Upon arriving at the police station, the driver promptly opened the door for me.
“That’ll be fourteen seventy-five please ma’m.” He said helping me out of the cab. I opened my purse and felt around for my wallet. The one good thing about my blindness, I was a lot more organized. I pulled a bill with one corner folded over out of my wallet.
“Here’s a twenty.” I held the bill out for the driver. “Keep the change.” I folded each denomination of my bills differently. Fives were folded in half, tens were folded in half the long way, and twenties had one corner folded over.
“Thank you ma’m, you have yourself a good day.”
“You as well.” I slid my wallet back into my purse and unfolded my cane with a snap. It was one of those telescoping ones. All I had to do was push a small button on the handle and flick my wrist. I had gotten quite good at it, and did it with a dramatic flare. I turned and with my cane clicking softly on the pavement walked into the building.
The building was filled with a clambering of noises. Ringing phones raised voices, squawking radios, and the soft murmuring and whispering of back ground noises. I had been to the police station before, so I knew it was exactly seven steps in to the reception desk. I covered the distance with confident steps and stood in front of the desk. The noise level behind me gradually dropped to a hushed whisper punctuated randomly by the unanswered ring of a phone.
“Is Detective Rawly in yet?” I asked, fully aware of the dimming noise around me.
“Yes ma’m he is. May I get your name, so I can tell him who’s calling?” The receptionist had a slight accent which I couldn’t place. Either South Africa , or England , they were pretty hard to distinguish sometimes.
“Just tell him his pet psychic is here, he’ll know who I am.”
“A-alright miss.” She sounded unsure. She picked up her phone and I heard her almost whisper, “Detective Rawly? Your uh-your pet psychic is here to see you. Alright sir.” I heard the phone clatter back into its cradle. “He’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you.” I turned and with cane tapping lightly on the floor I made my way to the waiting area chairs. If I knew Nate, “right with you” meant at least a five or ten minute wait. I sat and listened as the noise level slowly increased around me, until it was full blast once more. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me though. I felt them slide over me as if it were a physical touch. The sensation made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I concentrated hard keeping their inquisitive glances out of my mind. I was also shielding extra hard too. I had to protect my poor mind some how. I had learned how to shield my senses and my psyche from the out side world as a survival instinct. I didn’t notice when I was shielding now, it had become so familiar to me. But today, I seemed sensitive to everything around me.
True to his nature, Nate kept me waiting for fifteen minutes. When he finally came out I was almost vibrating with unease and anxiety. Nate must have taken one look at me and known what was wrong.
“Oh Jade, I’m sorry to keep you waiting out here. I had a perp in my office causing trouble. I don’t think you’d want to be around him. Even I got weird vibes off of him.” He was standing off to my left blocking some of the office noise. He didn’t try to touch me. I had him trained well. “Come on back to my office.”
I stood and walked behind him, cane swinging back and forth to warn me of any obstacles in my path. We made it to his office without any mishaps, although as I walked through the main bull pen I was followed by the ripple of whispers.
“Jade, this is Patrick, he is our sketch artist.” Nate introduced me to the man.
"Good Morning Jade, how are you today?” Patrick asked; he must have extended his hand for a hand shake because I heard Nate whisper to him that I didn’t like to be touched because of my gift.
“It’s alright Nate.” I said. I extended my own hand. It was the best way for me to get to know him. I was a little nervous; I felt my palm growing damp with sweat. Patrick gripped my hand and I saw him. He was tall, and blond. A real pretty, artsy type of boy. Hair a little shorter than shoulder length bangs constantly in his eyes. His eyes were green, a startling cats eye green. I saw him sketching, his hands quick and sure. His finished works was amazing. I didn’t know why he was working for the police, he had such great potential, but he also liked helping people. I quickly let go of his hand before I got too much of a deep reading. That was the other thing I could do with my gift. Instead of seeing a person’s inner most secrets and desires I could push it out and see them. It was something new I had discovered almost by accident. This was the first time I had been in complete control of it. When I had tried it before, with safe objects at home, it had been harder to push it out, so I could see it from the outside. Usually I saw it from the perspective of whom ever saw it last. Or if it was a person I was reading I saw things through their eyes.
