Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense (9 page)

“Devil crap?” Disbelief tinted her voice. Was he trying to imply something about her faith? “My family happens to be very religious, Dylan. My grandfather was a Catholic priest.”

“Mine was a preacher. I’m pretty sure he always said not to dabble in the occult.” There was no malice in his tone. He sounded matter of fact.

She wasn’t going to fight with him on the subject. She knew she’d never win. People feared what they didn’t understand. It was a mindset she came up against all too often in society, and one that always stung.

Her grandma had taught her to arm herself with knowledge and ignore the bigots who condemned her for the ability she couldn’t control.

Still. That didn’t stop her from glaring at Dylan as she tugged her long hair from the collar of her jacket. Oh, how she would love to mention his brother right now, but she couldn’t.

And just like that, her anger dulled. Because she still hadn’t told him the real reason she was in Charleston.

“You okay? You look kind of pale all of a sudden.”

“Yeah.” She pretended to straighten her clothes so she didn’t have to look at him. “Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

But when she looked up, Dylan’s attention was on something else. He swore, so she followed his gaze to the television situated in the corner of the bureau. At least a couple of uniformed officers were standing, staring up at the midday news.

The sketch that had been drawn this morning was shown with
Serial Killer in Charleston?
on top of it. Someone turned the volume up so the anchor’s voice could be heard saying, “An unknown male contacted our news station this morning with a message for the city’s residents. The man who called himself The Grim Reaper claimed responsibility for the death of 21-year-old Candice Christopher, niece of City Councilman Charles Burke, 34-year-old Gerard Nicolby, and 26-year-old Jennifer Bradley, and promised more murders can be expected. The North Charleston Police Department could not be reached for comment.”

“Collins! My office!”

The command from Dylan’s captain was expected, but Alexandra still winced in sympathy for the man at her side.

Dylan’s chest heaved beneath a sigh. “There’s a deli around the corner that delivers. Emily at the front desk can give you the number. Order me a turkey sandwich on wheat and whatever you want. This is probably gonna take a while.” His hand squeezed her arm in apology as he pulled away. He glanced toward the TV and his expression fell again as he froze in place. His face lost all color.

Alexandra returned her attention to the television in time to see stock footage from the only episode she’d ever done of
The Psychic Detective
playing, with the words
Psychic called in to consult on case
.

The screen captured a perfect image of her and Zachary Collins standing together as they discussed evidence.

Well, crap.

A lot had happened in the last four hours and Dylan’s brain hurt from trying to process it all. All hell had broken lose in the media. The captain had created a task force to calm the uproar that had followed. A brief press conference was held to announce the facts and address rumors already circulating among worried residents.

And Alexandra knew his freaking brother.

He wished he could wander back to his desk and pop one or two or five of the headache pills he kept there for days like this.

Then again, he couldn’t remember a day like this.

He tried to focus on what the captain was saying to the small crowd assembled in the conference room and not on the woman sitting three seats away from him. Awareness lifted the hairs on the back of his neck and he knew Alexandra was watching him again. Tough luck. He wasn’t ready to find out the full extent of her deception yet. It was too much. All of this. Too damn much.

“Detective Collins will be leading this task force.” The mention of his name drew his attention back to his boss, standing at the front of the room. “Unfortunately, we’re now under the scrutiny of the media and the public, but I have no doubt this team can track down this psychopath before he strikes again. We do have the privilege of a consultant on this case. Ms. King has already provided us with several leads to follow up on and which some of you will be assigned. I expect her to be treated with respect. Collins, do you have anything to add?”

About Alexandra? Hell no.

He stood and rubbed at the stabbing in his temple as he glanced around the room. His task force consisted of three uniformed officers he barely knew, the head of dispatch, Detective Reedus, and Alexandra. He wasn’t counting the Deputy Chief who’d shown up to observe how things were progressing.

Placing his hands on his hips, Dylan took a deep breath and conjured up his best game face. “I’ve asked Emily to make copies of the sketch we have of the suspect as well as any other important documents from the files. Take those packets home. Study them. Work your beats. Ask your informants for help. Dispatch has also set up a special hotline for the public to call in with tips. We’ll be dividing up the leads that seem most credible. I want to thank you all for your help in advance. We’ll probably be putting in a lot of extra hours on this one, so if you have a problem with that, let me know now. Any questions?”

No one responded, so Dylan glanced at the list of names his captain had handed him thirty minutes ago. “Officer McCormick?”

A fresh-out-of-the-academy-looking young man raised his hand.

“I want a full background check on Jason Murray, a history professor at the College of Charleston. Talk to his colleagues. Find out if there’s anything suspicious there worth looking into. Also, I want a complete list of all the companies operating ghost tours within the historic district. I want to know who the guides are and background checks on all of the employees. Find out if any of them have noticed repeat customers, anyone who has taken the same tour more than twice.”

“Yes, sir.”

