Deadly Touch

by Heather Graham

  “I agree. And I promise you, Titan and I are ready.”

  “Tomorrow, then. I was just getting worried.”

  “It’s no problem and thank you for thinking of me.”

  “Of course. I know you have Titan. But still...”

  “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just wound up doing a lot of running around.”

  “Cool. Hey, it must be really neat, meeting him as an adult. Is he still to die for?”

  Raina hesitated. It was a common expression, but it seemed ironic at this moment.

  She answered judiciously. “He’s an impressive man.”

  “Okay, well, I guess I’ll see for myself Friday night.”

  They finished the call and Raina looked at the phone, wincing. She was lucky. She had good friends, women she’d known for years and years. Somehow, they’d all segued into good and caring responsible adults. But she couldn’t tell them the truth about this.

  Titan emitted a loud “Woof!”

  He was seeking her attention—or reminding her they had work to do. She smiled, set down her phone and gave her attention to the dog.

  * * *

  Casey McConnell joined Axel at the coffee shop a few minutes before the dress shop was due to close. She was a tiny woman, slim almost to the point of gaunt, but with bright blue eyes, long elegant fingers—and a master’s touch with a pencil.

  He’d known Casey a long time. She had been with the Metro police ever since he could remember. She was close to retirement age, but her renditions of the people she sketched were so accurate that no one wanted her to leave.

  He rose to meet her; she had never been shy and she gave him a kiss on the cheek and a warm hug before sliding into the booth across from him.

  “Our friend didn’t want to come to the station?” Casey asked.

  “She works right across the street, and I just saw her and asked her to do this. I thought I’d strike while the iron was hot,” Axel said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drag you out at night.”

  She smiled. “Oh, that’s fine. You caught me in time. Vacation next week. Off to see my first great-grandchild.”

  “You can’t possibly have a great-grandchild!”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere. I’m definitely old enough for a great-grandchild,” she said, and grinned. “I just look like a spring chicken!”

  He lowered his head, smiling. Casey had fluffy silver hair—and more energy than a twenty-year-old.

  She grew serious. “So, another body in the Everglades. I take it you don’t think these are all separate cases?”

  He shook his head. “Not this case or the one before it and the two before that. They were killed in the same fashion. Throats slit, but quickly, doesn’t appear there was torture involved—something far more like execution-style. Did you see the last crime scene photos?”

  “No. I didn’t want to be influenced. You know how that goes. You can’t make evidence meet your theory. You always have to fashion what you’re doing—sketching, investigating—to what we know as facts. Okay, well, sketching is a bit different, but I didn’t want to be swayed in any way from what your clerk was going to tell me.”

  “I like it,” he told her. As he spoke, he saw Brianna Adair coming into the coffee shop. He rose, and when she arrived at the table, he introduced her to Casey. They chatted, seeming to hit it off right away. A good thing. That meant Brianna would speak with her easily.

  He asked what the two would like, then ordered coffee all around with a sampling of the menu’s little desserts. When their order arrived, Casey pulled out her sketchbook.

  Brianna thought the woman from her shop had been about thirty. Slim. Her hair had been shoulder length and golden blond. Her face narrow. The nose small. Eyes large, brows arched and waxed or plucked perfectly. The young woman’s mouth had been generous, her teeth had appeared to be perfect.

  That might mean someone at the morgue had searched for a dental match, but if they had discovered one, they had yet to inform him.

  The description went on as Casey sketched. Brianna instructed her. “The nose just a wee bit longer. Perfect. The mouth, a little wider, with a beautiful smile. Oh, and her eyes! They were majestically blue, like a bright day!”

  The eyes...

  Axel hadn’t seen her eyes. They had been gone. Pecked away by carrion birds.

  It saddened him, as it always did. Casey went on with the sketch; when she was done, she had created a likeness of a lovely, smiling young woman.

  Axel was sure it was the young woman he had seen so horrifically destroyed on the bank of the canal in the Everglades.

  “Thank you so much for your help,” Axel told Brianna.

  Brianna studied the likeness a moment longer and then looked at him. “You think that this girl might be...the Everglades victim?” she whispered.

  “Possibly,” he said. He wished that he could lie.

  * * *

  Raina spent about an hour working with Titan, though it wasn’t necessary. Titan knew his part. It was something that occupied her and kept her mind somewhat busy.

  Titan knew his drill. And he was very happy to please her just as he had always been. She’d gotten him as a rescue, and she could only assume whoever had left him at the shelter had simply not expected him to become such a big dog—though, in her mind, it had to have been apparent that he would grow quite large. But people left animals at shelters for all kinds of reasons, many of which angered her. But sometimes people just had no choice.

  She was, naturally, friends with a lot of people who worked at animal shelters. She volunteered time herself but could only bear to work at “no kill” facilities.

  At some point, she realized she was still practicing with Titan because she didn’t want to think.

  Today had surely been the longest day in history.

