Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (92 page)

Sam could see that for herself. Her
truck body was a mess. There were dents and dings all over the
place. Bits of colored paint plastered the truck in odd spots. Some
paint showed through the truck's outer layer while some sat over
top of it.

Brandt glanced sideways at her. "The
techs might be able to lift something off it, but chances are good
that the bump shook your paint loose, confusing the issue
entirely."

"Great. So no proof again." Sam stood
up. "That's the story of my life."

"It's tough. These assholes know that
cops follow a set pattern of evidence and when that's not
present..."

"Makes
sense. I suppose that the killers of the world learn police
techniques to stay one jump ahead. She pointed to the tailgate.
This killer...not the asshole who bumped me, "but
the
killer
– he's
playing with you. He considers himself some kind of pro. A
specialist that's evolved over time."

He stood up, his gaze sharpened to a
laser point. "What makes you say that?"

Leaning against her truck, Sam
crossed her arms over her chest and thought about what she'd said.
That it felt right wasn't going to be good enough for him. Slowly,
formulating her thoughts as she went, she said, "I think it's the
impression I've received. I've connected to his energy once or
twice when he's gotten excited."

"More killings."

"Maybe." Sam shifted, uncomfortably.
She hadn't told him about last night's victim. "I don't know if
it's the same or not. But I woke up inside a woman who was being
seduced."

His eyebrows jumped straight up. "Is
that normal – for you?"

She flushed, heat creeping up her
neck. "No. I don't normally wake up in other people's sexual
fantasies." She hesitated.

"What?"

"The thing is, this woman was
drugged. Some kind of hallucinogenic. Everything looked bizarre and
felt over the top."

"But it was consensual?"

Sam couldn't help the grimace.
"That's the thing. I don't think it was. He hurt her. Oh not at the
beginning. No, in the beginning he made her feel a lot, but there
was some sort of resistance going on in her mind that was hard to
sort out. I think it was the drugs. I don't think she'd invited him
in. I still can't identify him because the drugs distorted her
vision and therefore my senses and view." Sadness tinged her voice.
"It's almost like he's trying out new things. Like a new
drug."

"Then he might try this
again?"

"No. Not the same anyway. He didn't
like what it did to her. I couldn't stay until the end because she
faded into some kind of drugged unconsciousness." Sam shifted
uneasily at the reminder. "I don't quite know what happened. If she
died at that point in time, she didn't know it. She just went
comatose."

Brandt stiffened. "Can you describe
her?"

Describe her. Hmmm. "Not really. Just
as my vision saw really weird things, her thoughts were the same."
A nagging memory touched her again. "There was something off about
this. From her impression, I got the feeling she knew
him."

"Which
could help a lot – if we knew who
she
was?"

"I don't have many details. She could
be considered a suicide. Or a drug overdose. It was just last
night, so would she even have been found yet?"

Sam studied her memories. "It's
possible she didn't die, but was taken to Emergency." She shifted
slightly, dismay wrinkling her face. "Even worse, she could be
slowly dying in her bedroom right now."

"Horrible thought. I'll follow up
with the morgue and the hospitals." He eyed her
carefully.

She frowned. "What?"

"I'm concerned about you." He shifted
closer, peering into her face. "That was a traumatic drive home for
you. I want to know that you're okay." He reached out to grasp her
gently by the shoulders. "Are you sure?"

Sam gently rubbed her face, feeling
the weight of the full day pull on her. "I'm fine. I still can't
decide if I overreacted, or if he really was toying with
me."

"It's a busy highway. To be empty for
any length of time would have been abnormal. That meant the attack
had been spur of the moment. Someone had taken advantage of the
opportunity presented. But why?" Brandt studied her carefully. "Who
would want you dead? Have you pissed anyone off recently? Not so
recently? Or this could be just some crazy asshole and not a
targeted hit, but on the off chance..."

Sam heard his words, but they stopped
making any sense after his suggestion someone might be trying to
kill her. She could feel the blood draining from her face. There
was one person. Only one person who had reason to wish her dead.
But why would he be after her now? She stared at Brandt, horror
dawning. The police checked into her history. Could that have
triggered this? What's the chance Brandt had spoken to him?
Nightmarish possibilities swirled through her mind. Did she dare
tell Brandt? Did she dare trust him?

Brandt frowned. "You need to tell me
the truth here. We've already got a crazed killer running around.
If there is a second asshole, then I need to know about
him."

Sam sighed. "Do you have time? This
could take awhile."

12:15 pm

"Hey Maisy, I hear your son came
today on 'official' business." Bert, a retired plumber, yelled at
her from the far side of the room. There might be something wrong
with his hearing, but there was nothing wrong with his
voice.

Raucous, good-hearted laughter broke
throughout the large dining room. Maisy smiled at everyone. "He did
indeed. And did you also hear – he brought his
girlfriend?"

Ooohs and aaahs from the group of
seniors filled the room.

"Maybe he'll finally settle down now,
huh?"

Maisy made her way slowly over to her
table and took her place. "I sure hope so. You should see
her."

Rosie, a retired yoga instructor
seated at the table behind her, asked, "Is she pretty?"

Maisy thought about that for a
moment, then shook her head. "No, not in the sense that a little
girl running through a bed of flowers is pretty. She's..." Lost for
words, Maisy glanced over at the colonel for help.

He nodded. "She's unique."

"Aaaah," said the collective voice of
everyone listening in.

