To Tell a Tale (Season One)

“Have you figured out why you drew his mother?”

Airianna looked up when she heard her father’s voice. She didn’t catch his words, as usual, but she knew he’d asked her a question. Airianna read his lips as he repeated his question and sighed. She hasn’t. It’s not like the drawing was of his mother dead; it was like a picture. The woman was smiling at the camera—so to speak.

“I haven’t, Papa. And I think he’s getting angry with me.”

Airianna watched her father frown as his eyes looked at the paper in her hands. He hasn’t been happy with Nash since he’d locked her in the cell and attacked her. She forgave him ages ago, but her father was a bit overprotective. He went from follow your soul to—run away as fast as you can. But he knows Nash is meant to be in her life, and he doesn’t fight it, or at least he tries not to fight it.

Her father’s head snapped up at her, and a smile spread across his face. “I think you’ve had another double dream.”

Airianna blinked. “Really? But I would remember if I painted or drew Nash’s mother before. I would remember her face….”

“Airianna, dear one, use your senses. What are they telling you when you look at the drawing?”

Airianna looked down at the drawing she’d been focused on when her father entered the living room. It had taken her two days to get Nash to give her the drawing back so she could study it and try to figure out why she’d drawn… her head snapped up to her father, and her mouth fell open. The last time she’d had a double dream was to lead them to an old case that was connected to a new one. What if this double dream was a new drawing to lead her to an old drawing or painting?

Airianna turned and headed to her art room. She’s determined to find what this drawing was leading her to.

~🔮~

Nash looked at his phone as it rang. It wasn’t a number he recognized, but something told him to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Detective Jackman, my daughter needs you, and you better be nice to her.”

Nash stared at the phone after the man hung up. Okay. What was that about?

“Something wrong?” Smitty asked, watching Nash.

Nash looked up at his partner. “I think that was Airianna’s father. He said that Airianna needs me, and I better be nice to her. Since when have I not been nice to her?”

Smitty’s eyebrow raised, and Nash snorted.

“I mean—since that happened.”

“Nash, you’ve been a bit off with the girl since she showed you the drawing of your mother. It took her two days to talk you into letting her have it back so she could figure it out.”

Nash frowned. His partner was right; he’s been a bit snippy with her. With a heavy sigh, he got to his feet and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair.

“Tell the captain that I’m on personal leave for the day,” he said, then walked out of the station and headed for his car.

~🔮~

Airianna pulled another painting from her closet and frowned. Still not what she was looking for. She shoved the painting into a corner and pulled out another.

“What are you doing?”

Airianna jumped and dropped her painting. She’d heard him. How can she hear Nash when she can’t hear anyone else? She turned to the door where he stood, his arms folded over his chest, watching her.

“You scared the crap out of me,” she said, picking her painting up from the floor and frowning at it.

“You heard me?” he asked, watching her.

She looked up at him and shrugged. “Sometimes I can hear you….” She stopped, realizing she’d heard him again.

His arms dropped to his sides as he moved closer to her. “Can you hear me?” he asked, his eyes roaming over her face.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You can hear everything I’m saying? You’re not reading my lips?”

She smiled as she set her painting against the wall and moved toward him.

“Yes,” she whispered.

Nash watched Airianna as she moved closer to him. Can she really hear him? Has her hearing returned after all these years? Or are her hearing aids finally working?

“Close your eyes,” he whispered once she was in front of him.

She smiled and did as he asked.

Nash moved forward and whispered into her ear. “Can you hear me?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

Nash grunted. “Are your hearing aids finally working?”

She shook her head. “Ever since we met, I could hear some words you’ve said. Mostly when you whispered sweet things to me, but I’ve never heard anyone so clear as I hear you now.”

Nash swallowed as he pulled her against him. “I’m sorry I’ve been so harsh with you.”

She sighed as she melted into him.

“How can you hear me?” he asked, still stunned that she could hear him.

“I don’t know.” She pulled back from him and looked up into his eyes. “All I know is all I can hear over the ocean in my head is your voice. Calling to me, pulling me….”

Nash pulled her against him and kissed her. She melted into him, and he groaned, holding her close. How does she do this to him?

“Are you mad at me?” she mumbled against his lips.

Nash smiled. “Not even a little.”

