Something Wicked. Angela Campbell

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ the living can communicate with me. No spirits can pass beyond this barrier.

      Over and over, she repeated the mantra until she felt…almost normal. Another deep breath, and she opened her eyes.

      Alexandra’s stomach rumbled, so she set out in search of food. She found a small café serving breakfast, asked to borrow the phone book, grabbed a newspaper and sat down to make a plan.

      She started by checking for Dylan Collins in the phone book, hoping the good, old-fashioned resource would trump her Internet searches. She found only one, called and reached an older-sounding man with a strong Southern accent.

      Nope. Not him.

      She went down the list of D Collins and knew each time a woman claimed a variation of the name she wasn’t getting any closer.

      And it sucked that every time she marked off a name from the list, her mind happily somersaulted to an image of Mr. Delicious’s handsome face.

      Had he ever told her his name?

      Heat warmed her face as she realized she hadn’t noticed. She couldn’t believe she’d slept with a total stranger when she’d needed to be focused on the reason she came here in the first place. But she had.

      This would have been a lot easier to do if her mind didn’t prefer to think about Mr. Delicious. Oh, yes, he’d rocked her world last night. Was she only one in a long line of women, or was casual sex as new to him as it was her?

      She snorted. Who was she kidding? That man had been on the prowl before she’d walked into the room. If she hadn’t taken him back to her hotel, no doubt some other lucky woman would have been charmed into doing so. Ridiculous that she felt the hot rush of jealousy blur her vision at that idea. No one that good in bed was a saint, and she had no claim on him anyway. Nor did she want a claim on him. She’d done the long distance thing once, and her marriage hadn’t survived it.

      Slamming the phone book shut, she sighed, feeling a little depressed by that memory.

      She looked up and caught a young woman on the other side of the window staring in at her. Tiny sparks of orange electricity shot off from her body, just like they always did from dead people. Another ghost. Alexandra tensed and tore her eyes away. She’d done the proper meditation to disconnect. She knew she had.

      She glanced back and the young woman was gone.

      She must have been mistaken. Her shoulders relaxed, but a feeling of unease lingered in her belly.

      As she spread cream cheese over her bagel, she glanced at the newspaper. In a side strip on the front page with no photo, a smaller headline immediately grabbed her attention.

       Woman found murdered in cemetery.

      The sudden image of a cartoon figure dressed in a black robe and holding a scythe overtook her vision. She’d always likened the experience to someone holding up huge flash cards in front of her eyes unexpectedly. Sometimes a word was written for her to see. Sometimes it was a symbol or a photograph. Alexandra braced herself for more, but her gaze saw nothing now but the newspaper article.

      Her hand lowered to her abdomen, which rumbled with anxiety. This wasn’t good. Her morning disconnect hadn’t worked if a ghost—the young woman in the window?—was sending her this information.

      She puzzled over the image of a grim reaper that had been relayed to her, but then again, she usually did until she learned more information to give it substance. She felt an immediate urge to turn the page and found herself flipping to the article’s reference on page 3 of the Metro section and zeroing in on a different article buried in the middle of the page. Homicide investigation launched after body found in alley. Again, the grim reaper cartoon flashed before her.

      Were these two murders related?

      Yes. She didn’t have to read the details of either story. She just knew they were. Did the police realize it?

      She flipped back to the first page and skimmed the article as she chewed and then nearly choked on the piece of bread when she read, “Police are seeking information from anyone who saw anything suspicious in the area, according to lead investigator Dylan Collins, Special Investigations Division of the North Charleston Police Department.”

      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 СКАЧАТЬ