Psychic Series Boxset: Books 1-3

by Lisa Freed

  I froze, one foot lifted to take the next step.

  “That gentleman you wanted investigated? He was found dead this morning. Don’t bother trying to look it up, it won’t hit the news until tomorrow.”

  Gulping, I lowered my foot and stood rooted to the spot.

  “He was beaten to death. Odd thing about that, his injuries are internal, it’s like a boxer was inside him having a go at his spleen.”

  My mind flashed to Andre Sr’s appearance, maybe not a boxer but not someone to mess with. That had been my first impression of him. Even as a ghost, he was fearsome.

  “Consider our business concluded. Erase this message.” Derek had paused then, and in that silence on the message, I could almost hear him debating with himself. A hard exhale of breath filled the air and the message ended.

  Whatever else Derek had wanted to say he had apparently chosen to keep to himself. Wise advice that I would apply myself on the closed subject of Mateo Carras.

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  Coming soon

  Psychic Unleashed, book 4 in the Psychic Series

  available for preorder

  (have a sneak, peek at the upcoming book)

  CHAPTER ONE

  It had been two weeks since the discovery of Mateo and Adrian’s bodies under the boardwalk at Rehoboth Beach by some poor homeless man. At some point during that time, I’ve stopped becoming a nervous wreck every time my phone rings. While not in the clear the faint stirrings of relief had begun to spread.

  That’s why when my phone began vibrating an ominous red, I knew my time of short-lived hope was over. The moment my hand hovered over the phone the air surrounding me became dense and stifling. My heavy breathing filled my ears even as I tried to steady my nerves.

  Run! My mind screamed. I could see myself packing a bag, gathering my passport, and calling John, begging him to take care of my now four cats. Going a step further I could see myself flying off to some tropical paradise and rebuilding my life in secret.

  As my watering eyes flew around the room they halted on Agnes, my beautiful five-year-old tortie, curled up with the newest member of the bunch, Jill. Jill, an all-black senior kitty, who I had taken in as a foster while the rescue was stuffed to the brim with black cats since Halloween was a very unsafe time of the year for them, had fitted in so nicely. Even Maverick, another foster fail, had taken to the tiny old girl and allowed her to dwell in peace here.

  There was no way I could leave them. Even with John, my trusted best friend since tenth grade. And the rescue, Whisker Kisses, my pride and joy and the fulfillment of a lifetime dream, a place for cats to find their home or for that to be their home. No, no way could I walk away from that. My head shook slowly back in forth as my eyes moved slowly over the rest of my living room.

  My house, despite the violence of that night two weeks ago, I had found to contain no trace of it. All the memories were in my head. It had been three nights since I had replayed those tense, horror-filled minutes where Mateo held me and Adrian hostage. Before the ghost of Andre Sr, Victor’s father and Adrian’s grandfather, had wrestled control away from Mateo by jumping into his body and saving me from the bullet Mateo had been able to fire.

  Maybe it was due to Adrian already being dead and just a host body for Victor but I felt I really could sleep soundly in my house. It also helped that I lived in a gated community. Still, the fact that nobody had reported the gunshot worried me. The same day my new furniture was delivered, a crew of six installed a high-tech security system for me. Peace equals security and that night was dreamless.

  But no more. The still glowing and ringing phone inches from my outstretched hand ended all that. The police were calling and that meant they had found my connection to the two dead men from Greece.

  “Hello?” Despite the way my stomach was chewing itself up with acid my voice sounded calm and even slightly bubbly. Best to reign that in.

  “Ms. Teresa Ashford?” A male voice with a nasally twang inquired in rapid fire. Definitely not a Delawarean with an accent like that. It wasn’t called slower lower for nothing, around here people took their sweet time getting all the syllables out.

  Despite knowing it was the police, thanks to my sixth sense going crazy, I still stopped myself from replying with a yes. “This is she,” I stated like it had been drilled into my head to stop robo spammers that would use that yes to sign me up for who knows what.

