Unforeseen Dives – 25a – Minefield

<< 24b – Appearances

I unlocked the door of my mom’s house with my key. Becky followed me in along with our two FBI counterparts for this investigation. I would be happier dealing with familiar faces like Ryan and his partner but it would be incorrect of me to ask to have them flown in from New York. I’d have to trust the two strangers with my mom’s life.
Our sweep’s goal wasn’t to lift prints or anything like that. A specialized team was scheduled to drop by in two hours and comb through every thing for clues. My job consisted of walking around the house and trying to spot anything amiss. The FBI found no sign of struggle when they swept the place yesterday but my knowing eye might spot something they overlooked; a vase in the wrong place, an item missing, etc.
They found my mom’s purse here so there ought to be a lead of some kind. So far, the hypotheses were broad: either the fight happened on the lawn, making traces harder to find or my mom followed her kidnapper willingly.
Standing in this house without my mom present was eerie. I had never done it before since I got my own place when my mother sold the old house a few years after my dad died. This was my mom’s home, not quite mine though I was very familiar with it.
I crossed the lobby, running my gaze along the perfectly aligned picture frames. My whole life seemed to be up on that wall: a family portrait including my dad when I was a kid, my graduation mug shot, and even a framed article about my recent exploits and my prompt diving condition. I left it behind to search the living room.
The couch was on its spot and so were the decorative candles on the coffee table and the mantle. The same impeccable presentation applied to the dining room. And the kitchen. And every other room. I had nothing, not a smidgen of additional information to enrich what the FBI had, which wasn’t a lot.
I came back to the lobby to report to the rest of the team.
“Didn’t she leave you a note hidden somewhere? She must have seen it coming, right?” One of the investigator replied to my empty-handed status.
“Ignorant.” Rebecca commented in a murmur. I refrained my own rise of anger to provide a more complete and leveled answer.
 “It is a huge insult to a psychic to suppose he uses his skill to read his own future. It’s considered selfish and plain wrong.” My explanation should have prompted an excuse.
“Don’t you keep tabs on her?”
“Do you keep tabs on your mom?” Rebecca barked. I just tensed. These guys knew nothing about us or clearly hadn’t cared enough to learn. This investigation would be painful for more than one reason.
“No, obviously, I don’t. Now if you could give me silence and space, I planned to prompt dive and try to relive what happened here.” I asked as nicely as I could.
“Since when can psychics do that?”
“She’s a special edition. Would you please walk out?” Rebecca pushed them almost gently toward the door. I didn’t really need them to leave but I couldn’t handle them asking “What do you see now?” while I tried to concentrate. I wished learning about us was part of the FBI training. Rebecca closed the door behind them. I sighed in relief.
“Are you sure you can to do this?” Her question related both to my actual skill and my emotional strength. I nodded in response and closed my eyes.
The Ocean flooded my senses in an instant. The whirlpool tampered with my senses. It was so close I shivered. The incessant maelstrom obscured my mom’s future completely and took a chunk of her past along for the ride. I didn’t want to flirt with disaster without the barrier of the chair and Becky as my safety net. I inched as close as I could without putting my heart in danger.
My mom opened the door and smiled at the visitor, whose face and body I couldn’t clearly see no matter what angle I looked at. He kind of had a mini-maelstrom of his own. She knew him. She invited him in. They sipped lemonade. He was careful not to touch anything but his glass. Without warning, the strange stabbed her with what I assumed to be a syringe. My mother didn’t even have the time to fight. The drug worked its way through her system fast. She grew limp.
The visitor caught her and laid her down against the pillow. He put on what I assumed to be gloves; his actions were so unclear. He washed both glasses and set them back on their shelf. He returned to the living room, grabbed my mom and…
The whirlpool started at that point and I snapped out of my dive. Rebecca stood by my side, a questioning look on her face.
“Ever seen anything like that?” I shook my head.
“Call them back in.”
My partner opened the door for the two FBI agents. They steadied their impatient jittering but not fast enough for us to miss it.
“All yours.” Becky said before heading for the kitchen.
“So? Do we have a suspect?”
“Not exactly.” One of the agents threw his hands up in the air. It irked me. “But it wasn’t a complete waste of time. The victim knew her assailant well and from the size, I’d say it was a man. Also…” Rebecca came back holding two glasses in her gloved hands. “… you should swipe these for prints and DNA. The assailant drank from one but washed them afterwards. Let’s hope he didn’t do a good job.”
The two men were surprised and stumbled for evidence bags to secure the glasses. Once it was done, Becky and I walked past them to go back to our car. Our job here was done. I just had one more thing to say to our FBI counterparts.
“Let’s see if you can top that.”

25b – Minefield >>