The door to the office flung open and Malaika stormed in, hands firmly planted on her gently rounded hips. “I'm not talking to anybody except this man right here,” she announced, pointing at Jonah.
“Now, wait a minute—”
“No, you wait a minute,” Malaika snapped, cutting Granger off. “I've dealt with people like you all my life. You don't believe in anything unless it's right in front of your face. I can help with this case, but I need to work with someone who believes me, someone I can trust.”
Jonah's chest swelled with warmth, touched by Malaika's declaration of trust, even though he'd only just met her. He turned his gaze back to the chief to take in the man's flabbergasted expression, and couldn't suppress the grin tugging at his lips.
Granger quelled his amused expression with a lethal glare before turning back to Malaika. “Miss Jordan, I'm going to have to ask you to step back out of my office while I—”
“And I'm going to have to tell your wife where you really were last Tuesday night when you claimed to be stuck here working.”
Granger's jaw dropped open, the older man's face reddened the color of ripe strawberries. All the while, Malaika stood her ground with hands on hips and a satisfied grin.
“I work with Jonah, or I go to your wife.”
Granger finally closed his mouth, swallowing hard. “How could you possibly know?”
“I'm psychic, which you'd already know if you'd bothered to listen to Jonah. I saw everything, and I saw it weeks ago. I just didn't know why until a few minutes ago when I got a mental flash of what was going on in here.”
Granger looked away sheepishly. “It wasn't anything, just a momentary weakness.”
“Please.” Malaika held up her hand, palm out, to ward off any further explanation. “I saw it all, honey, and believe me, some of it—no—make that most of it, I wish I hadn't seen.” She shivered visibly and made a small sound of disgust. “We have a deal here, or not?”
Granger sighed heavily in defeat, looked between Malaika and Jonah, and let his shoulders sag as he returned to his seat. “Go on, but dammit, Porter, be discreet if you want to keep your job.”
Malaika directed a smug grin his way, and Jonah let out the chuckle he'd been holding since the moment she'd stormed into the office like a bat out of hell. He nodded toward the door and allowed her to precede him out.
“Porter!”
He stopped in the doorway and turned back toward the chief.
“Not. A. Word. Of. This. To. Anyone.”
Jonah laughed at the desperate expression on Granger's face and closed the door behind him. “I think you may have made my boss piss himself,” he whispered softly to Malaika as they walked over to his desk, where Deja was doodling on his desk planner.
“Deja, stop that!” Malaika admonished.
“She's alright.” Jonah noticed the little girl's bottom lip tremble and lightly caressed her plump little cheek, bringing out a smile, before she turned back to her drawing.
He picked up the image on his desk that the sketch artist and Malaika had worked on and studied the old, withered face of Malaika's mysterious fisherman. The man had several wrinkles, thin lips, and a prominent hook-shaped nose. His lower face was covered with thin, white hair, and his eyes were hidden due to the shadow from the hood of his raincoat. “You didn't get a good look at his eyes?”
“No.” Malaika frowned. “I'm sorry. I should have looked harder.” She shrugged and looked away. Jonah had already seen the failure in her eyes.
He gripped her chin and turned her face back toward his. Her breath hitched in her throat, revealed by the little gasp she emitted, and only the sound of a throat being cleared pulled him back before he dipped his head to kiss that frown off her pretty face.
He directed a look of annoyance toward the cop who'd issued the intruding sound and was now looking at them with curious humor sparkling in his gaze, and dropped his hand. “I can't even begin to understand what it's like to be psychic, Malaika. I'm sure you saw all you could, and you're a tremendous help.”
Her eyes brightened a little before closing on a nod. “I just wish I could see the actual killer. Then I'd feel helpful.”
“I know, but your gift works however it works. We'll find the killer.” Jonah rolled the sketch up and inserted it into the inner pocket of his leather jacket. “I think it's lunchtime.”
