Copycat Killer (Psychic For Hire 1)

“Well?” Leo says to me. His muscular arms are crossed over his chest.

“I really don’t know what you mean. She was that actor Jared Everett’s fiancée. Was there something else?”

“So you’re claiming you never knew Lynesse Jones?” says Leo. “Never met her?”

I look from him to Remi, trying to figure out what is going on and why they are looking at me like that.

“Am I a suspect?” I ask in disbelief. “You can’t be serious. When I’m not serving canapes, I’m dishing out fry-ups and washing dirty dishes. How on Earth would I know a woman like Lynesse Jones?”

Leo thumbs his phone. He holds it out to me, showing me a picture of Lynesse. Just her face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ve seen her in the newspapers. I know what she looks like.”

“You’ve never seen her with Dr Carrington?”

That name is a slap in the face. I feel like a ghost from my past has risen from its grave and walloped me.

I look from Leo to Remi and back again. “With Dr Carrington?” I ask faintly. “My psychiatrist? Are you saying she knew him?”

Suddenly I get a queasy feeling in my stomach. If she knew him this looks bad for me. Really bad.

“We can’t tell you that.” Leo takes a firm grip of my upper arm. “You’ll have to come with me now.”

Chapter 9

DIANA

I expected Leo to drive us to Agency Headquarters to face my reckoning, but he has not. He has brought me to the morgue. Because Storm is here.

Once we are inside, Leo leaves me in a waiting area while he goes into the autopsy room to speak to Storm. I am aware the bodies of both murder victims are currently inside the autopsy rooms and that the coroner will be telling Storm any information of interest.

Storm has more interesting things to think about before he comes to dole out my punishment. No doubt my interrupting his focus on this case will doubly displease him. He is all about his work. Our last encounter proved that. I had thought he was in Paris. I thought I would have at least a day or two before he found out what I was up to. I pace the waiting room, wondering how bad his reaction will be.

You could just walk in, suggests the little voice. And if you overhear anything useful then that’s a score for us.

No, I tell her.

Leo will be telling Storm that I trespassed on the crime scene. What if, like Leo, he thinks I am connected with the dead woman through Dr Carrington? How can Lynesse have known Dr Carrington? Is he the reason she is dead? There is no connection between me and Lynesse. If I run off now, it will make me look even guiltier.

Realizing that my agitated pacing is disturbing the two other people sitting quietly in the waiting room, I abruptly stop. One is a fragile looking woman who keeps glancing at me intermittently, and quickly away. She looks distressed. My pacing is clearly upsetting her but she is too polite to say anything. Her tendrils of soft shiny red hair remind me strongly of a succubus from my past who worked for Dr Carrington and betrayed me.

When the woman sees me looking at her, she offers me a small wavering smile and glances down at her lap. She must be here to see a deceased loved one. It is not her fault that she reminds me so much of someone who hurt me. Feeling guilty for my lack of consideration, I go to sit in a chair and try not to fidget.

The other occupant of the room is a dazed looking man who is staring into space. He is sitting hunched forwards in his chair, wringing his fingers. He looks familiar. My sudden realization of who he is makes me sit up abruptly in my chair, causing its legs to clatter loudly. The woman shoots me a startled look. She is jumpy as a fawn.

I murmur an apology to her, but my attention is already back on the man. He is the same man from my dream. The one who had his head bashed in by the murderer. Except it seems he is very much alive.

If he’s not dead, who is?

Feeling a bit perturbed by this, I go to sit on a chair not too far from him and clear my throat. The sound makes him look enquiringly at me. He sees me clearly wanting to talk to him, and he seems a little confused at this.

He points to his chest. “Did you… Did you want me?” he says.

The quavering uncertainty in his voice breaks my heart a little bit. Gone is the happy carefree man who had enjoyed a drink and much laughter with Lynesse in my dream. Her death has crushed him.

“Sorry,’ I say quietly, aware the redheaded woman can hear every word. “I didn’t want to disturb you. I’m Diana.

“I’m…” He pauses, grief stricken and unable to focus. He seems uncomfortable with his own grief. He rubs his face. “I’m… Raif.”