Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (95 page)

He, on the other hand, had regular
work to do. He turned into the parking lot and pulled up beside her
truck. Checking out the report on Louise Enderby was another
priority. Stefan couldn't confirm that her brake line had been cut,
yet he agreed that it was likely she'd been murdered.

"Are you okay?"

She nodded. "Yes, I'm good. Better
than I have been in a long time." She collected her purse. "In
fact, I should go home and review everything I've learned." She
shifted to leave. "Thanks for taking me."

She opened the door and hopped out.
"I'll talk to you later. Thanks again."

He walked around the truck to stand
beside her. "Are you hungry? Do you want to go someplace to
eat?"

Sam stopped and considered his offer.
"You know, I think tonight I'd just like to be alone. My mind's a
little overfull and I'd like some time to digest
everything."

Brandt nodded. "Maybe another
time?"

"Thanks, I'd like that."

Brandt didn't know if he should try
to pin her down or not. He could understand her wanting to be alone
tonight. He was the one that didn't want to be alone. Still, she'd
been through enough for one day. Yet he couldn't leave it like
this, he needed more. "I could pick up something and come down to
your place tomorrow. If that works for you?"

Sam glanced back at him, startled.
"That would be nice. Thank you."

"Good. I'll call you with a time when
I see how the day is going." He walked to his truck. "Remember..."
he said frowning, "be smart and stay alert. The killer is still
trawling for victims."

"How could I forget?" She frowned at
him. "I'm the one with the insider knowledge, remember?"

"Speaking of which, let me know if
anything new pops up. Okay?"

"Alright."

Sam reversed her truck and pulled out
of the parking lot in the direction of her home.

Brandt watched for a few minutes then
headed back home. He could retrieve his messages from there just as
well as from the office.

The house sounded hollow as he shut
the front door behind him. Today was perfect for a cold beer and a
medium rare steak – too bad he didn't have either in the house. By
the time he'd showered, the coffee had finished dripping and he'd
decided on a hefty ham and cheese omelet with hash browns. Easy,
doable, and fast.

With a plate of hot steaming food,
Brandt clicked on the television. His stomach growled with hunger
pangs. He dug in while listening to the local news.

"The police have issued a press
release requesting the public's help in identifying the owner of
this ring."

The television screen flashed to a
sketch of a ring with a four-leaf-clover pattern and missing one
stone. Brandt bolted to his feet. "What the hell?"

He circled around the coffee table to
get a closer look. There was no doubt about it. It was his sketch.
His stomach warred with his nerves. How had the media gotten this
picture? The announcer had said something about the police asking
for help. The picture must have come from his department. From his
office. Only not from him.

Trying to be fair, Brandt ran through
those who knew about the ring. Basically everyone. He'd brought it
out at the meeting after explaining it could be connected to the
killer he was hunting. He'd been trying to identify the owner for
Christ's sake.

"God damn it." He paced around the
living room, his mind working furiously.

He couldn't believe someone had
jumped him on this. Surely, that could only have been the captain –
or someone on his team. But why? This wasn't even an official case.
Sam's information was a tip, yet that's all it was. The others
didn't even believe her. Damn it. This could blow up in the
department's face. And put him into hot water. There were few
people willing to own up to having a psychic help out. If the
information wasn't any good, many people would be up for crucifying
the idiots who brought the psychic in. And the psychic.

Jesus, what about Samantha? His heart
stopped beating. No. Sanity swept in. No there was no way she could
be identified by this. Relief sent his heart racing again. There
could be serious repercussions. If Sam were right, and the killer
saw this newscast, he'd be seriously wondering how the police knew
about it. The killer could just laugh it off, or it might drive him
into a killing fury.

There was just no way to
know.

8:05 pm

The evening news rippled outward to
another man enjoying an evening alone in his apartment.

"Life is good." Bill walked to his
refrigerator and pulled out a cold beer. Raising the bottle to the
sky, he took a long swallow. The television was blaring from the
other room. He heard something about the police asking for help and
walked to where he could see the broadcast.

"What the hell..." The tall slight
man leaned forward, slamming the bottle down on the hewn wooden
table beside the World War II airport model he was building. He
stared at the picture on the screen.

No way. No fucking way. How the hell
did they know about his ring? He glared at the item still on his
left hand. It had been his lucky ring for so long, he'd forgotten
he was still wearing it. Pissed, he tore the offending thing off
and threw it against the far wall.

Why would anyone be searching for his
ring? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. What did they
know? Could they have connected the ring to his women? No. He
thought about it. There's no way anyone could connect the ring to
his victims. The cops would be pounding on his door if they were
that close. So who else? They couldn't have captured a picture from
a camera as he always wore gloves.

Disturbed, he slouched into the
couch. The newscaster's voice washed over him in a continuous
drone. What had he missed? What could he possibly have
forgotten?

God damn it. No, there's no way
anyone could know. He'd didn't make mistakes.

In a dour mood, he drank his beer and
went over every move he'd recently made. He shook his head, feeling
better. He hadn't missed anything.

Unless the last woman had
survived.

He shot to his feet, disturbed. Not
possible. Surely not. She'd been cold when he'd left her. She had
to be dead. Except her death hadn't been reported.

The problem was, anyone could have
seen the ring. He'd worn it as long as he could remember. Someone
was sure to have noticed it somewhere along the way. He pondered
the implications. First, he needed to make sure that woman had
indeed died, then he needed to find a similar ring and wear it to
fool anyone who may have thought he'd had on the ring the police
were asking about. That way when anyone doubled checked, it would
seem like they'd made a mistake. And last – he needed to never,
ever leave a victim until he was sure she was dead.