He tapped his finger on the next name on the list. “Officer Graham. There’s a list of tour stop locations in the packet you’ve been given. Follow up with the property owners to inquire about any suspicious activity or people they’ve noticed lately. Talk to the neighbors. Find out if there are any security cameras in those areas and what we need to do to get that footage. You get any leads, report to me or Reedus immediately, okay?”

The female officer—one of the older members of his team—nodded. “Absolutely.”

“Finally, Officer Vinson.” His gaze skirted over Alexandra as he hesitated in assigning the third officer his task. He’d worked with Vinson on a few cases. The man was a solid cop with ambitions to work homicide someday. “Our suspect seems to have a fascination with Ms. King, so I’m assigning you to her. I want a full background check on her and anyone she suggests, and I expect you to ensure her safety at all times. McCormick, you’re his backup. You two can work out your schedules so that at least one of you has eyes on her until we catch this guy. Anything she needs to assist on this case, give it to her. Understood?”

Both officers chimed in “Yes, sir.”

Dylan had never led a task force before—or been on one, for that matter. He’d expected pushback, maybe some grumbling from the older officers who thought he was too young and inexperienced to head the team but, so far, he’d gotten none. Even Reedus seemed happy to sit back and let him take the helm.

“Um, but—” Alexandra’s muttered protest mixed with the shuffle of her pants sliding against the chair in which she sat. Dylan glanced in her direction and tried to keep the chill out of his voice. “Yes, Ms. King?”

Their gazes locked. Her jaw muscles clenched before she huffed through her nose. “Can I speak with you in private, Detective Collins?”

That was the last thing Dylan wanted.

Captain Deveraux stepped forward again. “I think we’re done here for now. We’ll meet back up for a status update tomorrow, two p.m. Thank you, officers. Let’s catch this guy.” He gestured for Reedus to follow the other members from the room. “We’ll give you two some privacy.” But the captain’s narrow-eyed expression as his gaze darted from Alexandra and back to Dylan again suggested he knew their private conversation wouldn’t be work-related.

Awesome.

Dylan waited until the door shut to even risk a look at the woman now standing too close for comfort. She knew his brother. She knew Zach and she never said a word.
He didn’t believe in coincidences. She had to know the connection between him and Zach. The hot rush of anger filled his veins again. Did she have any idea how much control it was taking for him to keep his cool?

She said absolutely nothing for so long, the silence caused the air to feel even thicker.

“Well?” He forced himself to meet her gaze.

“Call me crazy, but you’ve been avoiding me all afternoon. Why?”

She was kidding, right? “You didn’t mention you knew the great Zachary Collins.”

Her throat moved. “Dylan, I should have told you the first day I came here that I knew your brother.”

“Damn straight.” His mouth pulled into a half smile, which tugged at the pain at his temple. “How is Zach? Still an asshole?”

“Eh. He grows on you.”

He doubted that. “He still playing at being a psychic, or is that a stupid question?”

She bit her bottom lip. “Dylan, your brother really
is
psychic.”

“You forget I grew up with him. You can’t feed me those kind of lies and expect me to believe them. I know better.” There was a lot more he wanted to say, but the fear of raising his voice so his co-workers could hear held him in check. Barely. “Did he send you here?”

“Zach has no idea I’m here.” She sighed.

“Then why are you?” He stepped closer and lowered his voice. “Yeah, I figured out that whole spiel about coming to Charleston to find your friend’s missing brother. You came here to find
me
. I get it. But why? What does he want? A kidney or something?” He drifted his eyes up and down her figure. “Did he think sending a hot blonde to sleep with me would win him brownie points? Please tell me you’re not sleeping with him, too.”

Her palm connected with his face hard, and stars exploded in his vision. His cheek stung like the devil. Damn. The woman knew how to deliver one hell of a slap. He’d give her that.

“Zach. Did. Not. Send. Me.” Her eyes were wild now with anger and some other emotion he couldn’t define. “Your mother pestered me until I gave in and tracked you down because your brother is as stubborn as you are and wouldn’t do it. I am not sleeping with Zach, nor did I ever plan to sleep with you.”

His attention caught and held on what she said before that last bit. “My mother?” Now she was just starting to sound crazy and desperate. He pushed his shoulders back. Met her gaze. “Lady, my mother died three years ago.”

“Exactly.”

Was she trying to say she had communicated with his mom beyond the grave? Uh uh. No way. The woman had just lost what little credibility she’d had left as far as he was concerned. He made to move past her. This conversation was over.

“She’s here now.”

His hand stilled on the doorknob.

“She said to tell you, ‘The picture you’ve been looking for is in the trunk in the attic.’” She sighed, the sound carrying heavy in the air. “And she wants you to know she loves you very much.”

Dylan let the words sink in, then pushed them aside. What picture? He had no idea what she was babbling about. He had a job to do.

