Cold Touch (28 page)

so he’d found another one. She could love him for that, she real y could.
What

a man
.

Stil , with al their talking, they’d never touched on how he felt about her

coworkers and the joint endeavor they were about to undertake. He wasn’t the

only one who might be having cold feet; she wasn’t sure how Aidan would

react, either, considering he was the one who’d practical y had his face

printed on Wanted posters by the local police. But it was worth a try. The two

detectives had agreed to give it a shot, to pool their resources, off the books,

at least for a day or two, just to see what happened.

Just to see what happened
. . .
Hmm,
hadn’t that been what she’d been

thinking about when she’d kissed Gabe Cooper yesterday? The problem was,

she had not been satisfied with what had happened. It had been incredibly

nice, but she’d wanted more. A lot more. Yet last night, when she’d been in his

nice, but she’d wanted more. A lot more. Yet last night, when she’d been in his

arms, she hadn’t pushed it, knowing she liked him, liked being with him, as

much as she wanted him.

She definitely wanted him.

Olivia hadn’t had a no-strings affair in, wel , ever. Honestly, she wasn’t sure

she wanted one now. Something about Gabe pul ed her strings but good. She

had the feeling that if she did become more intimately involved with him, those

strings would only grow tighter.

It didn’t help to remind herself that she hadn’t known him long. The point

was, she knew him in the ways that real y counted. Not his history or his

background—she already knew his family was a touchy subject.

The important stuff, however, she got. She knew his character. Oh, that she

knew exceedingly wel . There was also his tenderness, his smarts, his sense

of humor, his loyalty, his determination. Al the things he possessed in spades,

many of them things she hadn’t learned about the other men she’d been

involved with, even after a period of months.

When this was over, when she had the answers she’d been seeking, she’d

slow down and look at this picture through more rational lenses. Right now,

though, she was taking things as they came. If that meant another kiss coming

her way, she’d be al right with that. If it meant him coming back to her bed,

that’d be even better. Anything beyond that, she couldn’t think about right now,

even if she real y did like thinking about the bed one.

Pul ing into the parking garage attached to her building, Olivia drove down

the first ramp, then al the way around to the back of the structure, aiming for

her standard reserved spot on the bottom level. When she got there and

pul ed in, though, she realized she’d been pretty sil y, driving past row after row

of empty spaces. She’d been on autopilot, oblivious to the fact that the place

was practical y empty. The eXtreme Investigations offices were located in a

slick office building that also housed more traditional companies run by

lawyers, accountants and hedge fund–manager types, most of whom didn’t

operate on Sundays.

She sometimes wondered what visitors to the high-rise thought when they

looked at the building directory and saw that business with the funny name, the

funny punctuation, and the real y funny reputation. She’d certainly been taken

aback by it when she’d first heard about the place. Then she’d met Julia,

realized the former cop was about as far from a new age quack as anybody

could get and knew she had stumbled into something very serious and very

special.

Speaking of Julia . . . “Ha!” she mumbled, spying the woman’s car parked in

her regular spot two spaces down. So Olivia hadn’t been the only one who’d

been on autopilot this morning.

Despite not having had any bad dreams, she’d stil awakened very early

this morning, before dawn, and had been unable to get back to sleep.

Eventual y she’d realized the tension she’d been feeling was due to the

strange, discomforting sensation that somebody was watching her. She’d

thought about that shadow, that movement in the mirror earlier, and had grown

a little worried. She’d even gone downstairs to double-check al the locks,

though she knew she was probably being paranoid. But considering she’d

realized last night that the man who’d tried to kil her was not rotting in his

grave and could stil be out there, she probably had reason to be jumpy.

When she’d gone back to bed, she’d forced herself to think about other

things, more pleasant ones. Past and present were banished, and she

focused on Gabe, on the wonderful hours they’d shared the night before,

maybe even on the future.

“Don’t go there,” she reminded herself. She didn’t need to let herself get

any more distracted by Gabe Cooper. They had a case to work on, a case

that mattered to her, a lot. For the first time that she could remember,

members of the SCCPD and agents from eXtreme Investigations were

working together, col aborating. She wanted this to go wel , for any number of

reasons.

Speaking of other members of the team, she noticed that Mick’s car wasn’t

in his spot. Not surprising. He was almost always late. Aidan’s wasn’t in his,

either. She hadn’t expected it to be, honestly, because he and his girlfriend

had gone away for the weekend. She’d specifical y asked Julia to not interrupt

them by cal ing Aidan back and hoped her boss had listened.

As for Derek, the other agent at eXtreme Investigations, he rode a big,

badass motorcycle, which suited Derek’s big, badass personality pretty wel .

He was definitely the rebel of the group, and it wasn’t merely because Mick

had the playboy role sewn up, while Aidan was the brainiac.
Hmm.
And Julia

was the boss. So what did that make her?

The freak
.

She thrust that thought out of her head, angry at herself for even al owing it

to surface. Then, reaching for the door handle, she got out and locked the car.

Her eyes on the elevator sign, she headed across the dark, shadowy lot so

she could ride up to their tenth-floor offices.

Dark and shadowy, indeed. It was broad daylight outside, but that light

didn’t penetrate far under the cover of five stories of concrete parking deck.

She wasn’t exactly underground—Savannah’s elevation didn’t al ow for that

—but the bottom floor was slightly below street level.

