Chapter 22

Out of the Mouth of Babes

There are some Intuitives that can sense life and are so tuned in to sentient beings that they can almost tell you the moment of conception. I was praying that Furey wasn't one. I was praying because I had done something really stupid. I had slept with Special Agent Thaddeus Harding the night after I returned from Princeton. I was feeling cheap, humiliated and…well…unlovable.

Thaddeus is 32 and looks like Louis Jordan when he was younger. He's an attorney who entered the Bureau. He's a very bright man with a wicked sense of humor, the type that plays practical jokes all the time. That morning he had put blue cheese dressing in the cream pitcher. Each of us had taken turns drinking our coffee with a blue cheese concoction and spitting it out. The next person would arrive and we would all walk nonchalantly around, but staying somewhat suspiciously close to the coffee corner. You could hear laughter all morning.

Afterwards, we worked on dailies, looking for information on terrorists thought to be in our area. It was a long, boring day, but at the end of it, Thaddeus and I had been laughing over some of the mug shots, almost crying. We had one of those moments where the sexual tension is ripe and I could feel and hear how much he wanted me. I wanted to be wanted and Thaddeus Harding was there, ready and willing to want me. We found ourselves sweaty, naked in a hotel room three blocks from the Bureau, laughing. We both knew that it meant nothing except a romp in the hay. But, I hadn't used birth control and Tad hadn't used a rubber.

"Furey, what do you mean?"

He had looked so innocent. But then his eyes grew wide and his forehead furred, "My Dad isn't the father?"

I realized the gate was wide open and Furey was being treated to my thoughts and memories, "Honey, I don't think I'm pregnant."

He jumped up, "Yes, you do!"

I pulled on his wrist to get him to sit down. As calmly as I could I whispered, "Please sit down. I don't know if I am or not. I doubt that I am."

He sat down, "But if you are, you don't think Dad is the father?"

I had to be honest with him because, eventually he would know, "I don't think your father would be the father of the baby…if I was pregnant."

He looked very sad, "But, could he be?"

Greg and I had made love several times the last week that I had stayed with them. But, between the two of us, one of us had used birth control. So he would be a long shot.

"Probably not, but there's a slight possibility."

I could feel him get excited again. I needed to throw water on his exuberance, "Furey, listen to me. I am probably not pregnant and, if I am, your father is probably not the father. I also don't want anyone else to know. Do we understand each other?"

He nodded solemnly, "I won't tell Auri. I promise."

I reached over and looked into the blue eyes that were the carbon copy of his father's, "I know sweetie. I trust you."

"Can I tell him about you moving here?"

"Yes, but we need to do it together."

I took him back to his Dad's where he rushed in as I followed quickly behind.

"Dad!"

Greg had been playing piano. He stopped and looked up, "Yes?"

I opened the gate.

"Dad, Auri is coming back here to live. The FBI is going to move Auri back here to be with me!"

I felt his surprise, suspicion and a mischievous amusement.

"What?" He turned to me, "What is this about?"

"I'm going to be assigned serial killer detail on the east coast and, when I'm not chasing killers, I'll be guarding Furey. If you agree, I'll be helping him too."

He started playing again. I was pretty sure that it was Liszt's Sonata in B Minor. He nodded at Furey, "You go get ready for bed."

Furey went over and kissed his Dad on the cheek and then threw his arms around my neck and planted a big one on my lips. I giggled.

House waited until he went upstairs, "Okay, what's the deal?"

"They want me to teach Furey not only how to use his assets, but how to keep him from using them when he shouldn't."

"Why should I let you?"

I smiled, shaking my head, "Because you're already grateful that I'm here, because you know someone has to do it and, since Teagan's dead, you don't have any options."

"I can say no."

"You won't…you love your son too much."

He kept looking from the keys to me and back, finally shrugging his shoulders in agreement.

"Great, I'll let them know." I turned and started towards the door.

"Auri, I'm' sorry that we didn't get to talk about what happened."

"It probably wouldn't have mattered." I opened the door and left.

************************

This was not the first time that I had been assigned to another part of the country, but it was the first time that I wasn't sure whether I would be returning to San Diego in the next few years. My friend, a property manager, rented my house out in San Diego to a lesbian couple with a small Papillon dog. By the beginning of the year, I was on my way to Philadelphia where I would be stationed with the understanding that I would do most of my work from my home, now located in Princeton, less than a mile from where Furey lived.

