Shadow of Danger (6 page)

“Not quite.”

The color that had returned to her cheeks began to fade. “Then where are we?”

“Based on the mile marker, about a mile from the dump site.”

She glanced to where he’d nodded, a frown furrowing her forehead. “What happened to me?”

“What do you remember?”

Twining a curl around her finger, she shook her head. “I was telling you about my first vision, and then something about cold medicine, but that makes no sense.”

“You’d mentioned the stuff just before you...” He trailed off, not wanting to admit what he’d seen, what he didn’t understand. “Before you seemed to become another person.”

She released a nervous chuckle, and shook her head. “C’mon, what are you talking about? I’m not a medium.” Staring out the window, she pursed her lips. “At least I don’t think I am.” She sighed. “Who knows, lately I can’t seem to control it.”

“How so?”

“The nightmares, for one. Usually if I don’t want to dream about something, I simply will it. The same goes if I’m trying to get a reading.”

“Like?”

“Like, if you lost your wedding ring, I’d think about it over and over again before I’d fall asleep, then hope I have the dream necessary to find it.” She momentarily drifted her eyes to his left hand, where no ring existed, and likely never would. Love and marriage came with trust, and after Renee, trust wasn’t something easily earned.

“What else has changed? I mean as far as your
abilities.
”

“
Abilities,
” she mimicked, lowering her voice and exaggerating the pronunciation with a few bobs of her head. “I hate the way you say that word. I mean, I get it. You don’t believe in me. You’re not the first and won’t be the last. Trust me, I’m used to it.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning I’ve grown thick skinned, and have learned to ignore the snide remarks and whispers behind my back. Most people around town don’t have a problem with me, but there are some, like you, who can’t comprehend my capacity to envision events. That the human mind holds more power than any neurologist, even those with a bazillion degrees gracing their walls, could even begin to comprehend.”

He stared ahead, the sting of her words bothering him. He didn’t like being grouped with the nonbelievers, even if he was one. As much as she’d sloughed off those people, the way she frowned while twisting a curl around her finger had him thinking she wasn’t as thick skinned as she’d like him to believe.

Shrugging, she dropped her hand in her lap and looked out the window again. “Anyway, back to my
abilities,
” she said, stressing the word with the same mocking, sarcastic tone. “I’ve never been prone to sleepwalking, yet I’ve been waking up in different parts of my house after my nightmares. And, um, there was what happened at the diner today. With you.”

“Static shock,” he said, quicker than he’d meant.

Arching a brow, she let a smile play across her lips. “If you say so.” She waved her hand. “I’m sorry. I know you don’t want to talk about the diner incident.”

“It’s not that.” He ran both hands through his hair. “This isn’t about whether or not I believe in you or what happened at the diner. Damn it, didn’t you hear me? You seemed to have
become
another person.” Blowing out a frustrated breath, he asked, “Have you heard of psychosis? Where a person—”

“Has unreal beliefs, hallucinations and delusions, which could be caused by drugs, alcohol, brain tumors, epilepsy...shall I continue?”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“Who’s joking? Look, John, I’ve never been checked by a neurologist or psychiatrist, but I can tell you I’m perfectly healthy. What I have is normal in my family. My mom had the gift, so did her mother, and her mother and, well, you get the idea.”  

He wiped a hand down his face. “I can only imagine what your family reunions are like.” 

“You need to have family around for those,” she said, her tone turning somber. “And rather than pick apart my family tree, why don’t you tell me what I’d said instead of looking as if you’d just eaten liver and onions.”

A smile touched his lips. God, he hated liver and onions. “Tell me you don’t serve that crap.”

“I don’t.” She returned the smile. “But I do need you to tell me what happened. It could be important to our case.”

“Our case,” he muttered. Not for long, he hoped. A call to Ian should have her out of this situation. Chances were he wasn’t aware of exactly what Roy was up to...or was he?

A horn blared. He checked the rearview mirror and caught the sheriff climbing out of his cruiser.

She gripped his arm. “Don’t tell Roy until you tell me. I don’t want him worrying. He has enough on his mind.”

No way would he say anything to Roy about any of this. Hell, at this point, he wasn’t even sure where to begin. “Trust me. My lips are sealed.” He rolled down the window. “Roy, how’d it go with the reporter?”

The sheriff rested his arms against the roof of the rental and leaned into the window. He flicked his wary gaze from Celeste, then to him. “Fine, for now. Got rid of him with another promise of an exclusive.” He jerked his chin. “Everything okay?”

