Resonance: Odessa Baker Psychic Mysteries, #1

By Valérie Larouche

What if your only hope rested in someone else's dreams?

Twenty-seven-year-old Odessa Baker has turned her back on her past and the ghosts buried in it. But when a former friend shows up on her doorstep begging for her help, Odessa has no choice but to face her past and tap into an ability she had hoped to leave dormant...or the life of a young boy might very well be at stake. Again.

RESONANCE is the first book in the series of Odessa Baker Psychic Mysteries. If you like Kaylie Hunter's Davina Ravine Psychic Crime Thriller series or stories with a bit of eeriness to them, then you might like RESONANCE which relies on dreams—and nightmares—to solve a kidnapping.

Tag along with Dee Baker as she sail from one spooky dreams to another to save the life of a 7-year-old boy!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Valérie Larouche
• Release date: May 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201311735

Valérie Larouche

Valérie Larouche is a traditionally published author who’s made the jump into the indie world. A fan of Agatha Christie and Edgar Allan Poe, her genre of predilection is psychic/paranormal mystery, but she dabbles in Gothic literature and urban fantasy as well. Obsessed with dreams, hauntings, and a good eerie ambience, she writes stories where shadows move and nightmares have meaning. When she’s not writing, Valérie can be found bingeing murder mystery TV series, playing eerie video games, or wishing she was at Walt Disney World going in and out of the Haunted Mansion ride in an endless loop. Valérie lives in the Greater Montreal area with her fiancé, a ton of books, and way more stationery than anyone could need in a lifetime.

Book preview

Prologue

Everyone remembers where they were the day that young Allistair Benoit disappeared.

When a small boy goes missing, a community suddenly emerges. People who only knew each other in passing now had kind words for one another. It is a shared tragedy, one that touches everyone, whether they knew the boy or not.

I, too, remember where I was when they announced that a boy who went to my school had gone missing.

And I remember where I was when they found his body.

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I could see the police car’s beacons from the main road.

A few minutes before, shouts had been heard from a small boat at the center of the lake. Two men were sitting in it, bent over the side and holding something against the side of the boat. From the shore, no one could tell what it was.

Call the cops! was all they had said, but somehow, with all the wisdom of a seven-year-old, I knew. I think we all did.

In this little town, very little happened. And even less happened that required the police to intervene.

It had been almost two weeks since the news that Allistair was missing came out.

Yeah, we all knew.

It was the first day of summer vacation. And although we were well into the evening—eight thirty, if memory serves—the longer days had kept us playing on the shore and swimming as the sky began to turn pink.

But when that shout fell, everyone cleared the waters and huddled on the shore, immobile, waiting for the cops.

The sheriff’s car had just arrived, its blue and red beacons sweeping the dark surface of the lake and the trees surrounding it. Gerry, our sheriff, pulled a medium-sized packet out of the trunk and, before I knew it, he had an orange inflatable raft. He climbed aboard and rowed toward the two men in the boat.

My family rolled out of the crowd and stood behind me as Gerry reached the canoe. My dad put a hand on my shoulder, to steady himself or to make sure I was okay, I’m not sure. My mom stood still with my little brother on her hip, his head leaning on her shoulder, and my sister beside them. I stepped to the edge of the water, letting the wavelets lick my toes.

And even in the failing light, we all saw as the men pulled something aboard the orange raft. It looked like a limp, bloated ragdoll.

But ragdolls don’t wear red sneakers.

How the hell did you know? my sister whispered. She’d moved right behind me without me seeing her.

I shrugged.

I dreamed it.

Dreamed what?

This.

She said nothing. Neither did I.

And none of us would ever speak of it again.

Chapter One

The forest stood tall and impassible as I ran between the trees. My footsteps beat the ground quickly. The crackling of dry leaves and my ragged breath were the only sounds around, as if I were alone in this forest. But I knew it wasn’t so. I knew someone else was there; he was the reason I ran.

My eyes searched the forest as it zoomed past me.

The trees were imposing, their trunks so close together that in some places it was impossible for an adult to squeeze through. Their branches intertwined to form a canopy that kept the light out, keeping the undergrowth in a state of perpetual dusk.

The muscles in my calves began to burn. I ignored the pain as best I could and pushed myself a little more.

A loud crack echoed behind me. There it was, the confirmation that I wasn’t alone. That he was somewhere in these woods, too, closing in I leaned forward and picked up some speed, but my lungs soon ached and every breath began to feel like

sand down my throat. My heart was pounding, rushing blood to my ears until all I could hear were loud, rhythmic thuds. A sharp pain in my side bent me in half, hand on my waist. But when I pulled my hand away, it was covered in blood.

