Sandi Brackeen

...and the power to raise the dead. Minor omission.

My cover on this assignment is that of a college student. I also work as a dog walker for the Bradens, who should be our primary suspects, so every afternoon, Angel, the Braden's German Shepherd, and I made the two block walk to the dog park near the Braden's house.

When I pulled in at the house, I could tell no one was home. The Bradens would be at the local dig site until at least dark, getting set up for the summer dig, and it wasn't unusual for Keesha and her nanny to be out in the early afternoon, so I clipped the leash on the dog and we headed for the park.

Oh, as for why they should be our primary suspects, that's the easy part. John Braden was the American archeologist on the Peruvian dig. His wife, Sonya, was the lead Anthropologist on that same dig, and that puts them at the top of the list of suspects. That placement is further supported by the fact that someone else also believes they have the spade. Our file also indicates that things have been stolen from other dig sites when they were in charge. The hard part is that there's no evidence, solid or otherwise, that they took the spade, or that they were involved in any of the other thefts.

I've gotten to know the Bradens and Mena, the operative from Cerberus Security who's been acting as Keesha's nanny, fairly well, and as an empath, I can tell you that the Bradens are definitely anxious, scared even. The catch is that even with my empathic skill, it's hard to tell one anxiety from another, and they have a very legitimate reason to be anxious. Someone is threatening to kidnap their daughter.

Once inside the dog park, I unclipped Angel's leash and let her run with the other two dogs in the park. They were regulars, and Angel played well with the yellow Lab and the Malinois that often shared the park with us. While she burned off the first burst of energy, I tucked the Frisbee between my knees and pulled the mass of red curls that passes for hair in my world back in a ponytail. Angel is a great Frisbee dog. She could play for hours, and we usually spend at least an hour at the park.

As I tossed the Frisbee and watched her track and leap for the disk, it occurred to me that just as we'd decided it truly was a mundane case, our boss dropped this little bombshell on us. Isn't that always the way? Just as you think you know what's going on, somebody comes along and changes the rules. I couldn't tell if it was that realization, or exactly what brought it on, but we'd only been at the park for about twenty minutes when I started getting restless.

My intuition sometimes expresses itself as a kind of itch along my spine. My family says it sounds a lot like what you feel when you first shift shapes, but, of course, I wouldn't really know, other than second hand through my empathy. For me, it's just the way my intuition works. Usually reliable, it's sometimes more paranoia than anything else. Most of the time it's hard to tell the difference.

There was no reason to expect any problems at the Braden's. Other than the phoned in kidnapping threats, it had been quiet for five months, but something, something undefined, crawled up my spine and pushed me back toward the house. I kept telling myself that Mena could handle anything that might come up, otherwise Cerberus wouldn't have hired her, and then tried to push the nagging feeling to the back of my mind by focusing on what facts we had about the case. Why the department hadn't bothered to let us in on what was probably the true reason the spade was stolen until now was foremost on my mind. Getting caught off guard is one of my pet peeves. Some would say that makes me a control freak; I say it keeps me alive.

Angel picked up on my nervousness and the closer we got to the Braden's, the more she pulled on the leash. By the time we approached the house, we were jogging. Sweat dripped down my back, my hair was damp, and I could feel it beginning to frizz around the scrunchy tie that held it back.

The neighborhood was quiet, and other than the fact that Mena's car was now in the Braden's driveway, it looked just like it had when I left. The two-story home with its bright ribbon of flowerbeds looked peaceful and inviting in the afternoon sun. As we got closer, the sense of dread that had chased me back from the park increased until it was a hard knot of tension in the pit of my stomach. I stopped by my car and grabbed my gun, tucking it into my waistband and pulling my tank top down over it as Angel and I approached the house. It looked like Mena and Keesha were the only ones home, and Mena knew who I was.

As we walked up the steps, darkness oozed from the house and reached toward me. I slowly turned the knob, but as the door eased open, Angel charged through, jerking the leash and the door out of my hand, and causing me to jump when she bumped my leg as she leapt past me in her charge up the stairs. The door slammed against the wall. Emotions assaulted my shields, and my vision grayed around the edges. Instinctively, I grabbed for my gun with one hand while grasping for the wall with the other, trying to maintain my balance. Minutes ticked by as I worked to strengthen my shields, trying to push back the darkness while wave after wave of fear and the shock of unexpected death in the house slammed into me.

