Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (87 page)

Great. Cops preferred to work with
what they could see, hear, and touch. That's why he'd brought Sam
in today. For these pictures. That, and to hopefully shake loose
more details from Sam's psyche.

"Now. And you're to take the picture
with you."

Brandt glanced around the room only
to find everyone suddenly busy – heads down. He glanced at Sam's
bent head. "Don't panic. I'll talk to him. Everything's going to be
fine. I promise."

Her eyes said she didn't believe
him.

Frustrated, picture in hand, he
strode past the younger detective to Captain Johansen's office. It
felt like walking a gauntlet as everyone openly watched. He rapped
hard on the closed door.

"Come in."

Brandt pushed the door aside and
entered the room. The shades were now open, showing the heavy storm
clouds of Portland beyond. Tall office buildings mixed with
high-rises in the skyline. A busy world operated out there and for
once Brandt wished he could join it.

"Sit down."

"I'll stand, sir." He stared straight
at the captain and handed over the picture.

"What do you think?"

Surprised, Brandt could only stare at
him. The captain glared up at him. "I think the two of them did a
hell of a job."

The two men exchanged hard
glances.

"Did she add anything
new?"

"Not to this one. They are working on
the next picture right now."

He nodded. Taking his time, the
captain examined the picture in detail. "Does the photo match the
crime scene?"

"I haven't had a chance to compare it
yet. Still it lines up with what I remember."

The captain nodded again. "Does
Stefan Kronos know her?"

That threw Brandt off balance. "I
haven't asked him."

A keen glance came his way. "Maybe
you should. Kevin doesn't feel this woman is to be trusted. In fact
he puts her at the top of the list of suspects."

"He would." Brandt couldn't hide his
disgust. "Kevin has yet to listen to her seriously."

"What makes you think she knows
anything?"

Brandt pointed toward the sketches.
"That."

The captain stared at the black image
again, his lips pursed. "The question is whether the picture is too
exact?"

"I'd have to compare it to the crime
scene photos."

The captain nodded once. "Then do
that. While you're at it, get her fingerprints and if she's
willing, her DNA. That will either clear her or implicate her.
She's either who she says she is or she's a suspect." He handed the
sketch back. "Make sure we know which."

Brandt couldn't believe what he'd
heard. "You might want to remember she came in willingly. She
doesn't have to be treated with suspicion."

"Then don't. Just ask her. If she's
innocent she won't mind." The captain's lips twitched into a wolf
smile that made the hairs stand up on Brandt's neck. He returned to
the stack of papers on his desk, clearly dismissing Brandt. "Now
get those fingerprints and DNA and get her out of my station before
I have a mutiny on my hands."

Brandt pulled open the door and shut
it quietly behind him. Fingerprints weren't out of line; the DNA
was.

Somehow, he had to gain Sam's
cooperation.

Thankfully, she was still focused on
the pictures. He watched for her reaction as he asked, "Would you
mind offering your fingerprints so we can convince the naysayers
that you weren't involved?" He tapped the paper for emphasis. "Like
I said, some will take this the wrong way," he added in a low
voice.

Sam froze. Irena even stilled for a
long moment before her pencil returned to scribbling
furiously.

Once again, Sam straightened. Calmly,
she studied him. Once again, Brandt felt like a lowlife. It didn't
matter that this was needed to rule her out, and it was only
commonsense. No. It was the right thing to do and would stop the
many conjectures and innuendos that were going to fly. Still, he
felt like he'd kicked a puppy. Or maybe a cornered barn cat. "It's
common to take fingerprints to rule out people."

"Only when they've been at the crime
scene." Her voice was low and troubled.

Brandt tried again. "I know you're
telling the truth. I've just finished telling the captain that
exact same thing. That doesn't change the fact that some people
here aren't going to believe anything you or I have to
say."

That brought a sharp glance his
way.

"If you do this, it quiets the talk
and shuts up those that want to put you as the prime
suspect."

"No, it won't," she scoffed. "It will
rule out that my fingerprints match those you have on file, but
anyone who wants to disbelieve is still going to say that I could
have worn gloves."

Damn. He was hoping she wouldn't
figure that out so quickly.

She hopped to her feet. "I have
nothing to hide. I came here to help so take my damn prints." She
walked over to stare out the window, her face lean and hard,
hurting.

Brandt hated feeling like a heel. It
would help if he could explain it further. This wasn't the time or
the place.

"I'm sorry. This really is the best
way."

"Whatever. Just take the prints and
let me go home."

"Fine." Brandt knew his irritation
was unreasonable. She had a right to be dismayed, upset even, but
this tired out acceptance upset him. Now that she'd agreed, how
could he approach the idea of DNA? He hesitated, wondering how to
start.

She gave him a long flat stare.
"What?"

He sighed and rubbed the top of his
head. "The captain would also like your DNA while we're at
it."

She closed her eyes and swayed
unsteadily.

"Easy. Don't faint on me. This is
just a Q-tip in the mouth kind of thing. It's not major." He
studied her pale face. "Did you eat?"

Her eyes opened, showing black
unreadable pools. "Not much."

"Let's get this over with so you can
get some lunch."

Sam checked her watch. She was so
tired. She'd probably need food before making the drive back to
Parksville. Right now, though, all she wanted was to be home
alone.

"Make it fast. I need to return to
the clinic."

Where she felt loved and supported,
he had no doubt. He understood how she felt. "By the way, have you
called Stefan yet?"

"No. But it might be the first thing
I do when I get home."

He nodded. "That's probably a very
good idea."