Where is this coming from?

I couldn’t recall being struck, but it didn’t matter because the result was the same; pain forced me to slow down and, eventually, to stop completely.

But I couldn’t just stand there.

Evidently, I could not outrun him in this state, so all that was left for me to do was to outsmart him.

To hide and strike back.

Or it would mean the end. I would lose. Again.

I heard footsteps behind me.

He’s coming.

I reached for the lowest branch of the nearest climbable tree, but the pain in my side exploded. I couldn’t lift my left arm. Climbing a tree was not going to happen.

Moving on to the next plan, I found a thicket of trees to the left.

Ignoring a prickly bush, I headed for the trees, but as I got there, the overworked muscles in my legs refused to continue, turning limp. I fell to the ground.

I used to be in such good shape.

Summoning all the energy left in me, I searched my surroundings for anything that resembled a makeshift weapon, but the forest ground was unusually devoid of thick branches and large rocks.

I wrapped a tight fist around a few sharp twigs and waited.

The footsteps drew nearer, but they had slowed down as if to savor the moment. Like a tiger who knows he’s got his prey cornered.

That was the game.

I could almost hear him breathe, see his twisted smile in my mind. The familiar urge to make myself as small and invisible as possible doused my desire to fight back. I fought back tears. I so wanted this—all of this—to be over.

I wanted it to have never happened.

I wanted to wake up.

I pressed my back against the trunks, hoping they would absorb me and hide me from him. But they stayed solid, indifferent.

A new footstep crackled some dry leaves on the ground. He was so very close.

I held my breath, and the whole world suddenly fell silent as if on the edge of its seat, expecting. Waiting.

And waiting.

Something’s wrong. This is taking too long.

Was he gone? Had I finally won?

I decided to peer out from behind the tree trunks. Craning my neck, I slowly brought the path into view.

And that was when he pounced.

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I woke up suddenly. The last images of my dream vanished quickly as cramps wrung my insides. I tossed the sweaty sheets aside and ran through the apartment into the bathroom. My knees barely had time to meet with the tiles before my stomach violently emptied itself into the toilet. My whole body shook while my system pumped out last night’s dinner and drinks. I was folded in half, feeling like some heavyweight champion was punching me in the guts at regular intervals. Bile burned the inside of my throat.

Gasping for air, I clasped my hands around the toilet bowl, the only stable thing within reach in an otherwise swaying room.

My mind went away.

Seconds into minutes.

Minutes into hours.

Hours into days.

Days into nights.

Seconds into minutes.

Minutes into…

The contortions in my intestines slowly subsided and air could reach my lungs again. I drew in a long raspy breath and my body relaxed. Exhausted, I fell backward against the cold tub—the very cold tub.

Oh no.

One look down confirmed my suspicions. I was naked, which usually hinted at an active night...and at someone in my apartment. Recent memories flashed into my mind, but I pushed them away; they were making me nauseous again.

What the hell was I thinking?

I scrambled to my feet, flushed what was left of the previous evening, and splashed some water in my face. A light had been left on in the living room, pouring in a discreet golden light. I realized I hadn’t even had the time to close the bathroom door. That could only mean one thing.

The dreams were back.

I leaned on my hands on the sink’s rim. In the mirror, someone I barely recognized was staring back at me with waxy skin and dark circles under wide eyes. I flipped the medicine cabinet open, frantically searching. Finally, my hand wrapped around a small bottle with a dozen yellow pills at the bottom. Take one at bedtime, the label said.

Well, that worked well…

With a tight hold on the pill bottle, I exited the bathroom only to find a man in the hallway.

He was in his boxer shorts, looking disheveled and groggy. However, his face lit up at the sight of my naked body.

Hello, he flirted in a croaky morning voice. You know, that’s the kinda thing a man likes to see when he wakes up.

Take a cold shower, Nick, I said. I’m not in the mood.

I tried to pass by him, but he grabbed my wrist and forced me closer. I struggled against him.

Fuck off, Nick!

Come on, don’t be a tease.

I’m not in the mood, I said!

But he wasn’t letting go, and I had to resort to the classic knee jerk to free myself. Instant freedom. Nick backed off right away, bent in half.

Ow! Fuck! You cocksu—

Yeah, I think it’s time you left, I interrupted him.

What? he wheezed.

You know, leave? Put on some clothes and pass the door, never to return again?