9:35am, June
19th

Sam finally slept through the night.
No nightmares, no visions, just sleep. Stefan's homework had
helped. Lying in bed, feeling rested for the first time in several
days, she rolled over and curled deeper into her blankets.
Relaxation rolled through her.

If it weren't for the animals waiting
for her, she wouldn't bother getting out of bed. Then, room service
was a little lacking when you lived alone.

Moving easily through her morning
routine, Sam made it to the kitchen and fed her canine family
before they had a chance to get upset at the wait. Soldier ate then
stood at the front door. Sam opened it and stepped out on the deck.
He moved stiffly under her watchful gaze as he managed the steps
and the few feet to a clump of trees.

While she relaxed with her morning
tea, the two dogs started a ruckus. Sam frowned. Soldier's bark was
hoarse, almost a cross between a growl and a bark. Like one long
unused.

She walked toward the door and heard
the vehicle. Instantly, her nerves reacted. She rarely had
visitors, but it was only recently that the sound of an approaching
vehicle brought out a sense of dread. Her tension eased when she
recognized Price Coulson's car.

The rent wasn't due for another
couple of weeks and her landlord came about once a month to check
up on her.

"Good morning. How are you today?"
She opened the door wider to let him in. She did it every time he
came and every time, he refused to step inside. A married man in a
single woman's house wasn't proper according to his generational
rules.

"The wife sent over a loaf of bread
and some cookies for you." His face creased into well-worn
wrinkles. "Also wanted to make sure you're doing okay."

"Of course, I'm fine." Sam leaned
easily against the doorway. God, she was becoming a good liar. How
sad was that?

The old man glanced at her, sharp
intellect shining beneath the heavy folds of his eyelids. "It's
very isolated here. Aren't you worried about intruders?"

Shaking her head, Sam hastened to
reassure him. "No. I've always been comfortable living out in the
country."

He shoved his gnarled fingers into
his jean pockets. "Now that may be, only it's not the same world
today as it was a few decades ago. There are some bad people out
there."

"There always have been. The
communication systems of today are better so we hear about more
cases."

"Aye. True enough. Just last night
the news said the police were searching for the owner of an
odd-looking ring." He turned to look at the calm waters of the
lake. "The wife, she said it looked like a devil’s ring, what with
the snake twisting through a garden."

"A ring?"

"Yeah. You don't have television down
here so you wouldn't have heard about it."

Sam went cold inside. "They said the
police wanted this guy?"

"Just that they were looking for the
owner of the ring so they could talk to him."

Almost numb with the ice that had
settled into her limbs, Sam shook her head. "Then it's probably
nothing."

He pulled out one hand to run through
the white fluff around his ears. "Aye. I told the wife that. But
well, she worries."

That was the reason for his visit.
The pair of them were concerned about her. Unaccustomed warmth
melted through her. This was a new feeling. She savored the
sensation. Someone actually cared enough to worry. And he didn't
even know her.

She shook her head in bemusement.
"Are you sure you won't come in for a cup of tea? You can tell me
all about it inside."

Price shook his head. "No, no. I
promised Mary that I wouldn't be longer than a few minutes." He
twisted, pointing out Soldier. "I didn't know you had a guard dog.
Mary will worry less knowing you have him down here."

Sam's lips twitched at the thought.
"I don't know how much help he'll be. He's with me because he's
recovering from surgery and needed a home to heal and be
rehabilitated."

The old man's gaze sharpened. "Is he
dangerous?" His wrinkles rearranged downward. "Don't really want
something dangerous living here. He's too old to be rehabilitated."
He stared at the dog. "A bullet might be kinder all
around."

Sam refused to take offence,
understanding his old-timer ways. After all, he hadn't said
anything different than the vets themselves had expressed. "No, he
was mistreated, and then hit by a car. Since he's been with me,
he's spent his time healing. I don't think he's dangerous." She
couldn't help crossing her fingers. "He'll be a great deterrent for
anyone out to cause trouble. I think he's a trained watchdog. At
least that's what one policeman told me."

The older man's shoulders relaxed
slightly. "That's good then. If the police and vets are involved,
then he's probably fine." He nodded as if satisfied. "Mary will be
happy to hear this."

A little later, Sam, with cell phone
in hand, watched his pickup head up the hill. Dear God. The ring
had been on television. Surely, not the same ring? Why would
Detective Sutherland do that? What else had the broadcast said? She
didn't quite understand how she felt about this
development.

"Hello."

"Hi Brandt. This is Sam. Did you
release a picture of the ring to the media?"

A hefty pause stretched out over the
line. "I didn't, no. One of the members of the department must
have. The first I knew about it was when I saw it on television
last night."

"The whole point of telling you about
the ring was to help – I just hadn't expected to have it released
to the media. I guess I'm more surprised than anything." She took a
deep breath. "The thing is, I'd really like to keep my name out of
this. I've taken care to build a new life here. I don't mind
helping, but I'd just as soon do it privately"

"Understood. I'll make sure your name
isn't connected. I don't know who contacted the media, but I will
find out." His voice came across strong and determined, and that
helped reassure her a little more.

Sam rang off and went to get ready
for work. A quick brush of her hair and a check to make sure her
face was clean, then Sam grabbed her keys and purse and headed for
work.