Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (107 page)

"No. Not yet."

Maisy sounded as tired as he felt. He
hurt for her. It was hard to sit and wait when someone you cared
about was hurting.

"Brandt, are you there?"

Brandt shook himself. "Yeah, Mom, I'm
here." He checked at his watch. "Are you still at the
hospital?"

"I'm here again now. I went home, had
a shower, and came back in. I don't want him to wake up
alone."

"It's almost lunchtime. Why don't I
come by and pick you up? We'll go out for a bite to eat together."
He could still check in with Sam, take his mom out for lunch and be
back in time to tackle his heaped desk.

Maisy hesitated.

"Mom, come on. It would be good for
both of us."

She capitulated. "Alright. But just
for a bite."

Brandt checked his watch. "Good. I'll
finish up here in another hour or so. Then I'll come by and pick
you up."

Brandt rang off and stretched. He
needed to check his emails and talk to his boss. Neither should
take too long.

Bringing up his email, Brandt checked
the couple of dozen messages waiting for him. One of them was from
the librarian he'd met a couple of days ago. The librarian
confirmed various ring patterns used over the decades for class
rings and the similarity of the sketch to one used by a specific
fraternity.

Brandt couldn't believe it. Finally,
a breakthrough. His euphoria died as he read on. The ring design
was in use for close to a decade with variations by year. Except it
had been out of circulation for two decades. Over five hundred of
them could have been purchased. The professor who'd informed the
librarian, didn't have any figures or names available as the system
hadn't been computerized back then. He did offer a few names of
other people who might be able to help.

Brandt weeded through his messages,
taking care of priorities. Before leaving for lunch, he walked over
to the largest of the file cabinets and carefully hid, then locked
Sam's journal inside. That would do for the moment.

"Hey, Brandt."

Brandt turned to find Kevin at the
door. "Hey what's up?"

Kevin grinned. "The captain wants to
see you. And for a change, I had nothing to do with this one. The
grapevine apparently told him about Sam's vision and the latest
murder."

"How the hell did the grapevine, or
you, even find out?"

Kevin shrugged. "I don't know where I
heard about it first, but it's true, isn't it?"

"Is what true?"

"She saw this victim as she died,
didn't she?"

Brandt groaned and closed his eyes.
"Shit, did I slip up and say something to Adam? God I must have
been really tired to have done that."

Kevin snapped his fingers, almost
laughing out loud. "Yeah, that might have been who told
me."

Captain Johansen's door was ajar when
Brandt arrived. He knocked and pushed it open.

"Come in, Brandt. Take a seat." The
captain gestured toward the single chair not piled high with file
folders.

Closing the door behind him, Brandt
made his way to the lone chair and sat.

The captain glanced at him. "Brandt.
What's this about your psychic and another murder?"

Brandt said, "It's true. Sorry, I
haven't had a chance to catch you up on the latest since coming in
from the crime scene."

"You know what will happen if this
gets out?" Captain Johansen always had the department's image on
his mind. "How close was she?"

"Spot on."

"Damn."

Brandt understood how he felt. "It's
not as if we're the first department to have used psychics." Brandt
swept his arm toward the wide expanse of glass. "Besides, this is
department stuff and the media shouldn't ever know – unless someone
tells them."

Captain Johansen glared. "What about
her? How are you going to stop her from stepping into the
limelight? She could make a huge promo out of this
case."

"Sam's not the type."

Brandt watched in fascination as
Captain Johansen's beetle brows crinkled, almost meeting in the
center of his forehead.

"Everyone is the type. You just have
to have the right circumstances to bring it out."

Brandt stared out the window,
refusing to be drawn. Captain Johansen was a hard-ass who'd
apparently run the department fairly for many decades. His beliefs
were little enough to put up with.

"Well, I'm saying that Sam isn't like
that – but believe what you want."

The captain shuffled the papers on
his desk. "So what did she see and what did she miss?"

It took a few minutes to give him the
rundown. He finished with the one thing Sam hadn't seen. "She
didn't mention the trophy. And we don't know why her ear was cut
off or where it is."

"That's how it works with psychics.
They get some of the information right and they get a lot wrong."
Captain Johansen doodled on a notepad in front of him, obviously
deep in thought.

"True enough." Brandt leaned forward.
"This isn't for discussion with anyone else, but I actually saw her
go through a vision." He gave a brief version of what he'd seen at
Sam's cabin that night. The memories of the cuts appearing on Sam's
fragile body haunted him.

"You saw these cuts appear and
disappear – and you weren't drunk?"

Brandt stared into Captain Johansen's
eyes. "God's truth. I swear I watched the cuts appear and then
disappear. There was blood everywhere. Jesus, I
panicked."

"Why didn't you call 911?"

Brandt's lips twisted. "I almost did.
I managed to get through to Stefan first."

The captain squinted up him. "That
would have helped. Did Stefan have answers?"

Brandt nodded. "And thank God he did.
I would have caused more damage if I'd touched her. Maybe
permanently."

"I don't know what to think about
this stuff, however, I know several good cops that swear by
Stefan."

"Sam isn't as strong or as secure in
her abilities as Stefan. The good news is he's going to help train
her. Sam's fragile. She needs to learn to protect herself." Brandt
geared for the blow. "And that includes being protected from this
department."

The captain leaned forward, glaring
at Brandt. "What does that mean?" Larger than life, the captain
never backed down from a fight. He had no trouble calling a spade a
spade, and he always stood by his men. At six-foot-six, he was
built like the football player he used to be.