You’re kidding, right? he asked, trying to recover.

I didn’t bother answering. Guys like him don’t respond to words, they respond to action. So I walked into the bedroom, put on a robe, and when I returned to the hallway, I was carrying Nick’s bundle of clothes, which I happily threw at his face.

You’re kicking me out?

Yes, I am.

It’s the middle of the night!

Then I suggest you call a cab. I tossed his phone at him, but he turned his back just in time and the phone landed against his shoulder before falling onto the pile of clothes on the floor.

You’re fucking nuts, you know that? Nick yelled.

I shrugged. Meh. I’ve been called worse.

I walked toward the apartment door, unlocked it, and held it open for him.

You can’t treat people like that; use them and then toss ‘em out on the street at four in the morning.

I let go of the door, which, thanks to a spring-system thingy, closed by itself with a loud wham. Then I took a step toward him.

"First of all, I never used you. If I remember correctly, you were more than happy to agree to everything that happened tonight."

Yeah, but—

I took another step.

"Second of all, during the entire evening, I didn’t mention once that I was looking for something serious."

But you didn’t say otherwise, either.

I never led you on. If you thought this was going somewhere else, that’s your problem. As far as I’m concerned, we did what we came here to do, and now you can go, I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

Nick muttered a few insults as he began to dress himself, but stopped all movement halfway.

What if I refuse to leave? he asked. What if I decided—

I have a gun.

He stared at me, obviously trying to decide whether or not I was lying, but in the end, he probably thought it best not to take the chance.

You’re a real bitch.

What, you thought that the sleep-and-toss move was a man-only thing? That women would never spend the night with someone and then kick ‘em out? Well, I’m happy to prove you wrong. One more step toward equality.

He finished getting dressed and walked toward the door that I was gladly holding open for him again, but he stopped in the doorway to point an accusatory finger at my face.

You’re not done with me, Baker. I’m not the kinda guy who just take it and shut up.

I scoffed. What are you gonna do? I asked. Tell everyone whose bed you were in last night? Go ahead, be my guest!

I had been the nutcase, the bitch, the freak for so long that I knew full well no one wanted anything to do with me. They would never brag about having been with me, especially not in such an intimate setting.

Nick huffed, clearly looking for some brilliant comeback. He could only come up with a tired cliché.

One of these days, Baker, you’ll get what’s comin’ to ya.

I don’t think so, I said. I’m off men for a while.

"Oh, so I was of some use after all." His eyes glinted with pride. I shot it down quickly.

Yep. You reminded me how much I hate being touched. Thanks, I said, punching his shoulder as an old buddy would, adding insult to injury.

Nick’s face turned purple, but I didn’t wait for him to spit out another cliché. I slammed the door in his face and locked it.

All Nick could muster was a string of curses and insults, to which I simply replied, Yeah, see you tomorrow!

I heard him curse and grumble all the way down the stairs, and when the apartment building’s door slammed behind him, I let out a sigh of relief. I turned around and leaned against the wood.

That was when I noticed how cramped up my left hand was, and remembered the pill bottle I was still holding on very tightly.

My heart sank.

Shit.

With long strides, I walked back to the bedroom and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. I dialed a number from my contacts’ list and, after three rings, the sleepy voice of a man answered.

Hello? he said hoarsely.

Doc, they’re back.

Who’s this?

I rolled my eyes. He knew who I was; introducing myself was not the important thing right now.

My dreams, doc, I explained. They’re back.

A short silence followed by a loud, long sigh. Odessa, he said.

I need stronger pills.

That is not possible; you already have the highest dosage available on the market.

Then switch them. Give me better ones.

Look, Dee. It’s—what time is it?—it’s four in the morning. Why don’t you stop by my office tomorrow afternoon and we’ll discuss this, yes?

Will you prescribe me strong pills if I do?

You know that’s not how it works.

Not good enough, doc.

Dee—

I hung up on him and threw my phone on the pillow next to me. With an annoyed grunt, I let myself fall backward onto the mattress.

The room was dark. White beams of light swept across the ceiling as lonely cars drove down the street. I stared at the lights, trying to keep thoughts of the forest dream out of my mind.

A soft thud landed on the mattress to my left. I turned my head and spotted Baba, my black cat, walking toward me like a panther, his eyes glowing in the dark. He clearly did not appreciate all the commotion that had just yanked him out of a cozy sleep.

Hey, doof, I said, stretching my arm to scratch the cat’s head. Sorry to wake you, but if you knew the guy, you would have kicked him out too.

My cat purred loudly. I sighed.