I rented a two bedroom house, a simple white clapboard house with a large front porch. Downstairs was the living room, dining room, kitchen, bathroom and large alcove, where I put a desk, my computer and fax machine. The basement was just off the little alcove. Upstairs there were two almost identical, but large, bedrooms and a bathroom. One bedroom was four feet shorter, because a wall had been installed to add storage. Each bedroom had a small closet. Downstairs there was one closet and a three foot by four pantry, so, storage was at a premium. It had a small, one car garage. The yard in the back was nice with a small patio, built in barbeque and a nice size grassy area.

I didn't bring a lot of my furniture, selling most of it through a consignment shop in San Diego. I furnished the guest room with a double bed, dresser, television, old computer, and books suitable for a young boy. I hung some of my Star Trek memorabilia on the walls to finish it off. It wasn't too Trekish for adults to be comfortable, but I knew a certain boy would like it. At least until the baby arrived.

I was pregnant. After dropping Furey off, I rushed to a drugstore to buy a pregnancy test. There was one that said it could give results within three weeks of conception. I grabbed it and stayed up all night thinking about what I would do if the wand was pink. All my life, I had gone back and forth on the idea of being a mother. One year I'd get "broody" and want a couple of kids. The next year, I was over it and just wanted to concentrate on my job. It was strange, but I wasn't nervous about being a mother. I thought Furey was right; I'd make a good one.

Around 4:30 am, I got up to pee and the little stick turned a bright pink. I had chills go through my body. Sitting down, I started grinning wanting to share the secret with someone, but there was no one in my life to share it with. I got on the internet and started trying to figure out the date that I got pregnant from the date of my last period. The pregnancy calculator seemed to point to Thadeus as the father. I was just happy that I would be on the east coast before I would show. I really didn't want Thadeus involved, and he was the kind that would want to 'do the right thing.' When I did move east, he knew nothing about the little bambino.

I started working a serial murder case in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. The killer had dumped one of the bodies near the outlet stores. I had received a package of photos and right away, pulled out the victim from the package of missing girls. I knew it was the lovely brown hair, brown eyed girl with the lopsided smile in the third photo. I was also sent a piece of her clothing which I could see at the bottom of the envelope. I didn't want to touch it this early in the morning, but knew I had to bite the bullet. Every minute of the day was important when you were chasing a serial killer.

I had gone through the profiler's school and had the highest rate of success of any profiler, but then I had a huge advantage. The percentage of cases I worked on that resulted in a conviction was 68%, a high rate, considering profilers are spread thin and only get a short time to work on a case before being assigned to the next one, usually before the case is solved. I was often able to give the authorities enough information to send them in the right direction just by seeing photos of the crime scene or feeling something that had been on the dead victim. If I was unable to get enough information from photos and touching the victim's things, I'd have to go to the crime scene. If that didn't yield enough information, I had to work the case like a regular agent until something popped up.

I couldn't testify at trial because the FBI didn't want my face out in public and they really couldn't put me on the stand. There was no way they could convict anyone if they claimed that my psychic abilities found the guy. So, I always worked with a partner whose sole purpose was to back-track my leads. I would provide important leads and my partner's job was to figure out how the FBI could get from point A to B with the evidence it gathered from my leads. For example, I might say that a girl was killed after the killer followed her from the bus stop. It would be my partner's job to find hard evidence placing the victim on the bus and to then look around the bus stop for evidence placing the killer there. If there was no physical evidence, then he would at least try to find evidence that proved the killer could have been there, i.e. he wasn't at work, no alibi, etc. Of course, back-tracking someone is always easier than trying to find them in the first place.

There were cases where I was useless as a psychic. For some reason, I couldn't pick up on the impressions I needed. Sometimes I knew why, usually it was because someone with a more vibrant personality had handled the objects. But there were times when I couldn't figure out why I wasn't getting any vibrations. I do know that sometimes it has to do with the severity of the weather. If it's been raining hard before I get to the body or objects, the vibrations have typically weakened, sometimes to the point that I can sense they are there, but can't read them. They become blurry. But there were times when I couldn't read the case because the killer was so devoid of any emotion, I couldn't pick up on it or the killer.

