The Link - Chapter One Revised

Empathic friends, Rachel and Ross, combine psychic gifts to fight organized crime.

Morgan/THE LINK Suspense Fiction

Chapter 1 - The Gift

Rachel awoke before dawn, her head throbbing as if a pinball ricocheted inside her skull, setting off bells and whistles. Pressing both palms to her forehead, she tried to ease the overwhelming sensation that the entire city of Seattle was converging inside her head. Giving up on sleep, she untangled herself from the sheets and surrendered.

She massaged her temples and then dug through her nightstand for her migraine medication. Dry-swallowing two pills, she felt hopeful. Rachel wrapped herself in her favorite soft blue robe that felt like a hug.

Stepping into the kitchen, a cold shiver ran down her spine. She glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing there. She pulled her robe tighter and stared into the darkness that seemed to be watching her.

Rachel shared an extraordinary telepathic bond with Ross Tanner--her friend, lover, and fellow empath. Their connection was like a dark highway, with no lights, or limits, yet this morning she sensed frenetic energy from Ross, unusual, even for an FBI special agent. She wished he'd just use a phone like everyone else.

Rachel reached for a coffee mug but dropped it when Ross's voice tore through her mind. Normally, their link was crystal clear, but today the static felt like a warning. Something was disrupting their bond in a way she'd never felt before. She heard fragments, "I'm com..." The interference turned into white noise, Ross, shouting now, "...dang!" then the connection disintegrated, leaving only a faint hiss.

She clenched her fists and shouted, "Wait! Why am I in danger? Come back here, Ross!" But the silence closing in felt claustrophobic.

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As soon as Ross disconnected, Dr. Ashari reached Rachel, mind to mind. "... on my way!" he assured her. Dr. Ragi Ashari, chairman at the Institute for Gifted Children, had helped Rachel and Ross understand their extraordinary empathic bond. He never recorded all the confidential details, knowing the dangers of exposing their psychic gifts.

Rachel sensed Dr. Ashari's, faint, reassuring whisper in the chaos and wondered what the hell was going on!

A sudden thud at the door startled Rachel, her hand went to her heart, pounding fast, before she realized it was just the newspaper delivery. Steadier, Rachel grabbed her laptop and logged into the Seattle Times, spotting her band, Wavelengths, featured on the front cover. "We made it! Awesome!" she exclaimed. The vibrant photo showed her and her bandmates, radiating confidence, ready for tonight's big concert. The article explained how Wavelengths would debut at the Aurora Borealis Theater, with proceeds supporting its restoration. Though nervous, Rachel was determined to take the stage.

Looking up from her laptop, Rachel admired the penthouse's floor-to-ceiling windows flooding the space with golden light, a constant reminder of her mother's elegant touch. She found solace in that gentle glow, missing her mother terribly.

She eyed the shadowy hallway leading to the library--her intended destination. Moving cautiously, she passed beneath the archway, letting her hands brush the silk tapestries lining the corridor, grounding herself until her confidence returned.

Inside the library's small, dim closet, Rachel's heart skipped a beat as she knelt on the dusty floorboards. She slid her fingers under the bottom edge--rough wood scraping her skin, uncovering the hidden compartment. Nestled inside was a black-and-silver safe--solid and imposing. Rachel focused on the glowing keypad, entering the numbers she'd memorized as a child. She bit her lip as the pale blue screen shifted from LOCKED to OPEN. The lever clunked loudly in the early morning stillness.

Rachel's stomach tightened as she opened the safe, immediately noticing the stun gun Ross had given her. She slid it from its leather holster, surprised by its weight. Digging deeper, she found a worn, dog-eared file. The label, "Anthony Benni" in her father's handwriting, caught her eye. Why would her father be involved with Benni, a real estate magnate often rumored to be connected to organized crime?

Rachel returned to her room; file tucked under her arm. She slipped into her favorite jeans, clipped the stun gun onto her belt loop, and glanced in the full-length mirror. She barely recognized herself. Her complexion was pale, and her auburn hair was unruly. She ran her fingers through the tousled waves, pulling them back into a ponytail, and shrugged. It would have to do. Remembering something else Ross had given her, she retrieved an old shoebox from her closet, pulled out the Swiss Army knife and slipped it into her front pocket.

Down in the kitchen, the familiar hum of the espresso machine was like an invitation. She pressed the button for coffee, and moments later, her father appeared. Smiling, she greeted him, "Good morning, Daddy," kissing his cheek. "You're up early." Anticipating his need for caffeine, she brewed a second cup.

She set his coffee and a bottle of water in front of him. "Thank you, luv," he said in his melodious British accent. After she sat, his concern was clear, "Darling, what's wrong?"

"Ross and I connected early this morning. He's on his way," she said, staring into her coffee. "Our connection was full of static, but he said, 'I'm com... You're in dang--'.' then, I lost him."

Randolph expression grew grave, "Do you mean, Danger?' He remembered his recent dealings with Anthony Benni, fear flickering across his face.

"Dad, what is it? Tell me!"

He sighed, "Rachel, stop rummaging through my head; it isn't polite," he said gently. "I've been negotiating waterfront properties for clients all week, but one deal fell through. The owner filed bankruptcy, and the buyer won't take 'no' for an answer."

"So, he's used to getting his way?" she asked.

"And he'll stop at nothing to get it."

Rachel touched the file that she'd brought to the table. She froze. Images and emotions swirled as she saw an armed man threatening her defenseless father. The flash ended, leaving her with burning images she couldn't unsee. She pulled a document from the folder and handed it to him.

"That flash involved Anthony Benni, a firearm, and you," she said, grimly.

Randolph nodded, admitting, "The waterfront property in question is the Aurora Borealis Theater," he admitted. "I've been a silent partner and the majority shareholder for the past eight years. I have no intention of selling now." Randolph showed her the deed for the Theater, listing him as one of the current owners.

"Daddy, I had no idea," Rachel whispered. Suddenly, she heard her voice echoing inside a tunnel, overwhelmed by a video that played in her mind. Reality melted away.

Randolph rushed to his daughter, repositioning her on the sofa, careful not to disturb the vision. Alarmed, he saw her struggling to breathe. "Rachel, come back; it's too much," he pleaded, softly holding her face and gently tapping her cheeks. When she didn't respond, he splashed water onto her face, breaking the connection and releasing her unharmed.

"No Gus... No!" She cried out before collapsing. From experience, he knew the flashes and visions were taking a physical toll on her, she needed rest. Randolph held his daughter close, relieved as her breathing steadied. He wiped away a tear, stroking stray curls from her face.

Looking up, he asked quietly, "Who the hell is Gus?"

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