“Lunch!” Deja's head bobbed up from where it'd been hovering over her drawing. “I want fries!”
“Deja Serene Jordan.” Malaika used a stern tone, but failed to hide the twinkle in her eye as she fixed her gaze on her daughter's pushed-out bottom lip. “Mr. Porter is a busy man and doesn't have time to take you for fries. We'll go home and—”
“Fries sound great to me,” Jonah said, scooping up the little girl who gave him an earful of happy giggles as they made their way toward the exit. “You coming?” he asked as he looked back over his shoulder to where Malaika stood with her arms crossed.
“You're spoiling her,” she said tersely as she reached them, and passed them by.
“It's one of my many skills,” Jonah replied with a laugh as he watched the sway of her hips while she led them out of the precinct.
“So, what exactly did you see Granger do?” Jonah asked as he eased his Crown Vic out of the parking lot, onto the busy street.
Malaika shuddered in disgust at the horrid image. “I'd rather not say. It's one thing to accidentally intrude upon someone's personal business, but to blab about it is far worse. I can't help what I do with my mind, but I have control over my mouth.”
Jonah looked at her thoughtfully and nodded before redirecting his gaze to the road before him. “That's kind of you. I imagine some people with your gift wouldn't be so considerate.”
Malaika shrugged. It wasn't as if she'd ever met anyone with her gifts. Her grandmother had supposedly been psychic, too, though the family had treated her as though she were crazy. “I can say this much. Some men should not wear boxer briefs.”
Jonah barked out a hearty laugh. “Well, it's a good thing you saw whatever it was. It came in handy.”
“Not handy enough. You still had to hand over your badge.” Guilt filled her chest. Why hadn't she seen something to prevent that? “I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. It wasn't your fault.”
“Maybe if I'd told you not to go into the building—”
“My partner would be dead.” He pulled the car to a stop along the curb and looked at her pointedly. “You saved her life. You have nothing to feel sorry for.”
Yeah, except withholding the whole truth. Craig is wrapped up in this mess somehow and according to my deceased grandmother, he's still around. Panic set in. How could Craig be alive? She'd been inside him in the vision, had felt the white-hot pain as he'd been attacked. She'd felt the life seep out of him.
“Let's go get some fries.” Jonah opened his door and got out of the car, quickly opening the back door to retrieve Deja.
Malaika's feet felt like two blocks of cement as they hit the sidewalk. Why hadn't Craig come home if he survived the attack? Was he in a hospital somewhere? She hadn't bothered to call, so certain he'd been killed. She hadn't filed a missing persons report either, too scared to face the truth. The vision was one thing, but to have an actual verification of his death… There'd be no way she couldn't tell Deja then, and she didn't want to do that. She was too young to deal with death. Surely, thinking her daddy was out there somewhere was better than knowing he was dead.
But he wasn't dead. He was out there somewhere. What if he returned home now? Why had her grandmother said their home wasn't his anymore? Was the guilt over what he'd done keeping him away?
“Malaika?”
She looked up to see Jonah standing at the entrance of a small cafe with Deja firmly held by one masculine arm, waiting for her.
Serves him right if he's too guilty to come back. He can stay gone. Malaika closed the distance between Jonah and herself, unable to hold back a smile as she
saw how her daughter looked adoringly at the man holding her. The man who looked perfectly natural holding her. A cold chill ran through her as she recalled her grandmother's final words.
“You must stop him… before he destroys the person sent to save you.”
Oh, no. Nuh-uh. Craig had done his dirt and he could stew in it. It was time to leave his cheating ass behind and move on. And if he laid one finger on Jonah Porter, he'd wish he was dead.
“You are spoiling my child.” Malaika tried to sound stern and disapproving, but couldn't quite get the tone right as Jonah paid for the bright pink stuffed unicorn Deja had spotted at the gift stand near the park.
“I told you, it's one of my skills.” He grinned at her as he handed the unicorn to Deja and patted her head as she jumped up and down in glee.
