“I’d be honored.” He handed the menu back, pressing it into her hand with a wink. The red in Sally’s cheeks deepened, and she practically skipped back to the kitchen.
Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly.
I shook my head. I couldn’t shake the feeling there was more to this man.
Within seconds, Sally returned with a big mug of black coffee and flashed him a smile. “I’ll be right back, just sit tight.”
After she left I wasn’t sure what to say, so I blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “You were here early this morning. You certainly didn’t waste any time.” Crap. I shouldn’t talk to him about the case, but I was curious as to how he’d learned about the accident.
“I’ve been following Scott Malone for days now” was all he said. He took a drink of his coffee. He leaned in close, making the booth seem more intimate. “So, this seems like a lovely town, but it also seems like an odd place for someone of your persuasion. Have you lived here all your life?”
“No, I was born in St. Louis, but my father was from here.” The change in subject put me out of my comfort zone. I’d never had an active social life and always struggled with small talk. “And you? Where are you from?”
“Oh, I’ve traveled a lot. Been here and there. Indy is just where I hang my hat.”
I got the impression that even that might be temporary. The idea of flitting from one place to another made me uneasy. I had a pleasant life here for the most part, and I couldn’t imagine leaving.
The bell over the door rang and in walked Sheriff Black. He sat next to the old-timer and struck up a jovial conversation. I sat back, away from Rick and our all-too-intimate posture, feeling guilty. Rick must have noticed my withdrawal. He looked over his shoulder.
“You haven’t done anything wrong,” he said. “There’s no reason we can’t have lunch together.”
I sighed and took another sip of coffee. “I’m sure the sheriff could find something I’ve done wrong.” I caught Black’s eyes and nodded in his direction. He scowled back and continued his chat. “He goes out of his way to be nice to everyone in town, just like the politician he is. I don’t know why he’s such a prick to me,” I said, unintentionally.
Rick looked back over his shoulder again and shook his head. “I know his type. I bet it pisses him off to have to work with you. You do know it’s not about you, right?”
I was about to answer when Sally returned with a plate piled high with meat and potatoes, a basket of sweet-smelling corn bread, and a jar of dark honey. “You just holler if you need something else.”
I kept eyeing the sheriff and realized that when he found out that missing girl was a witch, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help find her. So, with Black sitting no more than twenty feet away I made the decision to do something myself.
I waited for Rick to start his meal before I steered our conversation back to Scott Malone. If he had kidnapped those girls, I needed to know more. “Why do you think Scott was here? He wasn’t on a major route when the car crashed.”
“My guess is he was headed to Chicago. He was probably trying to avoid the highway.”
“Why those girls? Was he targeting witches?” I pressed.
“My guess is they were easy targets,” he said, leaving a lot open to interpretation.
“You said you’d been working on a series of kidnappings. Has he done this before? What happened in the other cases?”
“They’re still open.” He shifted his gaze to the counter and back to me. “I don’t think we should discuss the case anymore,” he said, a finality in his voice. Perhaps if I wasn’t willing to share, he wasn’t either. Or maybe he was trying to protect me.
There was a long, awkward silence while I watched him push his food around on his plate. He looked up and studied me for a moment. His intense, probing gaze made me uneasy. “So, I’m intrigued,” he finally said in a low voice. “Witches aren’t usually in the death business.”
He was right. Witches gathered power from the living: plants, animals, and even other people. Because of that, most witches preferred to work with the living. But my powers made it hard to be around other people, so I preferred to work with the dead.
“I enjoy my work,” I said curtly, taking a page from his book.
“So, you find much use for your magic in the funeral business?” He wouldn’t let the subject drop.
I put my spoon down, appetite lost, and looked directly at Rick. “All this pretense? Why don’t you just come out and ask what it is you actually want to know. So, what is it? Do you want to know what branch of magic I practice?” It was akin to asking a woman her weight and a subject usually not broached with a stranger.
He gave me a wolfish grin, making my heart flutter. “My, you’re direct. I like that in a woman. Well, since you brought it up, do tell?”
“I’m an empath.” I sounded a lot more defensive than I had intended.
“Hmm.” He seemed to consider this for a moment, and then smirked. “I think the dead might be beyond your help.”
“Yes, but their relatives need comfort, and that’s something I can do.”
He nodded slightly and returned to picking at the potatoes on his plate. “So, I’ve always been curious. Can empaths read people? I know it’s all about the emotions, but do you get thoughts too?”
It wasn’t an unusual question. Empaths weren’t common, and I gave him credit for knowing that much. “Not thoughts. Just emotions and will. I’m not a telepath, but trust me, emotions are more useful than thoughts. You can manipulate your thoughts, but you can’t hide your emotions.”
“Can’t I? Have you been reading me?” He leaned across the table and said in a breathy voice, “Can you tell what I’m feeling right now?”
My breath caught. Damn it. Maybe I should have been reading him because I could’ve sworn he was coming on to me. I shook off the thoughts and turned my attention back to the conversation. “I take great care not to invade anyone’s personal business,” I said, tapping my ring. “I can block most impressions until I take the ring off.”