“I thought I was going to puke,” Celeste said before John could answer.

The sheriff’s eyes softened with concern. “Honey, you don’t have to go to the dump site. No one’s forcing you.”

“No, I’ll go. It’s just nerves, that’s all.”  

He tapped the roof of the sedan. “Okay then, daylight’s wasting. We’re just a few minutes out. Lloyd called and said Dan’s just arrived, so let’s do this.”

“I’ll follow you,” John said, then closed the window.

“Why do you two keep calling it a dump site, rather than a crime scene?” she asked.

“A crime scene is where the crime had taken place. The bodies we’d found were placed there after the fact.”

“Gotcha,” she said, and looked back out the window.

When Roy pulled his cruiser ahead of them, he turned to her. “Maybe what happened could be your mind’s way of coping or maybe protesting going to the dump site.”

“Doubtful, but I’d know better if I knew exactly what had happened while I was under.”

He shifted the car into
DRIVE
, then eased onto the highway. “Under?”

“You know, like a trance. I’m assuming that’s what happened, but until you tell me—”

“Exactly what happened,” he finished for her and nodded. “Not right now. I’m still trying to digest it myself. Besides, we’re here.” He slowed the car, then eased off the highway, parking the sedan behind Roy’s cruiser.

He turned off the ignition, and clutched the keys in his palm. “We do need to talk about this,” he assured her with a deep sigh. “Just not right now, okay?”

“But later?” she asked, her eyes hopeful, pleading.

“Later.” He moved his hand to tuck a loose curl behind her ear and stroke the softness. Realizing he’d momentarily lost his mind, he quickly opened his door, rounded the front end, then opened the passenger door. After she climbed out of the car, he asked, “Are you sure you want to do this?”

She drew in a deep breath, her gaze moving along the tree line, and likely to the yellow police tape. Paling, she nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Let’s go then.”

“Wait. No bodies, right?”

“No bodies.” He eyed her pale skin, the alarm widening her eyes. “Celeste,” he said, and moved closer. “If at any time you want to leave, just let me know, and we’re out of here.”

“You’ve got my back, then?” A bit of sarcasm, mingled with apprehension, and maybe a need of reassurance, filled her voice.

“Yeah, I’ve got your back.”

She offered him a nervous half-smile. “Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

He wasn’t, but kept his mouth shut and led her to where Roy stood with Dan Malvern.

“Hey, Dan,” she said, then leveled the deputy with a sympathetic smile. “Sorry to hear about your day.”

Dan adjusted his mirrored sunglasses, then ran a finger along the brim of his hat. “All part of the job.”

“And Miranda? How’s she doing?”

“Havin’ a good day, thank the Lord.”

“Glad to hear.”  

“Are we done? I’d like to get things moving before we lose daylight,” John said, not bothering to hide his impatience, especially after the joy ride in his rental. He looked to the sheriff, who nodded.

Roy offered Celeste his arm. “C’mon, honey, let’s see if being here jogs anything.”

As they moved down the embankment, despite what had happened in the sedan, he couldn’t keep his eyes from diverting to her ass, until they broke through the thicket. Neon yellow redirected his attention, and he once again took in the dump site. The area appeared serene, peaceful, and nothing like the earlier makeshift graveyard.

“We found the first body here.” Roy pointed toward the first area sectioned off by police tape and approximately twenty feet from the road. “The other three were found deeper in the woods. Lying nearly side by side.”

She nodded and rubbed her arm where goose bumps rose along her skin. “A clearing?”

“The nearest clearing isn’t for another hundred yards or so.” A deep baritone came from behind him, and he pivoted.

Deputy Lloyd Nelson, the Viking. He glanced to Celeste. Her eyes softened as she gazed at the deputy. “Hey, Lloyd.”

The Viking blushed. Who would’ve thought, considering he looked meaner than cat shit? “Hey.”

“John, you remember Deputy Lloyd Nelson.”

He nodded. “We weren’t formerly introduced. Roy said you were second on the scene and found the other three victims.”

“Unfortunately,” the big man grunted.

With sympathy in her eyes, she moved away from the sheriff, then touched Lloyd’s arm. “You okay?”

An intimate look passed between them. John bit the inside of his cheek as an uncharacteristic spark of jealousy twisted his gut.

“I’m fine. Just doing my job. But, I don’t like you being involved in this,” Lloyd said, and glared at the sheriff with disdain. 