I reached into the envelope and grabbed the dirty piece of clothing and pulled it out. I had expected something to hit me as soon as I touched it, but nothing did. I looked at the three inch square of material and couldn't even make out if it had come from a dress, a blouse, pants or what. It was a light twill of a solid green and I was getting only the faintest of vibrations. I put it on the desk and went back to reviewing the documents that had been sent with the package. I always touch the evidence before I read the report so that when I first get my impressions, my mind is free of what someone else had deduced from the crime scene.

I read through the police report, discovering that the victim had only been uncovered because she has been buried near a creek bed behind the outlets and they had washed away with the heavy rains we were having. She was twenty-five and a sales clerk at the Bass Outlet. She had a car, which had been located in the mall parking lot. Apparently, she had been strangled with her own belt. There might have been sexual molestation, but there was no semen and no signs of it that could be detected on the body. But, we just couldn't rule it out. Her name was Letty Rogers.

Unlike all the crime shows on television, more frequently than not, the crime scene provides few, if any, clues. We wish there were spores or hairs or DNA, but the killers are getting too smart and have learned how to cover up their tracks. There is a theory, Locard's Principle of Exchange, which states, when a crime is committed the killer will always leave some evidence at the scene and take some evidence away with him. In theory, this is exactly what happens, at least on the microscopic level. It's important to note that this is just a "theory." For those crime scenes that leave us clueless, we may never know what evidence was left or taken from the scene; we have to catch the killer using other evidence we find.

By the time I had reviewed, researched, wrote my log and catalogued what I knew about the crime, it was 3:50 pm. I had to get up and make dinner. Greg was going to bring Furey over for dinner to see my house. I had invited Greg out of politeness, hoping he would say no, but he was never one to pass up a free meal.

I made one of Furey's favorite dinners, pepperoni and cheese in brochette with cranberry salad and brownies for desert. Around 5:00 pm I went upstairs and cleaned up, dressing in a sweater and jeans. It was very cold outside and snowing. I realized that I hadn't shoveled the new snow from the walk so I grabbed a coat and ran outside, grabbing the shovel. I was shoveling when they pulled up. My ungloved hands were red from the cold and my nose was running. I wiped my nose on my jacket sleeve, making a note to wash it.

Furey raced up to me, giving me a quick hug, "I brought the Star Trek DVD of the trip to Auirgae Beta!"

I laughed, "Sounds like just what we need, a little Janice Lester!"

We went inside and I took their jackets. Greg began looking around immediately. Furey turned to me with a grin and eyebrows raised, "Where's my room?"

Greg looked at his son, "Your room?"

Furey nodded, "Auri's fixed the guest room up for me."

Greg looked at me. I shrugged, "He must have read me. I was thinking about it while I was shoveling the sidewalk. It's up at the top of the stairs to the right."

Furey bounded up the stairs and we heard sounds, "Cool…sick…wow."

"Beer?" I asked.

Greg nodded and followed me to the kitchen. I handed him a beer and went over to check on the food.

Greg tilted his head, "Auri, his own room? Here?"

"I know. But, I was hoping that he could come and stay overnight on occasion."

He frowned, "I'm still not comfortable with him being trained by the government."

I was hurt. I put my hands on my hips, "I'm not the government. I'm someone who has seen Intuitives who have died trying to use their powers improperly and I've seen some so torn up by their talent that they have to go live in the mountains outside Yosemite…if you get my drift."

"You guys are arguing." A very sad faced Furey had returned to the kitchen.

Greg took a swig, "I'm drinking, your buddy here is arguing."

"Dad, can I stay tonight?"

"No. You have school tomorrow."

"Maybe on the weekend?" I asked Greg.

"Maybe."

"How's Wilson and Jennifer doing?"

Greg snorted, "Wilson rues the day he wanted a baby. Sleep is a thing of the past."

"I thought they raised Furey when he was a baby?"

Greg was leaning against the counter in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans. The t-shirt said, "I almost had a psychic girlfriend, but she left me before we met." I read his shirt and started laughing. He busted up too. I turned to see if Furey was laughing and saw him in the alcove next to my desk. It hit me that I had left the photos and piece of clothing on the desk. My heart skipped as I saw Furey reach down for the piece of cloth.

"No! Furey no!"

But it was too late; his head jerked back, his body recoiling as if he had been punched in the stomach. He dropped the cloth as if it were a hot coal. I ran into the alcove and grabbed his shoulders. Looking into his eyes I could see what he could see, a man tying a woman to a bed, raping her with a knife to her throat.

The man's face, screwed into a sneer, loomed above her, "When it's over, I'll let you go. Just tell me you like it. Tell me this feels good."

