She disappeared through her front door, and Nick immediately regretted losing her trust. And he still hadn’t gotten the damn tube from her. He started to get out of the car and pound on her door, but then changed his mind. Later that afternoon would be soon enough to confront her again. When they both had calmed down.
Sooner rather than later, he’d have to bring her into the station to get elimination fingerprints and a hair sample from her.
There had been no usable prints lifted from the scene of Deville’s death, but he had a feeling he’d eventually be forced to ask the crime lab to compare Jerilyn’s prints to those lifted from the Jane Doe crime scene. He could only sit on the blue hair for so long, and he wasn’t going to stick his neck out begging anyone to keep Jerilyn’s prints out of the AFIS system. If her father found her because she’d become involved in a murder investigation, then that was her problem.
Chapter Eight
Jeri tucked her bag between her legs on the floorboard of the bus. The vehicle rumbled as it pulled away from the stop. A woman practically collapsed into the seat next to her. Why? When there were plenty of other seats on the bus?
Their shoulders bumped when the bus hit a pothole. Jeri shifted away from her, conscious of every accidental touch. What if her visions happened when she touched someone? She waited for the mental fog to overtake her, but it didn’t happen. She released a slow exhale.
No, when she thought about it, most of them happened when she made eye contact with someone. The woman on the bus. The weirdo. The photographer. Nick. Sometimes, they were touching her, sometimes not. But in every instance, she had made eye contact with the other person. In every instance, she was viewing a scene through another person’s eyes.
She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, intending to rest for just a moment, just until the bus pulled up to her stop. The corner where she changed buses was still several miles away.
When she opened her eyes again, she was standing in front of a house on a street she’d never been on before. To her horror, the house was consumed in a blaze. Three fire trucks crowded the narrow street. Plumes of water fell onto the burning roof.
Her heart stopped beating. Then, began again with an erratic rhythm.
Jeri stumbled toward a man who seemed to be in charge. “Hey, mister.” The fireman ignored her, so she tapped him on the shoulder. “Hey, mister.”
He pointed toward a spot down the street. “What are you doing here? Get back behind the line.”
She glanced over her shoulder, and indeed, there was a line of police cars blocking the street.
“But mister, there’s an unconscious woman in that house.”
He swirled to face her. “How do you know that?”
Her gut twisted. “I…I just know.”
He wrapped his fingers around her upper arm. “Do you know who lives in that house?”
She shook her head.
“Then, how do you know there’s someone inside?”
“I…I…just know.”
She wiggled to loosen his hand, but his grip was strong, pinching her flesh.
“You stay right here. I’m gonna have a few questions for you.”
Fear rushed her. “I have to go.”
“No, you don’t. I’m gonna have someone check it out. And if we find someone inside, I’m gonna wanna know how you knew there was an unconscious woman in a vacant house.” He called to another firefighter. When the man came within range, the man in charge shouted his instructions over the noise. “Was there anyone in the house?”
The second firefighter shook his head.
“Make damn sure. This woman says there’s an unconscious woman in there.”
The boss firefighter hadn’t let go of her arm. He motioned toward a police officer. The cop jogged toward him.
“Don’t let her out of your sight. She’s acting weird, like she knows something about how this fire started.”
The time had come to panic. She tugged, trying to get loose from the man. “I never said that.”
The cop nodded and took over her detention. By the time the groggy feeling had gone away, the cop had placed her in the back seat of her patrol car.
****
The stench of burnt wood and ash permeated the scene. One lone fireman stomped on debris in the gutted house. Nick pulled the fire captain further away from the rest of his men, who were winding things down now that the fire had diminished to a few smoldering embers.
The house had gone down quickly, almost consumed before the fire truck arrived. There would, of course, be an investigation, but there was already reason to suspect arson due to multiple points of origin. Nick could smell the faintest whiff of gasoline in the air. Probably the accelerant.
He glanced over his shoulder at Jerilyn before he spoke to the fireman. “She told you there was an unconscious woman inside?”
“At first, I thought she was just some nutjob interfering with my job. Happens. Firebugs. They come out for the cookout sometimes. I thought she acted odd, but then when we found a woman inside the house… How did she know that? The house is vacant, and she claims…” He hooked a thumb toward Jerilyn. “She says she doesn’t know the woman. How would she know if she knew the woman or not? Unless she knew who was inside the house. You know what I mean? We don’t even know who the woman was. She was burnt to a…”
Had the guy been about to say crisp. That was some sick humor. What was it with people these days and their lack of respect for the dead? His Maw Maw had taught Nick better than that. You didn’t disrespect dead people, and you didn’t desecrate a grave.
The captain wasn’t finished with his brutal assessment of Jerilyn’s behavior. “She said something crazy about just knowing someone was inside the house. What is she? Some sort of whacko psychic?” The fireman thought he was funny, no doubt.
Nick blinked at him, refusing to get into that discussion. The captain was a little too close to Jerilyn’s version of the truth.
“Her behavior—even before we found the woman in the house—seemed suspicious to me. That’s why I asked the officer to detain her.” The captain crossed his arms over his chest. It was an I-ain’t-gonna-believe-no-BS stance. “So how do you know her?”