  And a strange day. It had been years since she’d seen Axel Tiger—and even then, she’d only met him briefly.

  But in that one day, it seemed he’d left quite an impression. She’d been fascinated by him when she’d been a teenager.

  That fascination hadn’t gone away.

  Sleeping wasn’t easy; she kept thinking about him.

  He’d matured nicely.

  And he’d believed her. He’d rushed right in—almost like a knight on a white horse—and rescued her when the police had been convinced she was somehow guilty.

  Her brother had come to her rescue, too—and she hadn’t remembered to call him and thank him—even if Axel had used his influence to get her released.

  That, too, was worrisome. It still bothered her.

  Thinking of her brother, she quickly gave him a call. She loved her brother. He was, in her mind, an amazing man. A kid in love with comics and superheroes, he had wanted to do his best to follow along that lead—putting bad guys away.

  He’d worked hard through law school, apprenticed with the system in Tallahassee and then returned home, quickly rising in the ranks at the county courts.

  Robert told her he’d been trying to reach her, too. “You okay, kid? You didn’t get back to me. I was concerned. Don’t you do that to me again, young lady.”

  “I won’t. I promise!”

  “So, what happened?”

  Raina took a deep breath. She tried to explain about the dress, muddling it terribly. But it seemed Robert hadn’t worried excessively over not hearing from her because she’d been with Axel.

  She did her best to be reassuring. She tried to segue to the fundraiser the coming night. When they ended the call, she let out a long sigh, hoping her brother didn’t think she was losing her grip on reality and sanity. Of course he loved her. And he believed in her.

  Axel simply believed her when she wasn’t sure she believed it herself.

  All because of a pirate ship she most likely imagined on a foggy night long a
go.

  She tossed and turned for a while, not wanting to admit she was anxious he call her.

  She really just needed out of all this. Why, of all the dresses in the world, had she been compelled to try on that one?

  And look in the mirror.

  And see...

  “Argh!” she spoke aloud.

  Titan whined, sensing her mood.

  “I’m so sorry, boy! We’re going to sleep now, I promise!” she said.

  The dog settled down. She lay awake a long time.

  She slept at last. Deeply.

  * * *

  Axel could have stayed out with Andrew at his place or even with Nigel in Miami Springs. He knew he was welcome at either place anytime.

  But sometimes he liked his own space. A place to come at night and go over what they knew and what they didn’t know.

  He had a hotel room between Raina’s place and Andrew’s, at the western edge of the city, not far from the Miccosukee casino. It was an average place, nondescript but decent, with breakfast included in the morning. It was large enough and offered a desk and plenty of outlets for phone and computers.

  He sat down to read new information that had come in and reread the old case files.

  The first two victims had been identified. The first had been a young widow who made her home on Miami Beach. She’d been well-liked, loved by her staff and appreciated by all the charities she was involved with.

  No one knew what had happened to her. She’d gone to a bake sale to support a local Little League team, and she’d never come home.

  Her car had been found in a strip mall parking lot with no video surveillance.

  Police searched high and low. She was found almost a year ago, after she’d been missing for three months. Her body had been so badly decomposed in the Everglades that it had taken another three months before she’d been identified. She hadn’t had enemies. No one could think of any reason why she should have been killed. Her name had been Hermione Shore. The cause of her death had been determined by the medical examiner who had found knife marks on a throat bone.

  The second death had been that of a fifty-year-old man. Peter Scarborough. He, too, had taken forever to identify because sun, water, birds and other creatures had done quite a number on him.

  Peter—finally identified through dental records from South Dakota—had been married, and his marriage had been in trouble. But his wife had been back in South Dakota, having not come to Florida when he’d moved. Naturally, she had been a prime suspect when his body was found and later identified. But everything on her had been investigated: movements, financials, phone—any possible means of her hiring a killer. And nothing suggested she had killed her husband or had paid anyone else to do so.

  The third victim had signaled Axel’s involvement. This one had been—through the medical examiner’s report—in her early thirties. Little else had been determined. She had no implants of any kind. Dental records yielded nothing. They were still comparing the remains to missing-persons reports. Sadly, she matched many.

  Reading further, the third victim had finally received a positive ID. They hadn’t been able to identify her for months. She had been Alina Fairfield, a clothing designer, who traveled for a living but kept an apartment in Miami. Because she traveled so much, she hadn’t been flagged as missing until recently, and the report on her had been filled out in the Orlando area.

  Again, nicks on bone suggested the same thing—a slit throat.

  He went over his notes again, comparing Hermione Shore and Peter Scarborough. Peter had just come to the area; Hermione had been a long-time resident. Peter had been making a living as a carpenter; Hermione had inherited her wealth but had been known for her generosity. One male; one female. No associations whatsoever that matched up. Nothing.

  He went over and over the notes, knowing he was missing something.

  And he found himself thinking of the night, long ago, when he’d first met Raina Hamish. When Vinnie Magruder had come out and told them all that the search was on for a young woman.

  A young woman who was never found.