The distance between her spot and the elevator suddenly looked a lot

longer than usual. Maybe it was the shadows cast by the pil ars and half wal s

of the deck, or the click of her heels on the cement, or just the fact that it was

so utterly empty, but the place that always seemed so normal and

commonplace now felt a little creepy.

A low, furtive scrape interrupted her thoughts, like the sound of a shoe

dragged on the pavement. She cocked her head, curious more than startled,

wondering if she’d missed seeing Derek’s motorcycle in the designated bike

area. It was one level up, directly overhead, and he might be walking around

right now, too.

If he got here before you, he’s probably already upstairs
.

Another sound, a soft rustling, came from behind her. She spun around, not

sure what she expected to see . . . but saw nothing. Just her car and Julia’s

and a vast expanse of shadowy, empty parking lot, striped with lines, stained

with occasional splotches of engine oil and skid marks. Perfectly normal.

You’re hearing things
.

But she stil didn’t move, listening intently. Olivia hadn’t lived a normal life;

she was attuned to certain sights, sounds and sensations, especial y those

related to danger. This, wel , she wasn’t entirely sure what this was. Her pulse

had quickened, yes. But whose wouldn’t? Beyond that, she didn’t feel any

panic clawing at her, sensed no evil or imminent peril. Only mystery.

She cocked her head, sure that she would hear a car driving on one of the

upper levels or the mechanical noise of the elevator in motion. Or even the

buzz of an insect.

But al was silent. Not a car horn, not a voice, not a whisper, not even, she

suddenly realized, the sound of her own heartbeat. It was as if she were in a

sense-deprivation chamber, al sound blacked out.

Like being underwater
.

“Stop it,” she told herself, speaking loudly, her voice jarring in the silence.

She had needed it to be; she’d wanted to disturb that silence and break its

power.

Swal owing, she swung around again and took several firm, deliberate

steps, her low-heeled sandals creating a staccato
tap-tap
that matched her

heartbeat. She breathed steadily, the gasoline-tinged air sharp in her nose.

Not panicked, not even truly afraid.

Until there came another sound. A low, soft, splashing sound.

Her rational mind thought
water main break
.

Her more primal one . . . went in another direction.

This time, she cal ed out, “Who’s there?” and looked over her shoulder.

O-liiiiii-via.

Shock rol ed over her
.
Her leg muscles stiffened, her knees locking up so

quickly that she almost tumbled to the ground. She began to feel light-headed

as that whisper floated around her, wrapping her in its eerie embrace, echoing

in her ears.

Had she real y heard that? Had someone truly said her name, or was she

stil messed up in the head after yesterday’s horror fest? She waited, craning

her ears, trying to understand, but didn’t hear a thing, except, perhaps, her

own nerves, which were making her so damned jumpy.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered. “There’s nobody here.” It was shadowy,

yes, but not utterly dark, and she didn’t think a person could actual y be hiding

close enough for her to hear him whisper her name without her seeing him.

A dark thought occurred to her.
Unless he’s hiding behind Julia’s car.

Even more ridiculous. But not impossible.

No way was she going to go over there and find out. This wasn’t some TV

movie with a stupid woman who’d go off and investigate a scary noise in the

big abandoned parking lot. She might be feeling more nervous than afraid, but

stil , she’d seen that creepy movie
P2
, about the woman stalked in a parking

garage, and was not up for a reenactment.

Now about twenty feet from the elevator, she started toward it again, not

quite running—stil not entirely sure she’d heard anything at al —but not

dawdling, either.

Olivia!

“Who the hel are you?” she snapped, skidding to a stop once more as that

odd, disembodied voice cal ed to her again, now sounding like it had come

from above her. One thing had struck her this time—it didn’t sound like a real

person speaking, and yet she had heard her name clearly.

Then a strange thought entered her mind. No, she’d never seen Julia’s

ghostly friend—or friendly ghost—but she didn’t doubt Julia had, so she

believed he was around. Just yesterday, in fact, he had been watching her,

had reported back to Julia that Gabe had carried her into her house. Which

was kind of annoying, to be honest, thinking a ghost was spying on her.

Could he be watching her now? And was she somehow becoming aware of

him? Having experienced death so many times, perhaps her own sensory

perception had been altered. What if she, too, might now be able to interact

with the ghostly remnants left behind by those who had died? What if he

somehow sensed it and was trying to make contact with her?

“Morgan?” she whispered.

A long moment and then that strange whisper that seemed to come from al

around her but also inside her own head.

Maybe you should drown her
.

“No!” she cried, panic washing over her. Her stomach heaved and she

dropped her purse as she ran toward the elevator. She lost a shoe but didn’t

even slow down, driven by a ravaging fight-or-flight impulse that was tel ing her

to fly.

She skidded to a stop as she reached the control panel. “Please hurry,” she

begged as she punched the Up button. But the door didn’t open. The elevator

was on some floor high above her head and would take its own sweet time

getting down here. She didn’t have much time.

“Oh, God,” she whispered when the realization hit her.

It was already too late.

Her skin began to prickle, her hair standing on end, her whole body going

on red alert. Because she felt the presence, the weight of something pushing

against her like a thick cloud of warm air. She wasn’t crazy, she wasn’t

imagining things; someone else was here now.

Right behind her.

“Who are you?” she asked, somehow finding a reserve of calm deep within

her. She was able to shove away the instinctive revulsion those whispered