Two of a Mind (17 page)

Nicole's latest research was throwing up more questions than answers at the moment. She wriggled her shoulders to release the building tension. At least it was Friday and she was sure Tomas had something planned for the weekend. She smiled, allowing herself a moment to fantasise about what it could be. She'd heard rumours about reallocating staff in the labs. Perhaps Tomas had been considered for a promotion – oh, but maybe he would have to move to another site. She didn't like that option! Dare she even think about what else he could be thinking of? They'd been together a while now. She knew it was old-fashioned to want a ceremony but her great-grandmother's wedding dress was so beautiful, so delicate and Mama had promised that she could use it when her turn came.

“Nicole?” Her supervisor's voice cut through her reverie. She tapped her Comms headset to respond.

“Bonjour, Madam Barteau!”

“I'm calling regarding the report you are submitting, Nicole. Your data seems contradictory to the expected outcomes.”

“Oh? In what way?” Nicole answered slightly less politely. It was disconcerting that her supervisor could watch her work in real-time.

“I believe you and Tomas have been collating evidence? It appears several of your test subjects are not listed on the master register. Not only that, but, their response to the treatment is inconsistent with that of the registered individuals. Perhaps some rogue data has corrupted your figures?”

“I'll look into it, madam.”

“I do hope that it is not a personal distraction interfering with your work? You came to us with high recommendations from your university tutors.” The query in Madam Barteau's voice was clear. Nicole and Tomas had been very discreet about their relationship but the French can always sniff out any whiff of a romance.

“Oh no, madam,” she replied, a shade too quickly.

“Mm.” Madam Barteau didn't sound convinced. “I'll be consulting the Test Board to check whether any other anomalies have been noticed. In the meantime, please re-check your information and forward your findings to me first thing Monday morning.”

“Absolutely, madam!” The click of disconnection seemed louder than normal. Nicole had struggled to develop a good rapport with the prickly Madam Barteau. This issue with the data could provide the supervisor with the means to dismiss her. The trouble was that Nicole herself couldn't understand why the data seemed so far off the norm. That was what she'd been researching before her musings about the weekend. She'd simply have to go over it all again to make sure it wasn't her own error skewing the figures.

She didn't want to risk dragging Tomas into a potential career-killer but she needed to confirm the information they had gathered. She opened Tomas's Comms connection. Within seconds his smiling face filled the holo-screen.

“Bonjour, ma petite! Could you not wait to see me?”

“Sh! Stop that,” she replied, instantly ashamed to see his reaction to her tone. “I'm sorry, Tomas. But this is serious. Madam Barteau is concerned about our data. It's contradicting that of the other test groups.”

“I expect ours is the placebo group and that's why the results aren't consistent.”

“Surely she would account for that? And she mentioned that not all our testers are on the official list. How could that be?”

“I'm sure it'll all be fine, cherie. She could be right thinking it's rogue data. We just need to find where it's crept in. Maybe another lab's work has seeped into our system.”

Nicole breathed more easily. Tomas was probably right. Laboratoires Lisle was only one section of a huge conglomerate, many parts of which were running pharmaceutical tests. Despite the best monitoring systems that money could buy no integrated technology was guaranteed to be completely failsafe. She'd trace the data back to its origins and filter out the errors. She glanced at the clock, 11:30am – no lunch today! She worried that she might need to work on this all weekend.

Let's get on with it.

I sat on the sofa with my eyes closed and Seth trying not to sulk beside me. No need for me to read his thoughts, they were plain enough – his straight-back, arms-crossed pose and the occasional sigh that he indulged in.
Tough!
If I was to have any chance of succeeding I had to ignore Seth's disappointment and concentrate on the babble of voices in my head.

As I'd expected, my probing had caused the volume of noise to increase. It was like the mental equivalent of poking a mouth ulcer – uncomfortable on its own and when your tongue investigates the sore spot the pain sharpens, but you keep going back to it! My forehead tightened and Seth must've spotted the change as I felt his arm move to wrap around my shoulders and give me a reassuring hug. The trouble was that I didn't know how to latch onto an individual when they had no way of hearing me. When you're in a crowded room with lots of conversations going on you can make someone aware of you with a wave of your hand or by touching their arm. How was I going to achieve that telepathically when nobody could sense me? I tried moving my eyes under my closed lids, as though I was looking around that crowded room. It had some effect as I could grasp occasional snatches of thought:
Wish they'd just get on with it … Where did I put those keys? … Nice cold glass …
Not all of them came through in perfect English but the translation brain-gadget that Ms Thorogood had talked about in class did the trick and I understood the thoughts of a foreign origin as easily as those from English-speaking connections. But no matter how hard I tried to hold onto a single connection, I would soon lose it amongst the general murmur.

