The Link

This is about Ross, an FBI agent, and Rachel, an aspiring musician and empath

Chapter 1 – The Gift

It was 5:00 a.m. Rachel sat at the kitchen table with coffee in hand, wearing her favorite “Grumpy” nightshirt, and a troubled look on her face. Her fair complexion had a hint of grey this morning from fitful sleep, as seen by wayward tethers of thick, wavy, auburn locks camouflaging her navy-blue eyes, still laden with sleep. Her empathic radar was working overtime this morning filling her head with static, like white noise. She didn’t know what to do with herself, it felt as if the entire city of Seattle was converging in her head, simultaneously.

Rachel understood her telepathic gifts, for the most part, but she’d never experienced an “unrest.” like this before. It was disconcerting, leaving her jittery inside. Taking a sip of her favorite Columbian blend, she knew that Ross, her friend, and fellow empath, was trying to get her attention. Their psychic link is an empathic highway with no lights, which permits them to communicate, mind-to-mind, albeit unconventional.

“Why can’t he use a phone like other people!” Rachel said, yawning.

She stared into the dark brew, remembering Dr. Ashari Ragi’s ‘Institute for Gifted Children, where she first met Ross, ten years ago. Gifted, was the interchangeable word for “psychic,” seldom used at the Institute, at least then. The time they’d spent together had been one of discovery, in more ways than her abilities. Rachel was sweet-sixteen and knew that she was different. Ross was older, wiser, and her protector at the Institute. At eighteen, he was bigger and stronger than Rachel, but his abilities unnerved him, as much as Rachel’s troubled her.

In Alaska, at the Institute, they worked hard at their studies, delving into the depths of their abilities and, ultimately, the depths of each other.

Together, they shared an empathic link that not even Dr. Ragi, resident expert on all thing’s “psychic,” fully understood. He couldn’t find any past records to support their specific empathic phenomenon, proving that their connection was extraordinary. Ragi worked hard at hiding the extent of their gifts, keeping them safe from exploitation.

He updated the Board at the Institute often, regarding their progress. The Board would then report to the academic community, the very community that kept the Institute running. Ragi walked a fine line regarding his version of the truth. It kept him up at night. He was going to protect the kids until he wasn’t physically able to anymore. That was his promise.

Dr. Ragi, at that moment, wasn’t thinking of their empathic connection and how it would impact their lives. He was calculating how fast he could get to Rachel before the impending empathic tsunami strikes. His eyes rolled back in his head. The images played out. When his vision concluded, the brain fog lifted, leaving him with the feeling of impending doom. “Rachel!”

Rachel held her coffee with both hands staring at the pendulum of the grandfather clock swinging back and forth. The cup slipped out of her hands, hit the table, spewing hot liquid all over, now pooling on the floor, and on her. The flash took her so fast that there was no time to address the mess. Ross’ connection was one of urgency. She straightened her back and focused on the familiar push that nudged her consciousness. Their minds joined, pure and brilliant. The static disappeared.

“I’m coming… You’re in danger! Stay away….” the link was severed, leaving Rachel dumbfounded, with more questions than answers.

“Ross…?” was all she could stammer, stunned by the powerful interlude. Her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. Ross’ voice resounded in her head, clearer and more insistent than before.

“You’re in danger! I’m coming… Stay away…” The link had been shattered by darkness. Hostel darkness that she’d never felt before. Rachel sat perplexed by Ross’ revelation. “Who would want to hurt me, and why?” Her psychic gifts and specialized training remains classified. Even today, no one knows the true extent of her abilities, not even Rachel. The static in her head, momentarily interrupted by Ross’ whisper, “Te amo mi amour… vena mi…” She found comfort in his words.

The familiar tickle faded, which infuriated her. Rachel jumped up with her hands fisted, “Wait… Why am I in danger? …Come back here Ross Tanner!”

Nothing. No static. No Ross. All that remained was turmoil, and an overwhelming feeling of... what’s next!

Rachel shook her head slowly, putting the pieces together, when she startled at the THWAP at her front door, as if someone was trying to shake the very bones of the house. Rubbing her temples, she said, “Must be a heavy new day!” the nervous giggle that escaped her lips was replaced by Ross’ earlier warning… “you’re in danger!”

“Te amo mi amour… vena mi…” She whispered the words they’d shared so many times before. “Hurry!”

