“I know.”
“But it’s him,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “I mean, they have to check to make sure, but…it’s him.”
“I’m so sorry,” she replied.
The need to hold onto something stable took root inside him, and before he knew what he was doing, he straightened and pulled her into his arms, hugging her so tightly he heard the breath push out of her lungs. But she didn’t complain. She just put her arms around him and squeezed back.
People around them rushed to and fro as the warehouse just turned into a murder scene, but they stayed locked together, Jonas drawing strength from her body. He shook, but he kept his sobs silent. It was bad enough he couldn’t keep it together, never mind having the whole Alecia Falls Police Department witness his breakdown.
From his vantage point, he saw the coroner lead the body bag out on a gurney, and he flinched. Jonas saw the ME look over at him. Confusion, sadness, and anger were reflected in the coroner’s eyes.
Jonas held onto her until the van had driven away. Then he slowly pulled back. He wiped his eyes, which were red, and his mouth had set in a hard line as he stared into her eyes.
“We need to talk,” he said.
She nodded. “I know.”
“In my office.”
“Of course,” she replied.
Jonas straightened his shoulders. His moment of weakness was over.
Chapter Three
The police headquarters looked like any other police headquarters, stuck between the seventies and eighties with really bad movie props. Bits of modern day managed to seep through as computers and telephones, but even the change of the President’s photo stayed within an old plastic frame held together with brown tape.
All the people in the room stilled as Jonas walked in. They stared at him with a mixture of pity and sadness, though Jonas kept his chin up and eyes straight ahead. Bad news traveled fast, no matter what city.
“Through here,” Jonas instructed, and she followed after him dutifully.
He led her to an interrogation room where a desk and two chairs waited for them. Charlotte sat in one chair as Jonas sat in the other. The two-way mirror faced her. He loosened his tie and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands.
“I suppose the first thing I should give you is this,” she said without preamble and pulled from her purse a large envelope, which she laid upon the table.
“What’s this?”
“My dossier, for lack of a better word. I have my background check, my itinerary for the past three months, and a list of friends and family members I’ve recently been in contact with. My clients stay under a confidentiality agreement, so if you need those names you’ll have to go through my lawyer, which is also provided.”
“Hand these out often?” he asked sarcastically, picking it up to pull out the papers. He looked over each one quickly.
She shrugged. “I’ve been doing this long enough to know I’m always the first suspect when a body turns up exactly as I described. It’s just easier this way.”
“Right. Because you’re psychic.”
“Actually, I’m clairvoyant, but no. Because I’m right.”
He tapped the papers with his fingers. “I’ve already run a background check. Right after my aunt said she hired you.”
She gave him two thumbs up.
“Were you really on your way to the Olympics?” he asked.
“That came up on a background check?”
“I’m very thorough.”
She just bet he was. “I hadn’t made the team yet, but I was the fastest female freestyle swimmer in the US at the time. Hundred meters.”
“But you decided not to go?”
Her mouth thinned out a bit, but she held her emotions in check. She couldn’t begrudge him an innocent question. “I had an accident that forced me to retire early.”
“So then you became a…” he swiped his hand to encompass her whole body.
“I became someone that could help people.”
“By charging them.”
“I fly all over the country, Detective, helping people find their missing loved ones. My ability and my time are just as valuable as yours.”
He didn’t say anything back, but she could tell he was frustrated. She knew it wasn’t really about her. Anger and grief rode him hard, and he couldn’t show any of it because of he had a job to do.
“Your lawyer has the same last name as you,” he observed.
“My sister,” she clarified. “There’s four of us. Holly went into law and is married, Delia became a doctor, and Kira is a financial advisor. They’re both single if you’re interested, but I’m sure your detecting already told you that.”
“All adopted, right?”
“We’re the original Jolie-Pitt family. Each one of us Perth girls came from a different country. I was born in Seoul, South Korea, but I’m as American as you.”
He nodded but didn’t ask further. He stuffed the papers back into the envelope and laid it to the side. Then he leaned back in this chair, folded his hands across his flat stomach, and regarded her.
She met his gaze, feeling that click that always seemed to follow them, and tried hard to ignore it. Finding him wildly attractive did not help the situation. She would always be the freaky girl who found murdered people. The one who found his dead cousin.
“Here’s my problem,” he said, and she heard the cop voice take over. “I have a victim, and I have a person who claims to be psychic.”
“Again, I’m clairvoyant,” she replied holding up her index finger.
A tic pulsed in his jaw. She lowered her finger and bit her bottom lip.
“It looks like the pit had been sealed off and filled with water, so this was definitely thought out. And there were chains around him,” he continued. “In your…vision…you said you saw chains, but they weren’t on the ceiling. They were around him.”
She thought back for a moment. “You’re right. Zach must have shown them to me trying to say he was tied up. Sometimes the spirit shows me the only way they know how and I’m left trying to interpret.”
Jonas looked away from her, and from his profile she saw his jaw tighten. She gave him his needed moment to bring his emotions back under control.
