Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (4 page)

She’d never encountered anything like that old woman before.

She’d never encountered a lot of the things she’d experienced in that hospital. Only old, experienced ghosts could move or touch things with force. Hamburger Face hadn’t even been dead twenty-four hours, but he’d shoved her against a wall.

How?

Pulling back now, she looked around. The cold, sterile medical room was gone. Dylan was gone. The familiar sight of Alexandra’s bedroom surrounded them.

Her muscles sank with relief.

“I’m dreaming.” She lifted a hand to touch her forehead. “This isn’t real. That explains why everything’s been so screwy.”

She could have only been dreaming that she’d traveled to Charleston and found Dylan. Had she found him? She was so disoriented. She had no idea. She could have been having a serious nightmare—minus the erotic bits at the beginning with Mr. Delicious. Those parts of the dream, if she’d been dreaming, she hadn’t minded at all.

“Honey, I need you to listen to me.” Rebecca’s hands felt solid as they cupped Alexandra’s face, confusing her even more. Rebecca hadn’t been dead long enough to master the skill of touch. “We don’t have much time.”

“Where have you been? I think I found your son.” Yes, she knew she had. It was getting easier to recognize this delusion for what it was. The giant stuffed red monkey sitting on her nightstand was a dead giveaway. She didn’t own any such novelty, as cute as it was. And her walls weren’t blue either.

If this was a dream, then…

Alexandra grasped Rebecca’s arm, something she’d only be able to do in a dream state. “Woman, where the heck have you been? I’ve been freaking worried about you!”

“I know, honey. I’m sorry.” Rebecca’s face tightened. “I need you to do something for me. Take Dylan and leave this place. Alexandra, you’re in danger. You’re both in danger.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to put you in harm’s way. I didn’t realize he knew. I didn’t know he would recognize you.”

“Who knew? Knew what? What are you—?”

A gasp ripped from her lungs as her eyes flew open again, blurring into focus on Dylan’s chiseled features so close to her own. A man stood over his shoulder, peering down at her with a mixture of concern and curiosity. The coroner, or whoever he was.

“Alexandra? Are you all right?” Dylan’s softly spoken question calmed the panic clawing at her chest at the realization of where she was. Her fingers touched cold metal. Oh. My. Word. Was she on a dissecting table? She tried to push up, but he stilled her.

“Easy.” He pushed her back. “Trust me when I say you’d rather be lying on this table than the floor.”

Her head spun. “Dylan?” She blinked away the haze and struggled again to sit up.

The smell of ammonia was strong, heightening her senses, bringing her closer to awareness. Dylan shifted one arm away from her and passed a pungent-smelling cloth to the man hovering around them. Sweet heavens. She’d passed out. Oh, look, a real mangled face, and wham, she’d been down faster than Marie Osmond that time on Dancing with the Stars.

How embarrassing.

“I’m sorry.” She swallowed and moved to lower her legs to the floor, but Dylan kept her from standing.

“Give yourself a minute.” The other man said. “Are you dizzy or anything?”

She shook her head and let her hand fall to Dylan’s chest while she struggled to get a grip.
Um, I don’t think I should be gripping
him
though.
The warmth of his solid abs reminded her of the sculpted muscles hidden beneath his shirt, so she moved her hand to his bicep instead and…oh my
.

He really was in good shape. She didn’t think she’d ever dated or known a man as cut as him.

“You work out a lot, don’t you?” Oh, geez. Had she really just said that out loud? She bit back a groan.

His brows scrunched in confusion, but then a slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I try to keep in shape.” He carefully guided her into a standing position. “Mind explaining what the hell that was all about?”

Sighing, she sagged against him, grateful for his warmth and support, no matter how temporary it might be. “Place is crawling with ghosts. They overwhelmed me.”

His body tensed, and a chill replaced his body heat as he moved away from her. “I think it’s time we headed back to the office.” His hand on the small of her back pushed her forward a little. “Thanks, Watkins. Sorry for the dramatics. It won’t happen again.”

“Sure. No problem.” The other guy was staring at her as if she’d just flown over the cuckoo’s nest and landed in his cereal.

She couldn’t blame him. Nice way to make a first impression, King. You ditz.
She really needed to work on her fainting-at-the-sight-of-blood tendencies if she was going to be a badass private investigator.

Dylan practically dragged her down the hallway, his feet marching to an increasingly angry rhythm as he headed for the exit. His grip on her arm was punishing in its pressure. It helped refocus her on the physical. “What’s your problem?” she demanded, tugging her arm free of his hold. “I’m the one who just passed out.”

He whirled and cornered her against the wall. “You want to know what my problem is? Right now it’s you. You might think this is some kind of game, but this is my job. A young woman lost her life last night, and while I should be out tracking down the person who did it, I’m stuck babysitting you. Do us both a favor, and give up the charade, all right?”

