Second Sight (Prescience Series Book 1)

by Denise Moncrief

  Maybe if he closed the case, if the killer was caught, if he stopped the guy from killing again, stopped him from killing her, they could start over with a fresh relationship that was personal instead of Nick being a cop keeping tabs on Jeri, a person of interest. Maybe he could let his guard down and be himself. Maybe she could be herself.

  That was the closest she would come to admitting her growing attachment to him. Was it attraction? Um, yeah. Was it affection? She could easily get that way about him. Something about him got to her. The way she felt, it was more than the fact that he was sexy as hell. She had never let anyone get so close to examining the deepest parts of her psyche.

  Hadn’t he said he wished they’d met some other way?

  Nick laughed. “How many times are you gonna start over, girl?”

  She broke eye contact. “As many times as it takes.”

  The flight attendant interrupted them with offers of soft drinks and pretzels. Nick crunched on his pack of pretzels with his gaze on the back of the seat in front of him. He seemed to be studying something pretty hard. At least, he’d forgotten his fear of flying for a little while. Mission accomplished.

  “So who was she?”

  He glanced at her with a wary expression. “She who? What are you asking?”

  “The woman you lost.”

  At first, he didn’t seem to remember what she was referring to, but then his confused frown cleared. “How do you know I was talking about a woman?”

  “I just thought… I guess I… I don’t know.”

  His smile teased her. “My grandmother.” He pressed the pretzel bag flat, pushing against the creases more than was necessary to smooth them. “My Maw Maw raised me. She was more like a mother to me than my real mother.”

  She and Nick were not that much different then. They’d both been raised by someone that wasn’t their biological mother. It hit Jeri right in the heart.

  “She…umm… She had Alzheimer’s. I was there when she passed.” He rubbed his cheek. “I’d seen quite a few bodies after they were dead, but I’d never watched someone die. You know, being a cop, one day, someone was going to die in front of me, or in my arms. I knew it was going to happen, sooner or later. I never expected the first death I experienced to be my Maw Maw.”

  “I’m sorry, Nick.”

  “She forgot a lot of names. Forgot a lot of faces. Forgot things from her past. But she never forgot me.”

  Jeri sighed. “I know it still hurts. No matter how long ago it happened. You don’t ever stop missing her. I miss Chloe every single day. She didn’t have to die the way she did.”

  Nick seemed to grab the lifeline she’d just thrown him. “You said she died in a car wreck. How’d it happen?”

  “The other car ran a stop sign. He was speeding. Something like twenty or thirty miles over the speed limit. The guy never even hit the breaks. Just kept moving.” She sniffed back at fresh stab of pain. “The police told her parents that she died on impact… I hope they weren’t lying.”

  “Well, I don’t know about officers in another town, but… Of course, I wouldn’t. But I know that I would never lie about a thing like that. I might try to soften the blow, but I would never flat out lie about how fast someone died. No matter how painful the truth is, the lie cuts deeper when it’s finally exposed.”

  She twisted her napkin in her lap. “I know how deep a lie can cut.”

  “Jeri?”

  She glanced at him. “Yeah?”

  “Please, don’t lie to me.”

  That wasn’t such an odd thing for a cop to demand of a person of interest. But the way he said it, made his request sound oh-so-personal.

  “Nick… I have a bad feeling that I’m very much involved in Alison’s death. In ways I can’t even understand. I feel like somehow I’m stuck in the middle of what’s happening, like everything is swirling around me, like it’s all out of my control, and I don’t know how or why.” She made sure she had his attention, made sure he was looking straight into her eyes. “I haven’t murdered anyone. Ever. I have never even thought about killing someone. I don’t know how Alison or Sheldon died. I wasn’t there.”

  He sucked in a quick breath before he spoke. “I believe you didn’t kill anyone, Jeri. Now, I have to show why I believe you. That thing about you knowing Alison’s name before we discovered her identity? It’s just creepy. And hard to believe. I want to believe everything you’re telling me. I want to clear you. Do you have any idea how unprofessional that is?”