Interesting. Lover? Boyfriend? Not that he gave a rat’s ass. Once he did his part in Wissota Falls, he’d either head back to Chicago, or on that Scottsdale trip Ian had offered him.

“Let’s just get this done,” Roy said to the deputy, his tone stern, but empathetic. “Starting with the area you found the three victims.”

Forty minutes later they were back at the side of the road. Nothing new discovered, and nothing helpful from the psychic, who leaned against his rental, twirling her index finger around her curls. She’d given them nothing to help with the investigation. No surprise there.

He hadn’t expected her to look at the dump site, then hand over their killer on a psychic silver platter. A part of him had wanted her to, the part that lusted, he supposed. But the other part? That egotistical “man of science and evidence” part he held onto tightly, relied upon, and had at one time bitten him on the ass, needed to be right. After Renee, he’d been second guessing himself on every case. His partner had snowed him, clouded his judgment, and almost cost him his career.

As Dan climbed into his cruiser and sped off, the Viking moved to Celeste and rested a meaty hand on her shoulder. He said something as he leaned in, sending that spike of jealousy into full alert. Again, stupid. He had nothing to be jealous of and nothing at stake where she was concerned.  

“You didn’t get anything?” Roy asked. “Nothing that matched those visions you gave me?”

She dropped her arms and pushed off the sedan. “No. It’s weird, too. I really thought I’d get some sort of connection if I came here.”

The Viking squeezed her shoulder again. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’m not, but I’m wondering if it’s because this isn’t where he killed them.” She offered the giant a helpless smile, then looked to Roy. “What about that necklace you mentioned?”

The sheriff nodded. “It’s at the ME’s in Eau Clair. You have time or do you need to get back to the diner?”

“Will’s covering things.”

“Good enough. Any objections?” The sheriff looked at him, and the narrowed-eyed,
you’ll do as Ian says
look had him refraining from
any
objections. After all, he was just the puppet, but the puppet master would be answering some serious questions once this case ended.

Chapter 6

John pulled onto the highway and followed Roy’s cruiser. According to the sheriff, they had about a thirty minute drive to the coroner’s office in Eau Claire where Carl Saunders had been autopsying Ruby Styles this afternoon. He hoped the ME had found some evidence they could use against their guy. Although doubtful considering how clean the dump site had been, and how the killer had likely washed the victims’ bodies. But he had made a mistake by leaving behind Styles’s necklace.

Remembering the necklace, he still couldn’t believe Roy had bought into all this psychic nonsense. Ever the good little puppet, though, he’d sit by and watch Celeste try to gain a reading off the jewelry. Ian expected him to fully cooperate, and once she came up blank again—like at the dump site—Roy would hopefully dismiss her from the investigation.

While a part of him wanted her to fail, another part wanted her to prove him wrong. Especially with how forlorn and confused she’d looked after not gaining any images or visions, or whatever she might call it when they’d been traipsing through the woods. There was also what had happened in his car on the drive over to the dump site. Logically, he could dismiss it as a psychosis-induced hallucination, but emotionally, he wasn’t certain what to think. Psychic phenomena? God, what the hell had Ian gotten him into?

“You’re quiet,” she said, her voice soft, thoughtful, as she stared out the window.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

Glancing over, he grinned. “You’re the psychic, you tell me.” For whatever reason, he liked messing with her. He had a sneaking suspicion that beneath the sweet as sugar act she played for her customers, the sheriff and even his deputies, she was nothing but pure hell cat. After all, she was certainly quick enough with the barbs and sarcasm.

She sent him a droll smile, and rolled her eyes. “Har, har. You’re a real riot and—hey, isn’t that Matt’s minivan?” She pointed and turned, looking over the headrest.

He checked his rearview mirror. Boysen. So much for Roy taking care of the reporter. In seconds he called the sheriff’s cell phone.

“I saw him,” Roy answered. “I’m about to get on it, although I’m not too worried. Lloyd is still there waiting on Mitchell and his boys. I’ll have him get rid of Boysen. Fucking prick can forget his exclusive now.”

“No shit. But you know this means he’ll probably run the story.”

“It was bound to get out sooner or later. No worries, the mayor will handle it. And hey. Maybe our girl will give us a new lead off the necklace.”

Before he could respond, Roy disconnected. John slipped his cell phone into the center console and banked his irritation.

“So Matt’s determined to get his story?” she asked.