He’d just put Alexandra through a personal hell, and he was accusing
her
of playing games? She punched a finger at his chest. “Don’t you dare get an attitude with me after the stunt you just pulled. You think this is a game to me?” She gestured toward the room they’d just departed. “She’s not the first victim, and she won’t be the last. I’m here to help you, you—you—” Her mind searched for the worst insult she could conjure. Gah, he was so frustrating! “You medieval dipstick!”

Shoving past him with a frustrated groan, she pushed the exit door open with such force that it whacked the outside wall hard and loud, causing a poor young woman on the other side to jump nervously and squeal in alarm.

“Sorry,” Alexandra murmured as she walked past the girl.

She was debating whether or not to make a detour around Dylan’s car and find a bus or cab when he caught up to her.

“Wait a second.” He grabbed her arm again—she was getting tired of him doing that—and frowned down at her. “What do you mean, she’s not his first victim?”

She scoffed. “Exactly what I said.”

“How do you know?”

“I just know.” She crossed her arms. “There was a man recently found dead in an alley. Same killer.” She bit her lower lip as she remembered the cartoon she saw anytime she thought of the two deaths. “I keep seeing the grim reaper. It’s like it’s the killer’s calling card or something.”

Dylan said nothing, just stared at her for several uncomfortable seconds.

He finally relented. “Get in the car.”

“Are you going to keep being an ass?”

“Probably. Would you just get in the car already? I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“Something that will help me trust you or prove you’re just taking advantage of the situation.”

Ah, he wanted to test her. That she could handle. She was used to skeptics. She usually reached out to the nearest spirit, asked them to peek over the skeptic’s shoulder, so to speak, and tell her whatever the answer was to his secret test. Piece of cake.

It was the uncertainty she felt over everything else that had happened that caused her to hesitate. It was as if everything she thought she knew about ghosts was turning out to be questionable. People came to her for help because she knew these things, dammit. How could she be so wrong? Was it this city? That old woman? What?

It took all of her effort to bury her pride and get in his vehicle. This wasn’t about reuniting her new boss with his brother anymore. This was about catching a killer, and she figured she didn’t really have a lot of choice in the matter.

One thing was certain though. As soon as she helped Dylan find the sadistic sonofabitch using Charleston as his personal playground, she was out of here.

The sooner, the better.

How the hell was he going to pull this off?

Dylan rifled through the drawer, pulled out an old manila file, and then shoved it back in again. His idea had seemed like a good one on the ride back to the station, foolproof, even, but now that he was trying to figure out the specifics of it, doubts began flooding his mind.

His plan had been to give Alexandra some crumbs on an old case, one that had already been solved, and watch her flounder on the details, thus proving there was nothing extraordinary about her. When his plan worked, she’d hightail it out of here with her tail between her legs, and he could get down to business catching this killer.

But what if he chose a case that had gotten extensive media coverage, and Alexandra had caught some of the details on one of those forensics shows on cable? The case he’d originally intended to use went back in the drawer. It hadn’t been high profile, but he knew reporters had picked up on it. Damn. It didn’t help that his own knowledge of the solved cases here was limited. He’d only been here for a little over a year.

Maybe something older?

Detective Reedus walked past, and Dylan called out to him. As the bureau’s senior detective, Reedus had been the first person to welcome Dylan on board and had worked in Charleston forever. The man seemed to know everything. “I need a case that’s been solved without a lot of public knowledge.”

Reedus tilted his head and frowned, so Dylan waved him closer and kept his voice low as he explained why he needed the file.

“Psychic?” Reedus perked up. “Ah, geez, Collins, don’t tell me the Cap laid one of those on you.” He reached into the drawer, glanced through some files and retrieved one. He cocked a smile. “Pretty clever idea you had to call her out. Mind if I watch?”

Dylan opened his mouth to say no but thought better of it after glancing through the file. “Did you work on this case?” He gestured with the folder. It was thicker than he would have liked.

“Damn straight. Did half the paperwork in there.”

He didn’t want to waste any more time than necessary. “Then come on.”

Reedus walked into the conference room first, and Dylan almost plowed into the back of him when the older man suddenly planted himself on the carpet.

Reedus turned and backhanded Dylan’s bicep. “My colleague didn’t tell me he was working with a gorgeous woman. Collins, what the hell is wrong with you?” Reedus held out his hand and introduced himself to Alexandra.

Alexandra was leaning back in a chair and tapping a rhythm on the table in front of her with her fingertips as if she was bored out of her mind. Considering he’d shared his plan with her before leaving the room, he’d half expected her to be jumpy and anxious, knowing there was no way she could get herself out of this one.

The woman continued to surprise him.

She reached up and accepted Reedus’s hand. “Nice to meet you, detective.”

