Copycat Killer (Psychic For Hire 1)

“But I thought it was the Devil Claw Killer who did it?” she says, sounding startled.

“Any knowledge of where Raif or Lynesse might have crossed the killer’s path would be useful,” says Storm smoothly.

Beatrice begins pacing in a flustered manner. “Gosh, I really couldn’t say,” she mutters, sounding terribly upset by her inability to be helpful.

“It’s alright Ms Grictor,” Storm says soothingly, moving closer to her. She comes to a halt near him. I can see their shoes are toe to toe. I imagine his hands might be on her upper arms, steadying her. It makes my insides squirm horribly.

“It’s Beatrice,” she murmurs softly, her voice sounding feminine and breathy.

“Take your time, Beatrice,” Storm says, a liquid tone in his voice that is utterly charming. It makes me want to throttle him.

“Raif met new people all the time,” she says in that stupid breathy voice. “He loved our charity work.” I can imagine her nodding towards the pictures on the walls.

“Was charity work a big part of your business?”

“It’s what we mostly do. Raif loved helping people.” Her voice breaks a little. “It’s why we closed down our other offices and moved into my house. I had so much space here. And it’s helped us save money to put back towards our work. It was his idea. He was such a good man.”

“And it never concerned you that he was an incubus?”

“Of course not,” she says. “Those sorts of beliefs have no place in our modern society. My patients are mainly otherkind, and these attitudes from others are often what they find most difficult to deal with. It is part of our charity’s work to educate society out of these outdated prejudices and downright harmful patterns of thinking.”

She says it passionately, as if this is a personal sticking point for her. She really does believe what she’s said. I find myself liking her a little bit better.

“You moved your offices here fairly recently?” says Storm.

“Some weeks back.”

“Was Dr Silverstone a neat man?” says Storm. “Efficient? Organized?”

“Yes, of course.”

Storm has come to stand by the desk. He is now so close that I dare not breathe. I hear the shuffle of paper as he picks something up from the table top to look at it. I close my eyes as if that will make me invisible. If he moves just a couple more feet towards the open section at the front of the desk he is going to see me. I wish I had pulled the chair closer to cover me.

“Do you know why his office is so untidy?” he says.

Beatrice Grictor hesitates. I listen, eager for the answer. I had wondered that too. “Well… erm, Raif was very private recently. He said he didn’t want my cleaner coming into his office.”

“And yet a man like him would have kept things tidy himself,” says Storm mildly. “But this office looks like it has been ransacked.”

My eyes may be squeezed shut but I can hear the soft tread of his shoes on the carpet. I can almost feel air from his movements aga

inst my face. My eyes open. I cannot help it. I feel like a trapped animal about to come face to face with a hunter. I watch, mesmerized, as Storm’s legs come around to the front of the desk. I pray for him to keep moving.

It is like he can hear my thoughts and is determined to do the opposite. He stops right in front of me. And then he bends down and reaches for a fallen file.

My breath freezes in my throat. His bent head is a foot away from mine. I can smell a hint of his delicious cologne and see the ruffles in his freshly cut hair. As he straightens, preparing to rise, he looks right at me. Our eyes connect. He sees me seeing him. One eternal microsecond crawls by. The expression on his face does not change. He doesn’t even hesitate in his rising motion. I might as well be invisible by the way he just picks up that file and stands again, and then strolls effortlessly away.

I, on the other hand, am shaking. First with the shock of being caught and then pretty soon with the urge to giggle. I cannot believe it. Storm, Mr by-the-book Special Agent, is covering up for me! It is really happening. And boy is he hopping mad about it.

I clamp my hands over my mouth to hold the giggles in. Sooner or later I am going to have to pay for this, but right now it is the funniest thing on Earth.

Storm’s brogues move away from the desk. I see Beatrice Grictor’s dainty shoes turn to face his, as if he is a magnet. Clever clever Storm. I could kiss him. Heck, I could kiss him for plenty of reasons.

“Oh gosh!” Beatrice is saying in a tone of utter distress. And then she sags down into the chair again. She must be covering her face with her hands because her voice comes out muffled. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to keep it from you!”

“Keep what?” he asks, still in that charming voice, as if he has already forgiven her for it. He comes to stand in front of her, blocking her view of me.

“My house was broken into recently. They ransacked our offices. I didn’t report it. I wanted to, but Raif said it would be best not to.”