On the Scent

by Angela Campbell

  Hannah’s eyes darted around the room. She saw nothing and heard no one. Alexandra sat back and patted the cushion beside her. Not bothering to glance at Zach, Hannah accepted the invitation, relieved when the cat decided to jump into her lap, too. Abbott’s presence eased her nerves as she caressed his silky fur and she waited for—well, she had no idea. The other woman bit her lip and closed her eyes. Every so often, Alexandra would give a little shake of her head and murmur something unintelligible, as if she were confused and speaking gibberish.

  “She wants me to thank you.” Alexandra’s warm hand settled on Hannah’s knee, but she didn’t open her eyes. “She says you took care of her. She thought of you as the daughter she never had but always wanted. She’s saying she’s sorry over and over again. I feel so much remorse from her for some reason. It’s so strong it’s almost choking me.”

  Oh, Ellie. Hannah fought the tears that burned her eyes.

  Alexandra whispered more gibberish. “Okay, she’s showing me something. I think it’s a bag, but there’s something in the bag. It’s like a rock, but it’s not? I don’t know what she’s showing me. Hmmm.”

  “It’s probably a—” Hannah began to say. But Alexandra’s fingernails dug into her skin, and the other woman murmured, “I don’t want to know details. Please, just listen now.” Her fingers loosened their grip.

  The sofa cushion sank to Hannah’s left as Zach lowered himself to the small space on the other side of her, settling his hand on her back as he leaned forward to listen.

  Alexandra waved a hand in front of her chest. “She’s talking so fast. It’s like she feels a sense of urgency about something—like she’s worried about something.”

  “Can we ask her specific questions?” Zach asked.

  Alexandra gave a quick shake of her head and squeezed her eyes even tighter. “She’s showing me a picture of a man. He’s not the one—that’s what she’s saying now. I think she’s trying to tell me he’s innocent of something.”

  “What does the man look like?” Hannah asked softly.

  “Glasses. Short hair. Well-dressed.”

  Hannah searched for Zach’s eyes. Was Alexandra describing Roglitz? It was a close enough description of the picture they’d seen of him in Ellie’s things.

  “Ask her who’s responsible for what’s been happening,” Zach demanded in a quiet, but firm voice.

  Alexandra’s lips thinned. Her eyes opened and she looked toward the ceiling. “A younger man. Someone she doesn’t know.” Alexandra moved to her feet and began pacing. “She’s getting kind of pushy now. She keeps getting in my face. I don’t like it.” She rubbed her palms against the front of her thighs and turned suddenly in the opposite direction. “I think she was used to always getting her way. Did she have a lot of money? I’m getting the impression she did.”

  “Yes, she did.” Hannah sat forward and brought her thumb to her lips. Her nail felt thick as her teeth nibbled it. Damn. She hadn’t bitten her nails in years. She jerked her hand away, slid it between her thighs, and sighed.

  What was this accomplishing, anyway?

  “More than one person, she’s saying. She wants Hannah to be careful.” Alexandra stopped moving and speared Hannah with a dark look. “You know one of them.”

  “What?” Hannah barely managed to form the question.

  Alexandra aimed a quick look toward the man at her side. “Your mom is here too, Zach.”

  The sofa squeaked as he shifted away from Hannah. She risked a glance at his face—which had suddenly paled.

  “Right now, we need to communicate with Ellie.” His knuckles popped as he tightened his fingers into a fist. “Who does Hannah know? Ask her for a name.”

  “I’ll try, but your mother wants to talk to you. She’s pushing Ellie away.” Alexandra waved a hand in front of her face. “The younger man—he has lots of faces, she’s saying. He’s dangerous. Very dangerous. He killed Rollins, she says. No, not Rollins. Ral—” She shook her head. “Something with an R. A name. She knew him.”

  Alexandra’s comments were starting to make no sense to Hannah. She looked at Zach to gauge his comprehension.

  “Roglitz,” he murmured, and Alexandra stopped pacing and nodded.