Airianna backed away from the kiss. How can she hear him? Was it a permanent thing? Or just something that happened when fate saw fit for her to hear his voice?

“You didn’t answer my question,” he said, watching her.

She smiled up at him. “Which question?”

He grinned. “What are you doing? Your dad called me and said you needed me.”

She frowned. He hadn’t come of his own accord; her father had to call him here.

Seeing the look on Airianna’s face, Nash pulled her to his chest and kissed her again. Her body stiffened a little, and he grunted. He lifted his head and sighed, then set his chin on top of her head.

“I would have come if you’d called me, Airianna. I was at work; I can’t just up and leave out of the blue.”

“I know,” she whispered.

This was odd for both of them. Airianna being able to hear him, and him not having to move his lips slow so she can read them. They held onto each other for a few more minutes before Nash pulled back to look into her eyes.

“What are you doing that you need me?” Nash asked.

“I think the drawing I did of your mother is a double dream.”

Nash blinked. But wouldn’t she know if she’d drawn his mother before?

“How do you figure that?” he asked.

She took a deep breath, let it out, and then turned to her closet. “Well. I think the drawing tells me that something in my collection is linked to your mother. And I would never have looked for it if I hadn’t drawn your mother.”

She turned to him, and he felt a jolt of electricity zap through his body. What was it about this woman that had him up and down?

Airianna stared at Nash. A jolt of electricity had zapped her, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Airianna?”

She shook her head and smiled. “I… I need to go back to looking for the painting.” She turned from him and went back into her closet.

Airianna felt Nash close behind her and smiled. Her father was right to call him; she does need him. She moved further into her closet and pulled out another painting to look at. It still wasn’t what she was looking for.

“What are we looking for?”

She turned when she heard his voice and smiled. She doesn’t know why fate is letting her hear his words today, but she’s glad for it.

“I’m not sure. I guess anything with a hint of your mother to it, or the ones who killed her….”

Nash looked at Airianna. She’d paused after mentioning his mother’s death. He really has been an ass the past few days.

“It’s okay, Airianna. You can talk about it with me. I won’t bite you. Unless you ask me to.” He gave her a wink, and she giggled.

They went back to sorting through her paintings.

Fifteen minutes later, Airianna plopped down on the closet floor and wrapped her arms around her knees.

“Is that all of them?” he asked, watching her.

She nodded. “That’s all my paintings.”

“What about drawings? You’d said before that you used to draw a lot before you started painting.”

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. “Why hadn’t I thought of that?” She jumped to her feet and pushed past him.

He turned and watched her head to the corner of the room where a trunk sat. She opened it and pulled out a folder. She set it on the table, then went back to the trunk and pulled out more folders, placing them on top of the others.

“What’s that?” he asked, joining her.

“My drawings.”

Nash opened a folder that had the number eight in large print over the cover. He stared at the drawing in the folder. They were amazing. Most of them are creepy as hell for an eight-year-old to draw but incredible nonetheless.

“You were sixteen when your mother died, right?” she asked, looking at him.

Without looking up from the drawing, Nash nodded, answering her question.

“How old are you?”

He finally pulled his eyes from the drawings and looked at her. Shit, have they never discussed his age?

“I’m twenty-eight.”

“Then I was ten when your mother died.” She pulled another folder from the chest.

Nash watched her place the folder on the table and open it. He set the picture he’d been looking at back into its folder and moved to stand closer to her as she went through the folder of drawing she’d done when she was ten.

The fifth drawing held his attention.

“Let me see this one.” He picked the picture up and looked at it.

It being a drawing and not a painting made it harder to see much because there was no color to it. But Nash would know his mother’s boat anywhere.

The drawing was of two people, a man, and a woman, standing over a bleeding woman’s body, in a boat, in the waters. He recognized his mother’s scuba gear and the bag at the couple’s feet. Both were looking at him as if they’d smiled for the camera, just like his mother’s drawing Airianna had done last week.

“I remember drawing that one,” Airianna said, looking at the picture he held in his hand.

“That’s my mom’s boat,” he whispered.

She sucked in a breath. “Then that would be her in the pool of blood,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“That means…” She looked up at him.

Nash looked into her beautiful grey eyes and almost laughed. He didn’t want to laugh in her face. She would think he’s laughing at her—but he’s not. He would be laughing because…

“We know what my mother’s killers look like.”