  Odd that it had been the night he’d met Raina.

  She’d been a kid. Now she wasn’t. Now she was a beautiful young woman, a caring and responsible young woman as far as he could tell.

  Fascinating.

  And she seemed to have a very strange talent—or curse.

  He gave up on the papers he was reading and rolled onto the bed, wincing slightly. This had to break.

  He needed Raina. It was that simple. He needed her.

  * * *

  Raina answered the phone groggily. She thought that it was early.

  It was not. She’d slept until after eleven.

  “You up to coming to the morgue?” he asked.

  “The morgue?”

  He said quietly, “Where they keep the dead.”

  She hesitated; she really didn’t want to see the morgue. She’d lived here all her life without ever having seen the morgue.

  “I... I didn’t know the woman,” she said.

  “We know who she was. A police artist did a sketch and we put it in the paper. A very distraught friend called in. I’m not expecting you to give us an identification, nor do I believe you knew her, though you may have. Are you free? Maybe I should just stop by.”

  “Stop by.”

  “I’m heading in your general direction.”

  He was heading in her general direction? She hadn’t showered and her hair was wildly out of control.

  Stupid things to be thinking.

  He was coming because a woman was dead. Murdered.

  “Of course. I’m here,” she said.

  She hung up and made a beeline for the shower.

  * * *

  Raina was evidently awaiting him nervously. She threw the door open as Axel arrived, dressed and ready, Titan by her side.

  The dog barked and wagged his tail. Axel paused to give him a pat and looked at Raina.

  “You okay with this?”

  “No. But I’ll do what I can. I mean, just don’t forget, I need to be at that fundraiser tonight on time. But then, I’m guessing we’re not going to stare at a body all day?”

  He shook his head. “We’ll be just a minute or two in the morgue.”

  “Why are we going exactly?”

  He hesitated. She looked so worried. But he was determined to tell her the truth.

  “Raina, when you see her, touch her, you may know something more.”

  “Touch her?”

  “Nothing evil will befall you. But yes, touch her. You may see or feel something that might be helpful to us.”

  “How?”

  “How did you know where the body was?”

  “It was the dress. I’ve said that over and over—”

  “It was the dress. Because she’d worn the dress.” He was quiet a minute. “Raina, you have a very unusual gift.”

  “I don’t want an unusual gift.”

  “We don’t get to choose,” he said softly. “I don’t want to force you in any way. If you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to do this.”

  “I’m uncomfortable, but I do have to do this.”

  “You don’t—”

  “Let’s get this over with.” She offered him a weird smile. “Hey. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life afraid to try on clothing, right? I don’t like any of this. I’m not comfortable with it.” She paused, looking at him, and then shrugged, looking downward. “But I’m glad you’re here. I think the police were ready to arrest me.”

  “Your brother would have never allowed that.”

  “Come on, let’s do this!” She turned to the dog. “Titan, rest up. Busy night ahead!”

  She headed down the walk toward his car. He followed quickly, opening the passenger-side do
or for her.

  He walked around to the driver’s side, and she hooked her seat belt and stared at him.

  “I’m afraid to ask you this, and I understand you’ve seen weird things, really weird things, but how weird? You don’t think that...”

  “That what?”

  “That this is going to be like a zombie movie? If I touch this poor woman, she’s not going to bolt up and stare at me like the living dead, right? I mean, if she were alive, but we know she’s not...”

  Her voice trailed, her face filled with concern.

  “She’s not going to come back to life. But you have some kind of a connection. You saw her when you tried on a dress she’d tried on. I confirmed that, by the way. She was the last person to try on the dress before you did. If you touch her body, in your mind you might see even more.”

  “In my mind,” she echoed.

  What he was doing was not the least bit fair. People had a difficult enough time seeing their loved ones when they had died, even of natural causes. Police officers, agents, soldiers and others saw death far too often. They were accustomed to touching the dead frequently, hoping they might find a spark of life.

  Raina was not involved in any kind of law enforcement. He was asking her to touch someone who had been murdered, her remains viciously altered by insects and birds.

  He decided to be honest. As he drove, he filled her in.

  “The Krewe of Hunters is a special unit—my unit. The main man behind it is Adam Harrison. I met him when I was young—when a hurricane had ripped our neighborhood all to shreds. He was friends with my grandfather, who had a fair amount of money and ran charity events. Adam was and still is often involved with several philanthropic endeavors. I also learned his son was ‘special,’ that he saw things. When his son died, he passed that special something on to his best friend.”

  He paused to let that sit with her for a moment.

  Then he went on. “Adam spent years connecting with people who had gifts. He was big in Washington, DC, for that reason. Eventually, he formed the Krewe of Hunters—that’s an unofficial name. We’re officially a special unit. All the members go through the academy and must pass all the tests and receive the certifications required. But my team is handpicked by Adam, and by a man named Jackson Crow, often recommended or brought in by others. The unit is quite big now—but small still, in comparison to the rest of the bureau.”