“Why do you think you have your gift? It was given to you so you could help uphold the natural order. You and people like you are meant to help convince the dead to cross over if they’ve missed their first chance. Who knows where they go, but they’re not meant to stay here.”
The explanation felt far more comfortable than it should have given everything Alexandra had been raised to believe, and that in itself was an uncomfortable feeling.
Barbara chuckled. “Uh huh. I see the light bulb finally coming on for you, girl. You know it’s true, deep down.”
Alexandra reluctantly nodded. “So how long do ghosts have before they…transform?”
Barbara fiddled with the large beaded necklace resting at her cleavage. “It depends on the spirit. Some are able to resist it longer than others. If a weak-minded person dies and doesn’t cross over, it could be only a matter of years before they turn into something worse. The stronger the person’s mind when they die, the longer they tend to remain in spirit form.”
George seemed reasonably sane, and so did Rebecca, except…she’d been looking sick the last few times Alexandra had seen her.
Barbara clucked her tongue and reached for the newspaper lying on the desk. “I’ve been reading the paper. That’s why you’re really here. This man killing these poor people is being influenced by this demon you keep seeing.”
“How do you know that?”
Barbara pursed her lips. “Please, child.” She waved a dismissive hand. “You ain’t the only one around here who has visions.”
“Does all of this have anything to do with the gray beams I keep seeing shooting toward the sky?”
“You can see that?” Barbara looked surprised. “Girl, maybe you have more abilities than I thought.” She nodded. “It’s not natural. We think it’s giving the dead more power. Making them stronger. Probably helped create this demon.”
And that didn’t sound good at all.
Barbara’s eyes narrowed on her. “You didn’t use salt, did you?”
Alexandra blinked. “I used it to repel spirits last night. Why?”
The old woman cackled and turned away, shaking her head. It was her grandson who explained the reason.
“Salt can attracts spirits—it doesn’t always repel them.” He looked her up and down again. “How long have you been doing this?”
Oh, come on. They were yanking her chain now. Hand on her hip, she shook her head and held up a hand. “I’ve been doing this for a long time.” She’d been to conventions. Exchanged notes with others. Read lots of books. Had long conversations with the dead about these things. “I worked with a priest once who told the family being affected to place table salt around the doorways.”
Barbara’s cackle grew louder. “White salt?”
Alexandra’s smile dropped. “What else would I use?”
“Black salt repels the negative,” the grandson said. “White salt tends to attract it.”
Well…crap.
“You gotta lesson to learn.” Barbara shook a finger at her. “That’s why you’re here. You don’t know all you think you do.”
“Apparently not.” Alexandra touched the cross at her neck. White salt attracted spirits? And she’d all but bathed in it last night? Okay, that was seriously creepy. And a tidbit she’d definitely file in her mental need-to-know please-verify box. Maybe she should consult further on this with the demonologist she’d met last summer at a convention. The guy had a stellar reputation. He might be able to give her more answers.
“How much for the, um—” She held up the pouch the old woman had given her “—this stuff? And the book?” She gestured to the leather-bound edition the young man still held.
He named a price for the book that made her head swim. “That’s free or it won’t work.” He gestured to the pouch.
The beads clanked and Reedus stuck his head through. “King.” He nodded toward the way he’d come. “We need to go. Now.”
She hurried to pay for the book as Reedus stomped toward the exit. The tattooed young man behind the counter returned her gaze with a knowing smile as she handed him some cash. She grabbed her change and the book, and her boots clacked against the concrete of the sidewalk as she raced to catch up with the detective.
“Find out anything?” He opened his car door and pushed inside, leaving her to follow suit.
Oh yeah. Loads. “Not really. You?”
“Got a few names to check out. Regular customers.” He turned over the engine and then settled a blue light on his dash.
“What’s going on?” Alexandra had barely buckled herself in before she was slung toward him as the car shot out of the space.
“Looks like you’re gonna have a chance to visit a fresh crime scene today. We just got another one.”