Damn, his tone sounded accusatory. Was Nick going to have to defend himself to this jerk? To be fair though, Jeri had insisted the patrol officer call Nick. The firefighter was bound to have questions about that.
“Look…” Nick rubbed his cheek. He was so weary of trying to explain the unexplainable.
He gathered his thoughts together and then tried to defend Jerilyn to the fire captain. “I don’t know what’s going on with her. She’s a little…psycho.” Nick glanced at Jerilyn again, and then he adopted a conspiratorial tone. “I think probably she didn’t know if there was anyone in the house or not. She hasn’t been the same since…” He scanned the area, making sure the cop understood that Nick was telling him something on the down low. “She shouldn’t be by herself, but she’s got nobody to stay with her. She’s been a little…” He swirled his finger around his ear. “Did you hear about the homeless guy that was murdered on Dauphine?”
The fire captain nodded.
“She’s the one the guy grabbed while he was dying. The poor girl is a bit traumatized. And look at her… She’s a little weird anyway.” He hoped the firefighter would get his drift. Jerilyn’s appearance would go a long way to help Nick’s case in her defense.
As if by magic, the captain’s hard attitude changed. “Are you the lead on that case?”
Nick grunted. “Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.”
“That one sounds like… You said you’d handle her?”
He allowed himself to relax. The guy was obviously tired of the conversation and ready to cooperate.
Nick held out his hand, palm down, and wagged his hand back and forth. “She kinda sorta trusts me. I can find out if she knew the dead woman was in there or not. If she did, I’ll get to the bottom of this. Find out how she knew. She’s a witn
ess in my case, and she’s flighty. I don’t want her skipping town. So yeah, I’ll handle her.”
He had come just short of calling Jerilyn a person of interest. That designation might have renewed the fire captain’s interest in her. Yeah, he’d better stick to calling her a witness. This was Nick’s case, and he didn’t want some damn hothead pushing his own agenda.
The captain nodded his agreement. Jerilyn was one less problem for the firefighter to worry about. Yeah, they knew they were breaking protocol into a million pieces, but what were they gonna do? Tell on each other? They had an unspoken pact to keep Jerilyn’s strange behavior to themselves. If Jerilyn had done something that needed prosecuting, Nick would pursue it. Otherwise, this would be a forgotten incident.
Nick sprinted across the street to where Jerilyn stood with the patrol officer. “I’m taking her with me for questioning.”
The other cop nodded and handed Jeri off to Nick. He shoved her toward his car. She resisted his pushing, and he shoved a little harder. Just to make it look good for any spectators.
“Ow. Why are you being so rough?”
He pressed his lips together to keep from barking his irritation at her. She shouldn’t be here, and no excuse for her presence could possibly have any validity. He’d just gotten her out of a jam. She owed him.
Once they were safely inside his car with the windows rolled up and the doors locked, he let her have it. “What the hell is going on with you, Jerilyn? How did you know there was a woman inside that house? And don’t lie to me and give me some crap about seeing a vision.” He wiggled his fingers like he was spreading mystical dust all over them.
She bit her lower lip and turned her face toward the street scene outside the passenger window. Had anyone noticed that he hadn’t shoved her into the back seat where criminals ride to the station? No matter. He’d called her a witness. Still, everyone rode in the back when they were being escorted into the station for questioning. He peeked at his rearview mirror. No one seemed to be watching them as they left.
“You don’t have to be mean.”
Her calm reply rattled him. Why wasn’t she bawling or hysterical or defiantly defending herself? Why wasn’t she acting guilty of something? What she’d just done was stupid at best and suspicious at worst. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to get someone to swab her hands for residue. That would keep his butt out of hot water should she prove to be an arsonist. After all, he didn’t know her that well.
“Take me to a psych ward.”
“I’m not gonna do that.”
“Why not? You told the fireman I was crazy, didn’t you?” She made it sound like he’d committed a crime worse than murder.
He slammed his hand on the steering wheel. She was so frustrating. “I did what I had to do to keep him from asking too many questions. I was trying to keep you out of even more trouble than you’re already in.”
She sniffed. Her reaction reeked of disdain. “Why do you care?”
Well, now, that was a damn good question.
There was something about her, something that kept drawing him to her. Did he care about her? Strangely, he did, even though he’d just met her, even though he’d never admit it to her or anyone else. He’d barely just admitted it to himself. His cynicism rarely allowed him to care for anyone. Jaded, that’s what he’d become. He didn’t naturally trust people any longer, and this one…this one gave him even less reason to trust her. So why did he want to believe her?
Chapter Nine
Nick had gone several blocks, out of the vicinity of the fire, when he turned onto a side street and pulled up to the curb beside a city park.
“Tell me what happened. From the beginning. Don’t leave anything out.”
“You won’t believe me.”
