Kathleen Creighton - Danger Signals

"All right, it was just a dream I had. One I've had before, going way back to when I was a kid. Hadn't had it in a long time, though, and then yesterday you told me you'd picked up…something from me. Something about…violence. Terror, you said. Something bad happening that scared me pretty bad, but you said there was somebody there…" He had to stop, wasn't sure why, suddenly he just couldn't go on.

"The Protector." Tierney said softly. "Someone who made you feel safe."

"Yeah." He said it on an exhalation, then ran a hand over his hair. "The thing is, that pretty much is my dream. The one I've been having since I was a kid. Last night I had it again, only this time I heard my mother's voice. I told you I don't have any memories from before I was adopted, and that was the truth. But I do have this dream, and now I'm starting to think it might be some kind of memory." He paused, and this time she didn't attempt to fill the silence, just waited for him to continue. "Anyway, like I said. I heard my mother's voice. Only she's not the protector. She's…the violence. The terror-part of it, anyhow." His jaws tightened, and he could hear the hard edge in his voice. "I'm pretty sure I know what it was, that part of it. Domestic violence is something I've learned a lot about, in my line of work. Unfortunately. What I still don't get, though, is the part about this…protector."

"You never see who it is? In the dream, I mean."

He shook his head. "It's dark. Then someone comes and turns the lights on, so bright they blind me-hurt my eyes. And I always wake up before I can see the person-the protector's face." He gave a short laugh. "I assume it's a person. My little brother insisted it was an angel."

Tierney smiled, lifted her camera and zoomed in on a cluster of yellow blossoms tinged with blush pink. A man on the opposite side of the rose bed checked, then moved quickly a few steps farther on so as not to ruin her shot. Then he paused to lift his camera, too.

She checked the viewing screen, then glanced up at Wade. "So then…you woke up?"

"Yeah. It was early, just barely starting to get light. But I figured there wasn't any point in going back to sleep, so I got up. I went over to the windows and looked out at the street-I don't know. I always do that first thing when I get up. Force of habit. Anyway. I spotted a car parked across the street, and a guy was sitting in it."

Tierney lowered her camera and frowned. They'd moved on to another rose bed, this one a cream and red bicolor, a favorite of hers. On the edge of her field of vision, she saw the man with the camera stoop to smell one of the fragrant blossoms. Waves of contentment and pleasure wafted across the bed like perfume. She relaxed and murmured. "The Watcher?"

"It was the first thing I thought of. Call me paranoid if you want to, but in my line of work paranoia's a good thing. A little paranoia can keep you alive. Anyway, I tried to catch the guy-ask him what the hell he was doing parked in front of my house in the dark of the morning- but he drove off before I-" He broke off and ran a hand over his close-cropped hair. "Hell. I blew it, that's all."

She felt his chagrin and embarrassment and knew better than to ask why or how. "And then a few hours later." she mused. "The Watcher shows up at your news conference."

Her mind was only half on what she was saying; she'd deliberately chosen a path that would intersect with the stranger's, and the distance between them was closing rapidly. Would he step aside and try to avoid her? Or-no, he was standing in the pathway gazing at the sea of glorious blossoms, his face alight with…

Joy. Love. Nostalgia.

The man was immersed in memories, happy ones.

He came to himself as Tierney and Wade approached, and looked around, appearing startled. But with a friendly smile, saying, as he stepped quickly aside. "Oh-sorry, am I in your way?"

He had a nice voice, mellow and rich. A nice face, too. And kind eyes. But, Tierney thought, there was something weary about them, too, as if they'd seen much that was neither nice nor kind.

She and Wade both made polite assurances, but the stranger's smile grew wry with apology.

"I have to plead guilty to not paying attention. All this-these roses takes me back a bit. The first time I saw my wife was in a rose garden."

He's holding something back, Tierney thought. A private memory, something delicious…

"Really? Where was that?"

To her surprise it was Wade who picked up the conversational ball, at the same time throwing her a glance that had question pouring out of it like water from a faucet. She didn't read minds, but she knew he was asking her for her "take" on the stranger.

It frustrated her to admit she didn't have one-not one she trusted. He seemed benign, but at the same time…

How odd. It's almost as if…he has the same bits and pieces missing as Wade. The same fragments of violence and danger that pop into his gentler emotions now and then, like gunfire way off in the distance.

"Washington," the stranger said, and quickly added, "D.C., not state."

"Ah," said Wade. "That where you're from?"

"No, but my job takes me there a lot. Among other places. I'm a journalist, by the way-Cory Pearson." He held out his hand.

"Wade Callahan-I'm a cop," Wade said as he took it.

"Really? Here? In Portland?"

He knows that, Tierney thought, but it doesn 't alarm him. Then two "impressions" hit her simultaneously.

Love!

Lies!

She knew the man was hiding his true self, holding himself in check, guarding emotions so powerful he couldn't quite contain them.

She opened her mouth to say something, anything to get Wade's attention, but the words wouldn't come. The force of the 'impressions' had literally taken her breath away.

The moment of paralysis passed, as it always did, and she was able to draw breath, and with it a little gasp that was the prelude to speech, to the warning she needed to give. But before she could speak she felt a timid touch on her arm. She turned to find an Asian man standing there, shyly holding out his camera and pointing to himself and then to his large family, nodding and smiling at her from a short distance away.

As Tierney took the man's camera and followed him to where his family had assembled for a photo in front of a bed of roses in full and glorious bloom, she heard the stranger- Cory Pearson-say to Wade, "Hey, there's a thought- would you mind? For my wife. She'll love this…"

Her mind was in turmoil, trying to concentrate on two things at once and failing to keep up with either one. The Asian family was patient with her hesitation, thinking she was having trouble understanding their camera. They were all chattering helpfully at her and pointing to this button and that one. Meanwhile, she could hear Wade and the stranger talking together in low-key but friendly tones as Wade obligingly took several photos with the man standing in front of different varieties of roses, then one with the city and Mount Hood in the distant background.

And all the time they were moving farther and farther away from her.

By the time the family had run out of poses, reclaimed their camera and moved on, she was ready to weep with frustration. She turned to look for Wade, keeping one hand clasped to her forehead, which had begun to ache from the pressure of her silently screamed-and futile-warnings.

She spotted him at last on the lower level, idly strolling and obviously alone. And watching for her, because as soon as he saw her looking his way he lifted a hand and started toward her. She hurried to meet him, then broke into a run-probably not the wisest move, given the sandals she was wearing. She watched his attitude change from relaxed to alert as he read the urgency on her face, saw him quicken his step and reach for her in time to keep her from plunging headlong into his arms.