Page 11 of In Her Eyes

“A Stop in Time,” he confirms.

“Yes. We finished our food and went into the store. Walked around for a few minutes until I saw the necklace.” I hesitate. Here comes the hard part.

He waves his hand at me. “Go on.”

I swallow. “It was in a glass case, and I asked to see it.”

“Why did you want to see this particular necklace?”

“I was drawn to it. It’s hard to explain. I felt a powerful pull toward it and had to touch it.”

“Is this strong pull something you feel often?” His voice softens, inviting me to open up to him. An eyebrow rises with the question.

I inhale through my nose, delaying the answer for a few seconds. “Yes, I’ve had this ability my entire life. I don’t question it.”

His head dips once in a silent push for me to continue.

I swallow the nervous knot trying to tie itself around my vocal cords. “As soon as I touched the necklace, the images started.”

He leans in. “Images?”

“Images, visions. Call it what you want. It’s all the same to me.” My voice rises a bit. His lips twitch, and he cocks an eyebrow again. Is that amusement? Is he entertained by my irritation?

I roll my lips together. “Have you ever heard the term psychometry, Detective?”

He stares at me for several seconds and then shakes his head in slow motion as if it costs him a vital body part to admit he doesn’t know the meaning of the word.

“A little louder, Detective. For the recording because I don’t think it can capture head shakes.” My smile is all teeth and promises of biting back.

His eyes narrow. “No, I’m not familiar with the term psychometry.”

“In simple terms, psychometry is the ability to sense or read the history of an object by touching it.”

He sits back, tapping the pen on the desk. “So you can go around and touch anything and tell the history of that object? What happened to it? To whom it belongs?”

“Yes and no. It’s not as simple as that.” My hands tremble, and I press them into my thighs, fingers spread wide.

He props his elbows on the desk and laces his fingers, tapping them to his chin. “Explain.”

I prepare myself for a sneer or condescending remark, but neither comes. His head tilts, and interest shines in his eyes.

Lynn shifts in her seat, squirming like a kid eager to raise her hand and shout the answer.

“Objects, people, plants, animals, everything is made of energy.”

His eyes shift to the side as if he’s trying to curb an eye roll.

“This is not my opinion. This is quantum physics. This is what the universe is made of. Matter, dark matter, and energy. You can look it up on your own time.” I didn’t call him any names, but the asshole at the end is implied.

I hold his gaze for a long moment before speaking again. “Objects hold the energy of the person they belong to—some more than others—jewelry, stones, metal objects like coins or a letter opener. Even pictures can hold that energy. The amount of energy is directly related to how often the person held or wore it. But also, by the situations in which the object was involved.”

He frowns. “Situations?”

“Yes, an object involved in a traumatic situation is likely to hold more energy. The more energy an object holds, the easier it is to read.”

The detective looks at the necklace nested in the jewelry box. “So something like this necklace that the owner wore often would be easier to read.”

“Exactly. And that necklace was also part of a traumatic event. It holds the last impressions of the owner and the man who killed her because he held it while he strangled her. Normally just touching an object briefly would not leave that person’s imprint on it, but in this case, because of the violence and the intensity of his feelings, I got them both. At the end, I saw what happened through his eyes.”

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