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After a workout and meditation with Sifu Yong, Craig's head had cleared considerably. The dreams and visions still sat in his mind, but concentration on the day came easier now. Even his concerns about Tyrone seemed smaller now. A shower helped complete his return to humanity
So a refreshed Craig Ramsey entered the kitchen to find Emily bustling about in the living room. The television was on, playing an old movie with Liam Neeson and Jessica Lange. Craig guessed Emily must have been watching it, and upon hearing him, bustled back to her duties. Sometimes she did that and would turn the television off to hide the fact, but this time she was too late. On the screen, Liam Neeson emerged from a lake as naked as a newborn baby - only cleaner with less goo.
"Is that Rob Roy?" Craig asked Emily who was dusting the already-spotless shelves.
The Scottish lady looked up towards Craig, a smidgen of red glowing on her otherwise pallid features. "Who?"
Laughter escaped Craig's mouth. "Don't tell me you don't know who Rob Roy was."
"Of course, I never knew Rob Roy MacGregor," Emily responded with a pout. "Not well, anyway." She winked. "Old Rob was in his sixties when he died, and I was but twenty. But he and my Daddy were friends. But that Liam Neeson reminds me of my husb-"
The phone's ringing interrupted Emily, leaving Craig intrigued. The Scottish lady spirit rarely spoke about her living existence before becoming a spirit. But the insistent phone's tone demanded his attention. Perhaps it was Brianna ringing? He grabbed the phone and sighed with relief upon seeing Brianna's caller ID.
Brianna's voice came through the phone, controlled but shaky. "Craig?"
Emily noted the worry lines crowding Craig's face and hovered closer as he responded.
"Yes? Are you okay?"
Brianna's voice remained composed with the slightest tremor. "I'm okay, but I need to talk to you. Are you busy?"
Thoughts fluttered through Craig's head. Whatever happened must have been terrible. Brianna would have seen horrors during her military career prior to the police. For something to upset her now, it must have been horrible.
"Yes, of course, you can."
Brianna replied that she would be around in twenty-to-thirty minutes before hanging up.
"What happened?" Emily asked. "Is Brianna hurt?"
Craig shook his head with a slight shrug as he headed towards the refrigerator to check inside. "Not from what I can tell."
The spirit floated around in front of him. "Is it that horrible detective Gifford? Has he done something?"
"Tony Gifford?" Craig raised an eyebrow. "What do you know about him?"
A knowing smile emerged from Emily's face. "I met him the other night when I visited Brianna in her office."
Sensing Craig's curiosity, Emily added, "He seems to have taken a shine to your lady friend. Who knows?" Her voice changed to an enigmatic tone. "He's persistent." The words hung in the air, silent but cunning as a shithouse rat, as Emily hovered away towards the lounge area again. "The Universe has a way of giving us things and testing if we truly want what we wished for. What do you want, my boy?"
***
A dishevelled woman stared back when Brianna checked her reflection in the rear-view mirror. Tremors ran through her hands as she attempted pushing her hair back in place. And a quiver escaped her lower lip. Hold on, she told herself.
She had booked to speak with a counsellor in the morning. It was the best they could do, but it wasn't good enough. She needed to speak with someone, and it had to be someone she trusted. Craig.
Brianna blew her nose, pushed her hair in place again, and stepped out of the car. Craig's front lights shone like a lighthouse beacon for a returning ship. Comfort and familiarity.
The door swung open before Brianna could raise her finger to push the bell. A shudder ran through Brianna, making her jump, when she saw a translucent shape that resembled a human woman. She couldn't stop the startled cry. The shape froze for a moment before floating forward, and a familiar voice spoke.
"Dear Brianna! It's me."
Brianna scrunched her eyes. A relieved smile broke her rampant stress' fog like a sunbeam through storm clouds. "Emily? Is that you?"
"In the ectoplasm," Emily responded, her spectral arms wrapping around Brianna. "Can you really see me now?"
"You're faint, like looking through cellophane wrapping." Brianna rubbed her eyes before looking again. "Are you making yourself visible to me?"
Emily's arms felt comfortable to Brianna as the spirit led her inside Craig's home. The gentle aroma of Italian food - pasta, bacon, and something else - teased her nostrils and calmed her more. Craig's cooking.
