Holy crap.
She laughed and glanced around. Looked like one of her problems was going to be easier to solve than she’d thought.
On the other hand, it was a little disconcerting to realize her mental keep-ghosts-away barrier wasn’t working.
She looked around but didn’t see any more people with sparkly auras. The young woman had been dressed modern. Probably a new ghost. Could be as wary of Alexandra as Alexandra was of her right now, hence the telepathy instead of face-to-face conversation.
Suited her just fine.
Alexandra used the phone book to find the number for the North Charleston Police Department then waited to be connected to Detective Collins. After holding several minutes, a gruff, older-sounding man came on the line.
“Detective Reedus,” he barked.
“I was trying to reach Dylan Collins.”
“What’s the nature of your business?”
Uh, crap. What should she say? The truth? Yeah, she’d give it a shot.
“I’m a friend of his brother’s. I’m trying to reach him. It’s important.”
There was a brief pause. The man grunted. “Detective Collins doesn’t have a brother. If you have a crime tip, please call our special hotline.” He rattled off a number. “Have a good day.” Then the line went dead.
Okay, maybe not so easy after all.
Time for Plan B.
Alexandra scrolled through the contacts in her phone until she spotted a familiar police sergeant’s name. He answered after the second ring.
“Sergeant Coronado, got a minute?”
She could hear the smile in his voice when he answered, “For one of my favorite ladies? Always.”
She nibbled at her lower lip. “Tell me. Do you know anyone in the bureaus down in Charleston, South Carolina?”
***
“Collins, captain wants to see you in his office.” A uniformed officer made the announcement on his way to the water cooler.
Reedus banged a crumpled paper ball off of Dylan’s shoulder and grinned. “Probably another false confession or maybe the cap just wants to tell you what a great job you’re doing. What’s your guess?”
“Did the cemetery murder make the news yet?”
Reedus picked up the newspaper on his desk. “Yep.”
Dylan groaned and rubbed his eyes. If he had a quarter for every time some whackjob came in, wanting to confess to a crime he obviously knew nothing about but had seen in the news, Dylan could’ve afforded one of the mansions on Rainbow Row.
“Why don’t you take this one?” He glanced hopefully at the older man sitting at the desk across from him.
“Ha!” Reedus leaned back. “You’re the lead on this case, not me. Besides, I got a stack of paperwork to finish on another case before lunch.”
“I’ll do your paperwork.”
“You’d trade paperwork for that?” He made a yeah, right face and leaned forward.
Well, yes, he would’ve, but Dylan didn’t argue.
Walking toward the captain’s office, Dylan rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his head around his shoulders. He was so tense, he was starting to feel stiff and sore. A far cry from how he’d felt last night: relaxed, sated, and in seventh heaven wrapped around the blonde from the bar.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had so much fun with a woman. Both in and out of bed.
Maybe when he ended his shift, he’d track her down and enjoy another night of mindless sex. Would she be up for that?
Maybe. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where to find her to ask.
Alexandra. He loved that name. Loved that she didn’t shorten it. She’d been on his mind on and off all morning. How long was she staying in town? For all he knew, she’d already checked out, and that would suck. He itched to lay eyes on a living, breathing woman after spending the morning with the lifeless one at the cemetery. He wanted to hold someone, feel her warmth soak into his skin like medicine, and remind him not everything in this world was bad.
He knocked on the captain’s door and entered.
And then froze.
“Collins, get in here,” the captain ordered after a minute, his attention half focused on the computer screen in front of him. Dylan stepped inside and closed the door behind him, his eyes not leaving the woman seated in the chair in front of his boss.
Her eyes wide, Alexandra looked about two shades paler than he remembered as she gawked back at him.
“Detective Collins, this is Alexandra King.”
Dylan nodded but couldn’t manage to push out any words. What was she doing here?
The captain looked at him, leaned back in his seat and tented his fingers. “Miss King is a private investigator from Atlanta. She also happens to be a psychic medium, and she’s offered her services to us on this case free of charge.”
Private investigator? Psychic medium?
Hell.
The captain held up his hand in a hear-me-out gesture and nodded toward his phone. “Miss King comes highly recommended from some of my friends in the Colorado police bureau. I’d like for you to include her on this case.”
“What? Captain, we never—”
“You talking back to me, son?” Captain Lloyd Devereux pushed his chubby body out of the seat. His finger tapped the top of his desk for emphasis as he spoke. “The victim was the niece of a county councilman. How long do you think it’s going to be before there’s pressure to turn this over to SLED or call in the feds?”
Probably a day at most before someone begged the South Carolina Law Enforcement Division to send a man in to help.
Pushing a hand through his hair, Dylan said nothing, just met the older man’s eyes. As the youngest detective in this department, he’d learned not to press his luck. He suspected the captain hadn’t liked him since the day Dylan had transferred in from Baton Rouge last year. No idea why. Dylan’s cases were always handled professionally, and his conviction rate was higher than anyone else’s in the division. He was good at his job. He took pride in that.
“Sir, I mean nothing but respect here, but I don’t understand. I’ve never worked with a psychic before on a case.” He glanced at Alexandra then back to his boss. “I’m a little curious why we’re even considering this. It’s not like this is a cold case we’re working.”
Devereux relaxed his stance. “I don’t want this to become a high profile case, and if that means taking advantage of Miss King’s help, so be it. Hear her out. If she can’t help, fine. Let me know. But until then, she’s consulting. I’m already drawing up the paperwork.” He reached for something on his desk. “We don’t do it often, but we’ve listened to what some so-called psychics have had to say before. Here. This is what convinced me to give Miss King a shot.”
The captain tossed a yellow steno pad across the desk in front of Dylan. The older man said nothing, just waited for Dylan to glance at what was drawn on the paper. When he did, Dylan swore.
Scribbled on the page was a child-like drawing of a hooded figure holding a scythe. A grim reaper.
“Miss King said she had a vision of that when she read the article in the paper this morning. She thought it was relevant. I haven’t confirmed or denied to her that it is.”
Dylan took a deep breath and