Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology

by Colleen Gleason

  “Thanks.” He nodded to Bev, then motioned for John to follow him. When they reached the sheriff’s office, Roy popped the pill Bev had given him and dry swallowed. “Don’t get old,” he said, taking a seat.

  John hid a smile as he took in the sheriff’s office. Paul Bunyan liked color and a cozy atmosphere, and apparently art. Several paintings hung between large maps of Chippewa County and the state of Wisconsin, standing out against the yellow walls. One painting of the town square and the other...well, it was a chaotic display of colors, sort of abstract, he supposed—not that he knew anything about art. But he did know something beautiful when he saw it, and damn if that waitress didn’t pop into his head.

  “Okay.” Roy drew his attention away from the paintings and thoughts of the woman who served an excellent sandwich. “Carl Saunders is the ME working on the victims. Dean Atwell, his assistant, ran all four of our victims’ prints through AFIS and we got a hit on two of them. Ruby Styles and Colleen Kelpick both have records for prostitution in Indiana and both had been known to work at truck stops, which might confirm your trucker theory.”

  Roy continued to scan the fax, then his green eyes lit up with excitement. “And apparently our guy wasn’t as thorough as he thought. Dean found a broken necklace with a heart-shaped charm tangled in Ruby Styles’s hair. Oh this is good. Real good.”

  He frowned not understanding what good the necklace would do them. They already had an ID on the woman, but if Atwell had found the necklace on one of the other two Jane Does, it might have helped link them to someone who knew them, and maybe been able to help give them an ID. “He washed the bodies, and didn’t leave a stitch of any of the victims’ clothes behind. I’d say he was not only thorough, but that he knew what he was doing, and probably has done this before.”

  Roy looked up from the fax, the earlier excitement fading from his eyes. “I can’t believe...I should have paid better attention. Those women were in bad shape, there should have been blood on their faces, on their...” He cleared his throat, his face paling, the lines of worry and anxiety deepening around his eyes. “I should have paid better attention.”

  “How many murders do you get around here?” John asked, softening his tone. “Don’t beat yourself up over it. What you saw today, most law enforcement officers will never see in their lifetime. Now, back to Ruby Styles and Colleen Kelpick, if we can pinpoint their last whereabouts, it might help us link them to this guy.” Adding now might be the time to ask for DCI’s assistance was at the tip of his tongue, but Ian had expressed, vehemently, that he’d wanted no outside help. Again, why?

  “I’ll have Bev pull both victims’ arrest reports and make calls to the local PD. I’ll get Indiana State Highway Patrol involved, too. I know a few guys from way back when.” The color in the sheriff’s face had returned to normal as he jotted notes on a pad of paper. “Do you think the other two vics are prostitutes, too?”

  “Probable, based on Styles and Kelpick. The Jane Does appeared younger, though. Maybe they just hadn’t been on the job long enough to get busted.”

  “But you think our killer has been.”

  “On the job? Oh yeah. Let’s go back to his dump site. I want to do another walk through while the ME does the autopsies.” Let his mind go to work, momentarily become the killer.

  Roy looked at his watch. “I’m waiting on a third party.”

  “The deputy who’d found the body? Did he remember something else?”

  “No, not Ed.” The sheriff released a sigh. “Now, don’t get all shitty with me, but I’m close friends with a psychic—”

  John laughed as he started to rise. “Sorry, Sheriff, I don’t do psychics. I’ll head to the dump site alone.”

  “Ian said you’d give me full cooperation,” Roy reminded him, “and, well, here’s the thing.” He paused. “Would you please sit back down?”

  He did, although reluctantly, while wondering if Ian had any idea about Roy and his personal psychic hotline.

  “She—”

  “Your psychic?” He released an impatient sigh, wishing he were on that golf trip to Scottsdale right now, even though he couldn’t play the game worth shit. He didn’t want to deal with a psychic, he wanted hard evidence.

  “Over the past week, she’s had visions of four murders, and I asked her to meet with us. I want her to tag along to the dump site, and see if she gets...I dunno what you call it.”