Becoming aware of her surroundings, she felt the cold liquid in her lap. She looked down taking in the puddle, shook her head, and said, “This only happens to me! Why!” She smelled like this month’s designer promoting a pricy, new scent for their trendy collection.

Rachel got up from the table too fast as she felt a sharp jab on her shin from the edge of the breakfast bench. Rubbing her leg until the pain eased, she slowly walked to her shower, checking every corner and doorway for the faceless bogeyman, hoping against all odds that the water could wash away her fate.

Once showered and dressed, she was ready, or so she thought, to face the day… not that she had much of a choice. Sometimes, Rachel felt like she had a ticking timebomb in her head.

After Ross’ revelation, she realized that nothing in her life was normal and may never be normal again. “Danger!” she asked herself, “but who… why…? Hell, when?” Her mind, like a rat on a wheel, never shut down. Dwelling on her predicament, she cleaned the kitchen with vengeance. She heard a loud “THWAP” inside her head, looked at the door remembering the newspaper. After all, she’d was up early to see what the local newspaper had to say about her band, ‘Wavelengths,’ and the charity concert they were performing that evening.

Rachel admired the front doors as she walked toward them. The stained-glass inserts, white and oval shaped, with matching red and violet flowers, framed in gold. They were exquisite, a gift to my mother from my father. Moving closer to the door, she remembered that she was a prisoner in her own home, at least until Ross arrived. “I guess opening the door would be a bad idea.” Her hands fisted tightly as she huffed her frustration, turning her back to the door, walking into peril.

“Focus on the Newspaper, Rachel.” She reached for her laptop and booted it up. Googling Seattle News Today, she found the website and the article she had been looking for. Under, Entertainment… “Seattle Style,” a weekend magazine that listed all the local events in the Seattle and greater Seattle area. Rachel’s smile was radiant, which struck her as odd, given her current predicament. “Hey, we made the front cover! Cool!” She examined the picture. She was standing in front of her band wearing black leather leggings with a close-fitting lacey red midriff and strappy red sandals. She looked every bit of a successful, rising star. Wavelengths, her band, staged behind her, dressed in black and white, for an edgy downtown look. “Beautiful artwork! We absolutely “pop” off the page.” She said while doing a happy dance. Despite everything she was dealing with, excitement ruled the moment, “This is really happening!”

“The headline read, ‘TUNE INTO WAVELENGTHS’ with Seattle’s own, Rachel Sinclair. Welcome home, Rachel.”

“I’m not going to let anyone, or anything stop me! Not even Ross. We’ll perform tonight as planned!”

She read on, “Look out Seattle, here comes a country music ‘ALTERNATIVE!’ Leave your cowboy hats and boots at home. Get ready for some ROCK AND ROLL.”



“Tonight: “Wavelengths,” the award winning

band of the year, launch their homecoming

debut at the Aurora Borealis Theater, better

known as the Aurora Bora by its suburban

patrons. You don’t want to miss this event.

Rachel Sinclair, lead vocalist of ‘Wavelengths,’

has pledged that all proceeds from tonight’s

concert will directly benefit the restoration of

this centurion landmark. The blemished exterior

of the theater overlooking the Puget Sound is

an important part of Seattle’s downtown

waterfront district. Coincidentally, it will also

play a role in skyrocketing Rachel Sinclair and

her band, bolstering for National recognition.

They’ll release their debut album next month.

Limited seating is still available, call your local

box office or the Aurora Borealis Theater for

more information.”

Racel set her computer aside when her father, Randolph Sinclair entered the kitchen, “Good Morning Daddy!” She kissed him on the cheek. You’re up early this morning. Did you sleep well?” Knowing her father would join her, she popped a cartridge of coffee into the brewer waiting for the mug to fill.

The machine steamed, spit, and hissed a stream of hot liquid until the chamber was empty. She took his cup and gestured for him to sit down and then made an espresso for herself.

“Thank you, baby. Black, just the way I like it.” Her father said in his melodious British accent. “So, luv, what’s on your mind. Oh, dear, is that a loaded question, this morning?” He figured something was up.

“Very funny… is it that obvious?” She said, looking over her espresso.

“Well, I may not have slept as well as I’d hoped, and I’m not as empathic as you, but your stress level is bright enough to lead a blind man home.” He said, reaching for her hand. “…What has you all stirred up this morning?”