He eyed my ring with curiosity but didn’t comment. I grabbed my cup, suddenly self-conscious of my hands. His casual and easy ways made me uncomfortable. He was tantalizing, like an illicit object, and I desperately wanted to go below the surface to discover all his secrets. Instead I continued the banter. “So, since we seem to be playing this game, I’ve shown you mine.” I raised an eyebrow.
“Me? I’m just your ordinary, run-of-the-mill witch,” he said far too quickly. “Magic spells, charms, and all. Nothing special about me.”
Somehow I doubted that. Rick was many things: charming, intense, charismatic. “Ordinary” wasn’t a word I’d use to describe him. This conversation had gone way off the reservation, and I knew I should end it now.
“I need to get back. I’ve got some things to finish up. I’m waiting to hear back from the FPD.” I looked over to where the sheriff sat, and wondered if he’d gotten my message. Turning back to Rick, I smiled. “Why don’t you stop by tomorrow,” I said casually in an awkward attempt to find out his schedule.
He dropped a twenty on the table, taking my hint and standing up. “I appreciate your help. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” He waved to Sally in the kitchen and walked out the front door.
“Olivia, where have you been hiding that hunk of a man?” Sally asked when she came out of the kitchen.
“He knew the crash victim from last night,” I said watching him walk up the street. “He’ll be gone by tomorrow.”
“Well, sugar, if you don’t get that man’s number you’re a fool. He’s smitten with you, I can tell.”
“Thanks, Sally. I’ll keep that in mind.” I couldn’t help but smile. He did intrigue me, but there was still something about him that made me uneasy. I sat and finished my coffee. The sheriff left without saying anything, and I was secretly glad he wasn’t yet aware of my call to the FPD. Perhaps I could even get my reading done before it became
an issue; then I’d have my answers and could hand over the case with a clear conscience.
FIVE
January fifteenth
Just my luck, Sheriff Black was waiting on the porch when I got back. The short, portly man stood, arms crossed, scowling at me as I walked up the stairs to the front door. I knew he was here about the accident.
“Sheriff.” I nodded. “What can I do for you?”
He turned his head and spit a dark brown spray. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other and said, “Ms. Harmon. I just had some yahoo from that FPD show up on my doorstep saying he was going to be taking over that accident from last night. Is there anything I need to know?”
“I left you a message at the station. I received information that the crash victims were witches. As you know, I’m required to notify the Psyonic Division anytime there’s a suspicious death involving a witch.”
“It was a car accident. What’s suspicious about that?”
“I recovered a charm off the female victim. It was—” I didn’t know what I could say to him. How could I describe what I’d felt last night? Powerful? Dangerous? Evil? I opted for something simple. “—unique. That alone could warrant an investigation, but I have reason to believe the Jane Doe is a kidnapping victim from Indianapolis.”
A little vein on Mike’s forehead started to pulse. He hitched up his pants and fingered the badge on his hip, a cue of his increasing irritation I’d come to recognize. “You should have called me first. I’m the sheriff, and I’m the one who decides when we bring in outsiders. You overstepped this time.”
“No. I’m the coroner on record for this case, and by law I’m bound to alert the proper authorities with my finding.” I stood there stunned, unable to wrap my head around his current criticism. He knew the law and knew exactly what was expected of me. “You know, I’m sorry you don’t agree with my decision, but it was my call to make. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to finish my report.”
I started to skirt around him when he stepped in my path. “That agent of yours is already here. I wanted to talk to you before you met with him.” He was standing directly in front of me, blocking the door. I had him by a few inches, but that didn’t stop him from trying to stare me down. “It’s been less than a year that you’ve been working for Ian. I run a tight ship. I don’t appreciate people poking their noses in my business. You just see that he gets what he needs and is out of my hair. You got that?”
I gave him my best finishing-school smile. “Why, Sheriff, we are all on the same team. I’ll make sure I do everything by the book. You can count on it.” I nearly gagged on my own sarcasm.
His lips pressed into a thin white line, and a dark flush stained his cheeks. “Just finish this up. I don’t want him around any longer than he needs to be.” He stepped around me and stalked down the steps.
“Pleasure as always, Sheriff!” I called, before going inside. Sheriff Black knew exactly what to say to set me off, but for now I was more interested in finding out about the FPD agent.
“So, I hear we have another visitor,” I said when I found Charlie.
She looked up from her desk where she was sorting mail. The wide smile that broke over her face transformed her into an evil imp. “Oh, yah. I put him in your office. Wait until you get a look at this guy. Can I just say, WOW.”
My curiosity piqued, I followed her back to my office, interested in seeing what it was about the FPD agent that caught her attention.
“Take a look,” she said and nodded toward the door, her Cheshire grin still firmly in place.
The door was slightly ajar, and I leaned in to examine the visitor. Despite the mundane title, agents were more like magical bounty hunters than police officers. And boy, did he look the part. While he wasn’t massive in size, his solid frame and intense presence filled the small room. A silver piercing in his brow stood out against his ebony skin, and a hint of a tattoo peeked out just above his collar. He oozed darkness and danger clad in a black leather jacket and dark jeans, and he emanated power.
