Page 88 of Power of the Mind

“It’s not.”

“But…” I pointed at the spots he’d highlighted in defense.

Diem paced, grinding his teeth, his knuckles popping every time he made fists with his hands. When I arrived, he abandoned the desk chair, ordering me to sit on one of the flimsy plastic seats from his waiting room and instructing me to read the spots he’d circled in yellow marker.

Diem was in full work mode. The raw emotions I’d witnessed over the past two days were hidden behind the concrete slabs of his steel gray eyes. If he was struggling with our nonrelationship, there was no sign.

“Read it,” he said again when he caught me staring.

“I did. I’m processing, and it’s creeping me out. Is this for real?”

“Yes.”

Blame the late hour of the previous night. Blame lack of sleep, eagerness, stress, distraction, whatever. The point was we’d missed key elements. At close to midnight, our sole focus had been on the worddeceased.

In the light of a new day, two things stood out. First, the client files were Hilty’s, not Rowena’s. How they had ended upin the psychic’s filing cabinet was suspicious. Reflecting back, I remembered that we’d noted that the files Hilty had collected were all photocopies, not the originals. Had he made copies for his wife, then gotten scared and taken them back because we’d stirred the pot?

Second, the sticky notes that had been adhered to each file—the ones we’d photographed, peeled up, and set aside so we could read what was underneath—contained personal, handwritten notes.Theyhadn’t been photocopies. Each note contained a comprehensive personality summary of the client. Words likesuggestable, pliant,andhighly impressionablewere used.Responsive to hypnotherapycame up a few times, clearly indicating that Hilty had written them. Some were marked asvulnerable,susceptible,oreasily influenced.Naive,gullible, andsensitive to stimuli. Hilty’s remarks were concise and specific. He listed points of weakness in each client, along with what seemed to be a score out of ten. Did it indicate their level of manipulability? It was eerie.

I thought of the two men in the eighties who’d killed themselves after partaking in one of Hilty and Rowena’s circus sideshow acts, whose deaths had been brought before a judge because someone suspected they’d been mind-controlled.

“Not mind control,” I said into the void as Diem continued to pace. “The power of suggestion. Manipulation. These people were tagged as highly susceptible.”

I glanced at the desk full of client profiles. The ones who were alive, were they in danger?

Agog, I shook my head. “We have to report this.”

“No.”

“Diem—”

“We will be the laughingstock of the entire department.”

“Eleven people are dead.”

“And until we determine exactly how these fucknuts are doing it, I’m not telling anyone.”

“But if they’re using—”

“If you say mind control one more time, I’m going to put my fist through a wall.”

“If they’re using the power of their minds to manipulate people into—”

“I’m not convinced.”

“But you agree they’re working together again?”

“Seems like.”

I sat back, absorbing but not knowing where to go from there. I could play detective all I wanted, but Diem was the real investigator. Up until now, he hadn’t believed in the case. Had that changed? “What do we do? How do we figure out what’s happening?”

Diem stopped pacing and stared at the clutter on the desk. “You need to schmooze someone in homicide and get us autopsy reports for the eleven dead clients. Before I draw conclusions of any kind, I want to be sure there isn’t an underlying connection, something the pathologists missed because they weren’t looking at the cases side-by-side. In the meantime, I’m going to dig deep into Hilty. I’ll shake the no-good fucking idiot upside down if I have to and see what falls out.”

“Why do you always get the fun jobs?”

Diem’s six-and-a-half feet of height cast a shadow over me. He chuffed. It wasn’t a laugh, but it somehow conveyed humor on a subtle level. “Who between us is better at sweet talking, and who is better at intimidating?”

“Touché.” I scanned him head to toe and smirked. “You could get a job doing gym adverts if the PI stuff doesn’t work out. Just saying. I hate the mere idea of cardio, but if I saw you on a poster, I might change my mind.”

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