Chastain’s brow rose, and his gaze swept to Victoria. “So, what do you think?”
“About what?” She glared at him.
Man, Lenny never wanted to be on the receiving end of her evil eye.
“Dinner.” He gestured over his shoulder. “You want to ditch this joint and grab a bite or not?”
“Well, with an offer like that, how can I say no?” Her lips pressed together, forming a line, which underscored her sarcasm. She skirted around him. “Let me get my purse.”
A glimmer of triumph sparkled in the detective’s eyes. The cop got the vampire to agree to dinner. Lenny rubbed his jaw. Who would be the main course?
Across the room, Victoria’s face darkened, and she whispered something into the artist’s ear. Doubtless, the vampire wasn’t too happy about the impromptu meal. Rebecca laughed, her girlish giggle dancing in harmony with the piano music drifting from the speakers.
Chastain joined Victoria at the entrance, Lenny’s focus jerking between the duo and the attractive artist. Should he stay and speak with Rebecca in the hopes of learning some personal tidbits about her best friend? Or should he follow the star of his story, which would prove a more difficult task? Tailing a cop was tricky business.
Lenny tucked his pad and pen into his coat pocket and moseyed toward the entrance. The detective herded his dinner date out the door. With a final glance at the talented Rebecca Carlson, Lenny exited the building, sauntering out onto the sidewalk. Not wanting to attract attention, he looked around in a casual manner and searched for his targets.
Half a dozen cars from his Wrangler, he spotted Chastain on the opposite side of the street, opening the passenger door of a gray Malibu for Victoria. Lenny got out his keys and grinned. He had plenty of time to get settled in his car before the couple departed.
The phone in his pocket vibrated, and he jolted in surprise. After yanking it out, he checked the screen. Jolene. Would the girl ever give him a moment of peace?
Down the street, Chastain closed the driver’s side door. Jeez Louise, if he didn’t hurry, he’d lose them before the tail even started. Opening the Jeep’s door, he slid inside, the cell in his hand vibrating again. With his stubby index finger, he jabbed a button, ignoring the call.
The Malibu pulled from the parking spot, and Lenny ducked his head. He surreptitiously peered out the window as they drove past then started his car.
“Gotcha.” He grinned. Keeping a reasonable yet unobtrusive distance would still be tricky, but he should be able to follow them to the restaurant undetected.
His cell beeped. A message from Jolene. His jaw tightened with resolve. He’d have to talk to the girl, set up some boundaries regarding his job. She had a trust issue, and it needed resolution. He’d call her later, so they could hash things out. At the moment, he had a psychic vampire to hunt.
* * *
Vicki set her fork on the plate where a delicious slice of cheese quiche once rested. The meal had been delicious, but looking at the empty plate, she was more than a little embarrassed at how she’d woofed it down. He’d eaten all of his meal as well, so maybe he hadn’t noticed.
“How did you know where to find me?” She sat across from Detective Chastain in the quiet restaurant he’d chosen for their late dinner and sipped her coffee.
“Old-fashioned detective work.” Tearing open two sugar packets, he poured them into his dark-roasted brew and stirred. “Just followed up at the art gallery.”
“You checked out our alibis?” Her fingers tightened around the warm cup.
“Said I would.” The detective tapped the spoon on his cup’s rim, his face passive.
Yes, he’d told her that. But he didn’t have to be so brusque. “So, I’m still on your list of suspects.”
“Since the case isn’t solved, yes. There aren’t a lot of people who know what you know.” He raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t mean we can’t share a meal.”
“I had nothing to do with the woman’s death.” She set her coffee down with a clatter. How can he still suspect me? Do I look like a murderer? “I had a vision. I wanted to help. And if questioning me during a meal helps you gather enough information to convince you of that, then so be it.”
“You have to understand. I’ve seen things….” His lips thinned, and for a moment his eyes clouded. “Some of the monsters I’ve tracked liked to play games. They give clues who their next victim will be just to see if anyone can stop them.”