  Yeah, she did. “I want to help, Nick. If there’s anything I can do, I’ll do it.”

  He stuffed his empty pretzel bag into his empty plastic cup. “Is that why you went to the place where Alison died? Is that what you were hoping to do there? Because it didn’t help. It just made things much more difficult to explain.”

  “Have you told your boss about my gift?”

  “No, I haven’t, and I’m not going to.”

  While they were deep in their conversation, the pilot had announced their descent into the Nashville airport. Nick pushed his tray table back into the upright and locked position and curled his fingers around the armrest again. She didn’t give it a second thought, but pried his fingers loose and wrapped her hand around his.

  ****

  The landing hadn’t been so rough with Jeri’s hand holding his. As soon as the cabin lights had come on, she’d pulled her hand away. Nick’s heart rate had settled back into a normal pulse by the time he’d gotten them a rental car.

  She had remained silent except to give him directions to her parents’ house. Just as he had suspected, the Bowmans lived in an upscale neighborhood just outside of the Nashville city limits.

  Now, he and Jeri sat opposite each other at the Bowman’s huge dining room table. Connie Bowman hovered over them without ever settling into a seat. She’d drop into an upholstered, straight back chair and then she’d pop right back up again.

  Connie glanced toward the direction of the front door once again. “He should be here any second.”

  The mother clearly didn’t want them to leave without seeing Lance Bowman. Nick had no intention of leaving without sizing up the man in person. Understanding Bowman might do a lot to help Nick understand Jerilyn.

  Bowman burst through the door into the dining room.

  Lance Bowman was a big man. Tall. Broad shouldered. Lean for a middle-aged man. His strong chin and chiseled features suggested he was a man that could be formidable in a confrontation just because he looked like he could win any fight.

  Nick had dealt with his type before. Bowman didn’t intimidate him. Not very much anyway.

  He rose from his seat to greet the man. “Deputy Commissioner Bowman?” He used his title because that was the diplomatic thing to do and stretched his hand out toward the man. “I’m Detective Nick Moreau. We spoke on the phone.”

  Bowman narrowed his eyes, but eventually shook Nick’s hand. “Detective. Nice to meet you.”

  Was it all that nice? Probably not.

  Bowman’s eyes strayed to his daughter. “So you’ve decided to come home.”

  Nick turned his gaze toward Jeri. Her shoulders had tensed, and her hands had clenched.

  “I’m flying back tomorrow morning.”

  Jeri had intentionally planned a quick trip.

  Confusion flashed across Bowman’s features. “So you show up without warning and tell us you aren’t staying long.”

  She straightened her spine. “I’m fine, Daddy. How are you doing?”

  Bowman rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry. Of course… Your mother and I have been going out of my minds worrying about you.”

  Connie Bowman jerked out of her silence. “Lance, sit down. You need to listen to her.”

  The unspoken words for a change hung in the air.

  Bowman hesitated for a long, long moment before he pulled out a dining room chair. “What have you done to your hair, Jerilyn?”

  She raised her hand and tugged on a blue-tipped strand. “I wa
nted…” She seemed to suck up some courage and dropped the hair. “The color of my hair isn’t important. I’m not here to discuss my appearance or my life. I have a life, and it’s mine, and I’m not letting it go. Like I said, I’m heading back to New Orleans first thing in the morning.” She slid her gaze toward Nick. “I like it in New Orleans.”

  Bowman shot Nick an angry glare. “Well, you weren’t kidding when you told me she was hostile toward us.”

  Jeri raised her eyebrows at Nick.

  He cleared his throat and pushed down the urge to roll his eyes. “She’s only here because I brought her. If she doesn’t go back with me, we’ll issue a warrant for her arrest for questioning in connection with the murder of Alison Ardoin and ask that she be extradited back to New Orleans.”

  Bowman’s chair skidded back on the hardwood floor. “Jerilyn, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?” He shook his head. “I knew it was a mistake letting you go off to New Orleans.”