***
Dylan took in the gruesome sight before him and ran a hand through his hair. “Geez.”
A woman hung from a noose, her limp body dangling in the white arched entryway leading into the old city jail. A person driving to work had seen the morbid picture and called it in a couple of hours ago. No one who’d been questioned so far—not even any of the residents living in the apartments across the street—had seen or heard anything suspicious.
One of the coroner’s assistants ambled up to Dylan with a clipboard. “Can we go ahead and remove the body now?”
He nodded, hardly able to say the word, as he scanned the crowd of onlookers. A lot of cops believed killers showed up at crime scenes to enjoy the results of the chaos they’d created. All Dylan recognized were a couple of reporters.
They’d just finished zipping the body bag when Reedus’s old clunker came into view as it parked down the street. Dylan blew out a breath and moved to his haunches to examine a fresh-looking set of footprints around the side of the building that one of the officers had found. He was in no hurry to see his partner because he knew Alexandra was with tagging along with Reedus today.
“Get pictures of these footprints.” He squinted up at the four-story building that rose into the sky like some kind of archaic fortress in desperate need of repair. “I spotted some fresh tire tracks on the other side of the building. Get some shots of those too.”
The officer scurried off to obey, and a familiar cough grew closer until Reedus’s gravelly voice greeted, “What have we got this time, Collins?”
Dylan narrowed his eyes against the late morning sun as he again looked up at the historic building. “Caucasian female. Early forties. Hung in that archway over there.” He straightened and turned to the two newcomers. “So far not a lot of obvious evidence.”
Reedus shielded his eyes with one hand as he glanced up at the old jail. “Don’t tell me the psycho was copycatting a death here.”
Nodding, Dylan allowed himself to glance at the woman standing a little ways behind Reedus. His heart skipped a beat. Sweet heaven. She looked as sexy as all get out, dressed in that short dress wearing those notice-me boots. He directed his thoughts away from that assessment and concentrated instead on filling his partner in on the situation.
“Lavinia Fisher would be my guess.” He turned and started walking back toward the entrance, knowing they’d follow. “I read that professor’s book last night. Did some research on the computer. This place has quite the reputation among ghosthunters. I was about to do one more walk through inside, make sure we didn’t miss anything. Place is damn creepy.”
“Fisher?” Reedus repeated the name as if he were trying to recall it.
“Supposedly the first female serial killer ever documented. She and her husband were held here until their execution in the early 1800s.”
“Let me guess. By hanging, right?” Reedus coughed into his handkerchief and tucked the small cotton sheet back into his pocket.
Dylan stopped walking and turned to face the older man. “You had that cough checked out yet?”
Reedus waved his hand and pushed past him. “Just my emphysema acting up.”
For the first time Dylan noticed Alexan
dra wasn’t with them anymore. He glanced around and spotted her hanging back near the sidewalk across the street, in front of where a group of curious onlookers stood behind a barricade.
Dylan swore. Didn’t she realize she was potentially in danger? Wandering off from her protection wasn’t exactly smart. Frustrating woman. She was gonna be the death of him yet.
He hurried over to where she stood. “What do you think you’re doing?”
At least she had the decency to blush. “Waiting.”
“For what?”
“For Reedus to finish so we can leave.”
He put his hands on his hips and considered her. Boy, this lady was something else. “Don’t you want to do your psychic mumbo jumbo and see if you can pick up some leads?”
He regretted the words as soon as they were out. She’d actually given him some good leads, known some facts she shouldn’t have been able to, and made him question his disbelief in psychics. He shouldn’t let his anger over her knowing Zach cloud his objective. Especially if she could contribute to solving this case.
He needed all of the help he could get.
Alexandra crossed her arms and jutted her chin forward. “I think I’ll sit this one out.”
He realized they were within hearing distance of the crowd. He grabbed her arm and tugged her forward. She dug in her heels and didn’t let him pull her very far. She might not want to be near him either, but she needed to act like a professional and help him out.
