Peter had never discussed his parents’ psychic abilities with anyone outside of his Friday night group. Telling Schoch was going to feel strange, yet he knew it must be done.
“They were both psychics,” he said. “They held seances in my father’s study with a group of their friends. I stumbled upon them one night when I was a kid.”
“Could your parents have been involved with the Order?”
He thought back to his father’s study. Astrological symbols on the table, white candles, and the five-pointed star used to ward off evil spirts. He had not seen the Order’s symbol.
“No,” he said.
“Your parents were from England. Could they have been involved with the Order when they lived there?”
“We left England when I was little.”
“But you still have memories.”
“We lived in a flat in London. My parents taught at a small college. On weekends we went to the park, and I played while my parents read books. If they were members of the Order, I never saw any evidence of it.” He paused. “But you already knew most of this, didn’t you? You knew these things when you came to see me last night.”
“Most of it, yes,” she admitted.
He hated when people deceived him, and he felt himself grow angry.
“Who told you about my parents?” he asked.
“Please lower your voice.”
He took a deep breath to calm himself.
“I’m sorry. Please. Who told you?”
“I can’t tell you who gave me the information,” she said. “But I will tell you this. There are a lot more people besides the police looking for Wolfe. With any luck, they’re going to find him, and we can get to the bottom of this.” She consulted her watch. “I’m late for work. Call me if you have any more visions.”
“I’ll do that.”
Schoch got into the Volvo and her partner drove away. Peter shook his head. Why was it that whenever he talked with her, he felt like he knew less than when he’d started?
* * *
He opened the front door, and went inside the brownstone. Liza awaited him in the foyer. If looks could kill, he would have been six feet under, pushing up daisies.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Figure it out. You’re the mind reader,” she said.
He shut the door behind him. The intercom was covered with wet fingerprints. She’d heard their conversation. He leaned against the door, and shut his eyes.
“You were listening,” he said.
She punched him in the arm. “Stop climbing into your shell. Look at me.”
He opened his eyes and looked at his beloved.
“Damn you, Peter! We’ve been living together for two years. When were you going to tell me you had these strange powers?”
“I tried to over breakfast.”
“You really can travel back in time?”
“I can do a lot of unusual things.”
“Like have visions?”
“Yes.”
“And read minds?”
“Uh-huh.”
“What am I thinking about right now?”
He gazed into her eyes. “You’re thinking about spending the night at your girlfriend’s.”
“That’s a no-brainer. Which one?”
“Amber.”
She brought her hand to her mouth. “Oh, my God. You really can. It’s not a trick.”
“Yeah.”
“Damn you, Peter. That’s not fair.”
She was pulling away from him. If he didn’t come clean with her now, it was over. Tell the truth, and maybe he had a chance.
“Do you remember my friend Nemo?” he asked. “We ate oysters at Balthazar while he told you jokes. He made you laugh the whole time.”
“What about him?” she said.
“Nemo is also psychic, and can see into the future. The CIA found out about his powers, and whisked him away to a farm in Virginia. He’s in their employ now, so to speak. They’re never going to let him go. That’s what happens to people like me. The government gets ahold of us, and we never come home.”
“There are more of you?”
“Yes. We have these gifts that we keep hidden.”
“You still should have told me.”
“I wanted to, but I was afraid.”
“Of what?”
“That you’d think I was a freak, and leave,” he said, the words pouring out. “I didn’t want to lose you. I know that’s selfish, and I’m sorry.”
The truth had a way of cutting through just about everything else. Liza crossed the foyer, and put her hand under his chin. Their eyes met.
“I would never do that,” she said.
“Is that a promise?” he asked.
“Scout’s honor.”
“Then I’ll never hide anything from you again.”
They kissed. Liza still loved him. He had been saved.
They returned to the kitchen. Peter sensed they were not alone. His eyes scanned the room, spying the Order’s shimmering symbol on the refrigerator. The oozing blood coming out of its center had been replaced by a face.
Peter got up close to stare.
It was Wolfe. The assassin sat at the counter of a diner, eating a breakfast of steak and eggs. Taking the knife off his plate, Wolfe tested the knife’s sharpness. Satisfied, he stuck it up his sleeve, and hopped off his stool.
The symbol vanished, leaving a menu for Chinese takeout.
“He’s going to kill someone,” Peter muttered.
“Who? What are you talking about?” Liza asked.
The diner looked familiar. It was on the Lower East Side, and served a mean breakfast. He had to alert the police, and grabbed his leather jacket off the back of a chair.
“I have to go out.”
“What? You can’t be serious. Didn’t you just promise me-”
“I’ll explain everything later.”
“I’m sure you will.”
He tried to kiss her, and Liza pulled away.
“You have to trust me,” he said. “The man who attacked me last night is about to strike again. I have to stop him.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I just do.”
“You’re treading on dangerous ice, Peter.”
Liza followed him down the hallway. He went outside, and turned up his collar to the annoying rain. The front