I was trying to make out the tattoo on his neck, when he caught me staring. He raised an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry…” I flushed hot, struck dumb for an instant. I felt like a schoolgirl caught peeking into the boys' locker room. “Charlie tells me you’re from the FPD. I’m Olivia Harmon,” I finally said when I managed to recover my composure.
“Special Agent Samuel King. I’m conducting an investigation into Scott Malone.” His voice filled the room, deep and rich, every bit as powerful as his appearance. He crossed to me and offered his hand. His movements were graceful and balanced, like those of a big cat stalking its prey. “Thank you for meeting with me, Ms. Harmon. I’m familiar with your work.”
Familiar with my work, huh? I had images of a secret Psyonic Division file with my name on it and found the whole idea comical. It would have to be a terribly thin file, as exciting as my life was.
“I’m happy to help in any way,” I said and took his hand. The telltale sensation of power flowed up my arm, warm and smooth.
“I’ll be collecting all of the personal effects, and I’d appreciate it if you could take me out to the crash site. But what I’m most interested in is your aura reading. Have you finished it yet? Your death impressions may prove useful in my investigation.”
I was taken aback. I wasn’t aware anyone knew I could do a death reading. The ability to read the echo of an aura after someone died was almost unheard of. I had discovered the talent by pure accident one day in the embalming room. Afterward, I tried to learn more about it, but only found a reference in one obscure text, and even then only in the most general terms. I’d never mentioned the power to anyone, and I thought again of that secret Division file. Maybe it wasn’t as thin as I’d imagined. I tried to dismiss my unease. Surely he’d only been referring to the reading done with the paean spell.
“You arrived fast,” I said with a forced smile. “I only made the call to Indy six hours ago.”
“Scott Malone has been under investigation for quite a while now. When the call came in, I left immediately.”
“Is it because of the girls?”
He looked a bit confused for a moment, then said, “Malone was involved in several illegal activities, but the FPD was focused on his illegal charms trafficking.”
“What kind of charms?” My mind immediately went to the necklace.
“I can’t discuss an ongoing case. I just need to know what you recovered from the wreck.”
“I haven’t finished my investigation, so there’s not much to tell.” I paused, debating whether to tell him about the necklace. I hadn’t collected the rest of the evidence yet, so I wasn’t even sure it was relevant to his case. “If I knew what you were looking for it would make my job a little easier.”
He sighed, looking more than a little irritated. “There’s no need for you to make an extra effort. Just box up everything recovered from the car and anything else he had on him. I’ll have our labs process it.”
“And what the girl had on her?”
“As far as your reading goes, I’m not as interested in her. But it’s possible she was one of his runners, so yes, include all her personal items too.”
I got the impression that Agent King was treating Sarah like a suspect and not a victim, and I remembered Rick saying the Division hadn’t taken the case. Perhaps a couple of missing girls were just too banal for their notice, even if they were witches.
“I’m surprised you aren’t looking into what happened to her, but I guess a couple girls aren’t that important to the Division.” Samuel’s callous attitude irritated me, and I couldn’t help the flippant comment.
“Girls?” He looked confused. “Like I said, we knew Malone was involved with a prostitution ring, but it’s not my focus. Unless she was a runner for him, I doubt she was involved with my case. When you do your reading, you’ll be able to tell if she was involved with the smuggling. That would be a different story. I might be able to tra
ce her movements and find a new lead.”
Walking over to my desk, I picked up the file marked Sarah Pickett. “Why are you so sure this girl was a criminal? Everything I’ve seen thus far tells me she’s a victim here. I know that two missing girls might not warrant a full scale investigation.” I shoved the file at his chest. “But since you’re already here, why don’t you at least pretend to be a decent human being and take a look.”
He took the file, glancing at it and back to me. Something in my look must have given him pause, because he took a few steps back before opening the file.
Satisfied, I sat behind my desk and waited for him to finish. The file was thin. I hadn’t completed my report yet, but there were plenty of notes. My initial impressions of the body. My encounter with the charm. My conversation with Rick.
When he was finished, Agent King set the file down on the desk, holding the business card I had slipped in there this morning. “Richard Bishop?” He stared at the card, turning it over a couple of times, as though he could pull some mystical information from the simple black-on-white rectangle. “What the fuck is he doing here?”
I was a bit surprised at his reaction. Up until now, Samuel King had been professional, if a bit curt—so much so, he was coming off as an uncaring asshole. His angry outburst took me by surprise.
“He said he was working with the Indianapolis police on a kidnapping case. He was looking for two missing girls. Sarah Pickett was one of them.”
“Oh, no. Rick isn’t going to screw up my case.” He tossed the card down on the table as if disgusted by its very existence.
“I don’t see what the issue is. I thought the FPD and the Order worked together all the time.”
“We do. But I won’t work with him. Not anymore. Rick doesn’t play well with others. He thinks he’s better than the system. Idiot.” He grumbled under his breath and started to pace, reminding me once more of a wildcat filled with pent-up energy and danger. “He’s going to get himself into trouble if he doesn’t watch his step.”
Dark Secrets: A Paranormal Romance Anthology Page 180