“Momma, can I go slide?”
“Be careful,” Malaika cautioned, but Deja was already running toward the slide. “Are you sure you don't have things to do?” she asked Jonah as they found a bench to sit on facing the playground. Jonah had bought lunch for her and Deja and then suggested walking to the park. He was being awfully nice for a detective who'd just lost his badge because of her.
“I'm supposed to be on vacation,” he answered with a wry chuckle. “I've got plenty of time to spare, and it's the first warm day we've had in a while. Might as well enjoy it.”
“I'm sorry.”
Jonah turned his head to look at her and frowned. “For what?”
“Your badge. Everything.”
“I already told you none of this is your fault.”
True. It didn't take away her guilt.
“What is it, Malaika?”
My dead grandmother told me we're in danger, and I should tell you the full truth about the vision I had of Craig, but it's too crazy to believe. “Nothing.”
“Do you always look so upset over nothing?”
“I've got things on my mind.”
“There's an understatement.” He stretched his long legs out before him, getting comfortable. “I'll go back down to the harbor in the morning and look for the fisherman. Since I have the sketch artist's rendering, you won't need to go with me.”
“Good,” Malaika said before catching herself, but the relief swamping over her caused her to blurt out her thought, despite how ungrateful it made her sound. “I'm sorry. It's not that I minded going with you. I know it's important to find the fisherman if the case is to be solved.”
“But you don't like the water.”
She jerked her head toward Jonah to find him watching her, knowingly. “That obvious?”
“You turned a little green when we got to the harbor. I thought maybe you just didn't feel well, but you got better after we left. So what happened?”
“Huh?”
“What happened to make you dislike the water? Almost drown? Have a bratty cousin hold you under in the pool?”
“No, nothing like that.” She'd never given anyone the chance to hold her under water. “Large bodies of water just freak me out. They always have. From the time I was born, I've had this irrational fear of water. I even avoid being in the rain if at all possible.”
“Really? You were just born scared of it?”
“I told you it was irrational.” She shrugged, ready to change the subject. “So what are you going to do now that you've been ordered off the case?”
“I'm going to make sure nobody catches me working it,” he answered with a sly grin and a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“How are you going to do that?” Unease skittered through Malaika's body. She didn't want Jonah in any further trouble with the department.
“I have you. You see the murders happen.”
“But I'm always too late.”
“I can still use your gift.” He leaned toward her. “Everything you see, I will use until I track down whatever is killing these people.”
She gulped. “But you'll always be a step behind. My visions don't—”
“Malaika.” He touched the side of her face, and she realized she'd been shaking her head back and forth. “Believe a little bit more in yourself. You have this gift for a reason. You're seeing these murders for a reason. I seriously doubt the visions are in your head just to tease you.”
“But—”
He halted her reply with a finger pressed to her lips. He looked down at where his finger rested, and replaced it with his thumb, smoothing it over her bottom lip before pulling his hand away and shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“Have you ever been properly trained in using your gifts?” he asked while staring out at where Deja frolicked.
“Properly trained?” Malaika laughed. “What, like a psychic academy?”
The look Jonah spared her with held no hint of humor. He'd been serious. “There might be people who could help you learn how to hone your skills.”
“Yeah, sure. Well, I can tell you this. They're not in the Yellow Pages.”
“They wouldn't be.” He opened his mouth to say more, then snapped it shut.
Malaika studied him while he watched her daughter play, and noticed the tight set of his jaw, the way he rubbed his thumb along the backs of his fingers. It was a nervous gesture. A strange thought popped into her head. Surely, he didn't…
“Jonah, am I the only psychic you've met?”
He sighed heavily, grinned a little uncertainly before facing her. “Not really.”
Surprised excitement caused her to intake a sharp breath. Another psychic? Someone like her?
“A real psychic? Not one of these two-dollar-a-minute-phonecall-fake-psychics?”
