Midnight Investigation. Sheryl Lynn

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      A few agreed, others disagreed, but Buck stayed silent. Desi made a good point.

      Pippin said, “Speaking as a therapist and as a single mom, I think she’s looking for someone to assure her the kids are safe. Maybe a few sessions with me can help her work out the issues with her cousin. It will help if an investigation fails to catch anything.”

      “It’ll make us a laughing stock,” Desi said. “Psychic crap undermines our credibility.”

      Buck’s jaw tightened. “It’s not crap. The things I see and hear are real. What it is exactly and where it comes from is a mystery. But that doesn’t mean I’m a fake.” Temptation burned to tell her that right now, right in this room, several spirits were hanging around—including the entity he’d noticed near Desi at the antique store.

      “There’s an explanation for hearing voices. Schizophrenia.”

      “There’s an explanation for you, ” he shot back. “Close-minded.”

      “I’m not watching you play ‘Oooh, I’m picking up a J name.’ John, Jack?” She pitched her voice high. “A friend of my third cousin, twice removed, is named Julie! That’s it! Oh yay! You really are psychic!” She clapped her hands in mock delight.

      Buck’s jaw ached from tension. This made twice in one day Desi had poked his temper.

      Dallas’s eyes blazed and his big hands clenched, making veins stand out on the backs. “Drop this for now, Pip. You can fill me in on the details later.”

      The meeting resumed on a subdued note. After Dallas announced it was over, some of the team members looked as if they couldn’t escape quickly enough.

      Buck pulled on his coat. He and Desi were going to have this out, one way or another.

      

      “H EY , D ESI ,” Dallas said. “Stick around a minute.”

      She watched Buck leave the house. The anxious ache in her belly worsened. She couldn’t believe how she’d acted. She couldn’t believe she’d been so nasty…so childish. Drawing a steadying breath, she faced Dallas Stone.

      She stared over his head at a framed poster for the movie Swamp Thing.

      Ringo kept his head down and his hands busy clearing the table and straightening chairs. Dallas crooked a finger, indicating Desi should join him in the kitchen. He rested his backside against a counter and folded his arms over his chest. “What the hell is going on between you and Buck?”

      “Nothing.”

      “Yeah, right. Whether you like it or not, I’m convinced he’s the real thing. He’s as interested in finding the truth as any other member of the team. I’m a skeptic when it comes to claims by psychics and mediums, too. You know damned good and well that I would never invite anyone to join unless I thought they were serious.”

      “I have a lot going on with work, and I’m stressed out. I—I didn’t mean it.”

      “The problem is,” Dallas said, “you did mean it. I’m not having any dissension on the team. We don’t need negative energy.”

      Desi wished she could curl into a tiny ball and disappear. Her throat tightened. She admired and respected Dallas as much or more than any other man she knew. His disappointment in her hurt worse than if he’d slapped her across the face.

      “I won’t put you and Buck on the same investigations. I expect you to ease up at the meetings, okay?”

      “Okay.”

      She slunk out of the duplex.

      At home, she took a moment to breathe in the air of her little town house. This was her sanctuary. She turned on her computer. She had work to do for a client and she looked forward to it. Numbers were rational. Numbers never changed their character or delved into the unexplained. Numbers always made sense.

      “Get off my chair, Spike,” she said.

      The yellow tomcat twitched an ear. She picked him up and he rumbled and meowed in protest. “Go sleep in your basket, you big grouch. That’s my chair. I don’t know why we have to have this argument every single time I need to use the computer.”

      Her cell phone rang and she glanced at the clock. Good news never came at this time of night. She answered warily, “Hello?”

      “Hi, Desi. This is Buck. Sorry for calling so late.”

      Fresh humiliation rolled through her. “Hi.”

      “I can’t sleep unless I apologize for tonight. I’m really sorry.”

      She lifted her eyebrows. She caught a movement from the corner of her eye and turned in time to see Spike hop back up on her desk chair.

      “Desi?”

      An apology to him caught in her throat. “I’m not sure what to say.”

      “How about saying we can start over. We got off on the wrong foot. I’d like to keep working with you. I can learn a lot.”

      He came across as so genuine he was hard to resist. His voice was seductive in its sincerity. She pictured him in the olive-green sweater he’d worn tonight, stretched over his shoulders and chest. As Pippin had said, he was very easy on the eyes. Probably a nice guy, too. She supposed as long as he didn’t offer to read her palm or start talking in tongues she could tolerate him.

      As for the psychic abilities, well, she thought, a researcher should wait until all the data was in. “Thanks. I do act stupid sometimes. We can start over.”

      A bright flash in the kitchen was followed by a loud pop. She squeaked.

      “Desi?”

      She laughed. “A lightbulb just blew. It startled me. But never mind. Thank you for calling, Buck. I appreciate it. It’s big of you.”

      “Maybe—” He paused. “Good. So I’ll see you around.”

      After she hung up, she put the cell phone on the charger. She scooped up the cat. Spike grumbled and tensed as she snuggled him. She rubbed between his ears. He acted like a little kid suffering smoochies from an overly enthusiastic auntie. “Everybody else likes him. Guess it’s only fair to wait until he actually screws up before I jump down his throat.”

      Another lightbulb blew. Spike twisted. His claws hooked into her arm and she yelped, dropping him.

      “Damn it!” She glared past the breakfast bar into the now-dim kitchen. She winced at the scratches where beads of blood formed on her skin. Shaking her head in disgust, she went upstairs to find the antiseptic.

      

      U NSETTLED , B UCK FROWNED at the phone. On the one hand he was relieved to have made up with Desi. On the other hand, a most unpleasant sensation prickled his scalp. He’d felt something when she said the lightbulb blew. A brief feeling, a micro-instant of knowing. Sourness filled his mouth and settled in his guts.

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