He cleared his throat and looked at her again. “Can you do it again?”
“Do what again?”
“Contact him.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps he can tell you who did this to him.”
Her heart ached for him. “Jonas, you know if there’s any more information I could get like that, it wouldn’t be legal.”
“I know that,” he said angrily and pushed his chair back to stand. His hands settled on his hips as he stared down at her with dark eyes blazing fire. “The coroner said he’d been down there for six weeks, which means I was the last person to see him. We had a beer together, he slapped me on the back and said good night, and then he walked out the door and…and died. I need to know what happened between the time he left me and when he ended up with chains holding him down in that vile pit of water!”
His agony radiated out and brought tears to her eyes. “Jonas, I realize you’re a practical, logical detective and believing someone like me goes against all the structure you’ve laid for yourself—”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Come on, now. Jonas, I was there in your seat twelve years ago,” she said and gestured at his abandoned chair. “If someone walked up to me and told me they could see ghosts or communicate with spirits, I would’ve busted a gut laughing at them. So I know what’s going through your head. You want to discredit me, and yet you can’t, because your heart is saying what if.”
“My heart is fucking hurting right now!” he yelled. “I want the motherfucker who did this to my cousin to fry!”
And then he picked up his chair and threw it against the wall. Charlotte jumped as it crashed and bounced, the noise almost breaking her eardrum. Jonas banged his fists on the
table in front of her.
“I don’t care if you’re real or not,” he told her. “I just want this asshole found. So if you get anymore visions, you let me know.”
She nodded, not quite sure what else to say.
Then he grabbed the envelope with her information and opened the door, exiting without giving her a backward glance.
Charlotte watched his retreating back, trying to calm her frayed nerves.
Chapter Four
Charlotte waved at Officer Joe George as he drove away. He’d been the first policeman she saw once she stepped out of the interrogation room, and he’d taken pity on her and driven her back to her hotel. Hunger clawed at her stomach. The granola bar she’d had earlier just hadn’t cut it. So she hurried into the hotel room to use the bathroom and wash her face before leaving again. She’d seen a nice little diner a couple of streets over advertising home cooking.
Forgoing driving, she decided to walk it, taking in the charming antique street filled with every type of shop imaginable. Alecia Falls lay north and west of Seattle, on the opposite shore of Puget Sound, and the last thing she wanted to do was drive and get lost and end up near the bay. She shuddered and pushed all thoughts of the past aside. She didn’t want to deal with them at the moment. Or ever. But being around water always brought unpleasant memories back to life. She knew one day she’d have to deal, but for the time being, ignoring them seemed like the safest course of action.
Most of the town shops were starting to close. Employees pulled merchandise back inside while some swept debris out the door. Various people smiled at her and some waved. The evening breeze cooled her skin, so she slipped on her jacket and buried her hands in her pocket.
The diner nestled cozily on the corner of Forty-First and Decker, the lighting subdued, offering a mellow atmosphere. It was exactly what she needed to relax after such an emotionally charged day.
After she’d eaten and paid, she walked leisurely back to her hotel, breathing in the slightly salty night air. She’d always loved the ocean, the cry of seagulls overhead and the sound of waves lapping against the rocks. It wasn’t often that she felt peaceful, but walking back to the hotel along the tree-lined streets of Alecia Falls, she allowed herself a moment to forget the past twelve years. Instead she pretended she was a normal woman walking home to a normal life.
She walked up to her hotel room and unlocked it, but as she entered the room, she felt another presence. Human, and alive. Instantly, adrenaline flooded through her veins, holding her immobile with fear.
She hadn’t left a light on, so shadows peeked out from all direction. Her eyes darted back and forth, trying to find the source of her anxiety. She backed up slowly, away from the door, and turned to run, but just as she did so, a dark dressed man jumped forward. She screamed just as the intruder pushed her, causing her to stumble back. Her head connected with the concrete wall, smacking it hard. The last thing she saw was the man running away from the parking lot and toward the street.
* * * *
She found herself sitting in a bar, wearing a little black dress, legs crossed with a matching pair of Christian Louboutin’s completing her outfit. She’d always wanted a real pair of the red-bottom shoes, but somehow this seemed all wrong. She didn’t remember dressing up or coming to the bar, and she certainly didn’t remember buying a pair of shoes that cost about a thousand bucks.
The second thing was the distinct lack of noise. There wasn’t ever any noise in a vision, and it was always disturbing. Patrons littered the area, drinking, laughing, and dancing. But a pin drop could be heard. No music, no noise, nothing.
She hopped off the bar stool, tried in vain to pull the extremely short dress down further, and started walking. She stared at the people, sidestepping when needed, pushing through several groups, and wondering what she was supposed to find. And then she saw a man playing pool in the back. In the entire darkened atmosphere of the bar, a spotlight shined down on him as he lined up his shot. When he took it, he stood upright and looked at her.
Recognition dawned on her. “Zach?” she asked. “You’re still with me?”