“I've known some… people… who can see things before they happen, talk without speaking, that sort of thing.” He looked away again, and ran a tan hand through his short, brown hair.
“What is it? Is there something you're not telling me?” Unease crept inside her again, replacing the momentary excitement she'd felt.
Jonah chuckled. “Sweetheart, there's a ton I'm not telling you. Hell, if I did, you'd think I was a nutcase.” He scratched his head. “Just trust me when I say you are not the only person with these particular skills, and I think there is a way you can be trained to use them more efficiently.”
“Trained by who?”
He chuckled again, no humor to the sound. “Tell you what. Let me run an idea by my brother, and if he gives me the all clear, I'll let you know.”
His brother. She recalled the mental flash she'd received at the police department while Jonah was arguing with his boss. “Jonah, I saw what was going on inside the police chief's office. I heard your discussion.”
He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, and lowered his head until it was supported by his fists. “How much?”
“Enough to know something bad happened to you. You were… hung on a wall?” Her chest tightened. “Your brother is some sort of reckless detective, and your cousin thinks… vampires killed off most of his town?”
“That about sums it up.” He didn't look up.
“No, not really. What happened to you?”
“You heard it. I was on a case and the bad guy got me before I got him.”
“Jo—”
“I survived.” He raised his head to face her full-on. “It's no big deal.”
His tone said entirely different. Malaika squared her shoulders and pressed on. Something was gnawing at her, something was being held from her, and she intended to find out what.
“Explain why the police chief hates your brother, and why your cousin thinks vampires raided his town.”
“How am I supposed to know what goes on in my cousin's head?”
“You know something. The chief knows it, too. That's why the department is treating you the way they are. Something strange is going on around you.”
“Drop it, Malaika.” He closed his eyes, and let out a deep breath. “Sorry. I'm not trying to snap at you. I appreciate your concern, but some things… People just don't understand certain things until they see them for
themselves.”
She laughed out loud. “Are you serious? I'm psychic. My whole life has been spent either trying to convince people to believe in something they can't see, or just hiding what I do in order to feel a little less like a freak. Jonah…” She placed her hand on his. “You can tell me anything. You'll find I'm not that close-minded. I can't be.”
He stared at where their hands met for a moment then cleared his throat. “Fine. I was the lead detective on the serial killer case from last spring.”
“The man who was dumping bodies in parks?”
“Yes.” He took in another deep breath, let it out slowly. “He wasn't just a man. He was a monster.”
“”I'll bet,” Malaika said softly. Had he been hung on a wall by that man? It was a miracle he'd not been killed and left in a park, too, but if she recalled correctly, the serial killer only murdered women.
“No, Malaika. Not that kind of monster. He was really a monster.”
She frowned as he looked at her intently, tried to figure out where he was going. “He was an evil, horrible being. I get it.”
“He was worse than that. He was a demon.”
She nodded her head in agreement, but Jonah shook his in return. “A real demon, Malaika. He'd died and gone to hell. From there he'd made a pact with the devil to reincarnate through his own family line. The man who murdered those women had a real, live demon possessing his body.”
Ohhhh-kay. Maybe he did need a break from his job. Though Malaika knew what it felt like to feel something so strongly inside your own body, a source of power that threatened to overwhelm… Demons possessing people?
“You don't believe me.” He laughed, mirthlessly. “I knew it.”
“Jonah, I…” She what? Knew what it felt like to feel something alive inside you, but couldn't put a name to? Now, who sounded crazy? “I know that sometimes things can seem—”
“Carter Dunn, the man who killed women all over Baltimore, was a demon, Malaika. Plain and simple, cut and dry. Do you remember what happened to him?”
She thought back to the article she'd read in the paper last spring. “He was found burned to death in his home. The detective found at the scene—” She gasped, recalling how badly beaten the detective—the detective she now knew was Jonah—had been reported to have been. “You were unconscious, and didn't know what had happened to him.”
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