I concentrated on the remembered image of Dale Johnson, thinking about his shout the previous day. It sort of worked – in a distant corner of my mind I heard his fearful cry for help or maybe it was just the memory of that first connection. I reached out with my thoughts trying to reinforce that link and that's when I heard it for the first time:
… if she's always open. What a perfect opportunity. Ha! I'll be …
I lost it and was grateful that I had. I opened my eyes in horror and grabbed Seth's arms so tightly he cringed in pain.

“Omigod, he's here,” I panted, my breath coming in ragged, fear-driven gasps.

“Who? What's the matter Dez? Did you connect with someone?”

“It was
his
voice. I recognised it from my memories of the murders. The killer, Seth, and he knows I can hear him.” I couldn't contain my sobs any longer and I clung to Seth until I managed to get my fear under control. “I don't want to do it like this. There must be another way.” I sat and chewed my nails, rocking myself back and forth on the sofa while Seth gently rubbed my shoulders and mumbled soothing noises. Eventually the shock faded and I calmed down enough to sit back in Seth's comforting arms. He kissed the top of my head as it rested against his chest.

“Don't worry, Dez. I'm here. You're safe with me,” he said.

“Yeah, I bet that's what Nicole thought about Tomas,” I muttered.

“Who's Nicole?”

“Oh! I don't know … No, hang on. It's the girl in Paris. Tomas was her fiancé.”

“You've never mentioned her name before and it wasn't in the news report.”

“I know. It just came out of nowhere. I'm sure that was her name and that Simone, her PT, lives on the south side of the Seine in Paris, but that's it.” Without a thought, I raised my hands and shoulders in a very French style shrug. I realised what I was doing and laughed self-consciously. But it gave me an idea. I reached into my bag to find my Comms kit. Ignoring Seth's puzzled expression I keyed Aunt Jen's number and hoped she was able to pick up.

“Hello, Dez, love. What can I do for you?”

“Hi, Aunt Jen. Are you really busy at the moment or could you spare some time for your favourite niece?”

“Always got time for my favourite niece,” she quipped back.

“Great. We'll be round at yours in half an hour or so. See ya!”

“See you soon, love.”

As I stood up from the sofa, Seth looked at me with his brows pulled together in query, “Aren't you Jen's
only
niece?” he asked.

“Ye-es.”

“Well, you do realise that makes you her least favourite niece too, don't you?” He laughed and pulled his arms over his head to defend himself from the cushion I was using as a missile. “I'm gonna ask your mum to remove all soft furnishings from the premises! Anyway, what are we going to Jen's for?”

“Henri,” I replied. “Aunt Jen's PT. He's a Parisian too. Don't know why I didn't think of it sooner. Maybe he could track down Simone for us.”

Seth's face registered his doubts.

“Dunno, Dez. Do you think we should get anyone else involved? We were trying to keep it to just us, weren't we?”

I hesitated trying to work out how we were going to get any further on our own and coming up blank.

“Sorry, Seth. I can't face opening up my head to that creep again. I've only just managed to get the connections quiet.” I rubbed my temples to relieve the pressure that had built up. “Jen and Henri will be discreet. You know we can count on them to be on our side.”

Seth smiled reluctantly and nodded, no doubt remembering the many times that Aunt Jen had played advocate for us when we'd been in trouble. Some of her expertise came from Henri himself – he was a senior magistrate in the French criminal court.

“Come on, then,” Seth said, grabbing my hands and manoeuvring me towards the door. “Let's go see what Henri can do for us this time.”

***

Aunt Jen's farm was a good half-hour walk from home. The afternoon was still warm and sunny and the stroll gave us chance to rekindle some of the romance from earlier. We held hands and swung our arms like little children skipping along on a school nature trail – the difference being that we got to stop every so often for a bit of canoodling, as my dad called it. The last opportunity was by the kissing-gate at the top of Jen's drive and I was determined to make the most of it. The rhythmic squeaking of a neglected bicycle interrupted us.

“Whatcha doin' here?”

“Playing I-Spy! What d'ya think, Baby Boy?” I snapped.

“Aw, get real,” wailed Jeremy. “I'm only a coupla years younger than you. I'll be starting PT Prep this year.”

Seth and I winked at each other –
as if that's gonna make a difference!

“We're just here to say ‘Hi' to your mum,” Seth said. He tried to sooth the friction between Jeremy and me, probably remembering how awkward he'd felt at fourteen.