“Oh, you know, the usual…” She tried to laugh, but nothing happened.

“No, no… let me guess… Ross!” He lifted her face to meet his, “Did you know, darling, you get a certain look on your face whenever Ross is involved.” He took a long sip of coffee, and said, “I don’t suppose he used the bloody tellie like the rest of us…”

Rachel flinched. There was a moment of silence. “Do you really want to know, or are you trying to make me feel bad for something I have no control over?”

Randolph shifted into his chair with a contrite look on his face, “Quite right, Rach, that wasn’t, well… that wasn’t fair, I apologize.” He took another sip of his espresso. “I can feel the tension in the room… Do you want to talk about it?”

“All in know is that Ross is on his way, here! He said I was in danger, and to look out for… He never finished his thought.” She pushed her hair out of her eyes stoically and continued, “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”

As he listened to his daughters’ words, his stomach clenched as the warm liquid found its mark. He wondered, “Does she know about the theater? Is someone using Rachel to get to me?”

“Is he coming on official FBI business, or is it… shall we say, business of a more personal nature?”

“He didn’t say, it happened so fast, I don’t know if it’s my business, your business, or someone just messing with me.”

“You know darling, the man can’t seem to get enough of you, lately. Bloody hell, he was just here last month. I hope he doesn’t involve you in something dangerous.” Thoughts of Anthony Benni filled his head. “The FBI must have something on Benni. That’s why Ross is on his way. With any luck, he can finally nail Benni’s coffin closed and finish off this wise guy.” Randolph looked at his daughter with a forced smile.

“Daddy, stop! You love Ross, admit it... hey, are you crushing on him?

“No luv, Ross isn’t my type… that Latino Machismo stuff I can’t relate too, and the way he communicates with you makes my hair stand up on end, which isn’t easy, being that I’m bald, and all.”

“You’re full of yourself, this morning!” She said noticing his trepidation. “But why? “Does he know more about the danger Ross is speaking of? … but how…?” She shifted in her seat, looked at her father and said, “Is something going on here that I should know about?”

“Don’t go rummaging through my head, it’s not polite.” He took her hand and said, “Let’s not take this conversation where it needn’t go, righto? Whatever’s happening, it’s between you and Ross.”

Rachel tucked her hair behind her ears, “I don’t think Ross is coming strictly on official business, but I have a feeling it’s more than personal.”

“If it involves money, real estate, or you, I’m already aware of it. Let me know if I can be of assistance to Ross if it’s something else.”

“Assistance?” she asked, “Assistance for Ross? Why daddy? Don’t be absurd. You can’t help Ross with his work, that’s just silly.” After a beat, she realized that she’d injured his ego. She reconsidered. “How do you think you can help Ross?”

“For starters, I’d inform him that I’ve increased security around the perimeter of the estate and the Theater tonight, we’re talking Fort Knox, sound.” He stood up from the table and put his mug on the counter, “When it comes to your safety, luv, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Why have you increased security? Are you anticipating trouble?” Rachel asked.

“I’ve been working on a potential waterfront property, but it went belly-up earlier this week. The property owner filed for bankruptcy. I’m afraid the client didn’t appreciate the negative publicity that leaked, or leaving empty handed.

“Who’s the client, Daddy? Which property?” she asked, taking two Tylenol from the bottle and dry swallowing them.

Randolph took a glass out of the cabinet, filled it with orange juice and handed it to her, “Oh, dear, I’ve said too much already…” Changing the subject he said, “You really shouldn’t take medication like that, you’ll choke.”

“Yeah… yeah… That’s the least of my problems.” she said drinking the water he gave her in two gulps. “So, tell me, why so cloak and dagger?” She wiped her face on the sleeve of her nightshirt.

“It’s the Aurora Borealis Theater.” He paused, “This might come as a surprise to you, but I’ve been a silent partner, and majority shareholder in the theater for over eight years, now.”

“You bought in after mum died, didn’t you?”

Randolph’s eyes glistened, “I guess I was trying to hold on to a piece of her memory.” He lost focus while easing into the past. “Oh, how I remember her singing, arias, from La Boheme, Madam Butterfly, Messiah…” Time ceased to exist, reaching back to the memories… of Michelle… the Theater… and music.” He looked at his daughter thoughtfully, “I feel close to her there. I must sound like a sentimental fool.”

