The Stranger You Know (Forensic Instincts 3)

Large hands locked around her throat crushing her air supply as he raped her. Searing pain. Paralyzing panic. Heightening more and more and more...

Claire almost screamed aloud, the violent energies she was experiencing were so acute. Beyond excruciating.

She couldn’t wait any longer. Drenched in sweat, she forced open her eyes and fumbled for her phone. Ordering her brain into rational action, she blocked out her vision and honed in on reality. Think. Think. The phone number. She’d called it a dozen times.

His direct line escaped her, so she settled for the general number and punched it in.

“Eighty-fourth Precinct,” a voice answered.

“Is Detective Werner in?” Claire made her voice sound relatively normal.

“Just a minute.” There was a short series of rings and then a familiar baritone.

“Werner.”

“Tom? It’s Claire Hedgleigh.”

“Ah,” Detective Thomas Werner replied with wry amusement. “The brilliant psychic addition to Forensic Instincts. I should be pissed that you’re not consulting for us anymore. But I can’t blame you for taking on a challenge like working for the FI team. How can I help you?”

“Something bad just happened. A rape. And an attempted murder. It could be a fait accompli already. I don’t know. But it’s in your district. A warehouse near the East River. Rows of wooden crates. And bells—I know those bells. They’re from the clock tower at Dumbo.” Claire pinpointed the enormously expensive Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass penthouse in Brooklyn. “That’s as specific as I can get. I wish I could tell you more. But I can’t. All I know is that it’s urgent. Search the area. And hurry.”

“I’m on it.” She could tell that Detective Werner was on his feet, ready to grab his partner and take off. He and his precinct had worked with Claire often enough to know she was the real deal.

“Please keep me posted.”

“I will.”

Claire disconnected the call, feeling ill as well as oddly attached to the vision. Like it was personal. But she’d never met the victim. She was sure of that. So why couldn’t she shake this sense of personal dread? She’d consulted for the NYPD and local police departments for years before coming on board at Forensic Instincts. She knew the drill. And this was out of the realm of normal. There was something more going on here.

And that something involved her Forensic Instincts family.

She knew what she had to do next.

* * *

Casey had just arrived back at the office. She was on her way down to Ryan’s lair to compare notes when her iPhone rang.

The number was blocked.

“Casey Woods,” she answered.

“You’re putting your energy in the wrong place, Red.” The weird tinny words told Casey that, whoever the caller was, he was using a voice scrambler. “That girl’s case is as cold as her body. But the one who just died? Her body is still warm.”

“Who is this?”

“The last person you’re going to see before you close your eyes forever.” A chilling laugh. “The blood chain is under way. It will end with you. Spin your wheels and try to stop it.”

The line went dead.

“Casey?” Marc had been parking the van. He walked inside and was standing behind Casey in time to see her ashen expression. “What’s the matter? You’re white as a sheet.”

Before Casey could answer, her phone rang again. She startled, then stared at the caller ID. It was Claire.

“Claire, I can’t talk now,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You have to.” Claire was literally vibrating. “I just called the Eighty-fourth Precinct. Something’s happening. Someone’s being tortured and killed. It’s happening in Brooklyn. And it’s drawing me to you.” Claire’s voice broke. “Oh, my God—she’s dead. He killed her. He raped her and he killed her. He’s still with the body. He’s doing something to it. But she’s dead. And you have to know that. I don’t know why. But you do.”

Casey’s own stomach was turning over. “Claire. Listen to me. I need you to focus. Tell me everything. Everything.”