Angela Campbell - Something Wicked

Dylan shook his head and addressed the woman across from them. “Tell me this. If you were getting your information from a spirit connected to that necklace, why weren’t you one hundred percent accurate?”

She released a sigh. “I don’t know, Dylan. My best guess is that it’s like a radio signal. Every now and then there’s some interference. I hear the information wrong or it comes across distorted because of something screwy in the transmission.”

Alexandra held up a hand before he could voice his next thought. “Look, you gave me nothing, and I gave you a lot. I think you’re just determined to find excuses, which is your prerogative. Stupid, but your prerogative. I’d really like to get back to the case I volunteered to help you with. Okay?”

Reedus chuckled and gestured toward her. “I like this woman, Collins. We should work with her more often.”

Yeah, and Dylan knew why. All it took was a pretty face and a hot body to win Reedus’s favor. He muttered a curse and put the bagged necklace back in the folder. Doubts nibbled at his conviction that she was a fraud.

Zach had been pretty convincing on TV, too. Don’t forget that.

Zach. He didn’t like the way he kept thinking about his brother today after working years to forget the bastard ever existed. He’d been twelve when his older brother had taken off, abandoned him and their mother as if they’d meant nothing, and Dylan had been a senior in high school when his girlfriend had pulled him over to her TV to watch a new show she’d become fixated on.

The Psychic Detective , starring Zachary Collins. “Gee, you kinda look like him, too,” his girlfriend had commented before asking if there was any relation.

Dylan had been horrified to realize his brother was actually passing himself off as a psychic. Zach had never shown any ounce of having those abilities growing up. He’d known it was a scam, had been pissed as hell that the brother he’d once worshipped had been unworthy of his praise.

The word “psychic” had been a hot button for him ever since.

But maybe he was being too narrow-minded. Just because his brother was a fraud didn’t mean they all were.

“Look,” he told Alexandra. “I’m willing to listen to whatever it is you have to tell me.” He leaned across the table. “But the second it becomes obvious to me that you’re conning me, that’s it. I’m done.”

A beautiful smile lit up her face. “Sounds fair to me. Can we get started now? I mean, seriously.”

“Wait here. I’ll go get the file so we can go over what we already know.”

If Alexandra King could help him solve this case, great. If not, he hadn’t lost anything but a little time.

***

Alexandra’s behind hurt from sitting too long, so she stood to pace the room while she once again studied the crime scene photos Dylan had shared with her.

She stared at the close-up photograph of Candice Christopher’s face. She was the young woman who’d been standing outside the café, the spirit who’d been feeding Alexandra information about the case.

She flipped between pictures showing Candice’s body positioned on her back, one hand covering her face, the other outstretched, and her jean-clad legs crossed at the ankle, and a second, more close-up picture of a tarot card. Dylan had explained that the card had been found next to the body, propped against a tombstone. There was nothing unusual about the card except what it represented. A grim reaper carried a scythe over the word DEATH.

“You okay looking at that?” Dylan asked, and she glanced at him, a little puzzled until she realized he was probably thinking of her penchant for fainting at such things.

“Yeah. Photos don’t bother me.” She flicked a dismissive hand and turned away. She focused on the first photo again. “He’s obviously trying to send a message with the positioning of the body and this card. But what?”

Alexandra had tried closing herself off again earlier, and thought it had held this time. She hadn’t yet opened herself up to information from the other side on this case. She’d wanted a moment to refresh her mind from the test he’d given her and look over the current files. But something was scratching at her consciousness, already trying to make itself known. She imagined a wall, the way her grandmother had taught her, and blocked it. Blocked everything. She liked to familiarize herself with the basic facts before she invited anyone else to weigh in on a criminal case. It helped her decipher the information she was given when she understood a little about it first.

“The other body was also positioned,” Dylan said, sliding a different folder across the table. “Killers don’t usually pose bodies, so yeah, I assume he’s trying to tell us something. Since the positioning is so different on all three of these, I have no idea what it could be.”

“When was the first victim found again?”

“Three months ago.”

Hmm. That was when his mother had started making a menace of herself, insisting Dylan was in danger. Oh, but Alexandra would love to talk to her right now.

He spread open a file and tapped a report. “Second victim was end of August. Third victim was yesterday.”

“So one every month? Any significance to the days?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were they found exactly one month apart or what?”

He shrugged. “Give or take a few days.” His eyes narrowed. “You think he’s on some kind of schedule?”

“I don’t know, Dylan. It might not be a bad idea to see what days the full moons were on.”

“Whoa.”

She glanced up at him. “What?”

“I know two of them were killed on the night of a full moon. I didn’t make that connection until now.” He rubbed at the back of his neck and began pacing. “I remember the first one. Reedus made a comment about the full moon bringing out the lunatics. Last night, I noticed the moon looked full.”

Alexandra reached for her phone and did an Internet search to verify the dates of the last three full moons. “Interesting. They were all killed on full moons.”

“Let me see that.” He stepped close and reached for her phone. Alexandra immediately grew aware of his warmth, his scent, his—

Stop it! He is your boss’s brother! No more touching!

Dylan glanced up, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. His eyes danced with excitement. Excitement that quickly took on a new focus when he seemed to realize how close they were standing. He stepped away.

He cleared his throat. “This is good. This means he probably won’t try to kill again until next month, end of October. Gives us time.”

“Halloween.” Alexandra reached for the newest file and skimmed the crime scene photos in it. A man’s body was propped from the waist up against the wall in an alley, his legs sprawled out in front of him on the cobblestone walkway. Spray-painted in black next to his head was one word. Reaper.

“So that’s his moniker,” she decided. “He wants to be known as the Grim Reaper.”

“Seems like it.”

“Okay.” She wiggled her shoulders to shake out the tension creeping in at that disturbing thought. “I’m going to concentrate now and see if I can find anyone who knows something that will help. I’m going to let them in now.”

Dylan straightened from his position leaning against the table. “Let them in?” His voice was skeptical again.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Not literally. I don’t ever allow them to take over my body. Now shut up so I can think for a minute.”

He crossed his arms, but said nothing else. Man, he was sexy when he did that. All brooding and hot.

Focus on the case, not on Mr. Delicious.

Alexandra closed her eyes and thought of the wall she’d erected in her head. She cracked it open and felt an electric jolt course through her veins like liquid fire. The word COPYCAT flashed in her mind along with DEATH over and over again. Several scenes from various, violent slasher films played in her head, and she felt pleasure at seeing them.