Chapter 9

4:14 pm

For about the hundredth time, Sam
wiped first one hand and then the other on her jeans. Her fingers
clenched on the steering wheel. Weariness still pulled on her,
although much less so. Going to work for a couple of hours had
helped some. Especially considering she'd managed to sneak in, take
care of the animals, and sneak out without seeing anyone. The last
thing she'd wanted was company.

Moses lay in his usual place, his
tail wagging. There was no sign of Soldier. Sam parked and went
inside.

She scrubbed her fingers, up one side
and down the other, then she washed them all over again. Using a
tea towel, she dried her hands and inspected them again. That
there'd been no fingerprint ink to wash off, didn't change the fact
she saw it every time she looked. She shivered and tugged her worn
sweater around her tighter. Even though the sun shone high
overhead, her bones were chilled. It had been a hell of a
day.

Sam could only guess at what Brandt
and the other detectives were learning about her now. She reached
for the hot water and soap again.

***

4:25 pm

Brandt refused to feel guilty. He'd
done his job. That's all. That picture of hers changed everything –
and had cemented the captain's opinion. At least he'd agreed to
make good use of what she had to offer, with the caveat to keep him
in the loop.

He pushed his chair away from his
desk and reached behind his head, locking his fingers together. The
captain was right. Brandt needed to ask Stefan about Sam. He'd give
Sam another day to contact Stefan on her own, then he'd bring the
two of them together, regardless.

He'd worked successfully with Stefan
for years. He knew good psychics could offer invaluable help
unavailable through traditional police work. He also knew they were
unusual people. They didn't see the world the same as the rest of
the population. Senses overloaded easier and they retreated to
spaces that soothed their raw souls.

Sam had her home at the lake for a
physical retreat, did she have anything else? Stefan had a
beautiful log house, yet his real solace was his art. His stunning,
but tortured paintings were known the world over.

"Brandt."

Brandt frowned. Kevin. He sighed
inwardly. "Kevin. What's up?" He eyed the other detective warily.
They hadn't spoken since the meeting in Captain Johansen's office.
Right now, Kevin sported a huge smirk on his face.

Kevin walked to the desk, holding out
a sheaf of papers. "Just some research for you. Maybe this will
convince you she's not quite what you want her to be."

He dropped the papers on Brandt's
desk and walked out.

The top
fax was a newspaper article. Brandt checked the date, March 10,
1998. The headline read
Young Psychic Leads
Police on Merry Chase.

Shit. Brandt sat down for
some heavy reading.

***

4:45 pm

Kevin couldn't help feeling
satisfied. Damn that felt good. Vindication. Now maybe Brandt would
get that witch off his mind and off this case. And the same went
for himself. Since this morning's meeting, he'd had a hard time
focusing.

Finally, he'd broken down and
researched Ms. Blair's background

He'd gotten lucky. After just an
hour, he'd managed to get enough information to convince anyone –
even Brandt. At least it should be enough. As a precaution, he'd
copied them and given one set to the captain to read as
well.

Handing the papers over to Brandt
felt good. Damn good.

This woman was
treacherous.

He didn't want her
anywhere near his cases.

***

8:25 pm

Waning light flashed on the ripples
in the lake. Sam swam effortlessly through the flickering rays. The
evening was silent, except for the splashes as her arms cleaved
through the water. The long shadows drooped after the heat of the
afternoon, dipping deep into the lake for the refreshing coolness.
Even the birds were silent.

Sam continued to swim for another
twenty minutes. Tired and content, she dove under the surface
before rolling over to float on her back. She closed her eyes and
rested. The serenity of the evening slipped under her anger and
pain, gently tugging them free to disperse amongst the ripples.
Deprived of all else, but the sensation of water lapping on her
heated skin, Sam lost herself in the moment. Her breathing slowed
and she relaxed deeper. How healing. A heavy sigh, coming from
nowhere, released into the air.

A short bark cut through the
tranquility. Sam rolled over to see Moses at the end of the dock,
waiting for her. He barked again and jumped around, wagging his
tail. Sam laughed, slowly swimming toward the dock. "I'm fine
Moses. Don't worry, I'm coming in."

Moses barked once more before lying
down to watch her approach. She'd almost reached him when Moses
sprang to his feet and turned to face the house. He barked
once.

Hugging the dock, Sam peered through
the shadows. A shadow slowly separated from the tree line. Soldier.
Sam watched in wonder as the big dog limped toward them.

Tears of pride melded with droplets
of the lake as Sam hopped out of the water. "Hey, Soldier. Good to
see you on your feet, boy."

She stayed at the end of the dock,
her feet dangling in the water and watched his progress anxiously.
"You can do it, Soldier. Just a little more." He seemed so weak.
Head down, his spine hunched in pain as each foot touched down.
Still, he kept coming. He stopped at the end of the dock and
lowered his haunches. He stared down at them and whined.

Moving slowly but confidently, Sam
stood up and walked the few steps over to the dogs. Soldier curled
his lip, although he didn't growl. Sam bent over and patted him
gently on his shoulder. His fur was stiff with dirt. She glanced at
the fresh water all around them. It would be a bad idea.

Soldier glared up at her, his lip
curled higher.

"Yeah, I hear you. Not quite ready
for a dip in the lake are you? Maybe in a couple of days,
okay?"

She picked up her towel and dried
off. Wrapping it around her, she slipped into her sandals and
calling to the dogs, she walked up to the cabin. Single file, they
trooped behind her. At the front door, she waited for Moses to come
in. Surprised, she watched as Soldier ambled in behind Moses. She
felt honored. He'd obviously decided this was home.