“No! Of course not! It’s romantic.” Rachel leaned over taking his hand, “I had no idea. A memorial to mum. Daddy, you’re not going to sell the theater, now? Are you?”

“No! I have no intention of selling. I rather like being a silent partner to this small piece of Seattle’s history.”

She released her father’s hand, “Is this why, you announced that you’re going to match every dollar ‘Wavelength’s’ raises for the theater renovations; to throw off suspicions, being you’re the private partner, and all?”

Folding his arms, he grinned, “That’s silent partner! …and you can’t play grown-up until you make nice with the Board.” He went to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water gesturing to the living room chairs as he took a seat. Rachel followed her father’s lead.

“Daddy, there’s got to be a “who” in the mix, or you wouldn’t be so clandestine?”

“I’m coming to that.” You know that the theater is having financial problems… and if you add the restorations to the building, it will cost millions of dollars. Luckily, the city’s historical society has protected the theater from destruction and will help fund Seattle’s newest historical site with a grant.”

“That’s wonderful, daddy.” Rachel said. “So, what’s the problem?”

“The city can’t cover the entire cost of the restorations. I’ve been trying to find creative ways to fund the project.” He turned to his daughter, “Then you suggested ‘Wavelengths’ and a fundraiser… well, my luv, that was brilliant. It was time for me to announce my retirement from the bank eliminating any conflicts of interest. I announced matching ‘Wavelengths’ contribution dollar for dollar, and give a big shout out to Rachel Sinclair, lead singer of, Wavelengths.’” Darling, you helped make it possible to keep the theater’s ownership in ‘friendly hands…’ my hands, where we can honor its history and welcome new events. The goal is to make the Arora Borealis theater successful, again.”

At the mention of the Arora Borealis, she shifted in her chair and froze, staring out into the distance.

“Darling, are you ok?” He reached over putting his hand on hers, but she didn’t respond to his touch. Her father understood, having witnessed this behavior many times before. He let her hands go and stood by her side until she came back to him, he waited and remembered the threat.

Rachel looked up blinking several times, and asked him, with much effort, “Daddy, do you believe love can conquer all—overcome evil?”

“Welcome back, luv.”

“After what I’ve been through this morning, indulge me!”

“Well, I think love and evil are equal forces in the universe,” He tilted his head and thought about it, “It’s our trust in faith, and having strength in our convictions that determines our fate. We have power over our destinies, luv, and love, trumps all.”

“I hope you’re right; because it’s about to get ugly.” Rachel said with a yawn.

“What did you see, darling?”

“Anthony Benni!” Rachel said surprising her father. He wants to purchase the waterfront property and tear down the theater to build a high-rise. When the city stepped in, protecting the theater as a historical site, it foiled Benni’s plans. She looked right into his eyes, “I’m scared. He’s evil, Daddy and will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

“Benni can’t hurt us now.” Randolph said trying to convince himself. “He’s been trying to purchase the theater for the last six months. My identity is protected by a shell company created to keep my identity confidential.” He said, pleased, with himself. “Oh, dear, do you think Benni discovered the truth?” He looked up guiltily, “Because that would put us all in danger.”

“You did nothing wrong.” Rachel said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, face drained of blood. “Can we stop him?”

“If tonight is successful, and it will be, that’ll shut the dungeon door on him, and he knows it.”

Letting this new information settle in her brain, she said, “Why didn’t you say something earlier? Anthony Benni…?” In mid-sentence, she sat upright losing focus of her surroundings, once again. A mental picture took form behind blank, midnight blue eyes, her skin, too pale, but she held onto the vision.

Randolph immediately stepped forward to lend her weakening body support. Being no stranger to Rachel’s atypical behavior, the vision continued. Randolph knew better than interrupting the flow. He became alarmed when she began gasping for air, like someone was choking her. She started to cough. He flew to her side; this time he was determined to break the connection. “Rachel! Come back darling, you’re in too deep.” He gently took her face in his hands tapping her cheeks. She coughed, “Come back, luv. Fight it!” He squirted water from his water bottle into her face. Success. The connections jagged teeth released her.

“No! Gus... No!” She shouted in warning and then passed out. The telepathic connections took a toll on Rachel, depleting her. She needed rest. Guiding his daughter to the floor, he cradled her in his arms, like a child. Rhythmic breathing ensued. Randolph couldn’t hide his relief.

“Who the hell is Gus?”