Maisy nodded. "Fine boned, long hair
past her waist and eyes that make you want to cry. She's got my boy
tied up in knots. He wants to protect her and devour her at the
same time."

Knowing grins broke out on the other
faces.

"So, it's serious then?"

Maisy couldn't see who'd spoken. She
thought it was Jim, a permanent resident. "You know, I think it
might be."

Silence reigned as the first course
of hot soup and fresh bread was eaten.

The colonel, with a twinkle in his
eyes spoke up. "I can't believe I'm going to be the one to say
this, but how come you haven't set up a betting pool for when he
asks her to marry him?"

A gentle chuckle rose around the
room.

Maisy, acting as if insulted, said,
"Brandt was just here telling me I'm not allowed to do that
anymore."

The chuckle grew louder.

"And since when do you listen to
him?" The colonel beetled his heavy brow in a leer.

She grinned. "Never." She pulled her
notebook from her pocket and opened it to a clean page. "Okay,
who's placing the first bet?"

The room erupted with voices
clamoring to get their dates of choice before they were taken by
another person.

With a big grin, and a fat wink at
the colonel, Maisy set up a pool on her son's love life.

2:30 pm

S
am and Brandt left their trucks
behind the vet's office and stopped at the crosswalk. There was a
cafe across the street with an outside patio. Traffic zoomed past
until the lights changed.

It had already been a hell of a day.
So, it was no surprise that the thought of answering the upcoming
questions made Sam nervous. Questions always made her
nervous.

They grabbed a table slightly away
from the others.

A waitress walked over with menus.
Sam shook her head. "Just coffee for me, please."

Brandt snorted. "Like hell." He
motioned to the waitress. "I'll have coffee as well. Bring two
chicken Caesar salads, please. Just make mine bigger with a side of
garlic bread."

Sam stared at him. "And what if I'm
not hungry?"

"Too bad. You need to keep your
energy up to make the most of our visit with Stefan."

She didn't have an argument for
that.

The waitress returned with two mugs
of steaming coffee. Sam murmured her thanks, wrapping both hands
around the cup. She stared out at the traffic whizzing
by.

"Hey, are you there?"

Sam glanced up to see Brandt staring
at her. "Sorry, my mind is just wandering."

"You do seem distracted. So talk to
me."

She sat back and toyed with the
cutlery. "It's not that easy."

"I presume this is about the car
incident today?"

"I don't know if it is, or not. I
guess so." She sighed. "Can I ask you a question first?"

"What do you want to know?" He took a
long drink of his coffee, his eyes on hers.

Her lip curled. "That's the thing.
I'm not too sure that I do want to know."

The table across from them had a
family of five sitting around enjoying a cool drink. Sam watched
their normal activity with a hint of jealousy. She'd never been
able to have that type of experience. And she never would unless
she could put this behind her.

She pursed her lips before lifting
her own cup for a sip. "How much of my history have you dug
up?"

"I had a surface history on my desk
the first day you walked into the station. After taking your
fingerprints and DNA, I learned a bit more." He toyed with the
sugar packets. "I know you were in a bad car accident several years
ago. I know you spent time in a mental hospital."

She closed her eyes, letting her head
drop.

"I know you've helped the police in
the past and at times, your help appeared to be more of a
hindrance." He reached across the table, his hand covering hers. "I
know you went to college where your best friend was murdered. You
went to the police to offer your help and together, you managed to
catch the killer."

"Lucy," she whispered. Memories
flooded her mind. Lucy smiling with her wild and crazy coffee cups.
She'd haunted curio shops for her next best mug. She'd been so
open, so caring, and now she was so dead, just like the other
victims. "You have it wrong. I went to the police to see if I could
help. I thought I was getting somewhere and then Lucy was murdered.
You see, she was murdered because of me. The killer, after finding
out I was helping the police, came after me. He got her instead."
Guilt tore at her. Her head bowed even more under the weight of the
memories. She sniffled. "I couldn't save her. I couldn't save any
of them."

"So you ran away. From your
education, from your friends, and all of society."

The accusation stabbed into her.
"That's not fair," she whispered. "I tried so hard to help those
women. It broke my heart when I couldn't."

Brandt squeezed her hand gently, his
thumb stroking the soft skin of her palm. Sam watched the slow
movement, mesmerized by his gentleness. "Do you realize that's what
I do, day in and day out? There are so many people I haven't been
able to help. And some that I have. I can't quit just because I
don't always succeed. It's important we just keep trying to save
the ones we can."

She glanced up, caught by the
strength of his gaze. "I didn't totally quit. I tried again, when
several children went missing. I found I couldn't ignore the pleas
for help. Not when I thought I could do something."

"Did you help?"

She beamed, a lightness inside,
bursting forth. "Yes, I found a little girl that was missing. We
saved her in time."

He grinned. "It feels great doesn't
it?"

The light inside grew stronger.
"Yes." Her smile dimmed and fell away. "Then, when the next child
showed up dead, the suspicion fell on me again. It got pretty
ugly."

Brandt nodded. He could just imagine.
When a ship started to sink, all the rats either bailed or turned
on each other.

She grimaced. "There was one cop, in
particular. He disliked psychics. I think they all did to some
degree or another, but he...he hated me." Picking up her cup of
coffee, Sam bathed her face in the warmth drifting
upward.

"Is that what you were afraid I'd
find out about?"

The corner of her mouth tilted.
"Yeah, sort of. If you'd talked to this guy, he'd have told you a
whole lot of nothing good."