Page 11 of Controlled Chaos

He lowered his fork. “This isn’t a vacation for me. It’s work.”

“Maybe for you.” She smiled and took a bite of her pasta before she gestured to the envelope on the tiny plate next to the steak. “Since I negate your voodoo and you negate my visions, you’ll need to wait until I’m not around and you’re ready to open the envelope.”

“What is it?” he asked, picking up the envelope with his name written on the outside.

“I don’t quite know. Only the owner does.”

“I don’t understand,” he said.

“It shows you what you desire.”

“That’s easy enough. I desire to see this criminal we’re hunting behind bars.”

“Is that what you saw with the napkin I gave you at the cafe?” she asked.

“No.” He cleared his throat. “I saw my father.”

Her face softened as if she liked his answer. “When did you know you had abilities?”

“I don’t normally talk about what I can do with just anyone. I’ve always kept it a secret.”

“Why? Are you afraid some criminal confessed because they want to get you into bed?”

“Yes,” he answered without a smile. “I’ve spent my entire life trying to avoid crossing that line. It’s why I’ve only been assigned male criminals to chase.”

“Then, why do you need me?”

“I’ll be surrounded by women, and I need to stay focused in order to weave through the web of lies.”

Clara raised a brow as if just now figuring out why Porter needed her. “Exactly who are you trying to take down?”

He cut through another bite of steak and lifted it to his lips. “My stepfather.”

“Your stepfather?” she echoed as if confused by his answer.

Family members were known to watch out for each other. Porter was like that with his sister and his mom, but something had been nagging at his gut where his stepfather was concerned. It was something he couldn’t put his finger on. A gut feeling from all those years ago when Porter had been a troubled teen. He never understood why he had this distrust, and it wasn’t until the first dead body floated to shore with evidence of being on the island that his mom now called home before Porter started to understand.

“My stepfather is a manipulator, and I believe he was ultimately responsible for my father’s death, among others.”

“Love triangle?” Clara asked.

“Not a triangle. Not exactly. More like a cult.”

Porter knew how this sounded. His mother had thought the same thing. She’d thought Porter was looking for someone to blame in his father’s death. And maybe he was. But he was right. He knew it. He could feel the frayed edges around the half-truths and lies.

“And you believe your mother is being manipulated and under some type of spell from these people?”

“I don’t expect you to believe me, so just come with me and see for yourself.”

Clara rose from her seat and clasped her hands together. “If I help you, there’s going to come a time when I need a favor from you.”

He hesitated, measuring her for a moment. “Okay, but I won’t break the law.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” She shrugged, picked up her dishes, and dumped her uneaten portion in the trash. After rinsing out the bowl in the sink, she returned and gestured with her thumb over her shoulder. “Wake me when you’re ready to leave.”

Clara disappeared down the hallway and into the only spare bedroom. He followed, biting back the embarrassment of not being prepared for an overnight houseguest. “I’m afraid I wasn’t a sleep over. The room needs linens.”

He walked down the hall toward the closet, only when he passed the bedroom door to the spare room, he had to backtrack. The bed was fully made with sheets and a comforter that he hadn’t purchased. “Where did this come from?”

“I bought it,” Clara answered, pulling clothes out of her bag. “See, when you aren’t around me, I can normally predict things like this. Things that make my life easier.” Her smile fell, and her voice softened. “Now, I really am tired. Good night, Porter.” She reached for the door and slowly closed it, leaving him standing in the hallway.

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