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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781477285985 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 11/12/2012 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 130 |
| File size: | 214 KB |
Read an Excerpt
PAINLESS SAVIOR
IMMORTALS IN NEW YORKBy Mimi Logsdon
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2012 Mimi LogsdonAll right reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4772-8600-5
Chapter One
Mia walked out of her old building attached to a storefront and backed up onto the wide steel step looking out at the pouring rain pounding the concrete in front of her. The sounds the drops made on the manhole covers reminded her of the pops from a carpenter's nail gun. This section of the city always had a gothic look to it when it rained. New York's Soho district, short for South of Houston, made her feel like she was living in an old mystery movie complete with dark gloomy skies, grey fog and occasional mist whenever it rained. An old Dylan song her dad use to play, sang through her thoughts, "It's a hard, it's a hard, it's hard rains a gonna fall" as she twirled her hair on top of her head, flipped her hood and ran to the nearest newsstand for her daily set of newspapers.Joe greeted her with his usual phatic tone, "How's it going Mia?" as he handed her a pile of printed papers, "I added the New York Observer thought you'd like it too. Since you give me steady business there's no charge for it." She smiled and handed him a gold cash card, "Thanks but I can't accept the freebie; Joe, I know you can't afford to be giving papers away." Paper had become a luxury item now that trees were endangered and almost extinct. Stands were limited to only three per borough, staying afloat due to support from customers who were either nostalgic or eccentric. Mia fell into the nostalgic category they reminded her of her grandfather. Loving the feel of holding the printed sheet that smeared on her fingers like charcoal pencil, although she realized she'd have to let go eventually now that everything fit and not so fit, to print was accessible through screens, disks, visual booths and portable devices in homes and everywhere else around the world—this was one of the few memories she needed to hold on to.
Stowing the papers inside her hoodie zipped tight, she continued on to The Brew Shop, for her usual beverage of choice, Chamong Autumnal Black Tea, one of the rarest teas from the Darjeeling region, found in a valley of the Himalayan Mountains of Northern India. "People just don't appreciate an excellent cup of tea anymore," she complained to no one in particular as she opened the lid and inhaled the smell of Evergreen. The taste of English Rose filled her palate with the liquid strength that gave her the kick in the ass she needed. "This truly is The Champagne of Teas," she sighed.
As she walked back wet, the drops didn't bother her in fact, she could barely feel them as they pelted her to the doorstep. She waved to the concierge and decided to take the stairs to save time since she had one more hour before logging into work. The door opened with her print key and she immediately kicked off her sneakers, opened her hoodie to lay the newspapers on the floor, dropped the key and wallet on the desk by the huge picture window and ran to the bathroom.
Emerging from the bathroom minutes later in a tattered powder blue robe and a hand towel rubbing her hair, she grabbed the papers, her phone and plopped onto the sofa stretching out her favorite section, the crime blotter reports asking anyone who had any information to call the confidential hotline, promising if the tip checked out a cash reward would be transmitted to their account. She read the articles feverishly, they were like honeysuckle to a bee for her, and she couldn't tear herself away. Sure some were ridiculous, even sadly funny, but the majority tragic. A Horticulturalist by trade, having graduated with a B.S. from Texas Tech University and a Masters from Cornell, she knew everything about soil, plants, trees, etc. and nothing about Criminology, but a connection was made at a very young age that would leave her with an uncontrollable attachment and mixed emotions.
It began on a family trip to the Bronx Zoo just before her sixth birthday. She and her siblings were enjoying the sunshine and cotton candy while walking to the kiddie rides when their parents asked them to take a picture on The Wishing Rock. Mia loved having her picture taken, which would cause her dread now, so she happily complied. Climbing onto the large sparkling warm graphite rock with its oblong lumpy seat, she fanned out her dress and adjusted herself in position ready for the photo. Suddenly an awful feeling overtook her and her eyes began to water, her nose stuffed up and the vision slowly appeared. Closing her eyes in an attempt to stop what was happening to her, she became paralyzed with fear then anxiety set in causing her to blow out short breaths. The vision appeared before her eyes, projecting like a film and she sat in the front row seat, watching a robbery take place in what looked exactly like their home. Men ran past windows, across ecru colored walls with pillowcases in their hands, curtains drawn and cushions overturned with items scattered all over the room.
Wishing as hard as she could, as the tears rolled down her face she attempted to talk, a shaky voice reciting a mantra, "Please don't take our things, I wish they don't rob our house, I wish they don't rob our house." Her parents immediately removed her from the rock asking what was wrong, fearing they'd have to rush her to the nearest hospital. Mia couldn't stop crying and wishing. The tears sticking to her lashes like clear rubber glue drops, wiping her nose with the back of her tiny hand she managed to say between hiccupped short breaths, "We need to go home. I want to go home."