Two-year-old Keesha Braden was crying somewhere in the house. When the emotions blasting me began to sort themselves out, Keesha's fear was most of what was pounding my shields. Knowing that helped me push back the emotional overload, and begin to function again. She was somewhere on the first floor. My first instinct was to follow the dog up the stairs to investigate, but leaving Keesha was out of the question. Taking care of her wasn't actually my job, but, of course, the job description goes out the window when it comes to the safety of a child. I had to get her out of the house.

I edged down the hallway, past the formal living room, until I could just see through the door that opened into the sunroom. The afternoon breeze caused the trees to cast flickering shadows through the bay windows that wrapped three sides of the sunroom and made it hard to tell if Keesha was alone in the room. None of the other emotions in the house seemed to be coming from the sunroom, but Keesha's fear was tangible, and that could easily be overpowering a lesser emotion from someone else. She was standing near one of the window seats, blonde ringlets in wild disarray, fist in her mouth, screaming.

My empathy is usually very reliable; however, some people can shield themselves well enough that it's impossible to read their emotions. In most cases, even an untrained empath can sense shields, and someone with my training can pick shields out in a crowd. In a situation like this, however, there's no margin for error, so I make it a point to double check before stumbling blindly into a situation that can get someone hurt. Inching closer to the door, I peered inside to confirm that the room was clear and slipped through the door. I tucked my gun back in my waistband and quickly gathered Keesha into my arms.

"Hi Keesha. Why don't we go outside for a while?" I said quietly. "It,s ok now, we're going to go to my car." As I held her close and projected reassurance, her hysterical sobs began to subside while we made our way back to the front door. Once Keesha quieted, Angel's growling and her outrage that someone had dared to invade her territory, drifted down to me. Only one person was upstairs, and that person wasn't who it should be. Mena should be here, but no trace of her emotions remained in the house. The only thing left of her was a void in the house where life should be. There's a unique emotional sensation that comes with sudden death. Rather than there just not being any emotion to feel, it's like there's a hole in the emotional fabric of the house.

A shot exploded through the house. Keesha screamed again. Clutching her tighter, I ran out the front door. My heart ached at not being able to go back in to see for myself what had happened to Mena, and check on Angel, but my only option at this point was to call the cops. With the lack of actual activity the past five months, we'd all been lulled into a false sense of security and didn't really expect any problems. That was our first mistake.

My ragged, rust and green Ford Escort was parked in front of the house. When we reached the car, I opened the passenger door and tried to put Keesha in. She wrapped her arms around me tighter and screamed louder. Finally, I sat down in the seat and swung myself in with Keesha still attached. Holding her close to me, we leaned over and I reached under the driver's seat to replace my gun. Once she stopped screaming again, I pulled out my cell phone, dialed 911 and then Keesha's parents.

"Braden." Keesha's father answered on the second ring.

"Dr. Braden, something's happened at the house!" I almost sobbed into the phone. "I've got Keesha with me, and I've called the police, but I can't find Mena. Angel was after something upstairs, and I think I heard a gunshot!"

"Where are you now?"

"In my car! With the doors locked!" I focused on sounding just a bit unsteady and very scared. I really was a bit unsteady because my senses told me Mena was dead, but I was more pissed than scared.

"Good. Stay there! Don't go back in. We're on our way." Dr. Braden disconnected without waiting for a reply.

My ability to make people believe I am an innocent, and in this case, frightened, nineteen-year-old, was a large part of the reason we'd been assigned to this case. The tone of Dr. Braden's voice told me I was succeeding.

While we waited, with me rocking and soothing Keesha, I worried. Worried about Mena, worried that the Braden's would move to a safe house, and I would have no reason to be there, worried that we wouldn't catch the guy before he could hurt someone else, worried that we wouldn't find the spade before whoever had it, used it.

Within moments, sirens screamed up the street, and a sea of flashing lights surrounded the house. I climbed out of the car, Keesha still clinging to me, as a police officer and the paramedics approached me.

"Are you Riley Perez?" The officer seemed very young, even to my twenty-six years.

"Yes Officer."

"What happened here?"

"I don't know really. I took the dog to the park, and when we came back, Keesha was downstairs, screaming. The dog went up the stairs after something, so I just grabbed Keesha and brought her out here."

"That was a smart move Ms. Perez. Are you and the child OK?"

"I am, and I think she is too. She seems to be mostly scared."

"Is anyone else in the house?"

"Keesha'’s nanny is supposed to be in there, but I didn't see any sign of her.'

The young officer waved the paramedics over. "Once you're through with the paramedics we'll need to speak with you again."

"Sure. No problem."

