Bad Karma

scooped it off the floor and put it on top of the TV.

It was weird being back in the motel room, seeing the belongings she’d thought she would never see again. It was almost as if she’d left a part of herself behind and had come back to get it.

Not wanting to remain in the room any longer than she had to, she quickly changed clothes. She put on a white V-neck cotton T-shirt and a pair of faded jeans that were ragged at the bottom and alarmingly loose around the waist.

While slipping into her sandals, she twisted her hair into a bun, then jabbed a wooden hair pick through it to hold it in place. After that, she gathered up a few tools of her trade and put them in a small bag.

When she’d first become interested in psychic phenomena, she tried all the aids. Although she’d taught herself to read runes and the tarot, she’d never felt anything other than a fraud. In fact, she’d come away from the lessons relieved and convinced that she had no power. That was until the child disappeared. But she hadn’t used cards or stones to bring about the answer, to bring about the nightmare.

She pushed that thought out of her mind, replacing it with another. If Mr. Daniel Sinclair wants a show, I’ll give him one.

Daniel hadn’t yet returned to pick her up. She took the opportunity to go to the gas station two blocks away in hopes of finding something she could eat. She ended up buying a loaf of white bread and a bottle of clear soda with the change she was able to scrounge from the bottom of her bag. In the motel, she opened the soda. Sitting on the bed, she took out a slice of bread, carefully removed the crust, and slowly force-fed herself.

Before she could finish, a knock sounded on the door. She put the half-eaten piece of bread back in the bag, sealed it with a twist tie, then hid the bread in her suitcase. Then she grabbed her supplies and headed out the door into the blazing sun where Daniel waited, arms crossed at his chest, feet crossed at his booted ankles, one hip against the hood of his car.

He pushed away from the vehicle and took his place behind the wheel while Cleo slid into the passenger seat. She could feel his muddled anger. His bad vibes were filling the car, invading her space. Silently, he pulled out of the weedy parking lot onto the two-lane highway.

“Was everything okay with Beau?” she asked.

“Fine,” came his terse reply.

“And Premonition?” she ventured, wanting her inquiry to sound casual, hoping to hide her anxiety.

“Fine too,” he said with distraction. “They’re both fine.” So don’t ask any more questions were his unspoken words. His preoccupation and moodiness didn’t improve when they reached the police station.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “It looks like Jo’s invited half the town to witness the sideshow.”

“Are you calling me a sideshow?” she asked, her anger toward him building by the second. “I resent that.”

“Let’s not start this crap again.”

“You started it. I’m just speaking up for myself.”

His answer was a groan of misery, a sound that seemed to ask, What did I ever do to deserve this?

Because of the additional cars, Daniel was forced to park halfway down the block. He cut the engine then rubbed his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.

No wonder he had a headache, Cleo thought. He had enough tension in him to power an energy plant.

Inside the building’s cool darkness, Jo immediately greeted her. “I want you to meet my good friends.” She introduced Cleo to two women who could have been twins with their gray hair, pink tops, and tan orthopedic shoes. And Cleo couldn’t help but notice that they had the same tightly permed hairdo as Jo.

Burton Campbell was there, along with Harvey Jamison. The former was all pleasant smiles, the latter scowling as much as Daniel. Parker hovered nervously behind his desk.

“Daniel told us you went to St. Louis to pick up some supplies,” Jo said. “We’ve been holding our breath, waiting for you to get here. What is it you have in mind, dear?”

Daniel had lied about her bungled escape attempt? Why? Certainly not to protect her. He must have done it for Jo.

“Mr. Sinclair probably explained that I wasn’t getting any kind of feelings or readings,” she said, playing along with Daniel’s explanation of her disappearance. “So I felt I needed some items to help move this along.” She pulled out a small white candle. That was followed by incense, which she handed to Daniel. “Would you light one of these for me?” she asked, smiling sweetly. She’d gotten the incense at a shop in Portland. It was some of the strongest she’d ever smelled.

He shot her a dark look, grabbed the sticks, and wandered away, presumably to find matches.

“What did you get in St. Louis?” Jo asked.

“Candles,” Cleo said, thinking quickly.

“We could have found candles here in town,” Jo said. “You didn’t need to go all the way to St. Louis.”

“These are special candles. They’ve, uh, been anointed with powerful herbs so they’ll hold energy. And they were blessed by the light of the full moon.”

From somewhere behind her, Daniel let out a snort. At the very same time, the sweet smell of frankincense drifted toward her.

“Imagine that,” Jo said, her voice full of awe.

“I’m glad you’ve assembled a group of people.” Cleo glanced around. “Four women and four men. It’ll give us balance.” One thing she could really do if the need arose was bullshit.

“Count me out,” Daniel said. “I’m just the wheels. I’m just here to haul Miss Clara Voiyant around.”

“You have to stay,” Jo said. “Cleo said we need four men.”

“You know how I feel about this stuff.”

“So what if you don’t believe in it?” Jo said. “I don’t think that’s a requirement.” She looked at Cleo for help. “Is it?”

Cleo smiled, while inside she was seething about the Clara Voiyant business. “No. We just need his presence.” There was no way she was letting him leave, not after hauling her back here.

“That’s all you’re getting,” he said. “A body.”

Cleo drifted close to him and whispered, “I never wanted your mind anyway.”

Before he could answer, before she could even see his reaction, she swung back to the group as they waited patiently and solemnly for instructions.

“Pull the shades,” she told them. “We want it as dark as possible.” While they scrambled to darken the room, Cleo lit the candle and put it on the floor.

Jo’s friends clapped their hands and giggled in excitement while the men shuffled their feet and looked nervous, all except Dr. Campbell, who kept smiling.

“Now we’ll sit cross-legged around the candle and hold hands.”

“Ooh, a seance,” Jo said.

“For chrissake,” Daniel muttered.

“A seance?” Dr. Campbell asked, his smile wavering.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” Harvey said, echoing Daniel’s sentiments.

There wasn’t a peep out of Parker.

“Not really a seance, but kind of like one,” Cleo explained, ad-libbing as she went. “It’s the same principle. I will be the lightning rod, and we’ll use our combined concentration to set up an energy field that I hope will bring me a vision.

“Okay: man, woman, man, woman. We want to alternate.” They joined hands and made a circle around the candle, with Daniel somehow ending up on her left, Harvey on her right. They spread out, dropped hands, then tried to sit down on the floor.

“I don’t believe I’ve sat cross-legged since I was a child,” one of the twins said.

“Sitting cross-legged channels the energy better, but if you can’t do it, that’s okay,” Cleo said, taking pity on the women. “In fact, it might be a good idea to not have such a strongly knit circle.”

That let the twins off the hook, and they both decided it might be a little more ladylike to sit with their knees together, legs bent to one side. “My mother always said ladies don’t sit with their legs crossed. It’s vulgar. Oh.” She put a hand to her mouth. “I didn’t mean to imply people here were vulgar.”

“Everybody join hands and concentrate on the key,” Cleo instructed. “Stare at the candle flame and visualize