Janie Crouch - Primal Instinct

Conner smiled back, looking sheepish. “I know. It doesn’t exactly fit the tough-guy image.”

The way he cocked his head to the side caused his black hair to fall onto his forehead. Before she could stop herself, Adrienne’s fingers reached up to tuck the hair into place. Halfway to his head she realized what she was about to do and immediately lowered her hand back to the table. She studied the photos again intently, hoping he hadn’t noticed her...

Her what? Desire to touch him? Inexplicable need to be closer to him? Complete lack of control of her own hands?

Adrienne stared down at the pictures for a long time without looking up, grateful for the distraction, although she still wasn’t getting any helpful info from them.

“Are you sure these are all the work of the same killer?” she finally asked.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in Conner’s voice. “He has a signature that makes it clear they are all the same killer.” He didn’t offer any information about what that signature was. Adrienne didn’t ask, knowing he wouldn’t tell her anyway.

Adrienne was tired of looking at these poor dead women. It was so frustrating to review them without any understanding as to what and how it had happened. She pushed the pictures back toward Conner’s side of the table.

“I need a break. I can’t look at them anymore right now.”

She gazed at Conner, expecting to find more of yesterday’s hostile and condescending tone from him. Instead, he looked attentive, even the slightest bit sympathetic.

“You know, it’s okay,” Conner said gently. “Whatever’s going on here, whatever reason you’re not able to help us, it really is okay.”

Adrienne couldn’t help but respond to his gentleness. “This has never happened to me. The...nothing. I’ve always been able to hear or see or feel something before.”

“It’s been a long time since you’ve done anything like this, right? Maybe you just need to ease yourself back into it, like you said.” The gentleness was still there but Adrienne could hear the disbelief that colored his tone.

“You don’t understand. I always hear something when I’m around people, no matter what. It’s like a buzz. But right now I don’t hear anything.”

“Maybe it’s the pressure of the situation. Or maybe the pictures are too old or something.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Look, Adrienne. I want to give you this chance, while we’re here alone, to tell me if there’s something you want to tell me. You know, about your abilities or about when you worked for the FBI before.”

“I don’t understand.” Adrienne was honestly puzzled.

“I mean, if you were in some way exaggerating what you could do—in terms of profiling and working for the FBI—either then or now. Or, hell, even if you had completely tricked the Bureau before, you can tell me, and I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”

“What?”

“I’m just telling you, I’ll protect you from any repercussions. We’ll come up with some reason why you can’t help us that everyone will buy. I’ll even make sure Rick Vincent is taken care of and won’t be arrested.”

He had the nerve to sit there with his gorgeous green eyes and say this to her.

Adrienne struggled to keep her temper from boiling over. “So let me make sure I understand this. You think I deceived the FBI ten years ago when I worked for them and that I’m back again, lying now. Wasting my time and yours.”

She could see Conner attempting damage control in his mind. But she never gave him a chance to speak.

“And you, very magnanimously I might add, are offering to protect me if I just come clean now and, what, admit this was all a hoax?”

“Adrienne, calm down.”

Adrienne raised her eyebrows at that—no man should ever tell an upset woman to calm down—but she kept quiet.

“I’m just trying to offer you an out if you need it.”

“Well, thank you, Agent Perigo.” She saw him grimace. “But despite you thinking I’m a liar and a cheat, not to mention some sort of juvenile attention-seeker, I don’t need an out!”

“Listen, I’m not trying to offend you. But I’ve been an agent a long time, and I’ve never seen anything that suggested a gift such as yours is real. As a matter of fact, the exact opposite is true. When someone comes forth and claims to be ‘psychic’ and know something about a case, almost always he or she is involved in some way.”

Adrienne took a deep breath. Conner was skeptical. She had dealt with skepticism before, even considered it healthy. No one should blindly believe someone else without reason. Why did she feel the need to prove herself to him when she never had felt that way about anyone else?

“I’m not a psychic,” Adrienne said quietly.

“Whatever you want to call it. Good, smart detective work is what solves cases, not hocus-pocus.”

“It’s not magic, Perigo. It’s just the way my brain works. Some people are geniuses with musical instruments. Some are whizzes when it comes to math. My brain is just wired differently than most people.”

“Then why isn’t your gift working now?”

Temper threatened again. “I don’t know!”

Seth chose that moment to come in with the coffee. He put the cup carrier down, looking back and forth between Adrienne and Conner, noticing the obvious tension between them.

“Here you go, Adrienne. Coffee, black. And here’s your froufrou, princess,” he said as he handed Conner his drink. “You owe me $4.50.”

“How come I have to pay, but she doesn’t?”

“Because her drink didn’t involve an embarrassing list of words to order.” Seth sat down in his chair. “Anything come to you while I was gone?”

“Nothing, Seth, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, we’ve got time.”

Adrienne hoped time would help.

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