“Well Patrick, It’s nice to meet you.” I said resisting the urge to wipe my hand on my jeans. It was a bad habit I had picked up, after getting a reading I always had a lingering sense of them on my hand, it kinda creeped me out, but it was rude to wipe your hand off after you touch someone, makes them feel vile. Don’t want to upset the natives and all.
“It’s nice to meet you too Jade, I’ve heard a lot about you.” Patrick said. He had a very dreamy sounding voice. Very soothing, calm and mellow. He seemed like a laid back kind of guy.
“I’m sure you have.” I quirked an eyebrow in Nate’s direction.
“Right over here Jade, you can sit in my chair. I have some other things to take care of, so I will leave you in the capable hands of Patrick here. Ok?”
“Yup, I’m sure we’ll be fine.” I walked cautiously over towards the sound of Nate’s voice. When my knees bumped into his chair, I turned and sat down. Nate patted my shoulder quickly and then walked out. He seemed anxious, but that could have just been the job.
After the door closed Patrick said, “Alright, let’s get started.” I heard him flipping some pages in his sketch book, and sharpening his pencil. The smell of pencil shavings reminded me of school.
“Alright.” I closed my eyes, and pictured his face. Yes I realize the irony behind that, being as I am blind, I don’t need to close my eyes, but it was a natural instinct. “He had roundish eyes, lots of lashes. Dark hair, a little longer, a conservative hair cut. Not spiked, it’s too long for that, but parted slightly to the left.” I heard his pencil scratching madly at the pad. “Clean shaven, except for the small soul patch under his lip. Very triangular shaped.” I paused and waited a little for him to get all of that in. “He had nice lips, a cupids bow, not really big, but not thin either.” I continued. “His face is fairly square, with a very chiseled jaw. Very pronounced jaw bones. He had very nice eyebrows, not really bushy, but not thin either. Groomed, they were groomed. His nose was a little pointy, the bridge a little crooked, like it had been broken and not set strait. He also had a scar on the bridge of his nose, and one on his right eyebrow, near the tail end of it.” Patrick had stayed pretty quiet throughout the whole process, letting me talk it out.
Now as he finished the sketch he said, “I’m not to sure how you can confirm if this sketch is correct. I’ve actually never dealt with a blind witness.”
“I’m not a witness.” I stated, “I’m a clairvoyant.”
“Okay, and what exactly is an clairvoyant?” He asked. I could hear the skepticism in his voice.
“When I touch things I can see their past and sometimes their future.” My voice sounded tired, even to me.
“Right. But you’re blind,” he continued. “I don’t understand how you can see if you are blind.”
“I don’t see it with my eyes, I see it with my mind. It’s kind of like a memory, or a day dream.”
“Alright so how are you going to be able to tell if this sketch is accurate?”
“Just give it to me.” I held out my hand in his general direction. When I felt the weight of his sketch pad in my hand I thanked him. I set the book on my lap and touched the top page. Nothing came to me for a moment, so I concentrated harder and pushed my “power” into the page. It came to me then, in grays and blacks. He was an amazing artist. The sketch depicted the man I had seen almost perfectly. He had captured the intensity in his eyes, and the mouth beautifully. “His hair is too short,” I said running my fingers over the drawing. “Just bring it down to the tops of his ears. And the scar on his right eyebrow is a little off. It’s more oval shaped, a little longer, and at more of an angle, almost cutting the brow in two.” I handed him back the pad.
“H-how did you do that?”
“I told you I am a clairvoyant. I saw it in my mind. You are an amazing artist, by the way.” I folded my hands on my stomach, leaned back in the chair and put my feet on the desk.
“Thanks.” His pencil started scratching away again and I closed my eyes. I scooted a little lower in my chair and leaned my head back. Nate’s office was quiet and warm, and I was tired. I began to drift off a little. I was just on the very edge of sleep when Patrick exclaimed, “Jesus!”
“What? What is it?” I sat bolt up in my chair, my feet coming to the floor with a thump.
“This guy looks just like Nate, only he doesn’t have a scar on his nose, and Nate wears glasses.”