"We'll need to check you both over," the paramedic said, reaching out for Keesha. She screamed and clutched my neck.

"How about if I bring her over in a minute," I said. "Let me see if I can calm her down a little more."

"Ok. Just bring her over as soon as you can." We walked around for a few minutes while Keesha adapted to the noise and lights. I tried to listen in to what the police were saying, to each other and over the radio while we walked, but Keesha was still scared so most of my attention was focused on keeping her calm. Finally, with the resilience of a two-year old, she began to take an interest in all the activity in the house and the yard. Once she was calm enough to let one of the paramedics hold her, we made our way over to the ambulance that was angled in behind my car.

What I had managed to overhear confirmed my suspicions and tore at my heart. They'd found Mena in the nursery: dead. She'd apparently been shot before my return. A bullet had grazed Angel's shoulder, and she'd been knocked out, but she would be okay. She'd managed to tear a scrap of material from the killer's pants.

"Are you alright?" The paramedic not tending Keesha pulled me back from dark thoughts my mind had wandered to after handing Keesha over. "Are you hurt at all?"

"I'm fine. All I did was carry Keesha out of the house."

"Ok, let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks."

While the paramedics were checking Keesha, Jeff Monroe, one of the owners of Cerberus Security, and Mena's employer, pulled in. Jeff would be leaving town the next day on another case. His partner, Cameron Delany, who was finishing up a case in Dallas, would be taking over. I hadn't met Cam, so it remained to be seen whether this was a good thing or not. Jeff and I had come to a rather grudging, at least on his part, understanding about my position there.

The paramedics returned Keesha to me, and when John and Sonya Braden pulled in behind Jeff, Sonya jumped out of the car, almost before it stopped. She ran toward me, glowing with panic. Wisps of blonde hair that matched her daughter's, trailed from the neat bun she normally wore. If Keesha had been a sensitive, her mother's terror would certainly have had her screaming again. It had almost that effect on me, and I worked to expand my shield to include Keesha.

Expanding your shields to include another person is not easy, even for experienced empaths, but the last thing I wanted was for Keesha to start screaming again. I hurried over to show Sonya that Keesha was fine as she tried to push past the cops securing the area. Once we managed to establish her identity, she was allowed in. Pulling Keesha from my arms, she hugged her tightly. I could feel the panic subside and eased my shield from around Keesha as it did.

"Thank you!" She said, "Thank you for taking care of my baby."

"You're welcome," I said, "but really, I didn't do much."

Before Sonya could say more, John Braden, a tall bearded man twenty years Sonya's senior approached us. With him was a detective.

"Ms. Perez?"

"Yes?"

"We've got some questions we need to ask you."

"Sure." I excused myself from the Drs. Braden who were still hugging and cooing over Keesha and followed the officer to his car.

DUE prefers that we not reveal ourselves to the local police unless we've officially been called in on the case, which we hadn't, so as far as the cops were concerned, I was just a college student who walked the Braden's dog, and I had to maintain that facade. However, not only was it me who called the police, I had also been at the house twenty minutes earlier. The police were very interested in talking to me.

"Miss Perez, we need to establish your whereabouts for the last few hours."

"Ok, sure. I was in class until about an hour ago. Then I came here to get the dog, and we went to the park."

"What class was that?"

"I had Archeology this morning, and then went to the library until around noon, grabbed some lunch, and went to my Criminology lab that lasted until five." I saw no reason not to pick up a couple of classes toward my own Master's in Criminal Justice since I was going to be taking classes anyway.

"Can that be verified?"

"Sure. I have Dr. John Braden for Archeology, and my Criminology professor takes roll every class." Some professors never take roll, and while generally I consider taking roll a waste of time when I could be learning something, for once I appreciated it.

"What's the Professor's name?"

"Jefferson. Frank Jefferson."

"Did you talk to Ms. Corley when you were here before?"

"No, She wasn't home, but I talked to her on the phone earlier this afternoon. She said Keesha had a Dr.'s appointment this afternoon."

"Where did you go to walk the dog?"

"To the Dog Park, three blocks over. We go there almost every day." At least he was allowing that I might have walked the dog. "Can anyone verify that?"

"Well, I said hi to a couple of people I see at the park regularly, but I don't know their names. They're there almost every day. They might still be there."

The detective called a uniform over. They snapped an instant picture of me, and presumably the cop went off to check out the park. "How well did you know the deceased?"

"We started working for the Bradens about the same time, first of the semester. I really liked her."