  “Yes. She’s saying yes. Roglitz is the man he killed. He’s dangerous.” Alexandra closed her eyes and squeezed them as if in pain. “Zach, your brother needs you. Your mother is asking you to please go to him.”

  Zach sprang to his feet. “Tell her to leave me the hell alone.” He grabbed Alexandra by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. “Focus on Ellie, dammit.”

  Alexandra gasped and shoved him away. “Back off, Collins.” She shook her head, looking dazed. “I think we’re done here.”

  “Like hell we are.” He reached for her again, and Hannah moved to her feet, in case she needed to put herself between them. “Zach!”

  He stilled, but his chest rose and fell with harsh breaths. So did Alexandra’s.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—”

  Alexandra stuck a hand in the air. “Save it. It’s okay. I want to get out of here. I feel stifled. It’s too much.”

  Hannah placed a hand on the other woman’s arm and tried not to take offense when she flinched. “I’m really sorry. Thank you. If you wait one minute, I’ll go get some money to pay you.”

  Alexandra murmured an amount then nodded and stepped back, hugging herself with her arms. Hannah narrowed her eyes in warning at Zach, silently telling him to back off the other woman, and hurried to find her purse in the other room.

  Zach’s head felt tight with the pressure of too much anger. Calm down. Compose yourself. You’re scaring Hannah—and yourself.

  He took a deep breath, anchoring his hands on his hips so he didn’t punch something the way he wanted to.

  Even in death, it seemed, his mother riled him to emotion like no other.

  “Zach, your brother needs you. Your mother is asking you to please go to him.”

  Was Dylan in some kind of danger, or was their mother only trying to reconcile them from the grave? Hell if he knew, but he couldn’t think about it. He wouldn’t think about it. Hannah was his priority right now, and until she was out of danger, Dylan would have to wait.

  “Why are you so angry at her?”

  Alexandra’s whispered question took him by surprise.

  “She really loves you, Zach. I can feel it. Whatever she did to you, you need to let it go. For your sake—and hers.” With a snort, she added, “And mine, apparently.”

  “I know.” He crossed his arms and glanced to see what was keeping Hannah. She was still upstairs. Turning back, he shook his head. “I’m not angry at her. I’m pissed at myself. I’m sorry.”

  Alexandra’s eyebrows shot up. “Yourself? Why?”

  Again, he shook his head, not wanting to rehash his feelings with a woman he barely knew. It had been hard enough sharing even part of it with the woman he loved. He was done for the night.

  She visibly relaxed. “Does it have anything to do with the whole psychic thing?”

  “What?”

  “I imagine it’s messing with your brain, and your emotions.” She shrugged. “You’re a guy who’s only been pretending to be psychic for, like, forever and now—”

  “What?”

  Alexandra’s eyes went wide as she looked behind him. Hannah. Shit.

  Zach squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he didn’t understand what she’d overheard and assumed, but knowing his time had come to pay a long overdue bill to the karma department.

  Opening his eyes, he met Alexandra’s apologetic gaze and whispered, “It’s okay.” He turned and saw Hannah standing there, looking like she already had one foot out the door of their fragile relationship. Her eyes flashed with confusion, hurt and anger, but mostly hurt.

  “You’re not really psychic? You’ve been lying to me about that?” She moved her focus to Alexandra. “Are either of you? Have you been playing me?”

  “No,
Hannah.” He moved toward her, but she jerked up a hand to ward him off. “You misunderstood.”

  She took a step back, away from him. “So you are psychic?” Her tone was skeptical.

  Damn, this was so frustrating. How did he explain any of this? “Yes, but I wasn’t —” He stopped himself, not certain what to say. Instead, he gestured to Alexandra. “She is the real deal. I promise.”

  Hannah darted a glance between the two of them, shaking her head. “There’s nothing she said that you couldn’t have told her beforehand.” She touched her forehead. “I’m such an idiot. You followed me three years ago. You had lots of information to use to convince me you were psychic.” She flapped the dollars in her other hand. “Is this why? Because of the money? What—you’re a couple of con artists working together or something? Are you—” She swallowed. “Are you lovers too?”

