Iris Johansen - Blood Game

“That doesn’t matter. I told you to call me if you needed me.” She paused. “And do you need me?”

“I might. Joe may be on his way to see you. I thought I’d prepare you.”

“ ‘May’? You don’t know?”

“He said he’d found out something from the Medical Examiner’s Office that he had to check out. It could be the truth or at least part of the truth. It’s a rough case, and we may be personally involved. But I have a hunch that whatever he has to check out, he wants to do it with you.”

Silence. “You’re telling me that Joe Quinn is behaving… irrationally?”

“I’m telling you that for the first time since I’ve known him, Joe is doubting his-” She took a deep breath. “There’s no one more solid or confident than Joe. That’s not what I’m seeing right now. I don’t know if it has anything to do with you or not, but I tried to steer him in your direction. It was the only thing I could think to do.”

“You didn’t talk to him?”

“Dammit, he would have backed away from me. If he is having any kind of weird reaction, it’s not the kind of thing he would admit, much less discuss. He calls it all bullshit. I did my best. It has to come from him.” She paused. “I’m worried. I feel helpless. If he does come to you, help him, Megan. Please.”

“You don’t have to ask,” Megan said. “I’ll do what I can, though I don’t know what that will be. But I can tell you that it doesn’t always turn out badly.”

“You mentioned insanity and death. I’d say that’s pretty bad.”

“But it may have something to do with the strength of the individual character.”

“Well, Joe has plenty of that. And it may not have anything to do with you. I just had to hedge every bet.”

“I’ll let you know.” Megan hung up.

Eve gazed out at the lake. Had she done the right thing? She had guided Joe toward Megan even though she wasn’t sure that she believed that Megan’s talent was at the bottom of Joe’s problem. She had been afraid to do anything else.

She could only hope that there was a solution and that Megan would find it.

MEGAN TURNED TO HER UNCLEas she hung up the phone. “We may have a visitor, Carey. Better put on the coffee while I throw on some clothes.”

“At this hour? Who?”

“Joe Quinn.”

He frowned. “What the hell? After all the sarcastic bull he was throwing at you down at the swamp? I wanted to sock him.”

“So did I. But you can’t blame him for being cynical about me. Sometimes I don’t believe in this psychic crap either.” Her lips twisted. “Or wish I didn’t believe it. It would make life easier.” That was the understatement of the century. “And I don’t have any right to blame him for anything now.” She whispered, “I may have hurt him, Carey.”

“The facilitating thing?”

“Eve thinks he’s not behaving normally. And that would be hard for her to admit. She’s very protective of him.”

“I don’t remember him needing protection. You were the one being attacked.”

“And that cynicism would make it even more difficult for him… if something did happen.” Megan turned and headed for her bedroom. “Maybe Eve’s wrong. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s something else.”

Joe Quinn rang the doorbell forty minutes later.

His gaze raked her up and down as she opened the door. From the top of her dark hair to her feet. “You’re dressed. Were you expecting me?” His lips twisted. “Maybe some psychic premonition?”

“I don’t have premonitions. I have only two psychic talents of which I’m aware. That’s more than I want. Come in, Joe.” She stepped aside. “We might as well go into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee.”

“I don’t want to sit down and have a cozy chat. That’s not why I’m here.”

“No, there’s nothing cozy about you at the moment.” She doubted if that word would describe him at any time. He was all hard, lean strength and keen intelligence. “You’re angry, and you want to strike out at someone. Be my guest. I probably deserve it.” She turned toward the kitchen. “But we’d better pretend to be on good terms. My uncle is very defensive, and you’re not on his list of favorite people.”

“That doesn’t bother me.” He followed her into the kitchen. “I can handle him.”

“If you do, you’ll have me to deal with. He’s my only family, and I’m defensive too.” She sat down at the table and gestured for him to sit down across from her. “I tried to tell him you have a right to be angry, but he’s not buying it.”

He sat down but his posture was as stiff as his expression. “And why should I be angry with you?”

“Because I may have done you harm.” She poured coffee into their cups from the carafe on the table. “Have I?”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t believe all that stuff you told Eve. It’s something from a sci-fi movie.”

“More like a horror film.” Megan shrugged. “And not only for me.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Is it, Joe?”

His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “Are you reading my mind?”

“No, your body language.” She lifted her cup to her lips. “Tell me, can you read minds now? Did I do that to you?”

“Hell, no.”

“Good. I imagine that would be a nightmare.”

“Don’t you know?”

“I’m an amateur. I’m new at this. I do know that I caused that in one man. He went insane.”

“I’m not insane.” His lips were tight, his eyes glittering.

“But you’ve been wondering.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve had a few doubts. But I came to the conclusion that I either accept that you may not be the charlatan I thought you were, or I accept the fact that I may be heading for the funny farm. I find the former far more palatable. So I’m here to ask questions. So far, you’re not being very reassuring.”

“Tough. I don’t think you want reassurance. You want answers. I may not be able to give them to you, but I’ll try to help you find them. Ask your questions.”

“Ghosts. You hear the dead. Do you see them?”

Her cup stopped on the way to her lips. “No, and I never considered them ghosts. More like echoes of what happened at a given time and place.” She gazed at him for a moment before she put the question to him. “Do you see them?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe.” He scowled. “Damn, that was hard to say.”

“Do you know who they are?”

“Bonnie. I thought at first that I was having a hallucination because of the stress of the years of trying to find her.”

“How many times have you seen her?”

“Once.”

“Then you could be right.”

“I wasn’t trying to find Nancy Jo Norris, and I saw her.”

“The girl who was murdered? I saw the story on the evening news.” She frowned. “How do you see them? Is it just a fleeting glimpse?”

“No, they talk to me. Like you, like anyone.” He started to stand up. “I’m done. I’m getting out of here. I sound like the nutcase I probably am.”

“Wait. Why did you come? What tipped the scales and made you think that maybe I could help you?”

“Nancy Jo told me that the man who killed her had grabbed her from behind, held a handkerchief over her nose, and knocked her out. The autopsy showed she’d been dosed with ether. It was slim evidence, but I grabbed at it.”

“I would have done the same,” Megan said. “And that’s not so slim.”

“Yes, it is. I’d say it’s wishful thinking, but I don’t like either option.”

“But you’ve already accepted one of them, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Any port in a storm. If you did this to me, can you undo it?”