“She's in the ménage with Dick and the latest nag.” Jeremy gestured down the path then stood on the pedals to push his bike off in the opposite direction.

“You really shouldn't be so harsh on him. Poor kid.” Seth nodded towards the dust cloud that Jeremy had created with his speedy exit.

“You're calling that spawn of Satan a poor kid? He wouldn't think twice about spiking your tea with laxative or sneaking itching powder into your underwear drawer!” My face burned with embarrassing memories – spending an entire Saturday evening a couple of years ago locked in Jen's loo after Jeremy
kindly
made me a cup of herbal tea and, another time – wriggling throughout my French Oral, trying hard not to scratch my bum! I could see Seth found my embarrassment highly amusing although he was doing his best not to smile too broadly. I scowled at him to remind him he was supposed to be on my side and we set off down to the ménage.

“Hello,” I called as we reached the sturdy boundary fence. The horse that Jeremy had called a nag was a magnificent stallion, a rich chestnut colour, jet black mane and tail, long elegant legs and a big opinion of himself! He tossed his head around but couldn't break Jen's grip on the reins as she took him through his paces. Dick sat on the fence with a tense expression on his face.

“She always has to go for the most temperamental,” he sighed, as we climbed up to perch beside him. “One of these days she's going to meet her match.”

I smiled. “Don't worry, Dick. There isn't a horse born yet that Aunt Jen can't handle.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Jen panted. “Give me a few more minutes to wear him out then we'll head in for a drink. Jeremy will be pleased to see you, he's getting bored being out here alone.” she added.

Seth snorted in amusement and almost lost his balance as I prodded him with my elbow. Dick looked puzzled but left us to it, he was more concerned about Jen keeping
her
seat.

In the coolness of Jen's stone-floored kitchen we drank her home-made lemonade and nibbled some of Mum's ginger biscuits. Seth's blissful expression prompted me to think I would have to learn how to make them. Dick excused himself when he'd finished and went to feed the various animals that Jen had accumulated over the years. Maybe she'd told him we'd need some privacy or maybe he'd picked up on the tension, but I was grateful for his tact – usually Jen wanted to do the rounds and check on the livestock herself.

“So, what did you want to talk about? You're not pregnant are you?” She looked at our linked hands and Seth quickly drew away. I grabbed his hand back again and glowered at my aunt.

“Why does everyone keep thinking that? No I am NOT pregnant.” I heard a snigger from the open window. “Bog off, Jeremy!” I yelled. The diminishing squeak of his bike assured me he'd taken the hint.

“Okay,” said Jen, gesturing for me to calm down. “Tell me, what
is
the problem?”

I tried to start at the beginning and work my way through but found myself back-tracking several times to explain what had been going on since my birthday. Seth helped out if I got too wound-up or if he felt I'd forgotten something and eventually I got to the point.

“Let me get this straight. You didn't have an PT to start with and now you're connected to every PT in the world. You can hear people's conversations with their PT. You're having memories of being murdered but you don't know who it is that kills you. Elizabeth left clues in a journal on her
Handi
because it was her PT that committed the murders. And you want Henri to track down the PT of one of the murdered girls so you can talk to her about … Nicole, was it?”

“Yeah, that's about it. Can you help?” I asked.

“Does your father know about this, Seth?” Jen turned to him and he blushed, looking like a naughty child caught doing something he shouldn't.

“He knows about the
Handi
,” he admitted. “But not about Dez's memories.”

“And I can't imagine Celeste being very happy about it?” Jen made the statement sound like a question.

“Mum and Dad have said we can have some time to figure out what Elizabeth's
Handi
can tell us,” I answered, bringing it out of my bag as evidence that we were being genuine. Seth's face clouded with uncertainty, he still wasn't keen to involve Jen and Henri despite knowing that we needed help to get any further with Elizabeth's riddles.

“Are you listening to Henri and me now?” Jen, like the others who'd heard about my ‘open mind', seemed upset that I might be eavesdropping.

“No,” I said. “I've managed to shut the connections in a sort of mentally sound-proofed room – my personal padded cell – so that I can't hear them as much. It's only in particularly stressful situations that a voice might get louder and attract my attention.”

It wasn't my fault the damned thing had gone haywire. Why did my family and friends automatically think I was listening in on their own thoughts when I had millions of conversations vying for headroom?

Jen picked up on the weariness in my voice,

“Sorry, love. I got a bit fazed by it all. No doubt that's an understatement for how you feel, eh?”

I managed a wry smile and nodded.

Yeah, the mother of all understatements, I'd say
.