  “This is Detective Noah Willis with Rehoboth Homicide,” the twang dipped and all but do-si-doed over the vowels and I pressed the phone harder against my ear. “Ms. Ashford, I would like to swing by and ask a few questions about a Mr. Mateo Carras, and a Mr. Adrian Michaelides.”

  The gulp I took was thankfully not audible but I was floored that I had been connected with not just one but both men already. My mind didn’t race it stopped completely like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Ms. Ashford,” the detective’s voice rose higher still.

  “Do I need my lawyer?”

  A surprisingly deep chuckle filled my highly sensitive ears, “At this point, I don’t think that will be necessary, Ms. Ashford, but if you would like to have one give them a call. I was hoping you were available this afternoon.”

  My mind staggered a bit, the scared deer not quite ready to bolt just yet but quivering with the urge. “I can do this afternoon.”

  “I’ll see you at one.” Almost as an evil taunt, the detective added, “Have a nice day.”

  The call ended and still, I held the phone to my sore ear. When I finally lowered it, I saw the sweaty imprint of my ear on the screen. Yuck! That got wiped on my jeans fast but only smeared the sweat and makeup around more.

  Stomping into the kitchen, I went in search of a microfiber cloth that Helen, my twice weekly cleaning lady, kept on hand. Nothing. With my heart still hammering in my chest from the impending police visit, I took the stairs two at a time, nearly tripping over Maverick, one of the resident cow cats, who was sleeping on the steps. “Sorry, Mav,” I gasped out while pausing to pat his head.

  I found a pack of blue microfiber cloths in the laundry room. The cellophane packaging refused to rip open but surrendered to my teeth. My dentist would have a fit if he saw me. It was only a few months ago that he had fixed a crack in one of my molars after I had chewed on ice.

  Scrubbing at my nasty phone screen I tried to get serious about just what I was going to tell Detective Twang. Since I couldn’t recall his last name that nickname fit. It was past ten now so I had just shy of three hours to get my act together. Part of me wanted to google how to lie to the police but I doubted that would look good if they could somehow check my search history. Could they seize my phone?!!!

  The microfiber floated to the ground, landing on my bare foot as I frantically scrolled through my messages. I had several voice messages from Mateo and two from Adrian, not to mention text messages. Should I erase them? I paced the hallway in front of the laundry room.

  I could really use some help. I wished Victor was here. Not that he could help being a ghost and all but a friendly ear and some support would go a long way. Plus, he, no doubt, had had dealings with the police in his sordid past. You weren’t the son of a big-time drug kingpin if you didn’t know how to hustle the cops, right? But it didn’t matter, after that night two weeks ago when he told me how sorry he was for the whole mess and that he loved me he had disappeared. Gone to who knows where.

  Despite my better judgment I had hauled out the Ouija board last week and tried to
summon him. I had hoped that some nostalgia would bring him back since it was through the board that we had met when I was sixteen. Those had been some wild times, as all his anger and fear had made the simple wooden board shift and smack against the floor. It was unusual for the planchette to spin off the board and zoom around my bedroom. What had been astonishing had been when he had appeared to me looking far more solid than any ghost ever had. I had seen ghosts for years but had always known what they were due to their faded or slightly dimmer appearance. But Victor? It had felt like he could gather me in his long arms, pull me to his exposed chest, and ravish me like in the naughty romance novels I enjoyed reading.

  But that never happened, at least not how we wanted it to. I couldn’t stop the sigh that escaped me or how I slumped against the wall, my phone clutched against my chest. Victor couldn’t touch me, despite how solid he appeared he was still a spirit of a man that had been dead and in a watery grave for longer than I had been alive. Whenever he passed through me, I became violently ill. I shuddered remembering how cold and vile the experience had been.

  Pushing away from the wall, I leaned over picking up the discarded bit of blue microfiber. None of that was helping me, all it was doing was ripping me apart even more. Victor, if he ever came back, would do so in his own sweet time, same as always. Maybe he could visit me in jail. That didn’t even justify a chuckle.