She pushed close to him, lowered her gaze to the ground, and whispered, “Dylan, I’m not going in there.”
He scrunched his face in confusion. “Why not?”
“Because it’s packed to the rafters with ghosts, and they’re waiting for me. I won’t be able to deal with it. There are too many of them. I get overwhelmed with that many. Dylan, please.”
She was scared. The slight tremble in her voice was echoed by her body as she pressed against his side. Well, hell. That didn’t seem like her.
He forced himself to take a step away from her. Otherwise, he was afraid he’d put his arm around her and pat her back. “Okay.” He sighed. “She appears to have been killed outside the actual jail. Can you pick up anything out here?”
“I can try.”
“That’s all I ask.” He gestured her forward. He wouldn’t push. Either she wanted to help, or she didn’t. Her choice.
She took a deep breath and took a few timid steps. Her face winced. “I don’t think she was killed here.” A few more steps. She stopped and looked around, but her eyes didn’t seem to see him or anything else. “Did she work for the government? Maybe the Department of Transportation?”
“No. She was a teacher at a local high school.”
“Okay.” Alexandra frowned and shook her head. “I don’t think she knew her killer.” She bit her bottom lip and hesitantly reached out a hand to touch the side of the entryway. “Was she stabbed? I’m feeling a stabbing pain in my stomach.” She pressed her other hand to her middle.
“There were no visible stab wounds. No blood.” He was starting to lose his patience. Was she wasting his time? He was trying hard to remain open-minded here, but she wasn’t making it easy. “Can you see where she died?”
She sucked in a breath, blew it out again slowly. Several seconds passed. “I’m seeing a parking lot. I think he followed her to her car. There wasn’t much of a struggle. It was quick. She didn’t even have a chance to process what was happening. A hand over her mouth from behind. A pain in her stomach. Then nothing.”
“Describe the parking lot.”
She closed her eyes. “It’s a garage.” She shook her head. “I keep seeing a picture of a king.”
“A king?” He shuffled on his feet. “Like wearing a crown and everything?”
She opened her eyes and looked apologetic. “I’m also seeing a big plant bowl with writing on it. I know that sounds crazy, Dylan.”
“Maybe not as crazy as you think.” He turned and called McCormick over. The young officer had been one of the first on the scene. He looked anxious to leave. “Check the Francis Marion Garage on King Street and see if we can find the victim’s car. Let me know what you find.”
Once McCormick was gone, Dylan turned to Alexandra and explained, “Marion Square is a park off King Street. There’s a fountain that kind of looks like a bowl there. Maybe that’s what you’re seeing.”
She lifted her hand to shield her eyes as she looked at him. It was unnerving, the way she considered him so closely. “Thank you for believing me.”
He wasn’t sure he did, but it was worth checking. “I need to do a walkthrough before I leave.”
“Have fun.” She glanced up at the building, then grabbed Dylan’s upper arm to keep him from moving forward. “Don’t go to the third floor. Let someone else.”
He glanced down at her hand on his arm and she released her grip.
“There’s a really mean ghost up there. Big guy. You remind him of someone he didn’t like when he was alive, and I don’t want you to get hurt.”
Was she serious? He glanced up at the darkened, barred windows on the third floor. A shiver ran down his spine. It was almost like he felt someone watching him now. Crazy how a suggestion like that could play tricks on the mind.
“Dylan?” Her voice cracked. When he focused on her, a timid smile lifted her mouth. “Can we talk later?”
They needed to talk, but he didn’t know if he was ready yet. He didn’t answer.
“I’ll send Reedus out. Don’t wander off, or I swear I’ll bend you over my knee next time I see you.” He emphasized the threat with a pointed finger.
He was headed up the pathway when he heard her yell, “Promise?” He almost stopped in his tracks. He imagined she was grinning, but he didn’t allow himself to turn around and make sure.
That dress. Those boots.