What am I gonna do now?

Baba plopped to the side, showing his belly. I laughed.

Going back to sleep is all well and good for you, silly thing; you only dream of mice and milk. It’s a whole ‘nother game for me.

He stared at me with sleepy eyes.

Fine, I said as I got up. Here, the bed is all yours. I’m gonna go make coffee.

I left the room while Baba’s eyes were already closing, uninterested by my whereabouts.

Chapter Two

Ishowed up early for work. Already on my third cup of coffee, I sipped it carefully as I entered the store through the side door. I was sure that most of my colleagues weren’t in yet, but, unlucky for me, two of them were. And it wasn’t long after I had set foot in the place that a pair of squeaky shoes showed up in front of me. Climbing up the lanky body that they belonged to, my gaze was met with an icy stare.

Office. Now.

Mr. Tellier was a practical man. The angrier he got, the more economical with words he became. And with only two fucking words, I was headed for the gallows.

The office hallway was this short, narrow thing that stretched between the employees’ lounge and the selling floor. Its walls had been painted gray probably for a modern look, but they hadn’t been refreshed in years, so it had taken on a slight tint of yellow. And over the years, a multitude of bumps with boxes and furniture had left the bottom half of the wall mutilated, paint peeling in some places.

One of the side walls was pierced with three doorways: the assistant manager’s office, an employees’ restroom, and Mr. Tellier’s office. I entered the latter to find him sitting in his high-back chair, elbows on his desk and fingers tented under his nose.

He looks like a freakin’ Bond villain.

Door, he said.

I closed the door.

Sit, he said.

I could still count the words he’d said to me so far on the fingers of one hand. Whatever it was, it was big.

Am I to roll over and bark next? I joked.

But Mr. Tellier was obviously not amused. I sat on the rigid, uncomfortable chair in front of his desk.

Odessa, we have to address your attitude.

Wow, a full sentence; he must have been extremely serious and meant every word!

What did I do? I asked.

I spoke to Nick.

Oh no. Now what?

He told me about your little...adventure last night.

Is there a new law I don’t know about? Since when do my actions at home concern my boss?

Since two of my employees have complained to me about your behavior.

Two? Who’s the oth—Jonathan? You can’t believe him, he’s a liar. I did nothing wrong.

Really? So you didn’t kick Nick out of your apartment at four o’clock this morning?

"Well, it’s my apartment and he had overstayed his welcome. Anyway, it’s not like I sentenced him to death on Hoth! There are buses, cabs, and even a subway station two streets down from my apartment."

And Jonathan?

Similar story.

You didn’t think to report them?

To whom? Being a jerk is within the limits of the law.

You could have reported them to me.

Not your concern.

Mr. Tellier leaned forward, inhaling loudly.

Odessa, I am your superior.

You mean my boss, I corrected, but Mr. Tellier chose to ignore it.

"And when a situation—any situation—arises that creates problems at work, then it is my duty to intervene."

Well, go ahead, I said. Intervene.

I am; and I think it is time for you to take a little vacation.

"What? I’m being punished? What about Nick? What about Jonathan?"

"This is about you at the moment. You’re a decent jockey, but your attitude is—"

Is that even legal?

Never mind legal, Mr. Tellier huffed, finally exhibiting human emotion. I was almost shocked. But then he regained countenance. Look, this is for the best. It is in everyone’s interest that—

That what? That I fuck off? Why don’t you fire me, then, if I’m such a horrible person?

I was already spending my severance package and filing the unemployment forms in my head, savoring how great it would be to not have to get up in the morning and come here. But Mr. Tellier saw it differently.

This is not a termination, Odessa.

Fire me, I dared him. If I’m so terrible, just get rid of me.

You’re being unreasonable, he said. I thought we could talk about this like adults, but if you’re going to act like this… He got up and showed me the door.

I got up as if I’d been sitting on burning coals and headed toward the door, but turned around before opening it.

So you won’t fire me?

Why would I do that to myself? he asked, already back at work and looking over some paper. I hate hiring, he added.

Wow. It’s nice to feel appreciated.

Please leave. He flipped to a new sheet of paper. And close the door behind you.

Fine. Whatever. I turned around and put my hand on the doorknob, but then a crazy thought raced through my head. I had imagined the freedom of not having a job just a moment ago. And now, it was too late; my brain had grabbed the idea and held on to it as if it were the last drops of water in the desert. It was making calculations: could I make it without a severance package? I had no social life to speak of, no hobbies and not many expenses besides those apartment-related. So