  Going into my bedroom I spied Jill, the newest member of my happy feline family, her slight black body stretched out full length in the center of my bed. “Comfy?” I commented, reaching out to rub her warm fur as she purred. Jill had been one of the black cats that my rescue, Whisker Kisses, had been overrun with last month as we tried to keep them safe from weirdos who wanted to hurt them just because of the color of their fur. Thankfully, it was now after Halloween and quite a few of the cats had found homes or had gone back to various other shelters and groups as space became available.

  Now that did make me laugh. Helen had taken one of the cats right from my house and I had conned my best friend, John, into fostering two boys which he was now the proud cat daddy of.

  I paused in stroking Jill and nibbled on my lower lip. I could call John, but that would mean updating him on the entire Mateo/Victor/Adrian mess. I had kinda kept him in the dark about Mateo even being here in Delaware. When he had called to tell me about a dead guy named Mateo being found I hadn’t enlightened him to the fact that it was “my” Mateo nor that I knew he was in town because I had been on a few dates with him. That had seemed wise at the time and thought I really wanted to confide in him I knew he would blow it all out of proportion.

  Okay, he would probably be right to do so but still, I didn’t want to deal with that. So, no calling John either. Unless I wanted to bug someone at Whisker Kisses, who knew absolutely nothing about the current situation, I was truly on my own.

  Then it hit me with enough force that it’s was good I was already sitting down because otherwise, I might have fallen on my butt. Or just banged my head against the floor. Someone at Whisker Kisses did know a bit about this. Sandy! She had been there when Mateo had shown up for a tour and to take me to lunch. Oh, shoot!

  How far would the police search? Would they canvass the neighborhood? Talk to all the people at my “work”? I was so screwed and I hadn’t done a darn thing!

  Well other than clean up a murder scene. Hmmm…okay, maybe I was pretty guilty. But I still hadn’t directly killed anyone! Surely that counted for something.

  CHAPTER TWO

  After three clothing changes, I had settled for a sweatshirt in muted tones of lavender with a cat flying on a unicorn screen printed on the front of it and a pair of well-worn comfy jeans that I had owned for years. My bad habit of daily sodas hadn’t caught up to me yet, thankfully. I was hoping to go with the image of a carefree young adult, perfectly harmless.

  When Detective Twang arrived, I felt his cold gray eyes assessing me through the glass of the storm door and knew there would be no lying to this man. He was tall, lean, and weathered, reminding me faintly of a young Clint Eastwood during his spaghetti western days, which I absolutely adored. If circumstances had been different, I so would have been crushing on him.

  “Detective T…,” I almost slipped but caught myself. Even so, those eyes of his flickered with something…amusement or contempt? I simply couldn’t read the man! A tickle of unease teased at my spine and I rubbed my moist palms on my jeans.

  “Detective Willis,” came the blunt reply. His accent sounded much smoother in person than it had on the phone.

  Licking my dry lips, I forced myself to continue smiling as I asked, “Could I see your badge please.”

  His thin, flesh-colored lips quirked up at that, but he thrust a hand in the pocket of the hip length black coat he wore. He withdrew it and held a pretty unimpressive gold oval with Rehoboth Police in raised letters up to the glass for me to examine.

  It had just been something that seemed to be asked on the crime shows, I had no way of knowing what made a badge real or fake. Still, I squinted my eyes and took in all the details. Suddenly, inspired, I opened the door and held out a hand for it.

  At that Detective Willis outright grinned and I felt my knees go weak. Hello gorgeous!

  He humored me, dropping his badge into my outstretched palm, his gray eyes never leaving my face.

  Once the piece of metal was in my hand, I tried hard to school my expression but I couldn’t quite stop the tiny gasp that slipped past my dazed lips.