Dylan shut the door behind them. “Detective Reedus worked on this case and can help me determine whether or not you’re just pulling things out of thin air.”

She sighed, and the sound translated as annoyed. She reached her hand across the table and wiggled her fingers in a gimme gesture. “Let’s not waste too much time on this, okay? I’d rather be working on a case I can help on.”

Surprised again, Dylan tried not to show it as he sank into the seat across from her. He pulled a plastic bag containing a necklace out of the folder. “It helps you to touch something that belonged to the victim, right?”

“It’s called psychometry, and I can only do that if a spirit connected to the object is still here and willing to talk.”

Yeah, whatever.

“I’m not gonna to share anything about this case with you first.”

“Good.” She snatched the necklace from his hand and looked down at the table. “Just give me a second to see what they show me.”

“They?” Reedus asked from where he leaned against the wall watching.

Alexandra ignored him, staring at the oak tabletop as her fingers toyed with the chain of the necklace. Her eyes glazed over, and silence filled the room while she fondled the charm and chain alternately. Oh, man. She was good at this. Dylan wondered if she had a background in the theater and decided to ask her before she left.

Her voice was firm and confident when she finally spoke. “The victim was a man. He was tall. Mustache. Maybe 190 pounds.”

Dylan glanced at Reedus and saw the older man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Dylan had been certain the necklace would throw her off on the gender. A small religious medal on a chain, it had struck him as being a bit feminine in appearance. Maybe he’d been wrong.

She took a deep breath. “I’m feeling something at my throat. Like I can’t breathe.” She looked up at Reedus. “Was he hung? From a tree? Like, a tree in his own yard?”

Reedus nodded and moved to take the seat beside Dylan. He leaned forward on his elbows and waited quietly for more.

Dylan shifted in his chair. How the devil was she doing this?

“He’s dressed funny.” She scrunched her nose. “Might be the seventies?” She shook her head. “It took you a while to solve this one. Hmmm. There was some speculation it had been a suicide, but it wasn’t. That’s why. Right?” She fingered the necklace and tilted her head, staring straight at the wall over Dylan’s shoulder. “Your killers worked together. It was a lynching-type murder. Like a hate crime. Oh, I know.” She blinked and looked at Reedus as if she’d just had a great epiphany. “He was gay. They killed him because he was gay. And they tried to make it look like a suicide.”

Reedus glanced back at Dylan and gave him one of his I’m-impressed expressions.

Alexandra held the necklace out to Dylan. “The ringleader died about ten years ago, and his wife gave up the other two people involved. He’d bragged about it to her once when he’d been drunk. She had a guilty conscience.”

Reedus chuckled and took the necklace before Dylan could. “Actually it was his sister and there were three arrests made, but you got everything else right. Good enough for me.”

Alexandra shrugged. “No psychic is one hundred percent accurate. We’re human. We make mistakes.” She tapped the table with a finger. “But I’m glad you caught those guys. I see a history of domestic violence with them. Nasty stuff.”

Surprise lit up Reedus’s face again. “Yeah, one of the guy’s wives led us to some evidence from the crime scene he’d kept. She was glad to get rid of him. Open and shut case.”

“And you’re telling me this didn’t get any media?” Dylan asked.

Reedus shook his head. “Not much. The victim’s family had disowned him because of his sexual orientation, and quite frankly, I think his father—a real religious asshole—was a bit relieved to be rid of him. They were ashamed, but fine believing it was suicide. No one on the force really took an interest in proving otherwise either. Times were different back then. If the killer’s sister hadn’t come forward, it would have remained a suicide.”

“What about when it was solved?” Dylan couldn’t believe this. There had to be some explanation for Alexandra’s guesses.

“Sure, they ran a piece on the local news. I think it lasted about thirty seconds. End of story.”

Dylan shook his head and addressed the woman across from them. “Tell me this. If you were getting your information from a spirit connected to that necklace, why weren’t you one hundred percent accurate?”

She released a sigh. “I don’t know, Dylan. My best guess is that it’s like a radio signal. Every now and then there’s some interference. I hear the information wrong or it comes across distorted because of something screwy in the transmission.”

Alexandra held up a hand before he could voice his next thought. “Look, you gave me nothing, and I gave you a lot. I think you’re just determined to find excuses, which is your prerogative. Stupid, but your prerogative. I’d really like to get back to the case I volunteered to help you with. Okay?”

Reedus chuckled and gestured toward her. “I like this woman, Collins. We should work with her more often.”

Yeah, and Dylan knew why. All it took was a pretty face and a hot body to win Reedus’s favor. He muttered a curse and put the bagged necklace back in the folder. Doubts nibbled at his conviction that she was a fraud.

Zach had been pretty convincing on TV, too. Don’t forget that.

