Darlings of Paranormal Romance (Anthology) (85 page)

"Fine. Whatever you're comfortable
with. But you also need to be comfortable with the fact that Kevin
is entitled to speak with any witnesses he sees fit. That includes
this Samantha Blair." The captain's beetled brow met in the middle
as he peered over his glasses at Brandt. "That is why you're here.
Isn't it?"

Brandt choked back the words clogging
his throat. He had to remember he was a guest here. "Correct. And
it's possible that detectives at this station work differently than
they would in most other stations – but that would surprise
me."

Normally detectives built a rapport
with their witnesses. They might ask another detective to go and
talk to someone, to see what shook loose. Most detectives, as a
basic courtesy, would mention to the other detective that they
needed to talk to one of his connections before they interviewed
someone involved in his case.

Captain Johansen cleared his throat.
"Yes, we do things a little differently here."

Brandt's gaze cut to the captain.
"That different?"

Once again, Captain Johansen
exchanged glances with Kevin.

"We deal in good old-fashioned police
work here. Not black magic." Kevin couldn't stay quiet any
longer.

"That's what this is all about?
Because she's a psychic?" At Kevin's nod, Brandt snorted. "Then you
could have had the decency to talk to me, couldn't you? I've worked
with Stefan Kronos for over a decade."

"I'm not sure that I believe his work
either. However, many of my friends do, given his success record.
This woman is a flake, pure and simple. I don't want her involved
in my cases." Kevin's sarcasm underscored his point of
view.

Interesting that Kevin had heard of
Stefan. "You haven't given her a chance, have you?" Brandt turned
to confront him. "I believe in her. She's given valuable
information and I think she can help."

"I
interviewed her. She doesn't have anything to offer." Kevin stood
up. "I don't have time for this. As long as you have something
reasonable to offer to my cases, feel free. But if you're going to
bring in a psychic, use her for your cases, not mine. She can hang
you, not us. You're only visiting here. And you won't
destroy
our
reputation with your fucked up ideas."

Kevin strode out, leaving an
uncomfortable silence behind.

Brandt looked back at Captain
Johansen, who stared back. "Is that the official stand?"

He pursed his lips,
thinking. "For the moment. I'm certainly not a fan of using
psychics. But I do know Stefan's work. So I can't discount them
either. Let me know if she comes up with anything we can use. Other
than that, don't confuse the issue between hard work and easy
answers."

***

11:20 am

Kevin walked through the commons,
staring straight ahead. Most of the office knew what had just
happened. The interior walls were very thin.

He didn't give a shit. Let them talk.
As long as they didn't bring it to him, he could care less. He had
work to do, and gossip wasn't one of his job duties.

Neither was dealing with flakes. Even
harmless ones. But he'd had to check it out further. Now he'd done
so, and now he could wash his hands of her. Good
riddance.

If only Brandt would see things his
way. He'd expected more of this 'visiting detective.' Brandt seemed
to be a straightforward kind of guy. He'd always dug in and helped
where needed and he sure as hell knew how to get the job done. But
this psychic stuff was just plain weird. That he'd trumped Brandt's
witness, wasn't something he was prepared to get into. Not on a
murder case.

Besides, like religion, there was
just no telling where individual beliefs lay.

That was fine with Kevin. He didn't
push his beliefs down anyone's throat and expected the same
courtesy – especially at work. Kevin shook his head. Christ, a
psychic!

Even his wife had laughed
at him.

***

12:30 pm

Brandt pulled the truck up to the
cabin in a spew of dust and dirt. Moses stood on the porch barking
at him. At least the dog showed some sign of guarding the place. He
cut the engine and hopped out, slamming the door behind
him.

"Hey Moses, how are you doing, big
guy?" Brandt eyed him warily, certain that Moses posed no threat.
Still, one never knew. He climbed the steps, hand outstretched
toward him.

Moses walked a step closer. Just as
Brandt was about to touch him, a deadly growl erupted from the far
side of the porch before rising into a hideous howl. Moses backed
up and took up his fierce barking again.

Brandt started. "Jesus. What the hell
is that?" He could just make out the oversized cage further down
the porch, half covered in old gray army blankets. He took a
hesitant step closer, only to stop as the growl grew to
crescendo.

"Easy, take it easy." He didn't know
what Samantha had inside that damn cage, but if it were relative in
size, it had to be huge.

He glanced at the closed front door,
sure he was being watched. Samantha had to be hiding behind the
curtains. Ignoring the cage for the moment, he rapped on the door.
Samantha opened it promptly, confirming his suspicions.

"Hi."

The door shut in his face, leaving
him staring at worn, peeling wood.

He closed his eyes and groaned. Shit.
After what the team had put her through, he couldn't blame her.
Then neither could he blame the team. He might have done the same
thing under different circumstances.

"Samantha, I had nothing to do with
this morning's appointment. The detectives called you in because
they had questions. I'm sorry for the way it went down. Still, it's
our job to ask."

Silence.

"Crap." It would take a bomb to get
her out of there now.

"Would it help if I said I didn't
know about this morning's meeting until after you'd left? I had
nothing to do with it. Honest."

More silence.

"That was the rest of the team. They
don't have much faith in psychics and wanted to check you out for
themselves."

Dead silence.

Shit. He so didn't have time for
this. He searched for ideas. Moses had slumped to his usual
position of full-relaxed mode on the porch. The cage was quiet, but
Brandt sensed the awareness emanating from the wire
structure.