The girl, Letty Rogers, lay under him crying, tears streaming from her eyes to the bed. She was praying, praying to Jesus for salvation. The scene was so intense, I felt like I was going to vomit. Then I realized that Furey was seeing this too. I shook him.

"Furey, Furey. Honey…please, sweetie, come back. Think of Star Trek." I started shooting images of Spock and Captain Kirk into his head and he finally blinked. I could feel his mind coming back to me.

Greg pulled me away from Furey, throwing me back, "What the hell did you do to him?"

I couldn't focus on what Greg was saying; I was still worried about Furey. But I could see that Furey's mind was here with us again. He pushed his Dad away and ran into my arms. I cuddled him and took him to the living room, shutting off the oven as we went through the kitchen. I sat him on the couch, still in a death lock around my chest.

I whispered, "It's okay honey. I'm here, your Dad is here. You're safe, you're safe. Oh honey, I'm so sorry, so sorry."

Greg was looming above us. I could tell that he wanted to grab Furey from me and leave, but I couldn't let him. Not until I could help Furey deal with what he saw.

"Greg, sit down and shut up." I said with as much authority as I could muster.

He sat down, still leaning forward as if he wanted to leave.

"I'm working on a murder case. The cloth he picked up was off the victim's clothes. Furey picked up impressions from it. They were pretty intense."

Greg growled, "How intense?"

"He was raping her at knife point." I admitted. After he was done bearing his teeth at me, I added, "I need to work through this with Furey. It's never easy when you see something like this, especially at his age."

"Yeah, well he wouldn't have if you hadn't left your crap out."

I already felt guilty, "Yes, I know. But you're wrong. Furey is going to start picking up these impressions around him on occasion. He may sit on the bus where a rapist has sat or walk into a cemetery and feel the victim's vibrations. As he gets older, he'll be more in tuned with the darker side of humanity. It's kind of good that he had his first bad impressions with me, it means I can help him through them." Furey was still clinging, eyes tightly closed. I stroked his hair and kissed his head while sending calming impressions through. I looked over at Greg.

"Make yourself useful and check on the food. I'm going to need time alone with Furey."

He shook his head violently, "I'm not leaving you alone with my son."

"Yes, you are. You are if you want him to go home and not have bad dreams tonight."

Greg is an exceptionally perceptive man and knows when someone is telling him the truth. He threw his hands up in defeat and went to the kitchen.

"Furey, when you come to my house, please don't touch anything on my desk unless you ask first. Okay?"

Still clinging and eyes shut, he nodded.

"Okay Pumpkin, I'm going to talk you through this."

"The man you saw is a stranger many miles away." I petted his hair, lowered my voice and sent him calming thoughts.

Furey pulled away from me and with deep fear looked into my eyes, "But Auri, he's not a stranger to you. You've been near him before. If you think about it, you'll know."

I was shocked, Furey wasn't really worried about himself or the girl he saw. I could tell now, he was worried about me. He thought I was too close to this man, that something might happen to me. I pushed Furey away so that he wouldn't be touching me as I thought about the crime scene and the visions I had received from Furey.

I went through them in my head, the feeling of the man in the bed with the girl, the sound of his voice. I thought about the panties, the condom he was wearing. I thought about all of it and then it hit me. This man was familiar. He was the same killer that we had traced in Reston when Furey was kidnapped. The man they picked up and charged was the wrong man. Chills went down my body.

I nodded at Furey, "You're right. But, I don't know him personally, honey. I've been tracking him for the FBI. He's not coming for me. I don't even think he knows me."

Furey nodded, "Be careful though, he's moving again. He knows you got close to him before."

I let out a short chuckle, this kid was already moving past what he saw and was thinking about the case. "Furey, you concentrate on your homework and school. I'll worry about the case. By the way, have you done your homework?"

He shook his head, "Can you help me? It's percentages."

"I think we can do that." I grabbed his hands to see if he was okay. He was still a little shaken, but he was now thinking about homework and whether or not we'd have time to watch the episode of Star Trek he had brought over. "Are you okay?"

He nodded. We got up and went into the kitchen where Greg had managed to pull the brochette out. I asked them to set the table while I prepared the food for serving. When Furey walked out to the dining room, I grabbed Greg's arm, "He seems okay. It shook him up, but now he's worried about his homework. If he asks to sleep with you tonight, let him. He may just need some reassurance."