  Jeri sucked a hard breath through her teeth. Nick thought he’d seen that hellfire look in her eyes before. Soon, she’d be throwing brimstone at the man that had raised her.

  “You didn’t let me go anywhere. I would have gone with or without your permission. I’m an adult, and you don’t own me.” She rose from her seat. “I should have known it was a mistake coming here. I’ll find out what I need to know some other way, Nick. Get me out of here.”

  Nick had had enough of all of them. “Jeri, sit down.”

  Her face glowed with fresh anger.

  He pulled up his sternest cop voice. “Sit back down.”

  She lowered her butt back onto her chair, her eyes darting heat lightning at him.

  He turned his attention back to Bowman. “She might be ready to leave, but I’m not. I have questions.”

  Bowman’s lower jaw tightened. “So ask you questions, Moreau.”

  He considered how to open. Straight on. The man reacted best to the direct approach. “How do you know Sheldon Deville?”

  Across the table, Jerilyn sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Sheldon?” Bowman’s confidence shattered. “Why are you asking about him?”

  Nick wasn’t going to be knocked off course. “I’m asking the questions.”

  “You are out of your jurisdiction.” Bowman’s insecurity had turned into smug assurance.

  “Does that mean you won’t answer my question?”

  Bowman remained mute.

  “Okay, I see how it’s gotta be. I’ll have my boss call your boss. Okay? We’ll make sure he knows what we’re asking and why. Is that okay with you…sir?”

  Bowman glanced toward Jeri. Connie Bowman seemed to be choking on intense emotion. Her fist flew to her mouth, and her eyes popped with alarm.

  The man appeared to roll his options through his mind before he finally made his decision to answer the question. “Sheldon Deville is Jerilyn’s biological grandfather.”

  Nick pulled the old photo he’d found in Deville’s backpack out of his jacket pocket and shoved it down the table toward Bowman. “So who is this?”

  Bowman seemed to deflate. “That’s Jerilyn’s biological mother…my sister. She had an affair with Sheldon’s son.” He nudged the photo with his fingertip. “My sister…was easily manipulated. And Jeri’s father…was an evil bastard.”

  Nick got it. “You don’t want Jerilyn to be like her father or her mother, do you?”

  Connie Bowman gasped. “We couldn’t let them raise her. Everyone knows the Devilles are all—”

  Bowman issued a stern warning. “Connie. Don’t.”

  Nick was on to something. He couldn’t let the momentum die. “The Devilles were all what?”

  “They were trash. That’s all.” Bowman had answered for Connie.

  No, there was more to it than what Bowman was willing to admit.

  “So what is her father’s name?”

  Bowman rose to his feet. It was clear he believed the interview was over. “That doesn’t matter. He’s dead.”

  Jerilyn flinched. She didn’t believe the lie any more than Nick did.

  Nick had one more bomb to toss into the middle of them. “Sheldon Deville died right in front of Jerilyn. He had his fingers around her wrist and his hand on her chin. He told he was giving her a gift. Do you have any idea what he was talking about?”

  For the first time since he’d entered the room, Lance Bowman appeared to be thoroughly rattled by the question.

  “I think it’s time for you to leave, Moreau.”

  Nick agreed. He pushed his chair back and caught Jeri’s eye. They’d gotten an answer, just not the one they had expected. He lifted the picture from the table, still in its plastic evidence bag. “Are you ready to go, Jeri?”

  Bowman reacted with heat. “She’s staying here.”

  Hadn’t they already covered the question of whether Jeri was staying or leaving? Was the man that hardheaded and hard-hearted?

  “She’s a person of interest in an on-going investigation. It’s in her best interest to return to New Orleans with me.”

  “Like I said…you’re out of your jurisdiction.”

  Nick smiled. “Like I said…it will only take one phone call to change your mind.” He adopted the obvious cop pose. Feet apart. Arms crossed. “Do you want your fellow officers finding out that your daughter is wanted for questioning in a murder investigation? One that involves her biological grandfather?”

  His threat pushed Bowman back.