"You experienced something shocking today, didn't you?" Understanding and knowing filled Emily's sentence. "Your psychic senses are still developing, and sometimes shock brings them on faster. The ectoplasm in your blood system is still working on you. One day, who knows, you may see me much better."
Emily's words flew past Brianna's mind. Her psychic abilities were still developing. That explained it. The kitchen was homier than Brianna's and lifted her spirits, reminding Brianna of her adopted mother's home in Banksia Grove. Things were so different since she left home to join the Army so many years ago.
Craig looked up from the stove where he was taste-testing what smelled like carbonara. His eyes lit up upon seeing her and returned the spoon to its pot before approaching and holding her in his strong arms. Comfort. There it was. His warm breath on her neck soothed her more when she returned the hug. "Hey," he said, smoothing her hair with his fingers. "You're shaking. Come and sit down."
He placed a glass of Gavi di Gavi in Brianna's hand. She drained it before she realised it.
Craig turned to glance at Emily who nodded and left the room while he looked at the wine bottle on the bench and again at the depleted glass.
The buzzing in Brianna's head was fading. Her shoulders relaxed as she sat back among the cushions, and she remained quiet, her mood calming, until Craig spoke in a gentle voice.
"Are you feeling better?"
Brianna nodded, conjuring a smile from somewhere that threatened to unseat her shock. Shaky fingers placed the glass on a coaster strategically set by her host. "I'm okay. Shaken, not stirred." A laugh escaped at her joke.
Craig watched with patient eyes and remained silent. Those eyes. Brianna had seen them before, looked into them, but now they held another light. Had it been there, or was she seeing things differently, just like she could see whispers of Emily's spirit form now? Perhaps. Maybe it was something else. Shock. Yes, it must be. An encouraging smile from him.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Craig asked.
She didn't have to talk about what happened, did she? Hadn't he seen what happened when he hugged her? Couldn't he touch her and know? That was his psychic power. But Brianna understood; Craig's insight told him Brianna needed to talk. Of course! Talk. Get it all out so she could heal. He was her counsellor before the meeting the next morning.
Brianna nodded. "You were right, you know." Her fingers curled into a fist. "We found the killer."
***
"When we left the station, the first thing I noticed was Gifford stayed quiet until we reached the car. We were halfway to the river bank near Royal Park where the homeless people hold a camp by the time he said anything. But I had to speak first." Brianna swirled the wine in her glass, watching the light play and bend in the liquid.
"I asked Tony about the taxi cab. What else did they know about it? He said, "Toomey the Confessor has it.""
"Confessor?" Craig asked.
Brianna nodded. "Whenever we have cases attracting media attention, George Toomey comes out of the woodwork. I first met him when I joined the police service here. It was my first day. Hohenhaus was desk sergeant and Toomey was telling him how he had committed the Crime of the Century by stealing jewellery from Myers. Of course, he hadn't."
"He sounds like a lonely man," Craig responded, sipping his own wine and sitting back into his own chair. "How do you handle people like him?"
"Hohenhaus asked him for the loot, saying he'd let Toomey off the hook if he gave it back." Brianna managed a small grin. "No robbery happened. Toomey cooked it all up in his head but handed over a heap of tiny pebbles. Hohenhaus collected them in a plastic bag as 'evidence' and told Toomey to stay out of trouble."
Craig chuckled and Brianna continued.
"Toomey even confessed to being Denton the sniper," Brianna added. "Did I tell you about that? No, I don't think I did. So when Toomey came in three weeks ago and told the new desk sergeant about killing the women, no one believed him. His story matched what the media knew, and we took no notice. Why would we? Toomey has been such a fixture of everyday life for us, we didn't believe him!"
Brianna's eyes dropped, contemplating the glass sitting on the coaster. "I never expected Toomey to steal a car, not even a taxi. But here's the kicker. Gifford also gave me the other news. They found the cabbie who owned the taxi dead last week. Dr Kroot had found evidence of the driver having sexual activity just before he died, and something with fangs had bitten his throat."
Craig's eyes opened wide for a second before narrowing in suspicion. "Blood sucked out?"