Greg nodded, then grabbed my wrist, "What are you working on?"

"Apparently, I'm working on the same case I had in Reston when Furey was kidnapped. I didn't know until Furey showed me his impressions." I thought for a second, not sure I should say anything, "Your son's talents are off the chart. He's grown in leaps and bounds this year. He'll surpass Teagan and me. Thank God he's got a good head on his shoulder, because you're either raising the next President of the United States or the AntiChrist."

"Not funny."

"Not meant to be. With his talent, he could manipulate just about situation."

Greg was worried, "I'm not much of a role model for a kid with superhuman abilities to manipulate people."

"I know. That's why you have to start acting like a human. You have to let him know it's not okay to press the little red button if you don't like what Kim Jong-il called you."

Furey came in and narrowed his eyes, "Are we going to eat or just whisper about me?"

"Eat." I said, handing him the salt and pepper to put on the table.

After dinner, Furey and I sat down at the table and did his homework while Greg watched television. I didn't have to look up to know that Greg was feeling affection for me. It was the kind of affection you feel for someone who compliments a family member or takes good care of someone you love. He appreciated my relationship with Furey. I let his thoughts come through as Furey did a calculation.

He loves her like a mother. She treats him like a son. God, she has patience. Five minutes of doing percentages and I would have told him he was a moron for not getting it and that he should go back and read the book. He needs a mother and I need to get laid. But, if we dated, she'd know everything. I wouldn't have any privacy between the two of them. But she'd be good for Furey, calming. We could set up boundaries. I could do worse than Auri.

I could feel myself blush. He was analyzing the situation as if he was putting the pros and cons up on a whiteboard and studying them. I would have said something, but then he would have known I was reading his thoughts. Instead I just laughed to myself. If he knew that I was going to have a baby, he'd run and not look back.

"I think we're done!" I ruffled Furey's wavy brown hair and smiled. He got up, kissed me on the cheek and put his book in his back pack. I realized that in another year, I probably wouldn't be getting kisses without a lot of cajoling. I was going to miss them. Furey was an affectionate child, something he got from his mother.

We joined Greg on the couch, Furey between us, and watched the very last episode of Star Trek. When they first mentioned that they had set course for Aurigae Beta, Furey stopped the DVD and looked up at his Dad.

"See, I told you! Auri's full name is Aurigae Beta Ferrell. Auri, will you name the baby after a Star Trek episode?" The minute he said it, he realized what he had done. His face dropped and his eyes grew wide. He looked at me apologetically.

"Baby? What baby?" Greg asked.

"I'm thinking of getting baby guinea pigs for Furey to raise."

I could feel his suspicion. He wasn't buying it even thought it was the truth. I had seen some in a pet store window and wondered if Furey would like them. Greg tilted his head and his eyes became steely pin lights.

"Really, I saw them in the window at Petco and thought Furey might like them."

He paused and then took the remote from Furey, starting the dvd again. Furey snuck a glance at me and I winked. He smiled.

Later when they went home I thought about my baby and whether or not it would be an Intuitive. The idea frightened me. I watched Furey navigate all the minefields of being Intuitive and I was constantly worried about him. I figured I was six weeks pregnant and I was already worried about my kid. I decided I would try to concentrate on what my child would look like, a cross between Thadeus and me. Probably jet black hair and blue eyes. I thought the kid would be pleasant to look at. His-her father was.

I went to sleep and dreamed. I don't like dreaming about cases, but I kept replaying what Furey had seen. My mind was trying desperately to glean clues from the images. I could see he had a school ring on, one that had a strange shape on the side, but I couldn't make out what it was. There was a date, '98. I could assume he graduated from either college or high school in 1998, making him, 28-34 years old. He had sandy-brown hair and his fingers were stubby and discolored. Did he smoke? Work on machines? Use dyes? I couldn't tell. I just knew that he was satisfied. Letty Rogers hadn't given him what he wanted and he wasn't happy. Letty's body had been in the creek bed for two months, meaning he had probably come up to the Lancaster area after we almost caught him in Reston.

I got up the next morning and touched the green piece of cloth, I could feel it now. See what Furey had seen. I wondered why I couldn't see it before? Did Furey's handling of it amplify it? I didn't know, but I now had something to tell the agents working the case.

Dear Readers: Hope you're enjoying the story...long chapter today! And you thought it was a House baby! Thank you so much for the reviews; they keep me writing! Gorby!