  Nick took the opportunity to get Jeri out of the Bowman house before Bowman regained his composure. He and Jeri were at the door when Connie Bowman grabbed her daughter’s hand.

  “Jerilyn…has anything strange happened?”

  Such an open-ended question.

  Jeri blinked first at her mother and then turned an angry glare on her father. “Sheldon passed the gift to me. My life hasn’t been the same since. You could have warned me.”

  Apparently, Jerilyn was filling in a lot more blanks than Nick was. She knew her parents, read their body language. She yanked the door open.

  Connie hadn’t let go of her hand. “Please, Jerilyn, you have to believe me. We kept this from you for your protection.”

  “Some things happen no matter how hard you try to stop them, Momma.” She shook her mother’s hand off.

  Nick and Jeri were in the car and down the road before Jeri spoke. “What are we going to do now?”

  Why wasn’t she crying? Shouldn’t she be at least a little bit upset? She was obviously refusing to process what had just happened.

  “Jeri?” He glanced her way.

  “What?”

  He braved the backlash. “If you need to cry, let it out.”

  She wiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’m not going to cry.” She puffed out her cheeks. “I came here to find out if my parents knew about the gift. I found out what I wanted to know from them.”

  “There are still unanswered questions.”

  She nodded and sniffed.

  “I know where Sheldon Deville’s sister lives.”

  Her head jerked around. “You do? Can we go see her?”

  Nick nodded. That had been his plan if they had enough time to do so. Lance Bowman’s hostile attitude had shoved them out the door and given them plenty of time to visit Deville’s sister. “He has a lot of nerve calling you hostile.”

  He thought he was muttering to himself, but Jerilyn picked up his comment.

  “Did you say I was hostile toward them?”

  “No. I told him that he should let you contact him. Which you did. I guess that didn’t go the way he had hoped.”

  “How long can I stay in Riverview?”

  He needed her to stay at Chateau Moreau indefinitely, at least until he had the photographer in custody

  “As long as you pay the rent…as long as you want.”

  “And the apartment is rented in your name, right?”

  Where was she going with her questions?

  “Th
en, there’s no way he could find me when he comes to New Orleans looking for me.”

  He? Her father, of course.

  “Not unless he figured out the apartment was in my name. Then, he’d still have to do some digging to find it.” A good private detective with all the right information probably could track her down. He probably shouldn’t tell her that.

  Hopefully, the case would be closed before Bowman could hire an investigator. If it came to that, Nick didn’t mind finding her another place to live. He didn’t like men like Bowman. The man hadn’t impressed him. There was a deep well of something not quite right about Lance Bowman. He knew more than he was telling them.

  For instance, Bowman had lied about Sheldon Deville’s son, Jerilyn’s father, being dead. Now why would he do that? As soon as Nick had access to a computer again, he would dig until he found out what the son’s name was. Surely, Bowman knew that. It was a stalling tactic. What was Bowman hiding?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sheldon Deville’s sister, Imogene, lived on the family land up state highway 171 on a remote ranch at the end of a dirt lane. An overabundance of wind chimes tinkled and clinked and jingled in the wind. The chimes were made of every imaginable material. Bones. Bits of bottle glass. Rocks. Metal. Hard plastic. The different materials created a cacophony of noise rather than a beautiful harmony. It was a complicated collection that either worked very well or not at all, depending on one’s particular artistic aesthetic.

  One chime in particular caught Jeri’s attention. Tear shaped crystals were interspersed with heavy pieces of carved silver, reminiscent of the cylinder and base that Sheldon had left in the trash for Jeri to find.

  Jeri approached the warped wood deck of the porch and touched the chime. A jolt of heat coursed through her as if she’d stuck a screwdriver into an electrical socket. She drew back her hand, shivered from a sudden bone-chilling cold, and wrapped her arms across her chest.

  Nick placed a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  So he had noticed her reaction to the chime. No words formed in answer. Her tongue seemed to be stuck to the back of her teeth.

  Nick nudged her shoulder. “Jeri? Are you all right?”

  This time she managed to mumble a muted answer. “Uh-huh.”