Murders & Romance: A Psychic Detective Romantic Mystery (Isaac Taylor Mysteries Book 5) by Lashell Collins (ready player one ebook .TXT) 📗

“But I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you do. Just push pause, Isaac.”

“But Grandad…”

“Just pause the picture.”

“But…”

Before he even finished the word, the image stopped. Savage and the home owner frozen in time.

“I-I don’t… know…”

Words failed.

Silenced by awe.

“It’s paused, yes?”

“Yes, sir.”

Wonder. That’s what he heard in his own voice now. Wonder.

“Good. Now… this is the tricky part.”

Isaac licked his lips and waited.

“Step outside of your target’s point of view.”

What?

“My target?” He could hear the frustration, and the Tennessee accent, creep in beside that wonder.

“The eyes you’re seeing through, that’s your target. Step out of his point of view and look at the scene objectively. Like you’re watching a movie.”

“I can do that?”

“You can. Try it now.”

“But how?”

“The same way you move an object with the power of your mind. You simply do it. Don’t think about how. Just walk toward wherever it is you want to go in that scene. Picture yourself standing there.”

Isaac opened his mouth to protest. But instead he felt himself step to the side, out of Savage’s body. Out of Savage’s head space.

Astonishment rippled his insides like the the brisk wind across Lake Erie in the winter.

“Holy shit!”

The whispered words held so much disbelief.

“You’re out. Good. Now look around and find what you need.”

“What I need?”

“A location is what you’re after, right? An address? A landmark? Something of the sort?”

“Right.”

Isaac glanced around, still not believing this was actually happening. Not knowing where to begin, he took a step further away from the frozen Savage and felt something snap inside him.

His vision blurred.

His mind rocked.

Voices swirled around him as the frozen scene suddenly jerked forward.

He blinked and opened his eyes, slightly panting.

“What the hell?” He looked around his car, and at his cellphone. Sterling smiled at him. “What just happened?”

“You snapped back.”

“What?”

“That wasn’t bad for a first try. How’d it feel?”

“Weird as fuck. Forgive my French, sir.”

Sterling laughed. “No forgiveness needed. It is a bit disconcerting at times. You’ll have to try again to locate the information you need.”

“I have to ask… how in the world did you ever discover that you could do that?”

“The same way I learned everything I know. From my mama. Your great-grandmother, Abilene Taylor. She was a fiery thing, and so proud of all she could do with her mind. She made learning about our abilities fun and special. But she was careful to school me on the ways of the world too. She knew that not everyone would understand, and that we couldn’t go flaunting the things we could do in front of just anybody.”

“I wish I could’ve known her.”

Isaac sat back in the driver’s seat and wondered, as he often did these days, what his ancestor hypersensitive psychics had been like.

“Oh, I wish that too. She would’ve loved you, for sure.”

Isaac smiled, and then glanced at the clock on his dash.

“I should try this again before I have to head inside.”

“A word of caution.”

“Yes?”

“Once you master freezing the scene playing out in your mind, you may find that you’re only able to hold it for small periods of time.”

“How small?”

“Well, you just saw it for yourself. 15 to 20 seconds. With practice, you may be able to get it up to 30 seconds, but not much more than that. The trick is to learn to freeze the scene at exactly the right moment, so that when you do step outside your target point of view, the information you’re after is close by. That way you don’t waste time searching.”

“That makes sense. Thank you, Grandad. For everything.”

“You are more than welcome, Isaac. Call me anytime.”

After they ended their call, Isaac took a few deep breaths and prepared to try again.

“The same way you move an object with the power of your mind. You simply do it.”

His grandad’s words came back to him.

“Easy for him to say.”

The words brought back his clumsy attempts to move the salt shaker the other day. Sterling made it sound like it was so easy. Second nature. Isaac wondered if he’d ever get to that point.

But one psychic step at a time.

He blew out a sharp breath and closed his eyes. The flash came back to him easily, the scene playing out like before. Seeing through Savage’s eyes, he approached the door and knocked.

The door was answered by the meek homeowner and his curious smile.

Savage forced his way inside, knocking the man to the floor.

Savage whipped out an old-fashioned billy club, and bent over, club raised high.

Isaac hit pause.

The scene froze.

Astonished, he stepped to the side, leaving Savage’s point of view.

Quickly, he scanned the area. They were in the foyer of the house, a staircase straight ahead, a formal living room off to the left. To the right, beside the staircase there was a table with a lamp and some envelopes.

Mail!

Isaac moved closer to have a look, wishing he could sift through it, but he knew instinctively that he wasn’t able to actually move things in this state.

As luck would have it, the envelope on top was a utility bill. A bill with an address in clear view.

Yes!

Committing the address to memory, he glanced up at the mirrored clock hanging over the table and noted the time.

The snap happened more smoothly, zapping him back into Savage’s point of view in an instant. Before the man could strike his first blow, Isaac opened his eyes, yanking himself out of the violent vision.

He silently panted and tried to calm the rush of his heart. Then he grabbed a pen and scribbled the address down on the small notepad he kept with him.

The things his grandfather could do with the power of his mind were incredible, and Isaac wondered if he’d ever be able to learn it all.

“The same way you move an object with the power of your mind. You simply do it.”

Sterling’s words came back to him a second time, and Isaac could no longer ignore them. The telekinesis was the biggest, scariest monster he could imagine, and it sounded like his grandad had turned his into a pussycat.

The salt