Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

flit my eyes around. The majority of the house is as barren as the entry, despite the character and charm of the outside of the home.

“Ever think of decorating a bit?” I mutter.

“Why?” Blake says, raising an eyebrow.

A young man, no older than twenty bounds around the corner. His shaggy brown hair reminds me of a sheep dog, the way he has to toss his head to the side to see.

“Heya, Blake. I got all the specs pulled up,” he says, grinning from ear to ear. “Ready when you are.”

The young man’s eyes bounce from Blake, to me, and back to Blake.

“Great,” Blake says, walking out of the entryway and down the hall Aiden came from.

The two of us stand together in the entryway staring at each other for a long, awkward moment.

“Hi, I’m Aiden,” the kid finally says, holding out a hand.

I look down at his outstretched limb and take a second to decide if I want to follow through with the mundane ritual. His blue eyes latch on me expectantly, so I take his hand in return.

“Diana,” I say as our hands lock.

Before I can catch a breath, Aiden as a young child floods my consciousness. He’s no more than eight himself, playing with a toy robot. In the room with him, adults talk in hushed whispers. They all think he’s too young to be alone in this world. His parents are dead and there’s no one left to take him. They need to find a solution, poor boy. Without hesitation, Blake offers himself, his home, and opens his life to an unexpected single-fatherhood, despite having only been in the special forces for a year and a half.

The vision is ripped from me as Aiden removes his hand.

I step back, surprised. Not only for the insight of Blake and Aiden’s interesting dynamic, but by the selflessness of Blake’s actions. It doesn’t jive at all with the man I’ve met thus far.

Aiden’s eyebrows tug in as he eyes me curiously.

“Uh, let’s head this way,” he says, putting his hands behind his back as he walks out after Blake.

Suddenly left alone in the entryway, I take a final glance around, then follow after. By the time I reach the hallway, both men have disappeared, so I follow the sound of their voices to pinpoint their location. Ordinarily, I’d have gotten far more details with my abilities by now. My gifts would have told me how long Blake has been here, why he did what he did for Aiden—hell, how often he brushes his teeth, works out, or has sex. But, just like the starkness of his home, nothing.

Everything is utterly, completely, blissfully, silent.

Even details surrounding Aiden seem to be short-lived and limited.

As I round the corner to where the men’s voices are the loudest, I notice an open doorway—the only room adorned with things on the walls. Stopping for a moment to have a better look, I’m abruptly cut off as Blake rushes past me and closes the door right in my face.

“Er—that’s private,” he says, his eyes shifting from me to the door and back again. “We’re this way.”

Blake turns my shoulders to square up with the walkway and gently nudges me along.

“What are you hiding back in there?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.

“Nothing, it’s just—nothing you have to worry about. Has nothing to do with the case,” he says.

“Ah, so is it a sex dungeon, or your ‘My Little Pony’ collection?” I say, raising an eyebrow.

Blake’s left eyebrow quirks upward.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, ushering me into the next room.

“I vote My Little Pony collection,” Aiden chimes in.

Blake rolls his eyes.

I stop abruptly, surprised by the sheer amount of technology crammed into the twelve-foot-by-twelve-foot space.

“Wow,” I say, my eyes opening wide.

“Yeah, ya see why we don’t leave this kinda thing to the cops?” Blake says, smirking.

On the wall directly in front of me is a large monitor with a satellite view of the Mississippi River and each of the houses along the route flash brightly. Beside it are three more screens, all operating on their own, searching for something I wouldn’t even have the first guess at.

“Okay, Diana, we need you to help us narrow down where along the river you think you’re seeing Esther. Was there anything that stood out about the house?” Blake asks, his face serious, and his stance wide. “Right now, we have more than four-hundred homes along the shore and there’s no way in hell we’re knocking door-to-door.”

I take a step forward and nod.

“Uh, yeah, actually. It was an older home, but not so old you’d think the creep would be holding a little girl against her will in there. It was blue outside with white shutters—and had an early eighties vibe inside. Orange shag carpet kinda stuff,” I say, remembering back to the vision.

“Good start,” Blake says, turning to Aiden.

“On it,” Aiden mutters, turning to his keyboard. His fingers fly expertly and within seconds lights along the river go out. Another moment later, five homes load on the monitors in sequence, each showing the front face of a blue home with white shutters.

“Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath.

That was fast. Like, blink and you’ll miss it kinda fast.

The irony of how similar technology has become to my abilities is not lost on me. A shudder skitters down my spine. Technology creeps the hell outta me.

No wonder some people don’t want to believe in psychics.

“Any of these?” Blake asks, intensity rolling off of him in waves as he points to the screens.

I take another step forward, peering at the monitors.

“Yep, that one,” I say, raising my arm, and touching the one on the bottom left.

Aiden whimpers, “Please don’t touch the screens.”

He gets up, grabbing a small black cloth and wipes furiously.

I back away and stifle a small chuckle.

“You sure?” Blake says, his dark eyes monitoring my every movement.

“Dead sure,” I say, returning his intensity.

Blake turns on his heels and heads out the door.

“Stay here with Aiden,” he