Chapter 2: Staying With Genevieve

"Hm?" Genevieve's gaze sharpened. She stared at Finnley as if she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.  "How do you know what's going on with my body?" "Want me to take a look?" Finnley had barely finished the words when he caught himself. His expression froze.  He quickly waved it off. "Forget it. If I treat anyone now, I'd be practicing without a license. I'll help you after I pass the medical license exam tomorrow." "Thanks." He reached for the overdue payment notice in Genevieve's hand, took it, then shook the clear folder with his exam admission ticket. He turned and walked away. In the warm sunlight, his shadow stretched long, carefree yet determined. "Do you have a place to stay?"  Genevieve hesitated, then added, "If you do, we'll need your address for supervision. If not, you can stay at my place for now." Finnley stopped in his tracks. Genevieve had never said that in his last life. He strode back and dropped onto the motorcycle seat in one motion, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.  "Isn't that a bit inappropriate?" Genevieve looked at him, her dark eyes steady.  She picked up her helmet and clicked it on.  Her long, straight legs swung over the bike with practiced ease.  "Hands on my waist. We're not strangers." "Oh, right." Finnley lifted his hands off his knees and set them on her slim waist. Heat spread across his palms, and a clean, delicate scent drifted up to meet him. Vroom! The engine roared to life. The motorcycle shot out like an arrow from a bow. ... "Go on in." At the apartment, Genevieve keyed in the code and pushed the door open. "Haven't set foot in your room since last time," Finnley joked, flashing a smile as he stepped inside. Warmth washed over him.  Soft tones, cream walls, and a puffy, cloud-shaped sofa in pale brown sat in the middle of the living room.  A wooden coffee table held a vase, the flowers inside giving off a light scent. Everything looked the same as it did two years ago. "You still work your cases here?"  Finnley walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city lights and pointed at several photographs taped to the window. At the center, a photo showed a woman lying in the grass.  Around the photo, seven photos fanned out, men and women alike.  Each photo had been captured from surveillance footage, the faces blurred. Finnley studied the seven faces.  Gold light flickered across his pupils.  He pointed to the photo of a middle-aged man in the lower left corner.  "This man's the killer." "You can take the first-floor bedroom. I'll stay upstairs... What?" Genevieve's voice cut off. She paused, halfway out of her jacket, and turned to Finnley, startled. It was a brutal robbery and murder from a month ago. The body had only been found that morning, and the case remained unsolved.  Around the time of the crime, seven people had passed through the area, but the culprit hadn't been identified. "When someone does good deeds, their energy flows smoothly and their whole demeanor brightens," Finnley said.  "When someone does something bad, their energy gets blocked and they look dark and weighed down." He pointed again at the man in the lower left. "Out of these seven people, he's the only one with blocked energy. If the photos were clearer, you'd see a dark shadow between his brows. He's the killer, right?" This was the first of the Body Diagnosis skills Finnley had learned from the Ancient Medical Heritage, Aura Vision. It allowed him to see a person's spirit and the strength of their life force at a glance. Genevieve stared at the man's face in the photo, searching for any sign.  She found nothing.  She checked the others. There was no difference. Her gaze drifted back to Finnley. She met his gaze for a moment, then turned to the desk by the window.  The computer hummed awake.  She opened a folder of solved cases from the past two years, pulled up several more surveillance footage, and fixed him with a steady look.  "Prove it." "This one's an assault by a masked suspect. Which one is the attacker?" Finnley glanced at it and gestured.  "Front row, third from the left." He was right. "Look at this."  Genevieve opened another case. "Who's the thief?" "Second row, second from the left." Finnley was right again. Genevieve stood frozen, staring at him.  So he really could pick out the culprit. Once could be luck. Twice meant it was real. She spun back to the photo in the lower left and fixed it with a hard stare.  Without another word, she pulled out her phone and made a call.  "Harlan, the third person caught on camera last night, is a prime suspect. Don't let him get away. Arrest him now." "Why? Don't ask. Just grab him first!" "Are you the chief or am I?" Genevieve hung up and turned to Finnley, delight lighting up her face.  She hadn't expected a practitioner of traditional medicine to help her crack cases. "Thank you. If he's the killer, I'll make sure you get the credit." "Credit can wait." Finnley waved it off.  "It's eight thirty at night. If you really want to thank me, order some takeout. I just got out. No phone." "Oh."  Genevieve snapped back to herself and ordered two meals on her phone. "Food will be here soon. You can wash up and rest in the meantime. You want to go first, or should I?" "Shower?"  Finnley's gaze skimmed over her graceful figure, then flicked up.  "You go first. But you've only got nine minutes. In nine minutes, you'll pass out. If you're not out by then, I'm coming in to get you." "Pass out?"  Genevieve blinked, then let out a soft laugh. She had been feeling off lately, but she was familiar with her body.  Forget a shower, she could sit in a sauna for three hours and be fine. "Thanks for the concern. If you want to go straight back to prison on your first day out, be my guest and try barging in. You know exactly what I can do." She pointed at a trophy on the shelf that read "winner of Skoeland Kickboxing Tournament," then headed for the bathroom. "Is that a threat?" Finnley's mouth curved into a faint smile. Steam soon filled the bathroom like drifting gauze. ... Genevieve stood beneath the showerhead.  Water ran through her hair, a few damp strands clinging to her pale cheeks.  Her eyes narrowed in a lazy squint. Her long lashes quivered.  Ease softened her features, a gentle allure settling over her. Suddenly, a wave of dizziness hit her hard. "Am I really going to black out?" "Nine minutes are up," came Finnley's voice from outside. Her knees buckled. Genevieve slid toward the tile and went unconscious.