Stacia Kane: Demon Possessed

This one is for Stephen.

Aside from my family, my husband and daughters, I have to thank Corinne Knell and Caitlin Kittredge, Stacey Jay, Mark Henry, Richelle Mead, Synde Korman, Todd Thomas, Kaz Mahoney, David Bridger, and all the pals who were so patient with me while I finished this book and completed an international move. Additional, huge thanks to Paula Guran, Jennifer Heddle, Chris Lotts, and Erica Feldon.

The woman shifted on the ivory leather couch and smiled. “Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Dr. Chase.”

Megan nodded and forced herself to return the smile, just as she would if the woman were a patient.

But the woman—Elizabeth Reid—was not a patient. Elizabeth Reid was an FBI agent.

Eleven months before, the idea of a federal agent having any reason to talk to her, to question her, would have surprised Megan enough to make her spill her cocktail, had she been drinking one. Not so now. Damn it. She was only surprised the feds were being so blatant this time, that they were actually speaking to her openly.

“Of course.” Megan folded her hands in her lap, decided that looked too prim, as if she had something to hide, and rearranged herself into a more relaxed pose, arms resting on the arms of her chair, ankles crossed. Casual. She hoped.

At least Agent Reid didn’t seem to see a problem. Her mind, when Megan reached into it as stealthily as she could, seemed totally focused on her objective, and seeing what it was put some much-needed steel into Megan’s spine.

“You haven’t asked me why I’m here, Dr. Chase.”

“I assume you’ll tell me, Agent Reid.”

The woman smiled. “I suppose I will. We were wondering if you knew anything about the Bellreive Hotel.”

Okay. This had not been in the woman’s head a few seconds ago. Good thing Megan had had some practice lately in keeping calm, in not letting her own emotions and feelings show. Something she’d always considered herself pretty good at; now she figured she’d just about graduated from the Masterclass.

“I’ve heard of it,” she said. “I’ve never been there. I wouldn’t be able to afford it, I don’t think. Why?”

Agent Reid gave her a sunny smile, as if this was the answer she’d expected. Which it probably was. She pushed a strand of ink-black hair behind her ear and leaned forward, her black-suited body a deep crack against the pale couch and walls. Everything in the room was light, an attempt to counteract the darkness of the windowless space in the dingy little strip mall.

Maybe not as bad as that. It was a big space. It was in a nice part of town. But it still wasn’t . . . wasn’t what she’d dreamed of when she’d thought of having her own practice.

It was good enough, though. And she couldn’t have everything. The rest of her life certainly held little cause for many complaints.

“Since you asked, we’ve received some interesting information,” Agent Reid said. “And I think you’ll be especially interested, as it concerns you.”

“I assumed it did, since you’re here,” Megan replied, “but I can’t imagine how this could have anything to do with me.”

“We’ve received information that a meeting is due to take place at the Bellreive next week. Attending that meeting will be one or two . . . persons of interest to us.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know anything about that.”

“You haven’t taken next week off . . . According to your schedule—”

Megan stood up. Done. “Next week is my birthday. As I believe you know. Yes, I’m taking some vacation time. I have every right to. So?”

“So you’re confirming the meeting?”

Megan just stared at her.

“Dr. Chase, I’m trying to . . . I’m offering you a deal. Immunity. Full and total.” Elizabeth reached into the sleek black briefcase resting like a coiled viper at her side. “If you’d read over these papers—we know you’re not involved. But your testimony, if you would—”

“I’m sorry. I have a patient due here any moment.” Megan dodged the papers and pushed past Elizabeth to open the door. “Thanks for your time, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Perhaps Greyson Dante does.” Elizabeth didn’t move; neither did her eyes, focused intently on Megan’s face. “Greyson Dante? You are involved with him, right? Don’t bother denying it. We already know.”

“Thank you for your time,” Megan said again. She raised her eyebrows, glanced at the open door and the bare little room beyond. The office’s arrangement was one of its chief charms; it may not be the greatest place in the world, but it did provide her patients with privacy. Those exiting left through that little room. Those waiting sat in the furnished waiting area with magazines and a water cooler. Neither saw the other.

She’d never thought the arrangement would be of such benefit to her. It wasn’t as though Agent Reid had “FBI” printed across her forehead in big block letters or anything, but just the same . . . Well. If it weren’t for the separate exit, Megan could hardly stand there with the door open, could she? Not when her two o’clock was bound to be already waiting, and her two o’clock was a notorious shadow-jumper.

Agent Reid finally gave up. She sighed and stood, shoving the papers back into her briefcase. “I do wish you would think about it. It’s only a matter of time, Dr. Chase. Someone with your public image . . .”

Had Megan thought the woman had given up? Ha. No, she’d just been waiting for the opportunity to turn the screw tighter.

But Megan’s skin was pretty thick. So she let the implied threat fall to the ground between them and refused to pick it up. “If you don’t mind, I do have another appointment.”

“Of course.” Agent Reid slipped a stark white business card from the black depths of her suit jacket The blue FBI logo seemed to glow against the background. “Take my card, though, please. And call me if you change your mind. Or if you find yourself at the Bellreive next week.”

Megan took the card. No point in appearing uncooperative. Or rather, more uncooperative than she already appeared.

It didn’t really matter; she hoped it didn’t anyway. But that bothered her too, didn’t it? Hoping it wouldn’t matter? Hoping that Agent Reid and her fairly odd attempt to get whatever information she thought Megan might have were no more important than the few casual words Megan exchanged with the checkout girl at the grocery store and no more likely to stick in anyone’s mind later?

Yes. It did. But there was very little she could do about it at that moment, save utter a quiet “Fuck” under her breath when Agent Reid finally closed the exit door behind herself.

Meanwhile timid taps at the other door told Megan she’d been exactly right. Her two o’clock—Ted Anderson—was there, and even if she wasn’t really watching the clock, he certainly was. He always did.

She shouldn’t be so hard on Ted, though. He’d followed her over from Serenity Partners the winter before, and that loyalty meant something to her. Sure, most of her patients had come along. That didn’t make their loyalty any less valuable.

The door opened with an almost imperceptible squeak. She’d have to oil those hinges again. The office plaza now housing her practice wasn’t old, but apparently the previous tenant had run some kind of family-encounter group that involved lots of slamming doors.

Ted stood just past the threshold in his typical hunched pose, like Sisyphus trying to push his worries up a hill. The overhead lights shone through his thin hair and made his scalp beneath glow pinkish.