  “No!” His voice and Alexandra’s answered in unison, and he wasn’t sure which of them sounded more outraged by that idea.

  The mobile phone on the table beside her began belting out a ringtone. She barely spared it a glance, but it was enough to give him an opening. Zach swore and moved fast, grabbing Hannah before she could get farther away from him. His hands cradled her precious face, forcing her to look at him. “I love you, Hannah. No matter what you believe, that is the truth.”

  He couldn’t stand the overwhelming hurt he saw in her eyes. She didn’t move away. “Then explain to me what she meant.” She seemed to relax some. “Please.”

  He gasped, not expecting her to be so willing to let him explain, and he knew by her reaction to his expression that he must have looked as guilty as hell again. “You heard her correctly.” He nodded. “Until I started working this case, I didn’t know I was psychic. I faked it. I was acting on the TV show. I was acting when you came into my office to hire me. I was—”

  A tear slid down her cheek as she jerked away from him again. “You were acting?”

  “Hannah—”

  Her damn phone began belting out a ringtone again. Wiping her face, Hannah reached for it, glanced at the caller ID and turned away from him to answer. “Sarah,” she said. After listening for a few seconds, she returned, “Okay. Hold on a minute.”

  Pressing the phone to her chest, she told him, “We’ll talk about this when I get finished talking to my friend.”

  He watched, feeling gutted and helpless, as she disappeared into his room and shut the door. How was he going to dig himself out of this one?

  “Hannah, please listen to me,” Sarah said.

  There was something about the sound of her best friend’s voice that was off. Panicked, even. She’d asked Hannah if she was alone—and if she wasn’t, to find privacy because it was “really, really important.”

  Hannah felt disoriented with racing thoughts—had she fallen for some elaborate con Zach and his associates had set up to get her money? She could have sworn he’d been sincere when he’d said he’d loved her, but she’d thought the same of Eric once. Her judgment was awful. She’d actually believed he was psychic, too.

  She wanted to trust him, but…

  But first, she had to find out what was so urgent with Sarah. Was it Sarah’s mother? Had the last chemo treatment not gone well?

  “I’m alone.” She moved to the bed. “Sarah, what’s wrong?”

  There was the sound of muffled movement.

  The voice of a man she didn’t recognize greeted her. “Hello Hannah. How are you this evening?”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “I’m sorry. Who is this?”

  A lazy, menacing chuckle raised goosebumps along Hannah’s arms. “I’m the man who has your little friend, and if you want to see her alive again, you’ll do exactly as I tell you. Understand?”

  Hannah’s heart quickened its beat. “What?”

  “Are you alone?”

  “Yes. Where’s Sarah. Who is this?”

  “Do you know where Oakland Cemetery is?”

  Instinct told her not to question him or argue. “I’ve heard of it. I’ve never been there.”

  “Find it,” the voice growled. “Nine a.m. tomorrow. There will be a note with directions for you at the Bell Tower Ridge, at the observation point of Confederate Commander John B. Hood. Repeat it back to me.”

  She did. “How will I find it? I’ve never been there.”

  “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out. Follow those directions if you want to save your friend.” He paused and there was a whimpering sound in the distance. Was that Sarah crying? “Oh and Miss Dawson?”

  “Yes.”

  “Come alone. Tell no one. I’ll know if you’re being shadowed. Understand?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Nine o’clock. Don’t be late.”

  “I want to talk to Sarah. Please.”

  Hearing no response, Hannah glanced at the phone. The call had already ended.

  Someone had Sarah.

  A wave of panic threatened Hannah’s air supply, but she quelled it with deep breaths. What should she do? Should she risk telling someone? This was that awful scenario in books and movies where Hannah always wanted to scream “Don’t listen to the kidnapper. Tell the freaking police, for Pete’s sake!” because the characters on the page or screen always tried to handle it on their own with disastrous results.

  Who could help her? Zach? She wasn’t even certain at this point that he wasn’t involved. A pang of hurt stabbed into her chest at that truth. She could call Detective Ryan, but the man had done nothing to instill confidence in her so far.