He pushed the door open and chanced a look in her direction as he left the room. “Do us both a favor and leave town, Alexandra. You’ve done enough damage, don’t you think?”

***

Alexandra didn’t know which was worse.

The distraught ghost crying loudly in the chair beside her, making enough pitiful sounds to rival a soap opera diva, or the sour feeling deep in her chest—the one she hadn’t felt since Grams had died.

Then her phone rang and, seeing the caller ID, she had a third option to throw into that mix.

Taking a deep breath, she answered, “Hey, Zach.”

She leaned back in the chair and rubbed her eyes. Just as she’d feared. Some reporter had tracked down and contacted Zach for a comment about her. Not just any reporter. Stephanie Martinez, the shark in heels herself. Alexandra was tired of secrets, so she spent the next ten minutes telling her boss everything. Almost everything. She left out the part about Dylan being the lead detective and the reason she’d come to Charleston in the first place. She wasn’t sure she could handle being reamed by Zach, too. Not right now.

Zach was quiet for several seconds. “I don’t feel good about this.” She imagined he was pacing his office. “Maybe you should cut your vacation short and come home where you’ll be safe.”

“What makes you think I’m not safe?”

“Gut feeling.”

In the psychic arsenal department, Zachary Collins’ gut feelings were the equivalent of stealth bombers. You never saw them coming, and duds were rare.

Fantastic.

“I think you’re overreacting. I’m fine.”

“If you’re telling me everything, and I don’t think you are, I’m not overreacting.”

Rebecca quieted her crying and leaned closer to Alexandra. “Is that my other son?”

“Yes.” Alexandra shifted away from her.

“Yes? Yes, what? I’m not overreacting?” Zach said.

“No.” Oh geez. She could only handle one conversation with a person at a time. “I’ve got a personal situation I need to deal with, and then maybe I’ll come home. But not until I make things right.”

“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?”

“Zach, I’ll keep you informed, okay? Just trust me.”

Her boss surprised her by caving in fairly easy, which was a good thing, because Officer Terminator—seriously, Vinson reminded her of the robot guy from the second movie and had yet to smile—returned with a stack of papers in his hand. Background checks, no doubt.

“What did Zachary say? Is he all right?” Rebecca grabbed Alexandra’s arm and squeezed. Ice pinched into Alexandra’s skin, and she tried to pull away from the older woman’s grip without looking like she was having muscle spasms.

Wait. What?

Alexandra glanced down at her arm in confusion. She shouldn’t have felt that touch. Rebecca was too young a spirit to have already developed that skill.

“Just a few questions, Miss King, and we can head out for the day.” Vinson skimmed the papers. “I see that you’re divorced. Any reason your ex might be causing trouble for you?”

She focused on the officer. Last she’d heard, Seth had moved to a base in Alaska with a new wife and a kid on the way. “No, absolutely not.”

“Not a bitter divorce?”

“Not especially.” Seth had been Matthew’s friend. He and her brother had gone through basic training together. They’d married too young. Drifted apart. It happened a lot with spur-of-the-moment military marriages dealing with long distance and too much time apart. She’d been relieved when he’d told her he wanted out because she hadn’t had the heart to tell him first.

“Tell me about this restraining order against Kevin Alred.”

She bit back a groan. Stupidest thing she’d ever done had been to get involved with that loser. “An ex-boyfriend. He didn’t take it well when I ended things.”

“He got violent?”

Harassing phone calls. Following her to and from her job at the call center where she’d worked at the time. The last straw had been finding him inside her apartment one night, after she’d already taken back her key. “He threatened it, but I got off lucky.”

He scribbled something on a piece of paper.

Rebecca’s raspy gasp caught her attention. Alexandra was turning her head to see what Dylan’s mother was carrying on about now when she spotted the elderly gentleman standing close to the officer’s desk. His skin carried that gray pallor of someone who had been dead for many years, and she knew immediately the man was not alive.

Another freaking ghost. Wonderful.

The word FATHER flashed in her mind. Officer Terminator’s dad?

She shifted in her seat, angling one leg over the other.

“My son will die if he gets involved with you. Please leave him alone!” The gravelly warning was as much of a wheeze as it was a spoken statement. She focused on the officer and tried to ignore the elderly man. Maybe he’d go away without encouragement.

What did he mean, his son would die if he got involved with her?

Father pounded his fist on the side of the desk, causing it to tremble slightly. One of Vinson’s pens started rolling from the vibration, and he frowned as he reached to stop it with his hand.

How the devil had the ghost done that?

“You’ve got to listen to me.” The voice was stronger, not as wheezy this time.

Oh, boy.

Alexandra reached up to finger her hair, made sure Vinson wasn’t watching her, and managed to shake her head.
No.
She absolutely was not going to engage this ghost in front of Dylan’s precinct. No way.

“Alexandra, talk to him.” Rebecca’s cold fingers pinched through the cloth at her forearm again. “He just wants to help his son, too.”