murderer. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out alone.”
He was right. “Okay.”
“Let’s take your car so I can get a head start on these files.” He held the back door open for her. When she paused to lock up, he kept going, reaching the car well ahead of her.
By the time she slid behind the steering wheel, he had the file folder open, his brow furrowed with concentration, while he waited for her to unlock the door.
No doubt single-mindedness had made him the top criminal profiler he was, she thought as she buckled her seat belt. What he was doing was important and necessary.
But coming in second to a stack of crime-scene photos was rough on a girl’s ego.
ONCE ROSE DISAPPEARED through the doors of Office Park West, Daniel put down the case file and pulled out his handheld computer. He connected to the Internet and brought up a Web search engine. He punched “Andrew Walters kidnapping” into the small keypad and hit Enter. The search engine listed scores of articles from a variety of online newspapers.
He selected the story on the
Daniel needed to know what had happened during the Abby Walters’ kidnapping case to convince J. McBride that Lily Browning’s “visions” were the real thing. Was it really as simple as the man falling in love with her?
Daniel couldn’t buy that. He was halfway gone where Rose was concerned, but the more he felt himself becoming emotionally entangled with her, the more he fought the idea that she might actually be telling the truth about the death veils.
That was a madness he couldn’t afford.
He dialed the number, already having decided on his cover story. He asked for Theo Baker, figuring McBride wouldn’t talk to a stranger about his sister-in-law.
“Baker.”
“Detective, Dan Haley with the
“I’m a little busy.” Baker sounded wary.
“I’m mostly interested in a side story-Lily Browning’s involvement in the case.”
“Hold a sec.” There was a click and then silence.
A moment later there was another click and a gruff voice asked, “You say you’re with the
“Yes. With whom am I speaking now?”
“Lieutenant McBride.”
The husband. Great. “Lieutenant, I’m doing a feature article on the use of psychics in criminal investigations, and I found an article that mentions a woman named Lily Browning who aided your investigation into the kidnapping of Abby Walters.”
“You said your name is Dan Haley?”
Time to drop names. “I spoke to an FBI agent named Cal Brody this morning. He mentioned the case.”
“Brody.” Distaste tinged McBride’s voice. “Figures.”
“Apparently, Ms. Browning’s sister, Rose, is a material witness in a string of murders in Birmingham.”
McBride’s voice deepened with alarm. “Rose?”
Daniel decided to go for broke. “She claims to be able to foresee the murders.”
McBride was silent for a long moment, so silent that Daniel was afraid he’d cut the connection.
“Lieutenant?”
“Foresee them how?” McBride’s voice was low and strangled.
He didn’t know about the death veils? Even more interesting.
“She calls them death veils.” Daniel briefly explained what Rose was claiming to see. When he finished, silence stretched across the phone line, thick and tense.
“I can’t help you,” McBride said finally. “Sorry.”
The line clicked dead.
Daniel put down the handheld computer. So much for tricking a cop for information. As devious ploys went, playing reporter hadn’t been the most inspired. But he’d learned one interesting tidbit: Rose’s family apparently didn’t know about the death veils.
He pushed aside his curiosity and picked up one of the police reports on the first murder. He began reading, making notes of similarities and disparities between the Birmingham murders and the others he’d been investigating over the past few years.
He’d made it through the second murder when his cell phone rang. He glanced at the phone display and found an unfamiliar number. He punched the receive button. “Yeah?”
“There’s no Dan Haley at the
Daniel sighed. “Hello, to you, too, Lieutenant.”
“I called Cal Brody, too. He wasn’t happy to hear you were shooting off your mouth about him and his murder investigation.”
“It’s my investigation now, too.”
“So why didn’t you just tell me who you were?”
“Would you have been any more willing to talk about your sister-in-law?”
“No,” McBride conceded.
“I mean her no harm,” Daniel assured him. “In fact, I consider her a friend. I’m sitting in her car right now.”
“Is she there?”
“No, she had a business appointment.”
“So, if I call and ask her who Daniel Hartman is and why he’s calling me behind her back, you’d be okay with that?”
Daniel sighed. “I’d rather you not do that.”
“Thought not.” A hint of smug satisfaction tinged McBride’s voice. “So, if you’re Rose’s friend, as you say, why not just ask
“At least, she’s told
“How long has she been seeing them?”
“I assumed it was something she thinks she’s been able to do since childhood.”
“‘She thinks,’” McBride repeated Daniel’s phrasing.
“I’m…unconvinced.”
McBride made a soft huffing sound that might have been a half chuckle. “Know the feeling.”
“You must have changed your mind at some point,” Daniel murmured. “After all, you married your psychic.”
McBride’s voice dropped an octave. “That’s none of your business.”
“Frankly, I’m more interested in why Rose has never told you or your wife about the death veils.”
“So am I,” McBride admitted. “Is she okay?”
Daniel cocked his head, surprised by the concern evident in the cop’s voice. Until this point, he’d shown nothing but surly antagonism. “She’s tougher than she looks.”
“How many murders are we talking about?”
“Four, so far. Here in Birmingham, at least.”
McBride’s voice darkened. “Serial murders?”
“Yeah.”
“Is Rose in danger?”
“Not immediate danger,” Daniel answered carefully. He didn’t have the right to share sensitive information
