by Sylvia Day
She didn’t want to think it was a fucking cop. But if she didn’t…
Mica groaned. She stopped by the window and thunked her head against the glass. Other possibilities. If she refused to look at them, then she ran the risk that a killer would go free.
Even if those options were as unpleasant as a fellow cop being the killer.
“All you saw was a gun,” she said quietly. “Plenty of people have guns.”
“You’re right.”
“You didn’t even see his shield, not for certain. You didn’t see his face, nothing. Just his damn weapon. It doesn’t have to mean jack shit.”
She turned, slumping against the window, exhaustion dragging her down.
Colby’s blue eyes met hers. There was no condemnation in his gaze, no disgust, no anger. Just patience. Ever the patient one. Like he would wait forever for her to accept this.
But they didn’t have forever.
“Where did you see the fourth victim?” she asked, pushing away from the window. First things first. Focus on what she knew for now.
But the bad thing was…thanks to Colby’s vision, she had new knowledge she didn’t want to accept.
In her gut, she knew the killer very likely was a cop.
She was hunting one of her own.
chapter nine
“Has he learned anything?”
Kellogg’s low, quiet voice drew Mica’s attention away from the selection of coffee offered by the vending machines. She had a choice of bad and even worse. Or she could save her stomach lining by getting a Coke. She needed the caffeine punch, though. Desperately. The coffee was akin to sewage here, but it would wake her up better than a Coke would…except she valued her stomach lining.
Under the pretense of fishing change from her pocket, she didn’t meet her commander’s eyes as she replied, “He’s picking up on a few things. Nothing solid.”
Not a complete lie. They didn’t have what they needed for Mica to find him, after all. And if she laid it out before the commander without having proof, she’d have her ass handed to her. Before she told the woman in charge about Colby’s suspicions, she wanted proof. Something tangible, and then she’d tell the commander.
And how are you going to get that? He hasn’t left anything so far…
“He doesn’t have anything useful?”
Mica shrugged. “This isn’t like a book or something—you can’t just open his brain and find the answers.”
“Maybe he needs to open his brain and find the answers,” Kellogg said, her voice edgy and harsh. “We only have a few days at most—I don’t want another dead woman on my hands, Lieutenant.”
Mica didn’t particularly want that, either.
“Neither do I,” she said quietly. Slanting a look at the captain, she added, “He’s doing the best he can. Sometimes this is like shooting in the dark. You’ve got to let him work.”
Kellogg sighed as Mica shifted away from the vending machine, an icy-cold can in her hand. The captain stood in front of the machine now, eying it with a look of acute dislike. “This stuff is going to eat my stomach alive,” she mused as she fed a few quarters into it.
“That’s why I went with the Coke.”
“I need more caffeine than that,” Kellogg murmured. “Has your partner figured out what’s up with the…consultant?”
Mica jerked a shoulder. “He was asking about him, but I’ve managed to dance around answering. Telling Phillips what Colby is doing will not help anything.”
“Colby?” Kellogg cocked a brow as she took her coffee.
A dull flush threatened to spread across Mica’s face, but she shoved it down. “The psychic,” she said smoothly. “But I’m not going to be able to avoid giving Phillips an answer forever. We’re heading to the latest victim’s place of employment again today, and I imagine he’s going to keep on pushing.”
“He’s not an easy partner to work with, is he?”
The woman already knew the answer—Mica could see it in her eyes. “I don’t need easy. I just need him to do his job.”
Kellogg sipped the coffee, a grimace twisting her mouth. “Do you want to go ahead and tell him?”
No—
Before the response could show on her face or in her eyes, Mica pushed it down. Careful…be careful here, she warned herself.
“At this time, until we have something more concrete, I think it’s best we keep his involvement down to an absolute minimum. Only those who absolutely need to know.”
Kellogg studied Mica appraisingly, one brow lifted in speculation. “And I take it your partner isn’t one you’d consider an absolute.”
“Right now, I only consider those who already know the circumstances an absolute,” Mica replied honestly. It was nothing less than truth, after all. Mica already knew about Colby, and Kellogg was the one who’d wanted him in the first place. No reason anybody else needed to know anything.
“You’re holding back on me,” Kellogg murmured.
“Not entirely. I’m still just putting things together.” She gave the commander a game smile and said, “The pieces aren’t all fitting together yet. Once I have a clear picture, I can say more.”
“SO YOU GOING to tell me what’s up with this friend of yours that’s consulting?”
As they crossed the busted, broken pavement of the strip joint where their last victim had worked, Mica replied, “At this point, nothing is up, Phillips.”