Brianna cast a look at Craig, a mixture of impatience and incredulity. Blood sucked out? Was he kidding? Maybe not.
"No. He died from suffocation or heart failure. Something had squeezed the life out of him. I'd say Toomey found the empty cab, maybe with its keys in the ignition, and taken it as a mobile home for himself."
Craig excused himself and left his chair to serve up dinner. Rather than set places at the dining table, he set place mats on the coffee table before serving up the aromatic pasta dish. Brianna must have gathered a significant appetite and licked her lips.
"We parked the car away from Tent Town," Brianna said, once Craig sat opposite her. "And by the time we reached it, we were sweating like pigs. Ha! Did you know Tent Town, a place where homeless people camp together, has its own 'mayor'? Neither did I. But a group of them approached, and the 'mayor' spoke with us. Webber is his name. Webber told us Toomey was still out. Perhaps we should have listened closer when he mentioned Toomey's behaviour had changed. But he mentioned the taxi cab, and I assumed Webber meant that. About thirty minutes must have passed while we waited, and then we saw him."
"The Toomey I recall from the past walked about like a mouse with his back hunched, ready to jump at the slightest sound. He lacked confidence in his walk, only showing it when telling stories. But this Toomey was different. He resembled him by features but not posture. The man we saw approaching Tent Town walked like he owned the place. Even the mayor had commented earlier on Toomey's changed behaviour, from a wallflower type to a confident man, although he kept to himself. Webber guessed 'owning a car' did that to Toomey.
"Seeing a man and a woman together in Tent Town seems odd, considering its inhabitants are all male. Maybe we have that air of cops around us, but Toomey noticed us straight away. He's damn fast. When he ran off, I had to run at a full sprint to come within twenty metres of him as he dodged through the trees and bushes. Gifford puffed something about him taking off like a wild animal. I know what he meant because Toomey bounded like a deer. Instead of crashing through one bush, or dodging it, he bounded over it like a kangaroo. The whole time, he chattered with his high-pitched voice.
"At last, we saw where he was headed. The taxi cab was ahead. I would have tackled him as he unlocked it, but Gifford had other ideas. He removed his gun, aimed and shot out two tyres. The discharges were loud, cracked like thunder, and I heard screams from nearby civilians. Gifford shouldn't have done it, not with them around. Maybe he'll hear about it later from above,
"Toomey turned to face us and dashed straight for us. He'd always seemed shorter before, but this time he seemed bigger, heavier, and more powerful; not the weak little guy I remember. Surprised by Toomey's attack, we hesitated, ready to tackle him. It was a ploy. The confessor about-faced away from us and dashed straight for his car again, and as he reached it... he jumped over it!" Brianna's face matched the astonishment in her voice. "He didn't even slow down as he bounded like a gazelle. Gifford muttered something but I couldn't catch it for his heavy breathing.
"Meanwhile Toomey continued dashing without stopping and dodged in and out of the afternoon traffic. We kept following on foot. Too far back for the car and the road was thick with vehicles.
"We battled to keep up. Toomey always looked weak and pasty, but as a human mouse, he did well. We chased him for three blocks before we caught him, and it was only because he ran into a blind alley.
"Gifford made a comment. Both of us were panting, puffing and sweating from the run. Toomey wasn't even sweating.
"He stood there, his feet taking an even stance, and waited for us to catch our breath at the entrance. There were no exits at the other side. A brick wall stopped him, and so did the building's locked doors. The place looked dead.
"I called out to Toomey, told him we wanted to ask questions. But he remained like a statue. I thought he made a small smile, but it disappeared. Maybe it was exertion from the recent running. But I'm not sure now. I approached him slowly. We really wanted to ask him about the cab, how he found it, where, and so forth. Confessors always want to be caught but not him.
"I moved forward, my hands in front of me with palms outward and showing me unarmed. Toomey narrowed his eyes and his head leaned forward so he looked up through his eyebrows at me. Despite the running, he barely puffed. Homeless people must be stronger than I thought, and more resilient. I was within ten feet of Toomey when he reacted. One moment he was there, the next he was to my side. After one shove, I fell hard against the brick wall and he slapped me hard. Tony was already moving and jumping on Toomey. Both fought hard, hard enough for me to see a splatter of blood (Tony's?) land on my feet.