“Appears so. Considering your car was parked outside the Sheriff’s Department, don’t be surprised if he hits you up for an interview. You better hope your name doesn’t go public, because when the media swarms Wissota Falls, reporters will hound you at your doorstep and at your diner, too.”

“Well, they’d be stupid to try. My next door neighbor would probably turn her garden hose on them if they so much as stepped on her lawn, and as for the diner, maybe we’ll make some money off them. I do make a mean cheesecake.”

“Don’t be so flippant about all of this, Celeste.” He gripped the wheel and stared at her for a moment before looking back to the road. “Four women are dead, and thanks to Roy, you’re now involved in a murder investigation.”

“I’m not being flippant. I’m trying to ease the tension. And don’t blame this on Roy,” she said, her voice rising, defensive. “Blame it on the guy who killed those women.”

“That’s still no excuse to use you on this investigation.”

She crossed her arms and settled in her seat. “Roy believes in me and I’m sorry you don’t. Just because you can’t comprehend my abilities, don’t disregard them. From where I’m sitting, it appears you could use all the help you can get.”

“No, what I need is solid evidence.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, I’ve made it obvious I don’t believe in the use of psychics.”

“
Very,
according to the way you chalked up my psychic trance as a simple state of psychosis.”

“Now you’re calling what happened earlier a psychic trance?”

“Sure, what else could it be? Although it would be helpful if you’d clue me in on what exactly had happened.”

The city of Eau Claire loomed ahead, not a metropolis, but when compared to Wissota Falls it seemed like one. “We don’t have time to get into it, and I promised to tell you about what happened later.” Much later. He didn’t want to feed into her delusions, like Roy had, because when she failed again, the reality check would likely hurt her.

Besides,
if,
and that was a big fat if, she really had gone into a psychic trace, he wanted no part of it. Ghost, demons, poltergeists and anything supernatural creeped the hell out of him. He’d rather deal with the human boogeyman any day of the week. He could understand those types of predators, whereas the occult or anything affiliated with it held no logical explanation. He needed logic. He needed facts and evidence.   

“I’m holding you to it,” she said.

“I always keep my word. I
am
curious about your dreams, and I’m not talking just about the ones you’d had about these women.”

“Okay,” she said with a cautionary tone.

“When you have your psychic visions, are they about what happened, is happening or about to happen?”

“I...uh, I’m not sure.”

“Not sure?” He hated pressing her, and as much as he didn’t want to do it, he wanted to put doubt in her mind. About her visions, about her ability. If she questioned herself, she might walk off the investigation on her own and make his job easier.

“You’d better be,” he said, “because I have a feeling, not based on a hunch or
psychic
intuition, but based on evidence. I guarantee the ME will confirm that those women were decomposing at the same time, meaning they’d been frozen, until the killer chose to dump them. Also meaning that your dreams, the nights that you’d had them, make no sense. How could you have four different visions, four nights in a row, if the women, let’s say, were killed four weeks ago, then dumped last night?”              

“How do you know they were dumped last night?”

“Didn’t you folks get some rain yesterday?”

She slowly nodded. “Around the dinner rush it poured for about twenty minutes, then the sky cleared.”

“Every victim was bone dry, other than the still-damp mud splatter on their bodies. You saw the crime scene. Their bodies had left an imprint in the mud. Plus, I saw little to no insect activity on their bodies, and based on the times Ed Young reported patrolling that particular stretch of highway, I’d guesstimate that the bodies were dumped sometime between two and four in the morning.
Last night.
”

“Is this the point where I give you a round of applause?”

He half-laughed. “Psychic and sarcastic. Got any other hidden talents?”

She didn’t reply, instead, she stared out the passenger window, wringing her hands. As he parked the sedan alongside Roy’s cruiser, he couldn’t see her face, but based on her rigid posture and the way she tortured her fingers and knuckles, his words must have hit a chord and planted some self-doubt.

Pleased, he pulled the key from the ignition. “You ready?”

“No, I don’t think I am.”

“Why’s that?”

“Gee, I dunno, are my dreams related to these crimes or are they just good old-fashioned nightmares?” She turned and leveled him with such a questioning, probing gaze filled with so much indecision, and yes, doubt, that a punch of regret hit him square in the gut.

“Look, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to be realistic.”             

“Funny, you have no idea what a realist I am.” She shrugged and the disillusionment in her eyes made him ache. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He’d only wanted her off the case so they could focus on whatever evidence they had.

