Cayce stared at her assistant, as her mind tried to shift from the art design laying on her desk in front of her to Anita. Cayce gave a slight head shake as she tried to corral her brain and turn it back to the business aspects. “If he’s asked for it, I’m not sure we have any choice,” she said, “and we don’t want to appear obstructive to the case. We want to do anything we can to help them solve Elena’s murder and to bring her killer to justice.”
“So, I guess that’s a yes,” Anita said drily. She nodded. “I’ll scan it all in and email it to him.”
“Good, and the sooner, the better,” Cayce said. “Otherwise he’ll just show up on our doorstep again.”
“Are you sure that’s a bad thing?” Anita asked. “I know this whole business is terrible and outrageous but the detective? … Well, there’s just something really raw about him.”
This wasn’t the first time Anita had said something unusual and different and very accurate like that. Cayce looked at her assistant, her lips twitching into a smile, and said, “Agreed. I’d love to get my paintbrush on him. But I’m not sure what setting I’d put him into.”
“A storm.” It came out immediately. “Something wild, untamed. He’s pretty sexy,” Anita added on a laugh.
“If you like that kind of thing,” Cayce said with a dismissive wave.
“We all love that kind of thing,” Anita said. “Even you.” She turned and left the area.
Cayce stared at her assistant’s back as she walked away. That’s not quite true, she thought. She didn’t love that kind of thing. It made for an interesting relationship, but she tended to stay safe, away from relationships, so things didn’t blow apart in her world. Enough was in her world that she needed to be calm to focus on, so blowing her world apart with a sexual relationship was just not appealing anymore.
She stared down at the paperwork Anita had given her. Cayce had to get out of here, and she had to get out of here fast. She’d been up late working, but she was already behind schedule. Nothing pissed her off more and upset her creative flow more than being behind on her artwork. Other than paperwork.
Anita’s voice called from the other room. “Don’t forget your schedule.”
She groaned and stood, as she checked the clock, her body already moving. “I’m leaving.”
“Sorry, sweetie,” Anita said. “I’ll be there in a couple hours.”
“Bring breakfast,” she said.
“A thermos of coffee and food. Got it.”
Cayce walked over, grabbed her big satchel, packed up the last of her art designs, and decided that walking was about the only way to clear her head.
She headed out her gallery entrance to the main street and took a right. This installation was only about four blocks away. The walk should have helped, but somehow it didn’t. It did give her a few minutes to breathe in the fresh air, if the air in these clogged city streets qualified as fresh, and just having a moment to regroup from her office and the startling reminder of the detective’s striking looks helped.
She should have slept well last night, but instead her night was haunted with dreams of energy and souls. Her grandmother’s age-old voice slipped through her mind. Remember. When you connect on one level, you connect on another. The problem was that she and Elena had connected on many levels. On a soul level too. She was easy to work on because it was like working on herself. Cayce knew everything that mattered about Elena and the same in reverse.
They’d been friends years ago and had found each other again through the modeling world. Most people didn’t know they had an ancient history. But she’d helped Elena many, many years ago; and Elena had turned around and had helped Cayce too. As had a few other people. People she’d lost contact with over the years as she refused to dwell in the past.
But now she had this ragged hole, a sense of loss of something very special being removed from her life, and it was devastating. When she thought about Elena, the tears burned in the corners of her eyes. She didn’t dare let them drop. She didn’t dare let herself focus on it. She had to just keep moving. She had to just keep on going.
Especially since the next couple weeks would be pretty hectic. She didn’t know how she had gotten herself into these problems, but schedules were what they were, and people often didn’t stick to them. They expected the artist to pull shit out of their creative hat, even when nothing was there or even when things were too pressured to even access creativity. And this thing with Elena was enough to run Cayce off the rails for a long time. But she couldn’t let it.
As she walked into the installation, her heart sank because Naomi was already here, throwing a fit. The room was chaotic and full of colors she didn’t want to work in. Cayce shook her head, tried to walk in quietly, and failed.
Naomi spun, saw her, and glared. “You’re not the only one whose time is important,” she screeched.
Cayce stared at the model, hating the angry sparks flying around her, and tried to keep her own tone mild, as she pulled her aura protectively tight against her body. This was not the creative environment she needed. “You’re getting paid by the hour, so what do you care?”
Naomi tossed her hair. “I care. I don’t want to just stand around doing nothing.”
At that, Cayce snorted, and her lips quirked at the irony, since that’s precisely what the body model did. She walked over, completely unconcerned about Naomi’s impatience, and stood in front
