Angela Campbell - Something Wicked

He’d just picked up his phone to call and ask Kathy to peek and tell him what agency Alexandra claimed to work for when Kathy’s voice startled him from behind.

“Paperwork is filed. She’s all yours, Collins.”

***

So he’d been checking her out.

Alexandra wasn’t surprised. She’d expected it. Glancing at the computer screen in front of him, she recognized her name in the search field and tried to take note of the results shown before Dylan turned around in his seat.

A sick, worried feeling gripped her stomach and made her feel momentarily nauseous. Had Spider updated the firm’s website to include her name and bio yet? She hoped not. At least, not yet.

She wanted to talk to Dylan before he made the connection between her and his brother, feel him out and see how receptive he was to reconciliation first. If there was as much bad blood between the two men as Zach seemed to think, she sensed that type of connection would not be to her advantage right now.

Of all the men to fall into bed with her first night in town, of course he would turn out to be a cop and Zach’s brother.

Of course he would.

Putting his phone back in its cradle, Dylan turned and sighed, half smiling up at her and bringing to mind all sorts of naughty memories.

Whoa, girl. Keep your mind on the matter at hand, and not on his, er, weapon.

She crossed her arms and arched a brow at him. “So it’s Detective Collins, is it?”

He stood. “Pleased to meet you, Ms. King.”

“Funny. You remind me of this guy I know, only I don’t think he ever mentioned his name.”

He glanced around, seemed satisfied no one was paying them attention, and lowered his voice. “Poor communication seems to be a real problem here. He doesn’t remember you mentioning you were a psychic either.”

She tilted her head and considered him. “Oh, dear. I thought you only referred to yourself in third person to pick up women. This is a real problem for you, isn’t it?”

He did not look amused as he reached for his jacket and brushed past her. “The only real problem I see here is that I don’t have time for this crap.”

She hurried to keep up with him as he pushed out the door and headed for an unmarked car that had seen better days. He turned his head once he reached the vehicle, looked at her, and sighed as he opened the driver’s side door. “Get in. We’re going to check on the coroner’s report.”

She had to brush aside a fast-food wrapper and bag, but she slid into the seat beside him without commenting on his sudden lack of manners.

“Your car?”

“Detectives aren’t allowed to use personal vehicles on duty.” His gaze skimmed over her doubtfully. “Seems an experienced police consultant would know that.”

She couldn’t help it. She had to roll her eyes. Oh, the fun she could have with this man, winding him up. He hadn’t been nearly so uptight last night.

“I’m not an idiot, detective. I was simply wondering if this was your mess or someone else’s.” She picked up a discarded receipt on the seat beside her. “I have to wonder about any man who eats a simple ham omelet sandwich when the enormous omelet sandwich on their menu is so much tastier.” She handed him the receipt, which he promptly crumpled and tossed over his shoulder into the back seat before starting the car. “Oooh. Messy. Another strike against you. Didn’t your mother teach you better than that?”

Speaking of…where the heck was his mother? Rebecca still hadn’t made an appearance, even though every effort Alexandra had made to close herself off had been futile. She’d seen a few ghosts wandering around, but none had tried to make contact with her. Only that pesky guy from the bar last night, and the young woman from the café this morning.

As she buckled up, she took stock of Dylan’s features and began to notice a slight resemblance to Zach. Both men had thick, dark hair, blue eyes and a strong jawline, but Dylan’s face was longer than his brother’s. Oh yeah, she could see it now, in the daylight, and felt like slapping her forehead and murmuring “D’oh!”

She’d slept with her boss’s little brother.

Oh, Alexandra, how do you get yourself into these things?

He directed the car into traffic and caught her looking at him. “I’m gonna ask you some things, and I expect the truth.”

“Who wouldn’t?”

His chest moved beneath a deep breath. “Why are you in Charleston?”

Ah, heck. Of course that would be the first thing he asked.

“I’m looking for someone.” There. That was the truth.

“Who?”

Well, crap. “A friend’s brother. I’ve been led to believe he’s in trouble.” Please don’t ask for a name.

“What kind of trouble?”

“I have no idea. That’s partly why I’m here. To figure it out.” She flexed her hand in a circle motion. “My information so far has come from … my special abilities.”

He sent her a narrow-eyed look before focusing on the road again. “Mind telling me what your abilities are exactly?”

She shrugged. “I’m a psychic medium. Any dreams, visions, or voices I hear are from the spirits feeding me information.”

“And there are ghosts everywhere, all of the time?” He scoffed. “So all ghosts are crime-fighting ghosts? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Most have the same personalities they had when they were alive. There are plenty of ghosts who keep to themselves, just as there are plenty who like to help if they see an opportunity.” She pursed her lips as she considered his words. “Although I have met some who consider themselves vigilantes of a sort. I met this one guy last year who died on Halloween. I swear, he loved that he’d died dressed as Batman. He used to—”

“Spare me the ghost stories,” Dylan growled. “When did you get here?”

“Last night.” She felt her face warm. “I checked into my hotel, went to the bar to grab something to eat, and you know the rest.”

He grimaced and glanced toward his window, hiding his expression from her. “So you’re ditching your search for your friend’s brother to help us with this case, for free?” He shook his head. “Sorry, honey. Something doesn’t smell right here.”

“Probably that left-over omelet sandwich. I’d toss that bag soon if I were you.”

His lips twitched. “I wasn’t talking about the omelet and you know it.”

Her muscles bunched in that way they always did when she met a skeptic a-hole hell-bent on dismissing her, and nothing she said or did could persuade him to the opposite.

Where the heck was Rebecca? Alexandra would have given anything in that moment for his mother to share some information to really freak him out.

“I don’t expect you to understand. I have a question for you now.”

He nodded. “Alright.”

“What does that grim reaper drawing have to do with the woman who was murdered in the cemetery?”

His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.

A series of images flashing in her mind momentarily disoriented her. The grim reaper cartoon she’d already seen this morning. An image of water. A woman’s hand falling into water. Water flowing onto sand.

She blinked when the road came into focus again in front of her. She blew out her breath and glanced toward the back seat. She didn’t see the dead young woman sitting back there, but Alexandra suspected the woman was hitching a ride and feeding her information telepathically.

This young woman must be the victim. That’s why she was drawn to me, but she’s new, still confused, probably scared. Trying to see if she can trust me before she reveals herself in full.

Alexandra returned her attention to the man beside her. “She wasn’t killed in the cemetery, was she? Her body was just placed there after.”