Brandt glared back. "I can't forget
about the ring diagram incident. Someone could also take it into
his head to release personal information about Sam." He
paused.

"But why?" The captain pounded his
fist. "It wouldn't be someone from here. They'd know the damage
something like that could cause the department."

"More likely to discredit
me."

He waited a beat. "There's another
possible complication."

The captain leaned forward. "Let's
hear it."

Brandt quickly related what he knew
about Deputy Brooker and what had been done to Sam, years ago. And
the couple of incidents in the last few days.

The captain very clearly, very
succinctly, said one word, "Shit." He shifted his great bulk deeper
into his chair. It took another few minutes before Captain Johansen
spoke again. "Bring her in. I think it is time I met this
person."

"And how am I going to do
that?"

"I don't know. That's for you to
figure out. Just do it."

Ten minutes later, Brandt reached Sam
by phone. "When?" Her tone somehow managed to convey weary
acceptance. Damn she sounded tired.

"Today. Now would be good." Now that
she'd agreed, he didn't really care, just the faster the
better.

"I'm at work. I have roughly another
hour-and-a-half before I'm done. Say about 1:30 pm. Does that work
for you?"

'That would be great."

He hung up the phone and then
remembered. Crap. His mother. He glanced at his watch. He was going
to be late. Ah hell. Grabbing his keys, he locked his office and
ran.

Chapter 22

1:07 pm

S
am sat stiffly in her chair in
Brandt's office. As soon as she'd arrived, Brandt had excused
himself. What the hell was up with that? He'd mentioned something
about the captain wanting to speak with her.

Hearing a noise, she turned to watch
as one of the clerks walked in, smiled, and dropped a stack of mail
onto Brandt's desk. Of course, there was no Brandt.

Just when she'd determined to go
searching for him, Brandt walked in, followed by a huge man who
dominated the small office.

Sam shifted to the side, slightly
intimidated at the outright bulk of the two males. She tucked her
fingers under her thighs, hoping to still the nervous rapping on
the chair.

"Sam, this is my boss, Captain
Johansen."

Surprised, Sam could only smile and
nod. She shifted to the one side of her chair again.

The captain gave her a gentle smile
that was at odds with his size. "It's nice to meet you, miss." He
sat down on the chair beside her.

Sam could feel her eyes grow wider.
She struggled against the nervousness threatening to overwhelm her.
The captain smiled again. It didn't make her feel any
better.

"What can I do for you,
Captain?"

"I've spoken to Detective Sutherland
here." Captain Johansen glanced at Brandt. "And he's told me a lot
about you."

Sam whipped around to stare at
Brandt. "Did he now?" Her eyes bored a question into the hapless
target. When he nodded slowly, she slumped into her chair and
closed her eyes, just barely holding back a groan. "Great," she
whispered barely above an audible tone.

"Now I'm not saying that I agree with
all this stuff, but I'm willing to trust Brandt. He says you have
some impressive data. The problem is, I don't really want the
public to know that you've been helping us."

That made sense, sort of. "Good.
Neither do I."

He pursed his lips, gave a decisive
nod, and continued. "Then we agree on that." The captain fell
silent, Brandt stayed quiet, and Sam didn't know what to
say.

"Why are you're telling me this?" She
felt suspiciously under attack again.

The captain gazed at Brandt, one
eyebrow raised.

"Stop it. No silent conversations
between you two. Talk to me," she snapped. She glared at the two
men.

Brandt hid his smile.

Captain Johansen opened the
discussion. "We'd like to be able to use any information that you
have for us. Like the ring. You know about the ring sketch on the
news, right?" At her nod, he continued, "That wasn't supposed to
happen. Still, it is bringing in tips on our hotline. There is a
slight possibility that other information was accessed at the same
time, but only a very slim chance."

She didn't know what to say. "Am I in
danger?"

Again, the two men exchanged
glances.

"I don't think so. Your address is a
PO box and not a house address, so that would slow down anyone
searching for you," said the captain. He took one of her hands in
his. "I just need you to be careful until we get to the bottom of
this."

"That's a little hard when you don't
know what the threat is or where it's coming from."

Captain Johansen spoke up. "The
killer doesn't know about you – does he?"

That was a horrible thought. "No I
don't think so. Unless someone told him, or he's psychic, too. The
chances of that aren't great."

He nodded. "Right. So just be
careful."

Paper rustled as Brandt casually
sorted the stack of mail on his desk. There was a small padded
envelope in the stack. Grabbing scissors, he cut the
tape.

Sam watched him. "An early Christmas
present?"

Brandt snorted. "Not likely. The
paper came off and the top of the box followed.

"Ohh, God. What is that?" Sam cried
out as a nasty odor permeated the room.

The captain dropped her hand and damn
near pounced on the parcel. Bits of paper went flying. The lid was
slapped down and both men donned gloves from a box sitting on the
filing cabinet. As Brandt reached for the box again, the captain
held his arm and nodded in Sam's direction.

Brandt, realization coming into his
face, nodded and walked around the side of his desk. He put an arm
around Sam's shoulders and urged her out the door. "Sam, come sit
out in the hallway. I'll get you a coffee. There might even be a
fresh pot, if you're lucky."

Before she had time to register the
offer, she'd been seated outside, and he'd already returned with a
hot cup of coffee and a stack of magazines. "I'll be right back.
Sit tight."

Sam, her hands burning with the heat
of the Styrofoam cup, sat in numb silence. For all their efforts,
there was no way to hide the smell or the fast glimpse she'd seen.
She couldn't be sure, but she thought the box contained an ear: a
bloody ear, still wearing an earring.