  Detective Willis’ hand grabbed at the storm door and because I hadn’t relocked it, he was able to pull it open, his face carefully blank. “Are you okay, Ms. Ashford? Did the pin get you?”

  Turning the badge over in my hand, I did indeed see a pin with a small butterfly clutch pin back carefully over the sharp point. “No, I’m fine.” I didn’t even bother to try to come up with some lame reason for my reaction. It was better to remain silent on that issue.

  Detective Willis was a very intelligent man and a very deadly one. I had to hope I could convince him of my innocence. When the still warm badge had touched my hand so many things had blasted me, hence the gasp. But thankfully the most important thing that had swirled up from the symbol of trust and authority was just that, he was a good man that was truthful and fair.

  My very life might be in this man’s capable hands. With utmost care I returned his badge to him, trying to ignore the slight tremor in my hand. As his large, square hand closed over the badge my stomach did a little flip.

  Careful girl, I cautioned myself and yet opened the door further to allow the detective inside. I waved my right hand to usher him into the living room but he nodded slightly and inclined his own arm, indicating for me to proceed first.

  As I walked past him my nose twitched. His aftershave, a fresh lemony scent, filled my nostrils, drifting down into my mouth making me yearn for a lemon meringue pie. It might have been bold of me to invite the police officer into my living room, the scene of the crime, but I had faith in not only the thorough cleaning I had done but, in the fact, that Helen had been four times since then. That coupled with the new furniture and I felt safe.

  “Please have a seat, Detective Willis,” I said while remaining standing. Once he sat down on the couch I asked, “Would you like a drink? Water? Soda?” I was dying for a hit of caffeine.

  “No, thank you, Ms. Ashford. I’m fine.” Dang! There went my chance to get a soda. As if sensing my need he added, “Please get a drink if you want.”

  “Be right back,” I called even as I was racing out of the room. After grabbing a bottle of Cherry Coke, I forced myself to return at a much more normal pace. Even so, Detective’s Willis’ eyes watched me carefully, his black jacket now opened to reveal a light blue dress shirt underneath and the unmistakable dull black grip of a handgun resting on his side.

  I sat down in the armchair facing the couch, opened the bottle and took a long pull. The sugar and caffeine might not have helped that quickly but the feel of
the chilled bottle in my hands went a long way to comfort me.

  Willis’ eyes followed my movements then drifted around the room. “Are we waiting for your attorney?” he asked.

  “Ummm… No, I haven’t called them,” I answered honestly. “Hopefully I won’t need them.”

  A strangled laugh filled the quiet of the room, one he immediately bit back. “You’re aware of why I’m here? You’re not a suspect at this point.” He watched me and I couldn’t stop the slight smile of relief that tugged at my mouth though I tried to hide it by taking another swig of soda. He continued, “I’m here to ask some questions and get a better understanding of your relationship with both Mr. Carras and Mr. Michaelides.”

  I nodded, my gaze fixed on the slight bump on the bridge of his narrow nose. It was safer to look there than in his all-knowing eyes. When I had held his badge, so many of his past cases had flown across my eyes, he had an impressively high solve rate.

  “So, you know both men are deceased?” His question was casual, almost as if we were discussing a movie or a shared interest, not dead men.

  Another fortifying gulp of Coke burned and fizzled down my throat and I decided how I would proceed. It was time to lay it out for him and trust this was the right move.

  “I do, I saw it online,” I took a breath before continuing but was cut off.

  “And they were found together, yet they left your house separately.”

  Thank goodness I wasn’t drinking or I would have choked, a pretty typical reaction of mine at times of stress. He knew they were at my house that night!

  His hard face remained almost expressionless yet his body shifted slightly, leaning toward me. “Oh, yes, we know both men were at your house the night of their deaths. You’re not a suspect, yet, because you did not leave your house until the next morning, well past the time of their deaths. Which the medical examiner has put at an hour after they left.” The dark slashes of his eyebrows rose as one as he waited for my reaction to that.