  “A reading?” Oh, this was just too much. What the hell was Ian’s connection to the sheriff that he’d made him promise to follow along with whatever Roy wanted during this case? Psychics. They were a load of shit. If they could predict the freaking future then every last one of them would have hit the lotto and been living like kings.

  “See, now you’re getting shitty with me on this.”

  “I am getting shitty. I don’t want to waste valuable time on a bunch of BS that...” He stopped mid-sentence. The aroma of freshly baked cookies wafted through the room. The air around him seemed to charge with an electrical current. His skin prickled with a strange, sensual excitement, setting him on edge and once again reminding him how long it had been since he’d given into his baser needs. His cravings.

  He caught the sheriff’s line of vision and swiveled in his chair.

  Her. The waitress from the diner stood in the doorway with her hip propped to the side. Her faded jeans riding low on her curvy hips, and wearing a tight pink t-shirt with the words “Got Sugar?” emblazoned across her full breasts. She smiled at the sheriff, a big, broad, dimpled smile. Dark blond curly hair fell just below her ears. It looked downy, silky and sexy. His fingers tingled to touch it, to feel the softness run though his hands.

  Her smile faded when her blue eyes met his. “Hey. Sorry I’m a little late. We were busy today and I had a few things to wrap up before I could leave.”

  She kept her gaze on him as she spoke to the sheriff. John swore the room vibrated with her electricity, licked at his skin, touched him in a way he had no words to describe.

  “Not a problem. Come on in. Are those cookies in that bag?”

  She pulled out a Styrofoam container. “Plus the meatloaf sandwich you’d asked for,” she said with another dimpled grin. Dimples he’d like to run his tongue along just before he kissed her.

  “Thanks, I’ll save it for dinner.” Roy took the container, then nodded to him. “This is John Kain. John, Celeste Risinski. She runs The Sugar Shack, is the best baker in three counties, and the psychic I was telling you about.”

  As Roy turned his back to stow the sandwich into a mini refrigerator next to his desk, the psychic offered her hand. He looked at it, then to her face. Her eyes snared his. Challenging him.

  The sexy blonde had him in knots. With reluctance, he shook her hand, then was both relieved and disappointed when he didn’t experience another sensual jolt like he’d had at the diner. Still, he felt a deep connection. Sexual urges that he’d never experienced before, that were, even now, causing his dick to harden again. But those urges needed to remain dormant, especially if Roy planned on partnering her with him. He couldn’t allow himself to become involved with a partner. Renee’s image flashed in his head. Been there, done that.

  “I had lunch at the diner,” he said to Roy’s back, as he released Celeste’s hand, even as the urge to keep touching her ran strong. Damn it. What was wrong with him? He had a case to conduct, not the time to fool around with one of the locals, especially a psychic who’d sent his libido into overdrive.

  Celeste rocked on her heels, and shoved her hands into her back pockets. Since he’d walked out of the diner, she hadn’t been able to push him or the longings he’d awakened from her mind. While she hadn’t had another sensual vision when they’d touched, she had felt a connection. Something deep, and disconcerting. Something that made zero sense. Something she needed to pretend didn’t exist.

  Over the years, she’d become very good at pretending things didn’t affect her. Her best friend Mary, a career student, who’d ta
ken courses from art history to psychology and everything in between, called her aptitude for purposeful forgetfulness a defense mechanism. Mary was probably right, even if she didn’t have a psychology degree.

  Keeping her mind clear of upsetting or unexplainable emotions and thoughts had kept her sane.

  “Good food, huh?” Roy took a seat. “Ain’t nothing like The Sugar Shack for miles.”

  She couldn’t help the genuine grin. “I swear. You’re a walking advertisement. I should double your freebies.” Her smile fell when she caught a glimpse of her handwriting scribbled on top of a stack of papers in front of him. “Are those...” She swallowed hard as the anxiety that had been with her for four days made her knees weaken.

  “Yeah, honey, these are your notes. Take a seat. I think you’ll need to.”