“This isn’t a good idea.” She waved a hand toward the ME’s building. “I should skip this and head back to the diner. I’ve got some paperwork to look over, payroll to do and—”

“Celeste.” He turned in his seat and took off his sunglasses. When she met his gaze, he had the sudden urge to believe in her. Maybe because of the strange connection he’d felt the moment he’d touched her at the diner, or maybe it was the way she stared at him. So trusting, so unsure. Whatever it was, he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “No one is making you do this, but if you don’t, won’t you always wonder?”

“I would,” she answered, “but what if I’m wrong? What if I can’t get a reading off the necklace?” She shook her head. “I’d look like a fool, make Roy look like one, too, and waste valuable time.”

She drew out her cell phone from her purse. “I’m going to call Lloyd and see if he could give me a ride back to my car.”

The fucking Viking. A splinter of jealousy fissured, and before it could completely crack his judgment, a thought occurred to him. If she quit now, Roy would question him, or her for that matter. Either way, the sheriff would figure out that he’d been the one to plant the seeds of doubt, then rat him out to Ian. Who knows what would happen from there. He sure as hell didn’t because he hadn’t had time to piece together the connection between Roy and Ian yet.

At the same time, despite his disbelief in the supernatural, he wanted her to walk away from this feeling as if she’d made a difference. Something told him that she’d need the reassurance. To know that she mattered.

“What if you
do
pick up something by touching the victim’s necklace?” he asked, even as his mind screamed
you had her right where
you wanted her
—doubting. Ignoring logic, he spoke from the heart, encouraged by the way her eyes began to brighten. “Think about the families, heartsick and devastated by their loss. What you may or may not see might not solve this case, but it could give us an insight into the killer or the victim herself. It might lead us to something the evidence doesn’t.”

She searched his eyes with suspicion. “I thought you didn’t believe in using psychics.” 

Smiling, he said honestly, “I don’t, but if you have this gift, then use it. Prove me wrong. Don’t run away just because you don’t understand why the pieces of the puzzle aren’t coming together.” He broadened his smile at the irony of his own unsolved puzzle with Roy and Ian. “If I did that, I wouldn’t have a job. I might have to come work for you at The Sugar Shack. Maybe do the dishes for a piece of that cheesecake you were telling me about.”

Celeste studied him for a moment. He had her head spinning in circles. First he made her doubt herself, now he encouraged her to prove him wrong. If she walked away, she
would
always wonder if she could have helped with the investigation. Especially if they ran into a dead end and the murders were left unsolved. Knowing she had a tendency to over think, if she did as she’d suggested, and had Lloyd cart her away, she’d stew. She’d regret. She’d always wonder.

“So?” He raised his shoulders, then jerked his head toward the building. “Are you in?”

Encouraged, yet still confused by his turn around, she nodded, and opened the door. “Yeah, and by the way if you did the dishes, I’d throw in a cup of coffee, too.”

He climbed out of his seat, and met her around the front end of the car. “Aren’t you generous?”

“I’m a fair boss,” she said, then drew in a shaky breath, as she hesitated at the bottom of the concrete steps leading to the double wide doors of the morgue. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to look like a fool. 

He grasped her elbow. “Prove me wrong,” he whispered in her ear.

She turned. His touch gave her comfort and confidence. His woodsy scent filled her senses. She flicked her gaze to his lips, only a fraction of an inch from her own, then back to his eyes. They challenged her, and if she wasn’t mistaken held a hint of...admiration? Couldn’t be. Then again, who knew with this man? He had her confused, intrigued, and despite what they were about to do, turned on. Could her week become any more weird? “I plan to,” she finally said, then pulled away from him, and took two steps at a time.

Jesse held the door open for her. Roy walked in next to her as she stepped inside, while John trailed behind. A faint trace of his scent still clung to her, reminding her of the desire he’d awakened. She needed to rein those emotions in and stay focused, which wasn’t hard once she stepped into the foyer.  

Dean Atwell greeted her, his expression grim and devoid of the normal, shy grin that usually tilted his lips when he visited the diner. “Hey, Celeste. Roy, Jesse.”

She’d known Dean all her life. He’d grown up in Wissota Falls. While he now lived in Eau Claire, he was always visiting his family, and was considered a regular at The Sugar Shack. “Hey, Dean.”

Roy shook Dean’s hand. “Lookin’ good, kid. That crabby old bastard must be treating you right.”

“He goes for the gut where the bruises can’t be seen.”