  Think, you idiot. Think.

  Who should she tell?

  Maybe Sarah’s brothers, get their input on what to do. And then what? The Taylor men would charge off, fueled by rage and emotion, without thinking of the consequences.

  Bad idea.

  Hannah lifted her phone with trembling hands to scroll through the contact list, desperate for someone, anyone, to call that she could trust with this. By the time she neared the Qs she wasn’t even seeing the names anymore. The sinking realization that she had absolutely no one in her life to count on besides Sarah weighed down on her heart. How pathetic was she?

  No.

  She squared her shoulders as she concentrated on the contact list in her phone. She could count on herself, which meant she needed to make smart decisions. This was about more than her pride. This was about saving her best friend’s life.

  Finding the detective’s name and number, she pressed Call.

  She reached his voicemail, so she began by reminding him who she was. “I need your help. It’s urgent. Please call me back immediately.” She listed her number before hanging up.

  Now she had to wait.

  And figure out what to do about the man in the next room.

  Abbott had had enough of being carried around and petted, and with a hiss and a swipe of his claw, let Zach know he wanted out of his hold—immediately. That, and his forceful Put me down now, you idiot, or I’ll kill you did the trick.

  Dammit.

  Zach let the cat drop to the floor before he swung back toward the closed bedroom. It was well after midnight now, and Hannah still hadn’t so much as peeked out the door. Alexandra had left hours ago, and Zach had been reciting in his mind ways to explain everything to Hannah to convince her he was a different man than he’d once been and she could trust him.

  Metal jiggled, and he turned to see the bedroom door slowly open. Finally.

  Hannah wouldn’t meet his eyes when she stepped forward and into the living room. She bent and stroked Abbott’s back when the cat brushed against her legs and gave Costello a ferocious head rub when the dog bounced over to where she stood.

  “Have you taken him for a walk?”

  That wasn’t the first question he’d been expecting. “Yeah, not too long ago.”

  “A walk, or did you let him do a quick pee?” she asked doubtfully.

  Dammit. She must have been listening to his movements, just as he’d been trying to liste
n to hers. She’d been quiet. The only sound he’d heard had been her hushed murmuring a couple of times, and he’d suspected she’d been talking to Sarah again.

  “Will you take him for a longer walk please? I don’t feel up to it.”

  Her polite coolness was almost worse than the hurt he’d seen in her expression earlier. Almost. He took a careful step toward her. “I will, but I’d like the chance to explain some things first.”

  She opened her mouth to speak and hesitated. She finally looked at him for the first time since entering the room. With dark and guarded eyes, she gave him a small nod and moved toward the sofa. “I suppose that’s fair.”

  He followed her, perching onto the seat opposite her. Here’s your shot. Make it count, Collins.

  “A long time ago, I taught myself how to survive by being dishonest with people. I’m not proud of that, but it’s part of a past I can’t deny.” She sat, arms crossed, without looking at him, so he could only hope she was actually listening to what he said. “I pretended to be psychic because I needed the money. My family’s home was being foreclosed.”

  Her shocked gaze lifted to his, but she said nothing.

  “I’m telling the truth.” He reached for her hand, but she jerked it away. “When we started the agency, I wasn’t above using my minor fame to establish the business. It was like a gimmick to let people think I was psychic. But I’ve never accepted a job from anyone expecting me to use my psychic abilities to solve a case. Never, Hannah.”

  Her eyebrows perked up. “Oh really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Not true, Zach. You took my case. Mine.” She bit the word out between clenched teeth.

  Dammit. “Never until you—and if you remember, I tried hard to discourage you on that front. I don’t recall you hiring me for my psychic abilities. I thought you hired me for protection.”

  “You pretended to know what Abbott and Costello are thinking. You lied to me, Zach—just like everyone else I’ve ever cared about, except Sarah.” Her voice trembled a little at the end, and tears caused her expression to glaze over. She quickly wiped them away. Her voice was raw when she spoke. “I’m sorry. Lying to that extent is the one thing I can’t forgive.”