  She sat, dread gripping her. She’d only seen Roy this serious and disturbed once, and that had been when her mother died. Like then, the laugh lines that normally crinkled around his eyes seemed deeper, more somber. “You found the women,” she whispered, and gripped the edge of the chair.

  He gave her a solemn nod. “We did. John is here to help with the investigation.”

  “FBI?” she asked, running a shaky hand along her forehead.

  “No, ma’am. I’m with CORE, a private agency which specializes in all types of criminal investigations.”

  Her mind was too muddled with the fact her visions were real to care who Kain worked for. Right now, her head was full of the memories of her nightmares. Brief glimpses of women during their final moments, before a cord had been wrapped around their necks and the life squeezed out of them.

  “Celeste, look at me.” Roy’s rough, stern tone refocused her attention. “That call I’d gotten from Ed this morning...he’d found one of the women. When we got there, we found three others. While John is here to help, I’d like your involvement as well, but only if you want to.”

  She met his gaze. “Of course, whatever I can do.” She’d do anything to make the nightmares stop before they drove her insane.

  He grinned, though the smile didn’t meet his eyes. “That a girl,” he encouraged. “John and I are heading to the dump site now. I was hoping you’d join us, look around, see if you can, I dunno, see something we can’t.”

  “Yeah, sure.” She stared at her lap, then raised her eyes to Roy as she had a horrifying thought. “None of the bodies...victims, I mean, are—”

  “No, honey, CSU took them to the morgue in Eau Claire.” He played with his mustache, a nervous habit she’d picked up on a long time ago. “They were able to ID two of the women.”

  “And?”

  “Well, one of them had a necklace tangled in her hair.”

  “Sheriff.” Kain’s censuring tone had her whipping her head in his direction. “You’re revealing pertinent information that if leaked could—”

  “Celeste won’t tell anybody,” Roy snapped, irritation flushing his face. He kept his eyes trained on Kain for a moment before turning his gaze back to her.

  She wanted to cry. Roy looked as if what he was about to say had him tortured, mind, body and soul. “I know you can sometimes get a read off of objects. After we check out the dump site, would you be willing to try to get something off the victim’s necklace?”

  “This is a murder investigation,” Kain said before she could answer. “And I don’t think there’s any need to rely on her special powers.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “Let’s leave it to the professionals. Really, Sheriff, she’s out of her league.”

  “She is sitting right there.” Roy rose, and stabbed a finger at Kain. “Celeste is a strong woman. There’s nothing out of her league, and I trust her with my life. So lose the attitude or I’ll call—”

  “Enough.” She turned to Kain. “I honestly don’t want to be involved in this, but I do want to put an end to my nightmares. If you’re worried I’m going to gossip, don’t.”

  His dark eyes softened before he shrugged. “I’m just the hired help. If Roy wants you on board...”

  “I do, so let’s go. It’s about thirty minutes to the dump site and at this time of year, the sun fades fast. Celeste, you can ride with me, Kain, you go with—”

  “Roy, Matt’s here, demanding to see you,” Bev broke in on the phone intercom.

  “Shit. Okay, tell him to hang tight.”

  “Boysen, the reporter?” Kain asked.

  Roy sighed. “The one and only. Okay, change of plans. Jesse and I will meet you. Lloyd has been keeping the area secure, and Dan’s meeting us there. Both can show you around. Now go on and head out the back door. I don’t want Matt knowing we’re using Celeste on this.” He handed Kain her notes. “Read these when you have a chance.”

  “What about my car?” she asked, although more concerned with the papers in Kain’s hands. She had seen the disbelief in his eyes regarding her abilities, and while it had ticked her off, for the second time today, she wished she were normal, not psychic. She’d rather have the heated gaze Kain had sent her earlier at the diner, than the one he was giving her now. Once again the loneliness set in, wrapping itself around her and making her shiver as if this were another dreaded Wisconsin winter rather than an Indian summer.

  “Everybody knows that if you’re not at the diner, or baking in your basement, you’re here, BSing with me and Bev. Don’t worry, I’ll handle Matt. Besides it’ll give you two a chance to talk.”