He smiled and held out his hand. Without a second thought, she took it, and he pulled her into his body. She rested against him like she’d done it a dozen times before.
“Is this what you were doing that night? Jonas said he met you for a beer.”
He stared into her eyes, captivating her with a look of such tenderness it almost made her weep.
“I don’t understand, Zach,” she murmured, but something made her rest her head upon his chest.
As he laid down his pool stick, she noticed a bandage sticking out of his cuff.
“You hurt yourself,” she observed and touched the white gauze. “Did you go to the hospital?”
He shook his head no. He unbuttoned his sleeve and showed a long white bandage before rolling his sleeve back down to hide it. He shrugged, kissed her forehead, and gently set her apart from him. He took out his wallet and held something up. But to her eyes it was simply a blank white card. Then his gaze drifted past her, and his smile dimmed a bit. He said something but, of course, no sound came with the words. He kissed her on the mouth and walked away from her, toward the front of the bar. When she went to take a step after him, her feet wouldn’t budge. She looked down and saw that her feet had become glued to the floor.
She looked back up, after Zach, and everything had vanished.
Even her fabulous black patent leather shoes.
* * * *
“Charlotte. Charlotte, open your eyes,” a man’s deep, sexy voice urged. She could listen to him talk all day long, the rich baritone sliding like liquid chocolate over her senses.
Someone caressed her cheek, and she leaned into it before slowly raising her lids. Jonas Daire leaned over her, his handsomely sculptured face shining with concern. He was so close she could reach up and kiss him.
“Hi,” she said, her voice drowsy. “Please don’t yell at me again.”
“I’m sorry about that,” he murmured. “I promise no more temper tantrums. How’s your head?”
She blinked and furrowed her brow. “I think I have a headache.”
“Do you want to stand?”
“You mean I’m not?”
“All right, to the hospital it is.”
And suddenly everything rushed back to her. “Oh no,” she replied adamantly and pushed herself up on her elbows. It took a moment for the tilting world to straighten itself. She saw the paramedics standing behind Jonas, a gurney waiting for her to lie upon. “I’m fine. Just a little…ouch…bump. No biggie. Help me up, please.”
Jonas reached down and gently pulled her to her feet, holding onto her. “I think you should get checked out.”
“I’ve had head conks before,” she told him. “I’m not nauseous, and there’s no double vision, so I’m pretty much cleared of a concussion. Sister’s a doctor, remember?”
“At least have the paramedics check you out,” he insisted, and he looked so determined she acquiesced.
As she sat in a pool chair letting the two paramedics take her vitals and check her eyes, she saw Officer Joe George talking to the front desk girl, who looked upset. Several other hotel guests stared at her like she had three heads or something. Jonas had parked haphazardly, and the red-and-blue lights twirled from his grill, casting a waxy appearance over everyone.
“Can you tell me what happened?” Jonas asked once the two EMTs were done with their examination. Charlotte singed a piece of paper, and they left her to pack up their equipment.
“Aren’t you homicide?”
“Yes.”
“Then why aren’t the burglary cops here asking questions instead?”
“Robbery.”
“Excuse me. Robbery cops.”
“Because I know you.”
“Of course. Silly me. Let me grab some ibuprofen, though.”
The door to her hotel room still remained open, and she flipped on the light, standing back to let Jo
nas go first. When he beckoned for her, she entered, looking around the trashed room.
“I came back from dinner,” she told him, moving around the pile of sheets and blankets that had been pulled off the bed, not touching anything. “I opened the door and felt something was wrong. I backed away, and a man rushed at me.”
“Did you get a look at him?”
“No. It was dark, he wore black and…I think he had face paint on. You know, like how they streak faces for football.” She reached for her toiletry bag and dug through it until she found the ibuprofen. “Why do football players put black under their eyes anyway?”
“Reduce sun glare,” Jonas replied.
“Oh,” she said. She popped two little brown pills in her mouth and took a swig from the bottled water she’d left on the desk.
Jonas tapped the window frame. The screen had been cut and folded out. “Looks like this is how he got in.”
“I left the window open to air out the room. I’m not a smoker.”
“Then why did you get a smoker’s room?”
“It was the only one without a bathtub,” she told him matter-of-fact, as if that answered everything.
He blinked. “All right. I guess. Anything taken?”
Charlotte looked around. “I don’t know. I had my purse and tablet on me.” She checked her suitcase, her book bag, but everything seemed in intact. “As far as I know, nothing is missing.”
Jonas sighed and rubbed a hand over his chin. “I don’t know how much use it would be to fingerprint this place. Hotels aren’t the best place for concrete evidence.”
“I’m sure it was random,” she said. “Not to mention my fault for leaving the windows open. I mean, that’s a big old sign saying come right in and rob me.”
“Well, you’re not staying here. Grab your things.”
“Why?”
“You’re coming with me.”
“And where are we going?”
“We’re going to find you someplace new to stay the night.”
Otherworldly [McKnight, Perth & Daire 1] (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3