He snorted cynically and reached into his pocket, pulling out a battered cigarette.
She wished he’d either smoke the damn thing or just throw it away.
With it hanging from his lips, Phillips said, “He’s been in town for two days, and I bet you’re spending the evenings with him on the case. But you still don’t want to bring me in.”
“There’s nothing to bring you in on,” Mica replied. Sweat trickled down her back. They’d left the cool comfort of her air-conditioned car for the sweltering ninety-degree temps. It wasn’t even eleven and it was already this hot out. It was going to be a miserable summer, she imagined. “Right now, he’s just going over the evidence we’ve got. If he has some earth-shattering revelation, I’ll let you know.”
“Generous of you, giving me the information I need to do my job. Shit, you won’t even tell me what kind of consultant he is. But you’ll let me know if he has an earth-shattering revelation.”
Logically, she had every reason to bring him in. But her gut warned against it. Not until they knew something. Not until they had something solid. She didn’t want to tell her commander, her partner, nobody.
“Our job,” she reminded him. “And hell, it’s not like you don’t have sources of your own. You don’t exactly share those with me. Besides, once I have something, I’ll let you in. Right now, there’s just nothing to share.” They came to a halt in front of the tinted glass of the front door. She couldn’t make out a thing behind the painted glass. “You ready to turn on the charm in here?”
She didn’t wait for an answer as she reached up and hit the doorbell.
This was the first of several stops today, and the last thing she wanted was to get into another argument with her so-called partner. Granted, this time he actually had a reason to be pissed off. That didn’t make it any easier to deal with him, though.
“THIS IS A fucking waste of time,” Phillips snarled three hours later. They were talking to the victim’s friends, people who lived in her neighborhood.
Mica agreed. Sighing, she shoved a hand through her damp hair. “Waste of time or not, it’s necessary.” Necessary, because it was part of the job. And she also never knew what was going to call to her. If something called to her, then it would likely call to Colby.
Still, she suspected she wouldn’t find anything hitting the streets. Her best bet at finding anything was when she talked to Colby…and let him get his fingers, psychic and otherwise, over the evidence she’d slipped into her bag.
He needed another connection—and she had an idea that something per
sonal would have a stronger kick than autopsy photos. She was going to give him just that.
All she had to do was finish up what was turning out to be one very endless day.
chapter ten
“Any luck today?”
“Depends on what kind of luck you’re hoping for,” Mica said as Colby adjusted the seat to fit his longer frame. “I got to listen to my partner bitch, had to dance around questions from my commander about you, and ran into one dead end after another in the investigation. So all kinds of bad luck.”
“Why are you dancing around questions with your commander?” Colby shot her a frown. “She knows what I do.”
“Yeah.” Mica huffed out a breath as she put the car into reverse. “She just wasn’t expecting you to come out with this idea that it’s a cop. I’m not ready to break that to her without proof.”
“So you’re basically working this solo.”
“No,” she said softly. “I’m not solo. I’ve got you.” She slid him a look and a faint smile. “I’d trust you over just about everybody in my department anyway.”
Reaching into her bag, she pulled out the evidence bag. “And the luck wasn’t all bad. I brought you something.” The earrings in the bag had belonged to the third victim—a pair of silly, dangly little hearts, and when Mica had touched the bag, her fingers had buzzed.
She hoped that was because this was the right thing to do.
But she wasn’t going to know until she turned it over.
Taking a deep breath, she held it up, letting it hang between two fingers. She’d tried to keep from handling it any more than necessary, even though she doubted it would matter much. Colby was too good at what he did to let some minor interference get in the way.
His eyes lingered on the bag, a humorless smile on his lips. “Thanks, but they aren’t exactly my style.”
Watching the skin tighten around his eyes, she waited.
He didn’t make her wait long. After taking a slow, deep breath, he held out a hand. “Just the earrings. Hold on to the bag.”
She nodded and pulled it open. She didn’t let herself think about the procedures she was breaking here. If the captain hadn’t wanted her doing this sort of thing, she wouldn’t have given her carte blanche. As it was now, it would be a lot like closing the barn door after the horse had gotten away.
Colby cupped the small pieces of jewelry loosely in his palm, keeping his fingertips away from the metal.
She swallowed and held out a hand. “Do you need…”
“No.” His lids drooped. “I’ve got it already…”
Then he went silent.
And something started to happen.
The air in the small car sparked, snapped. It seemed to wrap around her and dance along her skin, a light, electric touch.
Seconds ticked away, turned into minutes. She suspected nearly twenty minutes passed before he opened his eyes and stared at her. In a low, raspy voice, he murmured, “Drive.”
