Angel's Dance (8 page)

Grant pulled into a six story
apartment building. Clear looked around. The place was probably
once a very nice complex, but the lower class neighborhoods to the
North were encroaching and there were signs of poor management and
upkeep that indicated that it wasn’t as nice as it had once
been.

They walked into the building and a
sign on the elevator indicated that it was out of order. Grant
swore under his breath. Clear glanced at him. “What floor?” she
asked, not particularly concerned.

“
Fifth.” Grant led her
around to the stairs and they began to climb. Taking the stairs
felt good after being cramped in a car for almost two whole days.
Clear took deep breaths and could feel the pent up energy and
nerves being released through the process. Grant was not fairing as
well. By the third floor he had slowed considerably. She glanced
over and made sure he was alright, but despite him slowing down he
seemed to be handling it. She had never thought of Grant as in bad
shape, but she had never seen him take particular care of himself
either. What with the drinking and TV dinners, she imagined he
probably did not have much of a workout routine going
either.

The stairs took a turn and in the turn
Clear brushed against the railings and images flashed through her
mind, throwing her off-balance. She tumbled into Grant and they
nearly fell down the stairs before he planted his leg preventing
it. For a moment Clear was still off-balance, but was painfully
aware that he had caught her about the waist and his hand was
dangerously close to her breast, while the other rested on her hip.
She pulled back a little flustered.

“
Uh.. Are you ok?” Grant
asked, only sounding a bit out of breath.

Clear glared at the offending stair
rail, trying to process what she had seen and felt without touching
the stupid thing again. It had been lustful thoughts of a very
pretty young girl. Thoughts had by a very ugly old man. She tried
to mentally shake the oogy feelings her own body responded with and
tried to focus on the images.

“
Did you?.. oh.” Grant
went quiet, watching her.

She didn’t want to see those images
again, but she had been so surprised by it that she couldn’t
process anything. She slowly moved forward and put just a finger on
the railing and the image popped into stark relief. The old man was
coming up the stairs when the pretty young blond, no more than 16
years old, was coming down. It was a narrow stairway, but they
could have passed with barely touching. The dirty old goat feigned
an inability to maneuver around the girl and even copped a feel as
she passed. She seemed oblivious to it, but he was vilely
aroused.

Clear pulled back. “Kat isn’t a blond,
right?”

“
Um, no?”

“
Ughh…” she continued up
the stairs as if nothing had happened.

“
Well, what happened?”
Grant growled, obviously hating being left in the dark.

“
Not sure of its
relevance, if any. There is a dirty old man living in this
building. Let’s just leave it at that.” Clear finally made it to
the fifth floor, with Grant right behind her. She waited and let
him go first.

He approached a door on the left and
knocked. A petite brunette answered the door, but for a moment
Clear thought they must have had the wrong place, because this
woman did not look in the least bit distressed. She also did not
throw herself into Grant’s arms. Instead she glanced over Grant’s
shoulder and gave Clear a cold appraising look then turned on her
heel, leaving the front door open.

“
Good to see you too,
Laura,” Grant murmured and held the door open for Clear. Clear
entered the home and was amazed by how light, cheery and…
well,
girly
the
place was. All the furniture was in pastels and chocolate browns.
There were paintings of ballerinas in the foyer followed by photos
of Kat through the years in various ballerina costumes. The living
room had surprisingly high ceilings and floor to ceiling glass
windows and French doors leading onto a good-sized balcony. The
kitchen was to the left and had the most modern appliances. They
all were of burnished steel. The cabinets were a light wood, with
butterfly handles. The backsplash had a vineyard pattern covered
with purple butterflies. Clear just could not imagine Grant ever
living here.

“
So…” Laura turned
abruptly standing in the middle of the living room and once again
glaring at Clear. “This must be your consultant
friend
.” If words could shoot
daggers, Laura’s certainly did. The hostility coming from her was
potent. Clear could tell that even Grant could feel it. Clear
stepped forward tentatively.

“
Hello… I’m Clear Angel,”
she tried very hard not to stammer or shrink under that withering
gaze. She reached out a hand, but Laura blatantly ignored it. “I…
uh..” she glanced at Grant, really not sure what to do.

“
Stop being such a bitch,”
Grant muttered tersely.

Clear’s eyes went wide. She had heard
Grant swear pretty often, but he had never spoke so coldly or
cruelly to anyone in her presence. Ever. Clear pulled her hand back
and quickly asked if she could use the restroom. Laura pointed
sharply down the hall. “On the left,” Laura spit out.

Something about her presence had the
whole room on edge. Clear got the distinct impression that Grant
may not have told Laura about her. She quickly bolted for the
bathroom and intended to stay there long enough to give Grant a
chance to talk to Laura and maybe smooth things over.

As soon as the bathroom door closed,
Laura leapt into attack mode. “How dare you bring your… your…
strumpet into my home… when our daughter.. when…”

Grant came back strong and
unyielding. “How dare I bring someone who can help me
find
our daughter? Get
off your high horse and stop jumping to conclusions about things
you know nothing about. There is nothing going on between Clear and
I. She is..
was
a
colleague on my last case and she was very helpful…”

“
Oh, I’ll bet!” Laura
rolled her eyes.

“
Laura I need you to treat
her with respect. She didn’t have to come here.”

“
Then why did she?!” Laura
yelled.