“You’re referring to the woman in the pub.” She shook her head. “You think I told you about her because I’m going to kill her?”
He tilted his head, shrugged.
“That’s insane,” she snapped. Anger coiled in her stomach. “It was another vision. I’m trying to help save her.”
“Whoa.” River held up a hand. “Calm down.”
Glancing right, she found the people at the next table staring at her. Heat rushed to her face. She leaned toward him. “Did you even try to find her?” she whispered in a harsh tone.
“Yes.” He inclined his head, narrowing the distance between them. “But it’s difficult finding a woman I saw for ten seconds and know nothing about.”
A huff of frustration hissed between her lips. He was right. Did she honestly think he would be able to find the woman in a city the size of Savannah? She might be a tourist and not live anywhere near Georgia. Deflated, Vicki eased back in her chair.
“I asked the pub owner about credit card receipts.” He lifted his cup. “Turns out the group she was with paid cash. No way to track any of them down.”
She gritted her teeth. This was so typical. Even when she knew the signs and whose life was about to change, she never controlled the outcome.
“I know what she looks like, and you described the symbols you saw.” He drank his coffee then set it on the table. “You said stones, some cloth, moss, the number six and a pointed capital D.”
“No.” Vicki shook her head. “There’s an order to it.”
His eyes narrowed. “That matters?”
“Yes.” She fought not to squirm beneath his scrutiny. Maybe if he understood the importance of her vision, he could do something about it, affecting the outcome. “I saw Spanish moss, a six on its back, stones, white cloth, and a pointed capital D.”
At the mention of the last symbol, he flinched, and she realized why. It was the killer’s symbol. She’d seen the freaking thing three times in a row, and each time she’d wanted to throw up.
He shook his head. “The stones and moss are all over Savannah, so they’re no help. A six on its back?”
“Yeah. Like this.” She drew the symbol in the air with her finger.
“Okay. No clue about that. White cloth could be a shirt or some type of clothing. Maybe the woman works for a clothing store with a stone front, a tree with moss nearby, and the number six in its address.” His expression held doubt. “I’ll have Dauscher run a check tomorrow. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”
“What if there aren’t any stores like that?”
“Only one thing left to do.” His shoulders rose and fell. “I guess every day for the next two weeks I’ll be eating lunch at the same pub where we saw her.”
“You’re kidding.” She searched for the hint of a smile on his lips but found none.
“It’s a long shot at best.” He toyed with his spoon, and it clanked against the table. “But it’s all I got.”
Vicki shifted her focus from River’s hand to his gorgeous face, taking care not to meet his gaze. Stress creased his forehead, but something much darker lay hidden in his eyes. How many dead bodies had he seen? She couldn’t imagine. The task of solving murders and bringing criminals to justice appeared daunting.
A bucket of guilt dumped into her stomach, and the fiery anger within her sputtered. She’d lived her entire life afraid of what she might see, and the man across the table lived a life of defiance, boldly facing whatever came at him. He’d solved crimes, jailed killers, saved lives, and given anxious families closure. He
didn’t know any of those people. He did it because it was right. Her heart ached at the weight he carried on his shoulders.
Reaching out, Vicki covered his hand with hers. Warmth seeped into her fingers and palm. He looked at their hands for a moment then pulled his free to check his watch.
“It’s late. Guess I should be getting you home.” He dropped his napkin on the table and stood.
What just happened? She’d tried to show compassion, and he’d yanked away from her as though he’d been burned. With long strides, he strode toward the entrance, leaving her to stare after him.
She swallowed. Good thing he’d paid the bill when the waiter brought their coffee. Obviously, he didn’t want his suspects touching him—his point made clear from the way he’d bolted from the restaurant.
Vicki shook her head. She was a fool. He saw her the same way everyone else did—like a freak, a whacko, a bona fide crazy person. Disappointed, she followed after him.