Zach. He didn’t like the way he kept thinking about his brother today after working years to forget the bastard ever existed. He’d been twelve when his older brother had taken off, abandoned him and their mother as if they’d meant nothing, and Dylan had been a senior in high school when his girlfriend had pulled him over to her TV to watch a new show she’d become fixated on.

The Psychic Detective
, starring Zachary Collins. “Gee, you kinda look like him, too,” his girlfriend had commented before asking if there was any relation.

Dylan had been horrified to realize his brother was actually passing himself off as a psychic. Zach had never shown any ounce of having those abilities growing up. He’d known it was a scam, had been pissed as hell that the brother he’d once worshipped had been unworthy of his praise.

The word “psychic” had been a hot button for him ever since.

But maybe he was being too narrow-minded. Just because his brother was a fraud didn’t mean they all were.

“Look,” he told Alexandra. “I’m willing to listen to whatever it is you have to tell me.” He leaned across the table. “But the second it becomes obvious to me that you’re conning me, that’s it. I’m done.”

A beautiful smile lit up her face. “Sounds fair to me. Can we get started now? I mean, seriously.”

“Wait here. I’ll go get the file so we can go over what we already know.”

If Alexandra King could help him solve this case, great. If not, he hadn’t lost anything but a little time.

***

Alexandra’s behind hurt from sitting too long, so she stood to pace the room while she once again studied the crime scene photos Dylan had shared with her.

She stared at the close-up photograph of Candice Christopher’s face. She was the young woman who’d been standing outside the café, the spirit who’d been feeding Alexandra information about the case.

She flipped between pictures showing Candice’s body positioned on her back, one hand covering her face, the other outstretched, and her jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle, and a second, more close-up picture of a tarot card. Dylan had explained that the card had been found next to the body, propped against a tombstone. There was nothing unusual about the card except what it represented. A grim reaper carried a scythe over the word DEATH.

“You okay looking at that?” Dylan asked, and she glanced at him, a little puzzled until she realized he was probably thinking of her penchant for fainting at such things.

“Yeah. Photos don’t bother me.” She flicked a dismissive hand and turned away. She focused on the first photo again. “He’s obviously trying to send a message with the positioning of the body and this card. But what?”

Alexandra had tried closing herself off again earlier, and thought it had held this time. She hadn’t yet opened herself up to information from the other side on this case. She’d wanted a moment to refresh her mind from the test he’d given her and look over the current files. But something was scratching at her consciousness, already trying to make itself known. She imagined a wall, the way her grandmother had taught her, and blocked it. Blocked everything. She liked to familiarize herself with the basic facts before she invited anyone else to weigh in on a criminal case. It helped her decipher the information she was given when she understood a little about it first.

“The other body was also positioned,” Dylan said, sliding a different folder across the table. “Killers don’t usually pose bodies, so yeah, I assume he’s trying to tell us something. Since the positioning is so different on all three of these, I have no idea what it could be.”

“When was the first victim found again?”

“Three months ago.”

Hmm. That was when his mother had started making a menace of herself, insisting Dylan was in danger. Oh, but Alexandra would love to talk to her right now.

He spread open a file and tapped a report. “Second victim was end of August. Third victim was yesterday.”

“So one every month? Any significance to the days?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were they found exactly one month apart or what?”

He shrugged. “Give or take a few days.” His eyes narrowed. “You think he’s on some kind of schedule?”

“I don’t know, Dylan. It might not be a bad idea to see what days the full moons were on.”

“Whoa.”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

“I know two of them were killed on the night of a full moon. I didn’t make that connection until now.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and began pacing. “I remember the first one. Reedus made a comment about the full moon bringing out the lunatics. Last night, I noticed the moon looked full.”

Alexandra reached for her phone and did an Internet search to verify the dates of the last three full moons. “Interesting. They were all killed on full moons.”

“Let me see that.” He stepped close and reached for her phone. Alexandra immediately grew aware of his warmth, his scent, his—

Stop it! He is your boss’s brother! No more touching!

Dylan glanced up, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes danced with excitement. Excitement that quickly took on a new focus when he seemed to realize how close they were standing. He stepped away.

He cleared his throat. “This is good. This means he probably won’t try to kill again until next month, end of October. Gives us time.”

“Halloween.” Alexandra reached for the newest file and skimmed the crime scene photos in it. A man’s body was propped from the waist up against the wall in an alley, his legs sprawled out in front of him on the cobblestone walkway. Spray-painted in black next to his head was one word. Reaper.

“So that’s his moniker,” she decided. “He wants to be known as the Grim Reaper.”

“Seems like it.”

“Okay.” She wiggled her shoulders to shake out the tension creeping in at that disturbing thought. “I’m going to concentrate now and see if I can find anyone who knows something that will help. I’m going to let them in now.”