Grant grabbed her by the
arm and dragged her out onto the balcony. “Good Lord, woman! What
is wrong with you? Clear has a unique ability to see the
connections behind things. What she does is not strictly
professional… but it can… it
will
help us get Kat back. I had to beg her to come
here. Don’t make this difficult for her.” Grant realized he was
still holding onto Laura’s arm and quickly released it.

“
Then don’t
lie
to me about your
relationship,” Laura growled, rubbing her arm.

“
I am not lying. We are
not dating, we are not seeing each other. We had a bad experience
the last time we worked together. She was kidnapped by the man we
were pursuing and he almost killed her. I killed him in front of
her.” Grant rubbed his face, completely and totally spent. “Please
Laura. Clear and I.. well.. we have a hard time as it is, being
together. Don’t make this harder on her when she only came here to
help.” Grant glowered out onto the small courtyard below. “It was
hard enough to get her to agree to come here. Don’t drive away my
only hope of finding our child.”

Laura eyed Grant noting the haggard
look around his eyes, the slump to his shoulders. “You don’t think
the police can help?”

Grant closed his eyes. “Maybe… but our
window of opportunity has closed. Evidence is disappearing for us
every second. You were married to me long enough. You know the
statistics.” He turned on his heel and started to walk back into
the house. Laura grabbed his arm.

“
And how is that
child
going to help?”
she scoffed.

Grant shook his head. “You wouldn’t
believe me if I told you, but it doesn’t matter if you believe. I
have seen what she can do.”

Comprehension dawned across her face
and her lovely features twisted in disgust. “Oh God. Grant, tell me
she doesn’t claim to be a psychic!” The complete ridicule in her
voice bit into Grant more than anything he could
imagine.

He was trying to think of
the best retort when they both were startled by a cool calm voice.
“I don’t
claim
to
be anything,” Clear announced. They both whipped about and stared
at her in surprise. She was standing in the middle of the living
room with her hands on her hips. “Shame on you, Grant, for not
telling her I was coming,” Clear snapped.

Fabulous, now the two women who
probably hated, at the very least despised, him most in the world
were on the same side. This should be fun.

Chapter Six

Clear had this intensely itchy feeling
all over her body. She could not explain what it was, but it was
strongest in Kat’s room. She carefully looked through everything of
Kat’s, touching as she went, trying to get something. For the
thousandth time she tried to block out Grant and Laura yelling at
each other in the living room. Of course Grant didn’t tell Laura
about her. That was Grant for you. Clear stopped and stared at her
reflection in Kat’s vanity mirror. She could only see her eyes, for
the mirror was covered in pictures and notes. Her eyes were telling
her that she was an idiot! She wasn’t sure that they were
wrong.

She looked at each of the photos.
There were a lot with three girls, Kat usually in the middle. There
were several class photos, with more than a few good-looking boys.
There were sticky notes with reminders. Test 10/4 Algebra, what
looked to be a locker combination, Sticky Fingers Friday, 7:30.
There were a variety of notes from friends. You Rock! Party Hearty,
XOXO with a lipstick print. The notes were all in different hand
writing. Clear sighed. Obviously Kat was quite popular. She envied
that. Each picture and note had different memories or images
attached to them. All seemed very happy and fun.

Clear moved on to a bookshelf in the
corner. The shelf was overflowing with books everything from
Wuthering Heights to Clive Cussler novels. Where books weren’t
stacked, there were knick knacks. A glass ballerina, concert ticket
stubs, a hockey puck, Movie ticket stubs, glass ballerina slippers,
a brick paper weight with her name engraved.

Running her fingers over the top of
the books, Clear saw images of Kat reading late into the night,
sitting on the balcony reading, curled up on the couch, sitting on
the roof, in the park… all the images happy and content.

She turned to the closet next. Opening
the closet, Clear found it jammed full of clothes. Kat was
obviously experimenting with her identity. On the left were a dozen
dance outfits and two pairs of ballet slippers on the floor. In the
center were a bunch of dressier clothes, some more formal like what
someone might wear to church, some clearly for going out with her
friends to concerts and such. To the left were t-shirts and jeans.
On the top shelf were two stackable drawers. Clear opened one and
found underclothing. The other contained gloves, scarves, hats and
other apparel. There were a variety of Goth looking outfits,
several with a more punk feel; some were cheerleadery and some were
suiting a more athletic girl.

On the top shelf next to the drawers
Clear found a memory box. She carefully pulled it down and set it
on the floor opening it. On top were papers and notes, cards from
her dad and grandparents, ticket stubs, brochures and pamphlets
from events and locations she had visited. At the bottom of the box
were some shiny rocks a butterfly in a glass box and a brown
leather pitchers mitt. When Clear brushed the mitt she felt the
first sorrow in the girl’s life. It was a deep sadness with a fair
mix of anger and even hostility. Clear saw Grant playing ball with
a much, much younger Kat. She saw Kat holding the glove and
remembering. She saw her mom’s resentment of Grant trying to make
their daughter a tomboy and Kat’s resentment at being pushed into
activities her mother thought were more appropriate for girls. The
failed piano lessons, the failed voice lessons. Her satisfaction at
compromising with ballet. Despite the tu-tus, Kat enjoyed the
physicality of it. She never let her mother know how much though
and instead used ballet as a bargaining chip to go to soccer camp,
to try out for basketball. But she was not allowed to play baseball
and she resented that.