There was a strong probability that he wouldn’t. But the woman needed help, and he couldn’t stand the thought of letting her twist in the wind without trying to help her. Whether she was traumatized or seeing things or just plain nuts, he couldn’t let her waltz her way into more trouble than she could imagine. People like her went into the system and didn’t come out unscathed. He’d seen it too many times. Surely, there was more than one way to administer justice.
“Tell me anyway.”
She made a noise of disgust.
“Jerilyn, how can I help you if I don’t know what’s going on with you?”
“I tried to tell you.”
Had she? Maybe she had. He’d blown off her nonsense about seeing things before they happened. This time, he vowed to listen no matter how crazy her story sounded.
“Try again.” He had to get it out of her, Jerilyn’s version of the truth. Once he had that, he could sort out the reality from the fantasy.
“I was on the bus the other day…” She shifted in her seat to face him, a faint glimmer of cautious hope shining in her eyes. “I was sitting across from this woman. When I looked into her eyes, I saw a fire. There was a woman lying on the floor of a house, and the flames were all around her. And then it was over. The picture disappeared.” She pushed a wayward lock of blue hair out of her eyes. “I blew it off. I thought it was just my imagination. I was tired and it had been a long day, and I have a very good imagination. When I’m tired.”
Her story sounded very much like her claim that she’d seen someone shoot him. That hadn’t happened. “How did you end up at the fire?”
“I was riding home on the bus—”
“So everything happens to you on a bus?”
She glared at him. He motioned for her to continue.
“I think I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I remember I was standing in front of the house and telling the fireman there was a woman inside. I tried to tell him, but he told me to get behind the police cars. I couldn’t ignore what I’d seen in that woman’s eyes. What if she was still alive when I got there? What if she died because he wouldn’t listen to me?” She placed a trembling hand over her mouth. The idea that the woman could have been saved seemed to truly disturb her.
“So you’re telling me you can’t remember how you got from the bus to the house?”
She shook her head but held his gaze. He detected no hint of deceit. Jerilyn believed what she was telling him…or she was a very good liar.
“How did you know that was the house?”
“I didn’t.”
“You just…” He snapped his fingers. “Came out of a trance and there you were.”
“Yes.” Her eyes pleaded with him for understanding. “Can’t you see how freaked out I am?”
She did appear to be freaked out, but her upset didn’t prove she was telling the truth. What she was suggesting was impossible.
The fire captain had told Nick it might be awhile before they identified the woman since the house was supposed to be vacant. “Who is she?”
“How would I know?”
He suggested the obvious to her. “Well, you knew she’d be there. It makes sense that you knew her somehow.”
“I’ve only seen her once in my life. In my mind.”
Nick offered her a blank, non-committal stare. Sometimes remaining quiet rattled an interviewee enough that they started rambling. Once he got someone talking, inevitably the truth would emerge.
Thoughts seemed to flash in her eyes, careen across her face. One by one, she seemed to chew on new ideas. “I see things through other people’s eyes, Nick. What if the woman on the bus set the fire? What if she knew the woman in the house was unconscious? What if that woman on the bus is a killer, Nick? You have to find her. She might do it again.”
“That is really farfetched, Jerilyn.”
She turned away from him again. “I see things, Nick. I don’t like what I see, but I see them. Whether they’re real or not.” Her voice wobbled when she spoke again. “You should listen to me. I saw the woman that died in the bar before she died. I saw the woman in the fire before the house caught fire. And I saw a man holding a bloody knife over a woman’s head. Bad things are gonna happe
n. There’s going to be another killing. The guy isn’t through yet. He’s just getting started.”
Well, there was the inconsistency in her story. Jane Doe hadn’t died from a knife wound.
Nick was afraid of the answer, but he had to ask the question. “Who is he?”
“He likes to take their pictures.”
He grabbed her by her arm, and she jerked it away from him.
“You know the killer, don’t you?”
When she turned to him again, her face was full of pathetic entreaty. “If I knew who he was, I’d tell you, but I can’t see his face.”
She could have easily accused the photographer, but she didn’t. Why?
By now, she was shaking uncontrollably, and her teeth were chattering. He shucked his jacket off and offered it to her. “You’re in shock.”
She grunted her agreement and adjusted the jacket around her shoulders.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?”
She shook her head until strands of stringy hair flew about her face. What had happened to her usual ponytail elastic?
“You want to go home?”
She abruptly stopped her shaking and blinked at him. “I wish I could go home.”
She meant Nashville; he meant her apartment.
“No, you’re going to stay at my place for a while.” What was he saying? His apartment was the size of a closet. They’d be all over each other. Now, that was an enticing thought. Wait. What? No. Damn, he wished he’d worded his thoughts better.
As if she had read his dirty mind, she set her jaw and refused his offer. “I can’t do that.”
“Jerilyn…”
“Most people call me Jeri.”
Where had that come from? Call me Jeri? They weren’t on a date. This wasn’t the get-to-know-you phase of a new relationship. Why ask for the familiarity now? The woman kept throwing him curveballs.
He sighed and began again. “Jeri…it’s not going to be long before someone runs a background check on Olivia Hammond and finds out that she’s dead. You’re serving permit will be yanked, at the least. You could be charged with fraud and identity theft.”
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