Vibrations Read Free Page B

didn’t even acknowledge him.
    Sarah answered curtly, “Yes,
we’re heading there next and no, you don’t need to escort us.”
    “We’re coming anyway,” muttered
Nick as he got back into his car. This was worse than he thought, not even
pretending to give the victim’s family some comfort. What was the madman doing
while he was wasting his time following this quack job around to crime scenes?
    * * * *
    Whitney stood at the top of a
bank overlooking a small river running through the Navajo reservation. Teddy
pointed to a cave about fifty feet below them.
    “That’s it,” he said. “We have
to follow the trail down on the right, and then back up from below.”
    They all nodded and Whitney
took the lead. As they climbed down the tricky terrain, Nick noticed that she
looked even worse than before.
    “She looks like she’s afraid,”
Nick whispered to his partner. "It's not like she's going to see the body.
It's long gone by now. Why is she doing this if she's so squeamish? She looks
like she’s ready to faint.”
    Teddy shrugged. “No idea. Maybe
she’s sick.”
    Nick promised himself if they
ever decided to bring in another psychic, he would go on strike. He wanted to
refuse to be part of the sham but his captain had given him direct orders. It
felt like he was choosing to obey instead of fighting for the victims. He
looked up to see Whitney walking right into the crime scene. Sarah rushed up to
block him when he tried to follow.
    “She needs to do this alone,”
Sarah said sternly.
    Nick couldn’t help laughing. “What’s
the fun without an audience?” He stood back and crossed his arms, wondering
what useless knowledge the psychic would impart, if she said anything at all.
    As Whitney entered the small
cave, the vibrations hit her like a wave. Grabbing the uneven wall for support,
she pushed away the unessential memories of the policemen and crime techs that
had crowded the scene just days before. The voices outside began to fade as she
narrowed in on the lingering exchange she was searching for. Her body grew
rigid with fear and pain. The rock held the energy so well. She could feel the
recent horror and revulsion from the lawmen that had combed the area after the body
was discovered. This boy was named Justice. He was from the projects in the
south central part of Phoenix. His mama was a poor woman trying to raise her
kids and keep them out of the gangs. His older brother was sixteen and wanted
to be a reporter. Justice had been just six, the youngest one yet. He loved to
play soccer, football and hockey. Only the rich kids in Phoenix really played
hockey. Their parents spent lots of money on the gear and the ice time needed
to be on a team. Justice only dreamed about hockey.
    He played football with the
kids in the schoolyard almost every day. He was amazing for six. Everyone
talked about “the little quarterback”. She stood silently waiting for the
energy of the recent days to fade and concentrated on the growing fear of a
child. She could feel it. Her chest tightened as the vision flowed around her.
    A small boy was pleading, “No,
please. I’m sorry. Whatever made you mad, I’m sorry.” The boy was curled
against the back wall of the cave. His face was covered with dirt and tear
streaks. “Maybe my Mama can fix it for you. She’s good at fixing things. Please,”
the small voice begged. She heard his scream as the knife connected with his
flesh.
    The blade sliced across his
right thigh, then his chest. The boy was losing consciousness. Whitney fell to
her knees and grabbed the rock wall. The scene changed and she was seeing it
from different eyes. She felt the killer smiling and heard him singing. His
voice sounded like a small boy himself, but his hands were larger and stronger
than a young boy’s. “Take me out to the ball game. Take me out to the park. Buy
me some peanuts and cracker jacks.” He kept humming as he used the knife. She
could feel the anger growing as he started to stab