"Then Tony screams a scream I last heard in Timor. The same sound a man makes when he's in mortal pain. I caught a flash of something, a blade. And it's a long one. Shock filled me. Tony dropped to the ground. Blood pooled around him. But he was still alive.
"Toomey was about to run, and he takes a step. I tripped him, pushed him to the ground, and stomped on his knife hand. Then I knocked him out. It happened fast and I cuffed him. After kicking the knife away, I approached Tony. He's holding his hand over his stomach wound, but his blood seeped between his fingers. So much blood. I haven't seen that since the military. Tony's face was white from shock and he had trouble breathing without screaming.
"But it didn't end there.
"While I'm trying to slow Tony's bleeding, a scraping sound comes to my ears. Panic hit me. Was Toomey up and after us? But, no. He was up on his feet, contemplating the cuffs holding his hands behind him. In one motion, he jumps, lifts his feet in the air, and moves his restrained hands under him like a skipping rope so they're now in front of him. Then he runs!
"Maybe I should have run after him, but I couldn't leave Tony there, bleeding and dying. Toomey was out of the alley, running into traffic and out of sight. Horns blared and brakes squealed, followed by a sickening sound.
"Toomey had run in front of a bus which couldn't stop. He died on impact."
***
Brianna paused, eyes unfocused. While talking, she had finished the plate of food, which pleased Craig. He had worried Brianna might have lost her appetite.
"How is Tony?" Craig asked.
Brianna glanced towards him. A fleeting thought passed her mind, visible in her eyes, before vanishing. "He's in hospital now. The knife missed his vitals, but he's going to be sore for some time. Very lucky guy. By the way, the knife is really old. The design on its handle looks like something from ancient days, thousands of years ago, but the blade is keen."
Craig nodded. He didn't like Tony, but he wished no harm either.
"Craig, tell me the vision you had when you said we'd find the killer."
Not the question he expected from Brianna. Craig took a deep breath and let it go. "My vision involved you and Tony in the alley with the killer." Craig's voice trailed away.
"Your words are truth," Brianna replied, her face hard with focused certainty, "but there's something else you're not telling me. Tony told me in the hospital that you saw something happen to me. If he hadn't pushed me out of the way... What did you see?"
Craig paused, realising how things looked. Tony Gifford was still working his way to Brianna, it seemed. "The truth is," he started, "I saw you both killed."
"Tony and I both died?" Brianna's face whitened. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Craig's eyes closed. "I saw the vision multiple times, Brianna. Sometimes, but not always, I see the vision in different perspectives. It's like watching a DVD with different movie endings. If an action changes, it produces a different reaction."
"Gobble-de-gook," Brianna said. "What aren't you telling me?"
"I had to look at it in different ways. If Tony had done nothing, Toomey would have sliced you up before Tony could jump in, only to be killed as well. If Tony went first, he would have been stabbed through the throat before you were cut from your genitals to your sternum." A stunned look perched on Brianna's face at Craig's words; her lips moved to speak, but he pressed further. "If I'd told you instead of Tony, he would be dead, but you would have been seriously hurt too, dying hours later."
"But you-"
"But I offered to come along and to help," Craig added, picking up Brianna's empty plate and stacking it with his own on the coffee table.
"And you would have saved us both, I suppose," Brianna quipped.
Craig remained silent, picked up the dishes and took them to the kitchen where he rinsed them. Brianna watched his face and must have realised something. Lifting a hand to her lips to cover her shock, she inhaled. "Oh, my God. Neither Tony nor I would have received injuries or died, but... you would have died instead, wouldn't you?"
Craig stood from the dishwasher after stacking the dishes and shut it. "Dessert?"
"No!" Brianna responded. "I mean, yes, dessert would be good, but you're not changing the subject. Would you have died or been hurt instead of Tony and me?"
"Yes, let's change the subject," Craig replied. "You need to gain another perspective for which you're missing the point. You are alive. Tony's alive. We are all alive, and you're bloody welcome." He tossed Brianna a Cornetto which she caught. "There's your dessert."
Brianna looked at the Cornetto, turning it in her hand. Looking up, she said, "So you were really looking for the best possible outcome?"