Crazy woman was gonna be the death of him.
Chapter Eleven
“Pssst. Guess what?”
Alexandra glanced up at McCormick. The young officer had a huge smile on his face as he glanced furtively around while leaning against the desk she was using at the moment. “Hmm?”
“I found the car. Just like you said.”
She perked up. “Really?”
He nodded. “Collins told me you led us to it. That’s what they’re in there talking about.” He gestured to the conference room where Reedus and Dylan had disappeared with Capt. Deveraux a few minutes earlier.
“Why aren’t we in there?”
“Beats me.” He shrugged and leaned closer. “So how do you do it?”
“It?”
“You know. How do you know stuff?”
She’d be a millionaire a hundred times over if she knew the answer to that. She glanced around and gestured for him to lean closer. “Brussels sprouts.”
He jerked back to look at her. “Huh?”
“I love them. Most people hate them. I think there’s a correlation in there somewhere.”
His eyes widened until she rolled hers and shook her head to let him know she was joking. He chuckled. “I’m serious.”
“I wish I knew. Things just come to me.”
“For the record, I’m a believer.” He thumbed his chest. “One time, my older sister was in a car wreck. I was in the middle of class in high school, and I got all agitated for no reason. I knew something was wrong. I had this feeling, ya know? Afterward, when my dad picked me up from school and told me what had happened, it gave me chills. It’s like I knew. Ever since then, I try to keep an open mind about things like this.”
She smiled. “Thanks, McCormick.” She glanced around the office. “Have you seen Officer Vinson yet?”
“Nah, but I talked to him a few minutes ago. I’m gonna take your shift tonight. He’s gonna patrol his beat and see if he can’t shake down some info. When you get ready to leave for the day, let me know, okay?”
Nodding at him as he walked away, she slid a hand inside her purse and fingered the small pouch
inside it. She’d realized she’d left the hoodoo concoction in Reedus’s car earlier, retrieved it and shoved it into her bag. She hadn’t seen a single ghost since. She’d actually been worried about Vinson, since she hadn’t seen the cop yet. She was glad to know he was okay. The warning from his father that he would die if he got involved still haunted her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught the conference room door opening. The three men came out, but only Dylan and Reedus walked toward her.
“We found the last victim’s car. You’re good, lady.” Reedus gave her a thumbs up.
Two compliments from different cops in as many minutes? She tried not to beam beneath the praise. “And?”
“Forensics is going through the vehicle now.” Dylan sat on the edge of her desk. “They’ll let us know if anything important turns up. The captain is impressed.”
But not him? Alexandra realized his opinion mattered more than anyone else’s and felt a tiny zing of hurt at his lack of agreement.
Reedus glanced at his watch. “I’ve got a report to write up, and then I’m gonna head over and see if I can’t get a jump on the findings from the ME.” He looked at Alexandra a little sheepishly. “That means medical examiner. You wanna come? See if you get anything from the body?”
After what had happened last time she was at that place? A shudder racked her frame. No thanks.
“Alexandra knows what an ME is. Trust me.” Dylan seemed to be fighting a smile. “You wanna go see him again, Alexandra? Tell him hey?”
Jerk.
“No, thank you, Reedus. But there is something I’d like to ask you in private before you leave. Okay?”
The older man’s brow scrunched as he looked between her and Dylan. “Yeah, sure. I’ll come find you.” He tapped a knuckle on the edge of her desk as he walked past. “Good job on that car.”
Dylan said nothing for several seconds. Finally, he shifted to his feet. “We’re drowning in calls from people who’ve already heard about this last victim. I’ve got to go prepare a statement for a press conference the captain’s called for this evening.”
A perky blonde officer from a few seats over called out Alexandra’s name, followed by Dylan’s. “There’s a guy on the phone, insisting to speak with Alexandra King.” She stood up from her chair. “I think it might be the guy you’re looking for.”
Something Wicked: HarperImpulse Romantic Suspense Page 13