Thinking it was the overactive imagination of a child, they tried to calm her down. When that didn't work they threatened to punish her, but she stood her ground as children often do. She had to make them believe her. She insisted, creating a scene her parents didn't want, so with much chagrin from her siblings they headed home.
When they arrived, her father gingerly approached the front door with the intent to prove everything was fine; only to find the door ajar and the house ransacked. The shock on everyone's faces would never be erased from her memory, especially the look on her mother's face after she walked to close the front door and stepped on something next to the opening. The bright blue turquoise stone glistened in the middle of a tiny frame as her mother covered her mouth and cried, "They dropped it as they ran out." It was her birthstone ring, a gift her parents were saving for her sixth birthday.
Chapter Two
Dalia Perrone glowed with pride knowing that her daughter had inherited a trait from her side of the family. She spoke of her grandmother and great grandmother's abilities to see and connect with energy forces. This was often explained as a sixth sense or gut feeling, but she was certain it was much more—only time would tell. Her father wanted no part of it tossing it off as nonsense, a coincidence—after all, if you didn't believe it, pay attention to it, it didn't exist. Yet, both were aware of the consequences that could result if this became common knowledge explaining to her the importance of being careful and using discretion. The world was full of people that wouldn't believe her. Some would use her and lead her to disappointment, embarrassment and heartache.As she grew, the visions came in spurts but proved helpful to those close to her and in many circumstances, to law enforcement. Her visions always began the same, watery eyes, stuffy nose, strong heartbeat and anxiety, she'd close her eyes as the vision projected in front of her, but instead of the childhood hiccups afterward she now simply blacked out. She skimmed through the articles as one in particular grabbed her attention. The abduction of a student that lived in the area, her shoes left behind. "A foot fetish?" she mumbled in wonder. The police suspected a connection to several similar missing student cases within the past weeks. As she read she began blinking her eyes trying to hold back annoying tears fighting to flow, "Damn it! Not now—Shit!" She cussed as she tried to fight it, but there was no way.
Black and blue feet tied loosely with black wire, bound hands held on to a hook chained to the ceiling; red rimmed eyes showed smeared mascara and chapped lips appeared as a mouth opened to release what seemed to be a whimper. Her dark brown eyes appeared covered in panic and fear as she realized that the victim's slightest move brought on a quick electric shock as the water dripped from a crack in the stone wall. Her eyes scanned what looked like a basement or cellar where two dirty blankets lie against a wall. "Are those more hooks?" she thought. Red hair the color of unpolished copper hung over the victim's face causing any specific identification to be sketchy at best. Panning over the body, she stopped at the feet and starred, "It can't possibly be?" She fell back onto the sofa—lights out.
Her cell rang loudly, the ringtone startling her back to consciousness. She fumbled around looking for her phone, finding it buried in the couch cushion. "Hello" she answered trying to catch her breath. "Ms. Perrone ... ah, it's Jay ... um, Detective Thorten. Did I catch you at a bad time? Are you running?" he asked. "No, I'm good," she wheezed "Just was looking for my phone in the sofa." "How are you? I hope you're well? He continued, "I'm calling to ask if you'd be available to come down to the station" he proposed attempting to sound official. "I'm fine Jay and you can call me Mia, after all, it's not like we haven't hanged out together" she rolled her eyes, "Why do you need me to come down?"
"I'm hoping you'd be able to help me with a case I'm working on ... you've helped the department before so I thought ... that is if you can spare the time?" he asked speculatively.
Curiosity took over so she asked, "What's this case about?"
"I'm not at liberty to tell you much over the phone. It's a probable kidnapping. I'll provide more detail if you agree to help."
"You sure you want to do this Jay? I know how cops feel about people like me. How do the Lieutenant and Chief feel about this?" she asked knowing how uncomfortable she made them feel.
"Honestly," he paused. "The Chief's not thrilled, but Lieutenant Earley doesn't think asking you for some insight on this case will hurt either. Mia I promise it will only be Detective Mosher and me working with you, no one else," he continued. Then blew out a low breath and pleaded, "Please."
She sat silent for a moment contemplating saying no, then rescinded, "Alright, but I can't make it today. Can I call you tomorrow? We'll set something up."
"Not a problem" he replied in an upbeat tone that revealed his relief, "What's one more day?"
"Thanks for understanding, gotta go" Mia said hurriedly "Bye" She hung up the phone before he could say another word. "I figured I'd hear from you again anyway," she said aloud, bummed that his call was strictly police business. She'd been thinking about him a lot and believed he didn't have a clue, "Maybe he didn't want a clue." He confused her, checking up on her when she fell ill, sending her chocolates for her birthday and snagging Super Bowl tickets. "At least he knows I like Football. Maybe it's a sisterly thing or she thought for a few seconds, "Nah, I have excellent gaydar." Sinking into the sofa, she laid her head back in frustration and rested her eyes in an attempt to clear her head and get herself in work mode.