"Nice pet you've got there. Sounds
dangerous. I may have to put him down as a danger to
society."

The front door crashed open. "Don't
you touch him," she snarled as she raced toward the
cage.

He grinned. Like taking candy from a
baby.

As she caught sight of his grin, she
stopped her headlong rush and changed direction to charge him
instead. He laughed even as he deflected her blows.

"You bastard. You did that on
purpose." She took another swing at him, her knuckles grazing the
top of his nose.

Still laughing, he snagged her
wrists.

"You're right. That was low, but I
had to get you out of the house."

He was loath to let go of her wrists.
Not wanting to get clipped was only one reason. The ire in those
velvet eyes spoke volumes about her temper. No, it had more to do
with the shape and fit of her against him. He switch to holding
both her wrists with one hand. The fingers of his other hand sank
deep into the always-present sweater – this time a deep forest
green one – before finding her warm flesh below. Her frame –
surprisingly solid. The purple fire shooting from her eyes made him
grin. Even as he watched, she ran her tongue over her
lips.

His stomach clenched. He reached and
tugged her long braid.

He stared at her hands gripped in
his. Blue veins wound from her fingers up and under her sleeve. He
frowned and loosened his hold.

"Sorry." He grimaced as pink rushed
through to her pale fingertips. "I didn't mean to hurt
you."

Samantha tugged her hands free and
stepped away from him. "I'm not hurt."

He glanced from her hands to her
face, frowning. Somehow, he didn't think she'd tell him if she
were. She wasn't going to change on his say so.

"May I come in?"

She shuffled her feet,
but refused to look at him. More evasiveness. Not a surprise,
coming from her. He waited for a moment before adding,
"Please."

Chapter 8

1:15 pm

Sam
d
idn't want to let him into her space. She
didn't know how her ire had died so suddenly. But she didn't want
to let it go just yet.

"Are you okay?"

She twisted around, brushing her hair
from her eyes. "What the hell do you care?" The words burst out
with more punch than she intended. Better to appear calm and
rational than let him know how hurt and betrayed she really
felt.

"We need to talk." he
responded.

"What could there possibly be left to
talk about?" She turned and walked into the cabin.

Brandt came in behind her.

She strode to the fridge and pulled
out a jug of cold water. "Why won't you leave me alone?" she asked,
without turning around.

A large muscled arm reached into the
glass cupboard above her head, pulling out two tall glasses. He set
them down on the counter and tugged the jug free from her
fingers.

He appeared so in control, she wanted
to scream at him. Her life was in turmoil. She watched as he poured
two glasses.

Pissed at her reaction, she snatched
one up and walked outside. Her nerves were rubbed raw. She could
only take so much.

"I can't."

His answer hurt. She escaped toward
Soldier. Her stocking feet whispered along the porch. Soldier still
heard her. She couldn't see him, but she sensed his attention.
"It's okay, boy. It's just me." The sensation of wariness coming
from the cage never relaxed. She couldn't blame him, hers hadn't
disappeared either.

A low growl erupted in the far
corner.

"What's in there?" Brandt asked from
behind her.

Sharper, higher pitched growls had
the two of them backing up a few paces.

"That's some huge cage," Brandt said,
his voice carefully moderated.

"He's a good-sized dog. And he
obviously likes his space."

Brandt snorted and walked to the
stairs and sat down. "You think?" He took a big drink, still
staring at the cage. "Is he dangerous?"

"No." She amended her answer after a
quick thought. "At least, I don't believe so."

He arched his eyebrow. "You mean you
don't know?"

"I just got him," she muttered. She
didn't think Soldier would really hurt anyone – unless they got too
close.

She could feel Brandt's gaze burning
her face. A hot flush washed over her cheeks. "So why are you
here?" she asked.

Silence. She heard his heavy sigh on
the air. From the corner of her eye, she saw his head turn, his
focus on the view before them.

"I came to explain. I went to meet
you for our eleven o'clock appointment. That's when I heard they'd
called you for a visit earlier."

"Visit."
Disbelief made her shake. "Did you say visit?" Her voice rose
alarmingly high. "How could anyone call that a visit? How about
calling it a Gestapo session, or maybe an interrogation?" She
glared at him. "But a
visit,
it was not."

With Moses at her side, she headed
down to the end of the dock. The water glistened in the late
sunlight. Her knee buckled sideways as Moses leaned against her,
whining.

"It's okay, boy. I'm fine." She laid
a gentle hand on his bushy fur, enjoying the comfort of his
touch.

"Are you?" Brandt faced the lake.
"That's actually why I came – to check up on you."

She stiffened.

He hesitated. "I'm sorry I wasn't
there, I might have been able to ease it slightly. But don't get me
wrong, they would have brought you in regardless. They needed to
check you out after you reported the third victim."

Sorry?
She threw him a stunned glance.
He wished he could have been there? Well, so did she. Overwhelmed
and unaccountably relieved, Sam dropped to sit down on the dock,
her suddenly weak legs dangling over the edge. Somehow, the day
didn't seem so bad after all. Moses slumped down to the ground at
her feet.

Brandt stood beside her, looking as
if he wanted to say something. Sam didn't care. She had enough to
deal with keeping the bubbling lightness inside from making its way
outward. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her
relief.

The silence grew uncomfortable.
"What?" She didn't like the indecision on his face.

He shrugged.

"Come on, fess up. What?"

He sat down a little apart from her.
"Do you have other skills? You know like telekinesis or telepathy –
anything?"