The woman continued to surprise him.
She reached up and accepted Reedus’s hand. “Nice to meet you, detective.”
Dylan shut the door behind them. “Detective Reedus worked on this case and can help me determine whether or not you’re just pulling things out of thin air.”
She sighed, and the sound translated as annoyed. She reached her hand across the table and wiggled her fingers in a gimme gesture. “Let’s not waste too much time on this, okay? I’d rather be working on a case I can help on.”
Surprised again, Dylan tried not to show it as he sank into the seat across from her. He pulled a plastic bag containing a necklace out of the folder. “It helps you to touch something that belonged to the victim, right?”
“It’s called psychometry, and I can only do that if a spirit connected to the object is still here and willing to talk.”
Yeah, whatever.
“I’m not gonna to share anything about this case with you first.”
“Good.” She snatched the necklace from his hand and looked down at the table. “Just give me a second to see what they show me.”
“They?” Reedus asked from where he leaned against the wall watching.
Alexandra ignored him, staring at the oak tabletop as her fingers toyed with the chain of the necklace. Her eyes glazed over, and silence filled the room while she fondled the charm and chain alternately. Oh, man. She was good at this. Dylan wondered if she had a background in the theater and decided to ask her before she left.
Her voice was firm and confident when she finally spoke. “The victim was a man. He was tall. Mustache. Maybe 190 pounds.”
Dylan glanced at Reedus and saw the older man’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Dylan had been certain the necklace would throw her off on the gender. A small religious medal on a chain, it had struck him as being a bit feminine in appearance. Maybe he’d been wrong.
She took a deep breath. “I’m feeling something at my throat. Like I can’t breathe.” She looked up at Reedus. “Was he hung? From a tree? Like, a tree in his own yard?”
Reedus nodded and moved to take the seat beside Dylan. He leaned forward on his elbows and waited quietly for more.
Dylan shifted in his chair. How the devil was she doing this?
“He’s dressed funny.” She scrunched her nose. “Might be the seventies?” She shook her head. “It took you a while to solve this one. Hmmm. There was some speculation it had been a suicide, but it wasn’t. That’s why. Right?” She fingered the necklace and tilted her head, staring straight at the wall over Dylan’s shoulder. “Your killers worked together. It was a lynching-type murder. Like a hate crime. Oh, I know.” She blinked and looked at Reedus as if she’d just had a great epiphany. “He was gay. They killed him because he was gay. And they tried to make it look like a suicide.”
Reedus glanced back at Dylan and gave him one of his I’m-impressed expressions.
Alexandra held the necklace out to Dylan. “The ringleader died about ten years ago, and his wife gave up the other two people involved. He’d bragged about it to her once when he’d been drunk. She had a guilty conscience.”
Reedus chuckled and took the necklace before Dylan could. “Actually it was his sister and there were three arrests made, but you got everything else right. Good enough for me.”
Alexandra shrugged. “No psychic is one hundred percent accurate. We’re human. We make mistakes.” She tapped the table with a finger. “But I’m glad you caught those guys. I see a history of domestic violence with them. Nasty stuff.”
Surprise lit up Reedus’s face again. “Yeah, one of the guy’s wives led us to some evidence from the crime scene he’d kept. She was glad to get rid of him. Open and shut case.”
“And you’re telling me this didn’t get any media?” Dylan asked.
Reedus shook his head. “Not much. The victim’s family had disowned him because of his sexual orientation, and quite frankly, I think his father—a real religious asshole—was a bit relieved to be rid of him. They were ashamed, but fine believing it was suicide. No one on the force really took an interest in proving otherwise either. Times were different back then. If the killer’s sister hadn’t come forward, it would have remained a suicide.”
“What about when it was solved?” Dylan couldn’t believe this. There had to be some explanation for Alexandra’s guesses.
“Sure, they ran a piece on the local news. I think it lasted about thirty seconds. End of story.”
Dylan shook his head and addressed the woman across from them. “Tell me this. If you were getting your information from a spirit connected to that necklace, why weren’t you one hundred percent accurate?”
She released a sigh. “I don’t know, Dylan. My best guess is that it’s like a radio signal. Every now and then there’s some interference. I hear the information wrong or it comes across distorted because of something screwy in the transmission.”
Alexandra held up a hand before he could voice his next thought. “Look, you gave me nothing, and I gave you a lot. I think you’re just determined to find excuses, which is your prerogative. Stupid, but your prerogative. I’d really like to get back to the case I volunteered to help you with. Okay?”
Reedus chuckled and gestured toward her. “I like this woman, Collins. We should work with her more often.”
Yeah, and Dylan knew why. All it took was a pretty face and a hot body to win Reedus’s favor. He muttered a curse and put the bagged necklace back in the folder. Doubts nibbled at his conviction that she was a fraud.
Zach had been pretty convincing on TV, too. Don’t forget that.
Zach. He didn’t like the way he kept thinking about his brother today after working years to forget the bastard ever existed. He’d been twelve when his older brother had taken off, abandoned him and their mother as if they’d meant nothing, and Dylan had been a senior in high school when his girlfriend had pulled him over to her TV to watch a new show she’d become fixated on.
The Psychic Detective, starring Zachary Collins. “Gee, you kinda look like him, too,” his girlfriend had commented before asking if there was any relation.
Dylan had been horrified to realize his brother was actually passing himself off as a psychic. Zach had never shown any ounce of having those abilities growing up. He’d known it was a scam, had been pissed as hell that the brother he’d once worshipped had been unworthy of his praise.
The word “psychic” had been a hot button for him ever since.
But maybe he was being too narrow-minded. Just because his brother was a fraud didn’t mean they all were.
“Look,” he told Alexandra. “I’m willing to listen to whatever it is you have to tell me.” He leaned across the table. “But the second it becomes obvious to me that you’re conning me, that’s it. I’m done.”
A beautiful smile lit up her face. “Sounds fair to me. Can we get started now? I mean, seriously.”
“Wait here. I’ll go get the file so we can go over what we already know.”
If Alexandra King could help him solve this case, great. If not, he hadn’t lost anything but a little time.
***
Alexandra’s behind hurt from sitting too long, so she stood to pace the room while she once again studied the crime scene photos Dylan had shared with her.
She stared at the close-up photograph of Candice Christopher’s face. She was the young woman who’d been standing outside the café, the spirit who’d