She caught up with him on the sidewalk just outside the restaurant. He stood with his head tilted back, staring up at the night sky.
“Detective Chastain?”
He spun around, the muted streetlight revealing surprise on his face. “Vicki.”
“Are you all right?” She moved toward him, and he took a step back. Great. If I had any doubts about what he thought of me, that little maneuver just confirmed everything.
“Yeah. Just needed some air.” He gestured down the street toward his car. “You ready?”
“Sure.”
She matched his pace, the hollow sound of her heels clacking against the sidewalk filling the void of conversation. With each step, the cinders of anger in her stomach sparked brighter. How could he label her? He was a detective. Wasn’t he supposed to be impartial, gather facts, and make a judgment based on what he discovered?
He opened the passenger door for her, but she paused instead of sliding into the seat. Why am I on his list of suspects? I might be psychic, but I’m not a murderer. And I’m certainly not a freak.
Vicki turned and found herself pinned between the car, the Malibu’s open door, and Detective Chastain’s strong arms. His expression darkening, he moved closer, his warm breath flowing over her skin.
What is he doing? “Detective Chastain,” she whispered.
“We’ve had lunch and dinner together.” His gaze swept over her face, and he swallowed. “I think you can call me River.”
“Okay, Riv—”
Dipping his head, he brushed his lips over hers.
A rush of adrenaline mixed with the anger roiling in her stomach. The combination brought a flush to her cheeks, caught her breath. The ground beneath her feet shifted, her knees trembled.
“Um.” He just kissed me! Her heart banged her breastbone.
“Yeah.” River closed the car door with a gentle push, caging her against the car with both arms. His attention landed on her mouth.
One of his hands trailed up her arm, sending warm tingles low in her body. Fingers traced her jaw, slid behind her ear, and tangled in her hair. Of their own will, her lips parted, ready for another kiss. Everything around them seemed to slip away. Tunnel vision. His dark, hungry eyes consumed her. She couldn’t look away.
Leaning into her, he took her mouth. Heat seared her core, radiated throughout her body. Lips grazed, greedy, wet, and hot. A moan rose in her throat.
The world skewed and lagged. The air thickened. The sound of River’s breathing slowed, changing to a guttural growl.
No. Not now.
A high-pitched whistle pierced her brain, growing louder, almost physically painful.
His heated mouth remained frozen against her lips. She wanted to pull away, but an invisible bond kept her locked in place, their bodies pressed together. Rapture intertwined with trepidation, a kiss tainted by a vision of the future.
The dreaded pictures assaulted her, slicing into her retinas. Images, crisp and bright. A blue rectangle. A yellow oval. A black spiral. A brilliant gray circle. A red pointed capital D.
The vision released. Reality snapped back into place. Pop! The whistle in her head ceased with such sharp abruptness, her ears rang.
“Vicki.” River’s hands grasped her shoulders. “Are you okay?”
Her body trembled with the remnants of the episode. Desire and fear battled for dominance, leaving her breathless. She lifted her face to his.
“Yes,” she rasped, the word coarse sandpaper to her ears. She shivered, prickly bumps racing over her skin.
A war reflected in River’s eyes. Did he believe her?
“You…you had another vision?” Doubt swathed his words, revealing the frontrunner.
Wrenching from his grasp, she spun away to conceal her distress. “What do you think?” Bitterness bathed her voice. She hated the sound.
“Was it someone in the restaurant?” He shifted behind her. “Someone on the street I can still get to, track down?”
She shook her head. Hugging herself, she let her chin dip to her chest. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye and plunged to the sidewalk, smacking like a raindrop on impact.
“Who then?”
She sensed his exasperated gaze on her back. His tone exuded doubt. He was a cop— how could he believe her? It sounded crazy to her, and she’d lived with the curse all her life. But she needed to tell him. To warn him.
“You.” Vicki pivoted and, without fear of reprisal, looked into his dark-blue eyes. “Sometime within the next fourteen days, everything will change.”