Craig took a bite from his ice-cream, crunching into the chocolate top, and nodded. "You would have done the same, wouldn't you?"
"I would hope so," she answered, "but you could have fought harder to come along, you know. Tony would have appreciated the chance to have me for himself."
She fought to disguise her smile, but her eyes laughed too much and released her broad grin. A pillow flew through the air, missing her by a foot.
Craig replied, rolling his eyes and polishing off his dessert. "Just can't make you happy, can I?"
Brianna moved closer, leaning closer. "Up for some makeup sex?"
***
Their lovemaking flowed easily, taking them from the living room to the bedroom with clothes trailing their migration. For both of them, the primal dance was necessary to break the tension in a way where actions speak louder than words. At last, after the dirty talking, the kissing and fondling that led to them joining in frenzied earnestness, they came to the same conclusion. Then gave more of themselves again before exhaustion left them asleep in each other's arms.
After a delicious dream that possibly drew inspiration from their recent nocturnal activity, Brianna's eyes opened. A smile played upon her face briefly as she watched Craig's face as the moonlight caressed it the way he had caressed her earlier. Even in sleep, he held that expression: a hybrid of confident cockiness overcoating a strong sensitivity to others. He reminded her in ways of her past love Tom, the only man for whom she could give love. At times, particularly when she fought with Craig, Tom seemed to shine through his eyes. Craig may have been thinner than Tom, but he held the same swagger and was just as capable. Another smile appeared on her face as she remembered the brief rivalry between Tony and Craig. Memory came to Brianna of when she had reached towards Craig's hand before leaving with Tony to the murder scene. She had seen how Tony was peacocking, trying to psyche out Craig and make him jealous. Rather than create an embarrassing scene she wanted to touch Craig's hand, knowing he would pick up her thoughts and intentions. Although Craig wasn't the jealous type, she wanted him to know how she felt. But he had seen more. Brianna's mind flipped back to Tom, then to Craig. Then she knew.
Brianna sighed and attempted to move without disturbing Craig's arm which lay across her in a loose but protective embrace. He stirred slightly, and she kissed his lips, whispering, "I love you."
Although sleeping, he responded in kind, rolling onto his back as he mumbled. "I love you too, Celina."
Brianna's eyes flipped open.
Celina?
***
"Celina," he whispered, fear and abandonment flowing through him as he watched the willowy blonde fade away before his outstretched hand.
But he couldn't stop her. Darkness swallowed him. Something gripped his arms and ankles, pulling him in different directions. Enemy hands threw him upon a table, hard as a rack, and secured his limbs in cold steel. A sense of déjà vu staggered his thoughts as he realised where he was. Craig jumped as the cold dry material draped across his face. He wanted to scream, but it was to no avail.
Cold, icy water drowned his cries and screams as Blaze's laughter echoed in the blackness. "I found you, Mr Ramsey. This time you can't be helped."
But Blazes voice changed, and the dripping towel whipped away from his mouth. Craig choked back water, peering through the darkness at the shadow. It wasn't Blaze standing there. This creature also looked familiar, but from where? Eyes of coppery amber glowed like coals dipped in hellfire from a face wrinkled like mildewed brown paper. A top hat perched above them, black as the ace of spades and cold as obsidian. From the shoulders billowed a cape, blowing in a breeze that he couldn't feel.
Slash! The blade sang as it cut through the air. A curious sound and a strange numbness took his body as blood ripped through the air from his chest. Again, the dagger plunged into him, slicing him from the chest to his pelvis. Then something grabbed his privates, stretching them out as the blade hung in the air. The laughter that rolled deep from the bowels of Hades stifled his will.
Now another person, similar in appearance but this one he knew. The face was young although the eyes were centuries old. "Craig, listen to me. Jack is back!"
The knife stabbed downwards again, slicing him as he woke.
Sweat dripped from Craig's nakedness as he peered up at the ceiling in the comfort of sudden wakefulness. Khan and the Ripper's voices still filled his consciousness. His chest heaved another breath as he looked beside him to check on Brianna. She was still there, her chest moving with each breath of silent sleep, and he allowed himself to relax. Everything was okay. It was just a dream.