The intensity of his voice sent a shiver down her spine, but she ignored it. This was what she’d been hoping for. Swallowing, she said softly, “What direction?”
He slanted a look out the front window. “East. It’s somewhere east.”
* * *
THE PLACE WASN’T in town this time.
Outside of the city limits, a good forty-five minutes away. The traffic on the highway was scarce and the silence in the car was almost oppressive, heavy and tight as Mica drew it in. She could smell Colby and the sun-scorched earth.
It didn’t seem like there was anything else around for miles, but that was deceptive. It was easy to feel lost out there, under the big, blue bowl of the sky, with nothing around by the wide-open land and the road.
And Colby.
The intensity emanating from him was still enough to leave her skin buzzing. She probably would have felt it even without any psychic ability, but as it was, it was almost too much. “We’re getting close,” he murmured.
Scowling, Mica cast another look around. Close to what? she wondered. But as they veered around a bend in the road and up a slight incline, she saw the wire fence and, in the distance, an old, abandoned ranch.
Because of the bends in the road, the house kept disappearing from sight. It was the outer buildings she was able to make out the easiest—especially the dilapidated barn that had fallen into disrepair.
And she knew it, even before he said it. She didn’t bother waiting for him to speak before she eased up on the gas.
“It’s here,” he said softly.
“Somehow I knew you were going to say that.” Sighing, Mica hit her blinker and shot another look at the spread of land.
What was here, though? And just where was it?
chapter eleven
They didn’t stop at the broken, busted-up barn.
She waited for some sign from him that he knew what he was looking for, but he remained silent. Once she reached the house, she pulled the car to a stop and shut it off. “Is whatever we’re looking for here?”
“We’ll see.” A faint, humorless smile curled his lips.
“Any idea what we’re looking for?”
Without answering, he climbed out of the car. She did the same, grimacing as the heat hit her square in the chest. She stared at him through the lenses of her sunglasses, watched as he just stood there, staring at the house.
“Colby?”
He glanced at her finally, one shoulder rising in a restless shrug. “I don’t know what I’m looking for. I’ll know it when I see it.”
THE SIGHT OF the greenhouse in the back of the house shouldn’t have looked so ominous, Colby knew. It was just a building, constructed of glass and metal, the windows reflecting the light all around.
Unlike the rest of the house, it looked like somebody had been taking care of it. There weren’t any busted windows and he was pretty sure he saw plants and shit inside. Somehow he doubted there would be that much green in there if this place was completely abandoned.
“The greenhouse,” Mica murmured, echoing his thoughts. She swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and slid him a look. “Why do I get the feeling we have to go into the greenhouse?”
“I don’t know.” Colby smirked. “Maybe you’re psychic.”
She scowled at him as she started forward, muttering under her breath.
It was an improvement, he thought. She wasn’t swearing at him.
A few minutes later, they were surrounded by the moist heat of the greenhouse and he couldn’t breathe without smelling wet earth and growing things.
It didn’t seem right that he also felt death.
But he did. Moving to the center of one narrow aisle, he closed his eyes. As he did, the vision came over him—he saw hands. A man’s hands. Doing whatever in the hell one did with flowers—pruning, snipping, clipping. Fading blooms fell around those hands like rain, the petals falling to the ground around a pair of beat-up work boots.
And some of those petals were almost midnight black.
The flowers…over and over again, he saw those flowers.
Dozens of them, and then just one. Being meticulously chosen from the growing blooms, cut from its stem, wrapped carefully. In the background, the entire time, he heard singing. Loud, getting louder. And he saw a woman…swaying to the music.
Endless moments passed. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. The vision shifted, shuddered, and fell apart and Colby opened his eyes.
Turning his head, he found himself staring at a neat little patch of flowers.
Tulips, he thought.
They were tulips. With blooms the color of midnight.
* * *
COLBY’S DAMN SPELLS hadn’t gotten any less creepy over the years, Mica thought. He’d been out of it, his eyes closed, breathing almost nonexistent, for a good twenty minutes.
When she heard the car engine, she swore, easing away from him with as much silence as possible. Not that it would matter how much noise she made just then—the w
orld could end, with earthquakes rumbling and volcanoes erupting, and Colby Mathis could be completely unaware if one of his visions came on him. Slapping him might jerk him out of it. Rocks hitting him in that hard head of his. But noise wasn’t going to do it.
Moving to the doorway, she peered outside. Damn it, don’t let it be an owner, don’t let it be an owner…
The sight of her partner’s car pulling around the corner of the house almost had her gnashing her teeth together. If that bastard was following her, she was going to beat him bloody.