She’d slept with her boss’s little brother.
Oh, Alexandra, how do you get yourself into these things?
He directed the car into traffic and caught her looking at him. “I’m gonna ask you some things, and I expect the truth.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
His chest moved beneath a deep breath. “Why are you in Charleston?”
Ah, heck. Of course that would be the first thing he asked.
“I’m looking for someone.” There. That was the truth.
“Who?”
Well, crap. “A friend’s brother. I’ve been led to believe he’s in trouble.” Please don’t ask for a name.
“What kind of trouble?”
“I have no idea. That’s partly why I’m here. To figure it out.” She flexed her hand in a circle motion. “My information so far has come from … my special abilities.”
He sent her a narrow-eyed look before focusing on the road again. “Mind telling me what your abilities are exactly?”
She shrugged. “I’m a psychic medium. Any dreams, visions, or voices I hear are from the spirits feeding me information.”
“And there are ghosts everywhere, all of the time?” He scoffed. “So all ghosts are crime-fighting ghosts? Is that what you’re saying?”
“Most have the same personalities they had when they were alive. There are plenty of ghosts who keep to themselves, just as there are plenty who like to help if they see an opportunity.” She pursed her lips as she considered his words. “Although I have met some who consider themselves vigilantes of a sort. I met this one guy last year who died on Halloween. I swear, he loved that he’d died dressed as Batman. He used to—”
“Spare me the ghost stories,” Dylan growled. “When did you get here?”
“Last night.” She felt her face warm. “I checked into my hotel, went to the bar to grab something to eat, and you know the rest.”
He grimaced and glanced toward his window, hiding his expression from her. “So you’re ditching your search for your friend’s brother to help us with this case, for free?” He shook his head. “Sorry, honey. Something doesn’t smell right here.”
“Probably that left-over omelet sandwich. I’d toss that bag soon if I were you.”
His lips twitched. “I wasn’t talking about the omelet and you know it.”
Her muscles bunched in that way they always did when she met a skeptic a-hole hell-bent on dismissing her, and nothing she said or did could persuade him to the opposite.
Where the heck was Rebecca? Alexandra would have given anything in that moment for his mother to share some information to really freak him out.
“I don’t expect you to understand. I have a question for you now.”
He nodded. “Alright.”
“What does that grim reaper drawing have to do with the woman who was murdered in the cemetery?”
His jaw clenched, but he said nothing.
A series of images flashing in her mind momentarily disoriented her. The grim reaper cartoon she’d already seen this morning. An image of water. A woman’s hand falling into water. Water flowing onto sand.
She blinked when the road came into focus again in front of her. She blew out her breath and glanced toward the back seat. She didn’t see the dead young woman sitting back there, but Alexandra suspected the woman was hitching a ride and feeding her information telepathically.
This young woman must be the victim. That’s why she was drawn to me, but she’s new, still confused, probably scared. Trying to see if she can trust me before she reveals herself in full.
Alexandra returned her attention to the man beside her. “She wasn’t killed in the cemetery, was she? Her body was just placed there after.”
He shifted in his seat. “What?”
“She was killed near water.”
Dylan shook his head and then laughed. “This is Charleston. Water is all around us.”
A-hole.
Alexandra felt a little nauseous—that sometimes happened after such visions—so she placed a hand on her stomach and willed it away. “I can’t begin to explain to you how this works, but when it happens, like it happened this morning when I saw the newspaper, it doesn’t matter what else I have on my plate. I feel such a strong sense of urgency about this case right now. I had to offer my help.”
Because Alexandra knew, deep in her soul, that whoever killed the woman found in the cemetery would kill again.
Soon.
The sterile, gray-walled hallway was empty except for a handful of people dressed in scrubs, some carrying books or backpacks, as Dylan led Alexandra through a door marked MEDICAL AND FORENSIC AUTOPSY SECTION. She’d remained quiet as he’d pulled into the Medical University of South Carolina’s parking lot, but her curiosity finally got the better of her.
“Is this a school or a hospital?” Alexandra asked.
“Both. It’s a teaching hospital.”
Her throat tightened. “Is this where the coroner’s office is?”
“No.”
An anxious feeling nestled in her chest and refused to leave. “But this is where he performs autopsies?”
Dylan didn’t answer, which told her all she needed to know.
The bastard was bringing her to see the girl’s dead body. Some warning would have been nice. She slowed her steps to a stop, and with a heaving sigh, he finally turned and acknowledged her.
“The staff here handles them and sends their report to our coroner. I don’t have time to wait for it.” He motioned her toward another door. “After you.”
Great. He actually was taking her to the autopsy room. Goosebumps lifted the hairs on her arms at that realization. Alexandra had assisted other police, sure, but none had ever taken her to a morgue before. She wasn’t sure she could handle it, quite frankly.
Dead people, no problem. Dead bodies, hell no.
Her feet wouldn’t move, and she reached out a hand to grab the wall beside her. “I know what you’re doing.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re being mean and cruel, and trying to scare me away.”
His eyebrows shot up, even as his shoulders relaxed. “What? You mean you’ve never seen a dead body before?” A smirk played at the edges of his mouth. “In your line of work? Come on. I thought psychics got their information from things like this. You know, touching stuff.”
Touching a dead person in the autopsy room? Was he out of his ever-lovin’ mind?
Oh, she’d seen plenty of dead people in ghost form, and a few times at funerals. She didn’t particularly care to ever see one up close and personal after a medical examiner had cut it open.
The scent of some harsh cleaning chemical nearby assaulted her nostrils and sent her stomach on a gymnastics routine.
“Since what I do is new to you, I’ll cut you some slack. I don’t need to see a body in order to—” Ugh, she still felt nauseous from earlier. This wasn’t helping.