His brow furrowed. “What are you saying?”
“I saw the pointed capital D.” Her shoulders sagged, the weight of her next words all but unbearable. “River, your fate is tied to the serial killer you’re trying to capture.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Thank you so much, Detective Chastain.” Dauscher’s grandmother hovered over him while he tightened the final screw on the deadbolt he’d installed. “Ever since the shooting next door, I just can’t sleep at night.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sat back on his heels and smiled at her. His own grandmother had died many years ago. But it was nice to be the good grandson for someone else’s grandmother.
“I’ve lived here over fifteen years.” She clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “My Benny bought this house for me right before he passed on. It was such a quiet neighborhood. A shame when you can’t feel comfortable even in your own home. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He dropped the screwdriver into the battered toolbox. Probably belonged to dear Benny. “How long were you and your husband married, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“Well, now.” Her eyes lit up at the question. “We met back when I was just sixteen, and I knew right then he was the one for me. He had thick, gorgeous black hair and large brown eyes. ’Course, like all men, he took a bit of convincing. But you don’t want to hear me prattle on.” She shot him a quick side-glance. “My dearly beloved and I were wedded a tad past fifty-six years.”
“That’s wonderful.” Would he ever meet a woman who would stay with him for fifty years? After his failed marriage with Betsy, it didn’t appear promising.
Vicki’s face floated into his mind. Damn, she’d looked sexy in her short teal dress at dinner. Showed miles of her silky legs. And their kiss. A mix of lips and tongues. Pressing his hardness against all her softness.
But then she’d had a vision, or at least she’d said she had. Told him his fate was tied to the copycat Valentine Killer. Well, that part was true. He would pursue the bastard until he was either captured or dead.
While he picked up various tools scattered on the floor, his arm brushed against the cell phone clipped at his waist. Maybe he should call her, tell her he wanted to see her again. But would she even answer after he’d acted like such an asshole? Maybe he should wait until tomorrow.
“Hmm.” The older woman put her hands on her hips. “You got it bad, son.”
He jerked his head up. “Pardon?”
/> “You got the look.” She leaned forward, peered at his face, and nodded. “That’s it all right.”
Unnerved, he closed the toolbox. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to.” He fumbled with the latches on the box, while she towered over him.
“Don’t worry, Detective. Your secret’s safe with me,” she whispered in mock-conspirator tones.
Rising, he stuffed his hands into his pockets.
“You tend toward being an unbeliever. A good trait for a police officer, I suppose.” She nodded. “But you should know I’m good at reading people. My grandmother had the gift. Helped me see I had it, too.”
River kept his expression neutral. What does Dauscher think about this?
“My grandson doesn’t believe either.” She smirked.
Well, hell. How did she know what I was thinking? Probably just a leap in logic.
“My dear Detective.” The older woman giggled. “I was a well-known palm reader for years. Spent many a weekend at parties or the country houses of the rich and famous. That’s how I met my Benny.”
“At a party?” River smiled, encouraging her to ramble. Anything to shift the focus someplace other than himself.
“A party at a country house.” Her lips curved into a wicked grin. “Benny was chasing after a rich floozy. Spoiled, empty-headed little flirt. I had to show him who was the better gal. Which I was, of course.”
“Of course.” He glanced toward the kitchen for any sign Dauscher had finished with the back door and might save him. Nothing.
“Sit, Detective.” She gestured to a chair, and he sank into it. “I know just by looking at you there’s a woman got you all up in knots. Even a blind person could see.”
“Okay. But—”
She held up a finger. “Let me see your hand.”
It was ridiculous, he knew, but held it out as she’d asked. Taking his fingers into her cool, smooth grasp, she turned his palm up and traced several lines. Wherever her fingertip trailed, a warm tingle followed. Her gaze traveled from his wrist to his fingertips, intent on each crevice, ridge, and callus.
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