She met Detective Jayson K. Thorten several years ago, when she frantically ran into the Precinct on Elizabeth Street ranting about the attempted rape of her grandmother's neighbor. The desk officers, as well as, surrounding officers asked her twenty questions while she yelled at them to help. He emerged from the back office, his deep set sea blue eyes peering down at her from a face with sculpted cheekbones and a strong square jaw covered by razor stubble. His height seemed overwhelming as she stared up at him, the sinew of his chest through a pinstriped shirt spotted with sweat and arms that bulged from rolled-up sleeves accompanied by a swag that reminded her of that guy in the old spaghetti westerns on the Ancient Movie Channel. Once he took control of the situation, he guided her to a seat to talk but she couldn't hear a word he said as he flicked his naturally multi-colored blond hair from his eyes. She extended her arm and reached out her hand to touch the strands that looked so soft they must feel like feathers. Luckily she snapped out of it, retracted her hand and composed herself in order to get rescue to the neighbor in time.
He followed up with her the next day with more questions of his own, giving her no other choice then to tell him about her visions. "I'm not exactly a physic and I don't have ESP," she explained, "I'm sort of a clumsy clairvoyant, because I don't know what triggers the visions and I black out right after I have one," then concluded she didn't help herself after she said it. "Do you hear voices or see religious figures on toast?" he asked a slight Southern twang to his voice. It was obvious he thought she was a loon or on something, however, after further investigation and a psych test she was cleared as a suspect. It didn't hurt that her grandmother's neighbor was so grateful she kept insisting to him Mia owned a gift from God. Still she wasn't completely certain how or why but he began to believe her, convincing his colleagues to use her help occasionally. Jay also had the ability to make sense of what she saw so he never questioned her sanity again.
"We worked well together" she thought, well maybe there was some tension since the night of the Precinct Holiday Party. Jay took her keys ready to open the door for her as she leaned against it, but instead he bent down and touched her lips softly with his. He closed his eyes and sighed as she couldn't help but rub her lips against his. Eyes half lidded, she opened her mouth slightly feeling his tongue slowly enter to meet hers. She remembered warmth came over her body she'd never felt before, all the way to her feet in four inch heels. It felt good as she put her hands on his hips and looked into his opening eyes, but suddenly he stopped, turned the lock pushing the door open, kissed her cheek and said, "Goodnight." Too embarrassed and fearing his possible explanations Mia never mentioned it, although her usual reply when the memory replayed itself, shot out of her mouth again, "What the fuck?" She thought, "Men are just as hard to figure out as women." Still she'd been burned before, so she was an expert at shielding herself, but she couldn't help sensing there was just something different about the good Detective.
Chapter Three
The lights were off and the stale cold concrete felt rough with cracks and holes under her feet. Puddles of dirty water sat like black holes in pockets on the floor. Julia sighed in relief as she wrapped her arms around herself for warmth. They let her down from the hook to get her circulation going again, but she knew she had to find a way out before they returned. Although it was dark, she caught a glimpse of something swaying from the ceiling, as a whistle of wind sounded from somewhere around her. "A broken window or maybe a pipe ... just have to find an open space, but I'm so tired—so weak," she spoke and then thought, "I'm smart, brave and resourceful, I'll get myself out of here—I have to."As tears streamed down her dirty face she stifled any sound her mouth fought to make. Looking around she worked to adjust her eyes to the gray walls as she surveyed the room carefully trying not to be obvious in case someone was watching through a peephole or hidden camera. She'd seen enough scary movies and read enough books to know it was possible. She caught a spot of light coming from the far corner of the room that appeared to be a small crack, "Maybe I can see someone or find something I can use if I could reach it." Sliding slowly against the wall taking deep breaths of musky air, her legs felt like rubber with the bruises on her calves and toes making any foot movement painful. "I'll slide into the light" she thought "Someone might appear who can help me."
As she slid on the cold cement floor she prayed, "Please dear lord, if I get out of here I promise I'll be more cautious." Reaching the area of light, she looked up and saw a slight horizontal crack in the upper corner of the wall where light peeked through. "It has to be street level," she thought, "I have to find a way to get someone up there to hear me." Footsteps approached from above and she began calling for help with as much energy as she could muster, but the words came out hoarse and broken, "Please help me, I'm trapped," she cried, then something thick and wet came through the crack dropping on her collarbone, within seconds she fell to the ground from exhaustion.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from PAINLESS SAVIOR by Mimi Logsdon Copyright © 2012 by Mimi Logsdon. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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