Copycat Killer (Psychic For Hire 1)

“I hear you,” she says. “You’re preaching to the converted.”

“It would be helpful though,” says Leo. “In this particular case.”

“Or you could take my word for it,” I

say.

“You can ask Ms Grictor,” says the coroner. “She is out in the waiting room. She’s here to formally identify Dr Silverstone’s body.”

“What’s her first name?” I ask, wondering if the redhead is Raif Silverstone’s beloved Zarina. She couldn’t be though. He seemed to take no interest in her.

“Beatrice Grictor,” she says.

“Is she his girlfriend?” asks Leo.

“She couldn’t be,” I say. “He didn’t care about her.”

It was Zarina he had loved, and so much that she had been all he could think of before he had passed over. He had stayed, clinging on to this existence until I had agreed to help her.

Storm’s eyes narrow thoughtfully. He looks at me with interest. “Did you see that in your dream? Anything to suggest he was Lynesse Jones’s lover?”

I shake my head. “I suppose they mostly seemed friendly.”

I give him a brief recap of my dream. I might as well, seeing as Remi already knows it. I point towards Lynesse’s body. “But it could be that her fiancé thought they were having an affair anyway. A jealous fiancé could be angry enough to do that to her. Make a show of savaging her like DCK would have so we look elsewhere for the killer. The crime scene staging was off too.”

Leo shakes his head. “I spoke to the neighbor. If what he says was true, Jared Everett was out of town on an acting job, accompanied by his assistant and best friend Kris Caprio. That should be easy to verify.”

Storm’s perfect black brows have snapped together. “How do you know the crime scene was staged?” he says to me.

“I was just about to get to that,” says Leo. “I brought her here from there.”

Storm is outraged. He looks like he is about to yell at me, then changes his mind about doing it here. He takes a firm grip of my shoulder and marches me out of the morgue.

Once the door is closed behind us, he rubs his eyes as if he is tired or stressed. I still cannot tell which. He says in an admirably restrained voice, “Why the hell would you do this to yourself?”

I am surprised. I expected him to demand to know what I was doing here. “You mean investigate? Because I dreamed of it. The news said it was DCK. I had to!”

Storm glowers at me, and he looks absolutely adorable doing it. With a hint of impatience, and keeping his voice low, he says, “Diana, we know about the connection between you and Lynesse Jones. This does not look good for you. It’s bad enough you turned up here, but that you trespassed on the crime scene, a private property under Agency investigation, is something I can’t ignore!”

“You could,” I say stubbornly. “Remi and Leo won’t tell if you don’t! So long as the chief doesn't find out, I’m home free.”

He makes a sound that is part incredulous, part annoyed.

I grin. “You know you don’t want to get me in trouble.”

“This wager of yours with the chief is already going to get you in trouble,” Storm says. “I might cover for you this time, but only if you really aren’t involved. Where were you on Friday?”

I gape at him. “Are you really asking for my alibi? I was at my moth… At Magda’s funeral. You know. You saw me there!” My voice wobbles, sounding on the verge of tears. I make an angry sounding huff to cover it.

“And after that?” he says grimly.

“Is that when they were killed? On Friday night?”

That was two days ago. They were already dead when I had come up with my plan on Saturday to save them. I was much too late. Worried about any more emotional wobbles, I clear my throat before saying, “I walked home after the funeral and fell asleep. I was exhausted.”

“Did anyone see you?”

“Just AngelBeastie.”