Bull's Eye: Confessions of a Fake Psychic Detective #3

Chapter 15

Reality allows for both material and immaterial universes to exist. That which can be measured physically exists in concert with that which cannot be measured physically in the mind. There must be a reason for this integral to the way reality works, or this duality would not exist at all.

Herman's Six Reasons

Reason Number One

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"Flakes. I knew it," Zandra says, cursing the empty helipad before her. Feels better to say it out loud.

She cranes her neck and scans the skies in search of the helicopter, although she'd likely hear it before she saw it.

Nothing.

Maybe they're off strangling each other in a cloud trying to get each other off.

"Can I help you?" a voice from behind Zandra says.

Zandra turns. It's a security guard. There isn't a gun on his hip, but there are a flashlight and a can of pepper spray hanging from his belt.

Must come in handy during domestic disputes at the hospital.

"Just waiting for my ride," she says.

"Up here?" the security guard says.

"I like to travel in style," Zandra says. She notices the way the bottom two buttons of shirt strain against the outward pressure of his midsection.

The security guard moves toward her, stops a few feet away and crosses his arms. "This area is off limits, ma'am. You need to be back in the hospital. It's for your safety."

Why do people always use the most polite words whenever they don't mean to be polite? At least he doesn't recognize me.

"I'll prove it to you in just a few minutes. I took a helicopter here. Wait and watch," Zandra says.

The security guard looks Zandra over like he's getting ready to dissect her like the patients inside. Then he raises an eyebrow. "Aren't you that Zundra person?"

Shit.

"That'd be Zandra, yes," Zandra says. "Figured I'd stop by the hospital to get a new contact lens prescription for my third eye."

Go away.

"Uh huh. Aren't you supposed to be in jail? They say you murdered some people," the security guard says. He pulls out a cell phone. "Hang tight. I need to make a call."

No, you don't. And I only murdered one person, asshole. Get it right.

Need to distract him. Can't have any more attention up here than there is already.

Up until this point, Zandra's eyes never left the security guard's. She gets an idea.

When backed into a corner, derail the train of thought. Take control of the person, take control of the situation. Buy some time with a mental sledgehammer.

Zandra darts her eyes to the ground, then back up to the guard. She notices the way his eyes follow hers. She repeats the process, moving her eyes to the sky. Again, the security guard's eyes follow.

Bingo.

"When money problems knock at the door, child, love flies out the window," Zandra says and rubs her palms together.