  The last thing she wanted to do was talk to someone who looked at her as if she were a complete nut job. Except, as she followed him to his car, his broad shoulders and ass caught her attention. Her body instantly hummed with the remembrance of his touch, making her crave more. Something about this man had her longing for freedom, and passion, and searching for an answer to the loneliness and restlessness plaguing her.

  Not that she’d necessarily find those things with him. Besides, she couldn’t be with a man who didn’t accept or believe in her abilities. But a girl could dream...without nightmares.

  Chapter 5

  JOHN PULLED OFF of Main Street and onto the two lane highway leading them to the dump site. The minutes stretched. With Celeste staring out the passenger window, ignoring him, the silence grew unbearable. So much for talking.

  He hadn’t meant to come off like a total dick, but damn it, he didn’t do psychics. Okay, he’d like to do this particular psychic, spread her out on his bed and find out if she tasted as delicious as she smelled.

  Bad idea. She was now officially his unofficial partner, and the past had taught him a deadly lesson in that regard. You just don’t mix business with pleasure. Besides, Roy had an obvious fatherly affection toward her, and a strong connection to Ian. Those were two men he didn’t want as enemies. Ian was his boss, he respected him, admired him...owed him for giving him a second chance after he’d left the FBI. Roy? Well, even though he was probably twenty years younger than the sheriff, and had a tremendous amount of combat training, the man still resembled Paul Bunyan, and he didn’t believe in the bigger they are the harder they fall bullshit. Been there done that, too many times.

  Still, he couldn’t disregard that touch back at the diner. Just thinking about it, how his body had exploded with the need to possess her in every way possible, had him wanting to know more about her. Which was stupid. He had no interest in becoming involved with a woman claiming to be a psychic. Besides, other than his body, he had little else to offer her. What was left of his heart, he dedicated to his family and CORE. His soul...his soul was too tarnished, blackened by a past he couldn’t seem to put to rest. Renee’s image flashed in his mind. Not her pretty angular features, or her dark eyes, but what she’d looked like the last time he’d seen her. Her thin lips, held wide with the barrel of a gun shoved down her throat.

  Holding back a wince and clearing his head of a memory that had continued to haunt him for nearly two years, he gripped the steering wheel. He’d do his part in Wissota Falls, keep as much distance as possible from Celeste, then take Ian up on the trip t
o Scottsdale. While he hated golf, he hated the unfamiliar territory he treaded on with the sexy psychic even more. His career was on track again, and he had no room for a relationship. A one-night-stand maybe, but just picturing Roy’s beefy fist bouncing off his nose had him eliminating that idea before it could take root.

  So he was stuck with the psychic beauty for the time being. He’d had worse partners, but at least they’d talked to him. Glancing over at her, he wished she’d say something. Tell him to go to hell or better yet joke around with him like she’d done with the customers at the diner. It appeared, though, that she carried a stubborn streak. “It’s unseasonably warm here,” he said lamely, breaking the ice.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “So you run the diner?” He’d try that route.

  “Yep.”

  Minutes ticked, then she released a dramatic sigh.

  Shit, here it comes.

  “Kain, I—”

  “John.”

  She swiveled and stared at him.

  “I’d prefer if you called me John.” For whatever reason, Kain sounded cold, and he didn’t like the idea of any coldness coming from her lush, kissable lips, even if he couldn’t taste them.

  She furrowed her dark-blond brows. “Okay, John. Look, I don’t care if you believe in my visions.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “No. I. Don’t.” She twirled a curl around her finger. “But Roy asked for my help, so maybe I should just tell you about these dreams I’ve been having.”

  “You mean the nasty little nightmares keeping you from your beauty sleep.”

  “Please don’t talk to me in that condescending tone. I’m tired, exhausted, actually. I haven’t slept much in the past four days.” Her voice trembled and guilt niggled at him.

  She did look tired. Like the sheriff, she wore a smile in public, but the telltale signs of weariness were there, etched on her face. He glanced at her and for the first time noticed pale purple smudges under her stormy blue eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound condescending.”