"Do you know of any reason someone would want to kill her?" It's my guess that he didn't figure the dog walker would know about the kidnapping threats, but Mena wasn't usually the only member of Cerberus Security present, and when a college professor has on site security twenty-four seven, it's a good bet something's up. Even if I hadn't been from DUE, it would have been hard to miss.

From the way he was asking the questions, it was hard to tell whether he knew about the kidnapping threats himself or not. Cops are really good at closing themselves off from the horrors they see, so his emotions weren't any help. It's not so much shields as just shutting their feelings inside. When someone shields, they feel all the emotions they normally would, those emotions just don't get past the shields. Cops just don't let themselves feel the emotions when they're at a crime scene. I hadn't expected to get much from his emotions, and he ran true to form.

"No. Mena got along with everyone as far as I know." My breath caught on a sob, and I silently swore to find the person who killed her. "She was really sweet. I don't know why anyone would want to kill her."

Unfortunately, since I wasn't at the house when Mena was killed, my answers weren't much help. The cops weren't particularly happy about it, but after I repeated my story for three different detectives, and the uniform came back from the park and verified that both the dog and I had been there earlier, they had to let me go.

Jeff was standing by his truck where he too had been talking with the police. When they released me, he came over.

"Riley, can I get you to do me a favor?"

"Sure. What do you need?"

"We're moving the Braden's to a safe house for the next few days. Since the police don't want anything disturbed until they've finished, they won't let them back in the house just now. I need you to pick up a couple of changes of clothes for John and Sonya."

"Not a problem." Picking up the clothes would give me a reason to go to the safe house. I could almost have kissed Jeff for thinking of that one. "Do you need anything for Keesha?"

"No, we're good there. I had the office stock clothes and supplies for Keesha, and of course, all the basics are there, but we didn't expect John and Sonya to have to stay at the safe house, even if we had to take Keesha there for a while. They don't want to leave, and they don't want to take her out to a store after she's been so upset."

"I can certainly understand that," I said and meant it. The last thing I wanted to think about at this point was upsetting Keesha. For a small child, she has immense lung capacity.

Jeff handed me some money and a slip of paper with John and Sonya's sizes on it, told me the address, and moved off to get everyone loaded into the vehicles that would transport them to their new temporary home. We both knew he could easily have called someone from his office, but if the Braden's thought it odd that their security company gave the address of the safe house to their dog walker, they didn't mention it.

A quick stop at the mall later and the Braden's had clothes to wear to the dig site the next day. I drove around a bit to make sure no one had followed me, and then followed his directions east 380 to 377 and went north until I finally found Benson Road. About three miles down Benson, I turned on what I hoped was the right dirt road. By this time it was dark, and the trees that lined both sides and hung over the road, closed off sight of anything but the dirt track in front of me. After about a half-mile, I came to a closed gate.

When I pulled up to the gate, an armed guard in a Cerberus Security uniform stepped out and politely demanded my ID. He called the house, and then waved me through. The driveway was dirt, and seemed to go on forever. More trees blocked any view of the house from the road, but once I got about a hundred yards past the gate, they vanished with a suddenness that caught me off guard, and what appeared, in the dark, to be plowed fields, replaced them. Almost a mile further in sat the house itself. At night, it looked large and imposing, but the perimeter lights ensured that no area around the house was in shadow. A few scattered trees in the yard made it look slightly less like a castle and more like a home.

Jeff met me at the door and took the packages. 'They're in the den,' he said and led me toward the back of the house.

The Bradens were sitting in a cheery family room filled with evidence of a family that was apparently not currently in residence. In the corner, soft rock was playing on a stereo system that would have had my partner, the technophile, drooling. Keesha was playing on the floor at their feet. It was my guess that it would be a little while yet before they had any chance of getting her to sleep.

John Braden asked if I would pick Angel up at the vet's office the next morning, and I agreed. The adrenaline was beginning to wear off for all the adults, and the let down and their exhaustion hung off their shoulders like cloaks. If the Bradens were lucky, the adrenaline would be wearing off soon for Keesha as well, so I kept my visit brief. When I said goodnight and started for the door, Jeff walked me out.

"You'll need to know what Cam looks like," Jeff said, handing me a photo of a nice, but fairly average, looking man with dark hair. "I'll see that he knows what you look like too, so you don't shoot each other in the morning." With no wall around the place, I could see the point in making doubly sure who everyone was, even with the guard on the road.

"After today, that's probably a good plan," I said with a laugh that I hoped hid how angry I was with myself for not being at the house to stop Mena from being killed, and with Cerberus for having only one agent on duty this afternoon.

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