanted to ask him more questions, but he was reticent at the best of times, and something told her now didn't number among those. Though no expression showed on his hard face, he was radiating energy, and maybe a hint of nerves. She slid a little closer to the passenger door. She was still shaken by their earlier encounter, and she desperately wanted to guard against a repeat occurrence.

  Traffic snarled the freeways, even though it wasn't rush hour. It took well over an hour to drive to the motel. When they finally got to the parking lot, Jaida's stomach had tightened with nerves. She saw Trey's observant gaze go to the sign out front; his face registered no emotion when he took in the flickering neon sign with the burned out V. She got out of the car and trailed behind him as he made his way quickly to the office. Reaching the area a few moments behind him, she found him already in a corner, deep in conversation with the state policeman who had been waiting for their arrival.

  Jaida gave the employee behind the counter a tentative smile. The young woman, who looked no older than twenty-two or -three, wound a tendril of her frizzy red hair around one forefinger and popped her gum loudly. Then her gaze went back to the men.

  Jaida didn't attempt to join in the dialogue between the policeman and Trey. She approached the desk, forcing the clerk's gaze back to her. "Could you tell me if the vacated rooms have been cleaned yet?"

  The woman bristled visibly. "All our rooms are cleaned every day. The owner would have my butt if that didn't get done."

  "I'm sure they're cleaned thoroughly," Jaida soothed. "But there must be a lot of work around here. How long does it take your crew?"

  "Hours," huffed the young woman. "Usually I help, but I've been held up today because he—" she jerked her head at the young officer Trey was talking to "—has been here since the others left. Too much going on for me to leave the office empty. So we might be a bit behind today," she allowed reluctantly. "On account of me having to answer a bunch of questions and all."

  Jaida had the response she wanted. She gave the woman another smile and, turning, let herself quietly out of the office.

  Once outside again, Jaida searched out the neon sign, the one that had figured so prominently in her vision yesterday. Slowly she walked past each of the motel doors. Her progress was halting but steady. Already the hair on the back of her neck was prickling; goose bumps appeared on her arms. Still she walked, past a door to a window, paused, then moved on. The chill skittering along her spine was increasing and owed nothing to the damp breeze. At the third door from the opposite end, she stopped. She didn't need the proximity of the sign from this particular window to know that this was the room that had housed Benjy last night. Her certainty lay in the waves that vibrated off the empty room to wrap around her. Sensations of confusion and tears shed by a child in a strange place. She closed her eyes, lost in the suffering and bewilderment that Benjy's brief sojourn had left in its wake.

  A voice sounded in her ear. "What are you doing out here?"

  Jaida opened her eyes to find Trey standing closer than she would have dared allow him had she been thinking clearly. "This is it," she said, her words barely loud enough to be heard. She lifted one hand with great effort and pointed toward the motel-room door. "That's where Benjy was last night."

  Trey stared hard at her. "Give it up, Jaida," he ordered harshly. "The show is over. The officers searched all the vacant rooms, talked to all the guests who are still here. No one claims to have seen Benjy, not the clerks, not the guests. There's not a shred of evidence proving he was ever here, and there's a good reason for that, isn't there? Because you and I both know he wasn't."

  She returned his hard stare. "Get a key," she said quietly.

  He exhaled an exasperated sigh. "Look, there's no need to carry this farce out any longer. You've been caught. Surely it's not the first time for that. You may as well … where are you going?"

  He was in midsentence when Jaida turned and walked back to the office. Trey stayed where he was, frustrated beyond belief. The woman was tenacious; he'd grant her that. She was determined to play this little melodramatic farce out to the end. He waved as the officer drove the state police cruiser by him and pulled out of the parking lot. The officer had been polite, but it w
as apparent that he'd considered this assignment today fruitless. He'd treated Trey as one would an overwrought, ever-hopeful relative of a crime victim. It had suited Trey's purposes to let the man believe that was true.

  But it was finished now. He could pack up Jaida and shuttle her off on yet another plane, one that would take her back to Arkansas and away from him. She'd be out of his life for good, and he could forget all about her, forget her liquid drawl, moon-glow hair and the strange reaction he could create just by touching her. He could forget about the woman who'd used his family's tragedy for her personal gain, so that she could … what? What had Jaida hoped to gain by perpetuating this pathetic little hoax? Was she hoping to cash in from her "help" to a desperate family? Or did she just have a sick little side to her that needed to feel important?

  He shook his head impatiently as she approached him again. It didn't matter to him what motivated Jaida West or others like her. His time for her was at an end, and he was more than ready to see the last of her.

  She walked to the motel room near him and inserted a key in the lock.

  "What are you up to now?" he demanded.

  "The woman in the office said we could look around for a few minutes," she answered, not looking at him. Her palms suddenly slippery, she pushed the door open and stepped over the threshold. The barrage of sensation that bombarded her as she walked farther into the room wasn't unexpected. She could feel the confusion and hopelessness thick in the air, and in the recesses of her mind a child cried. Benjy. He'd spent the night sobbing intermittently, crying for the comfort of his mother. She walked around the tiny, slightly seedy room, ignoring the chill creeping over her skin, the familiar pounding starting at her temples. Her gaze went to the window, with its view of the neon sign outside, the one that had fascinated the young child. Again her mind replayed Benjy slipping off the bed, toddling toward the window. Again she saw a hand grasp him by the back of his shirt and haul him back up on the bed. Closing her eyes, she focused fiercely on the fragment of mental replay. A man's arm, she decided, seeing the large bones and the dark hair on the forearm. A thick gold watchband had encircled the wrist.