There was a pause. “Then there are murder victims who were skinned alive or had organs removed without any instrument markings on their bodies… victims like Herbert Cambourg, whose watches you turned in to that dead black market dealer. Cambourg’s torso had been split up the middle.” She shook her head and looked back at the dead human woman. “But something tells me you know this.”
When he didn’t respond, she smiled in a hard way. “Do you have any idea how many detectives get MRIs because they have persistent headaches and are convinced they have a brain tumor? But it’s never that. And there’s nothing wrong with my mind, is there.”
Balz took a deep breath. “No, I’m afraid there isn’t.”
“I can’t believe I’m talking like this.”
“You can trust me.”
She laughed in a harsh rush. “Spare me that line, okay? Especially when we’re both next to a woman you probably killed.”
“She was dead when I got here.” When Erika went to counter that, he cut in, “Your forensics guys will prove it wasn’t me.”
“Will they?” Her eyes returned to his, and they narrowed. “Or are you just going to make me and everyone else in the department believe that? How the hell do you manipulate people’s minds? It’s some Scooby-Doo stuff, for sure.”
“I love that cartoon,” he said remotely.
“Me, too.” She rubbed her forehead and seemed to exhale in defeat. “Except the monsters aren’t real in Cabot Cove. I’m beginning to believe they’re real in Caldwell, though.”
“Cabot Cove is Murder, She Wrote.”
“Oh, sorry,” she murmured with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to Jessica Fletcher this situation.”
“?’S okay. I like that show as well.”
She took a deep breath and seemed to be unaware of what she was saying, her words coming out in a jumble. “I binge-watched the first five seasons in February when I had the flu. I don’t like it from then on because of the other detectives that got brought in.”
“Agreed. Plus the computer instead of the typewriter in the opening, toward the end of the series.”
“I was downright offended.”
And people say vampires and humans had nothing in common, he thought grimly.
God, if only he could keep talking to her like this. About nothing special or stressful. He loved the sound of her voice.
But of course, that wasn’t their reality.
“I’m going to call this scene in,” she said. “And I’m not going to stop looking for you. Sooner or later, I’m going to find you and figure this whole thing out. If you have any decency at all, you’ll make that easier rather than harder on me—because, quite frankly, I’ve been way past my limit for years now. But that’s not your problem, is it.”
“I can save us both. You aren’t going to have to defend yourself.”
“You’re speaking to a woman who lives alone and puts murderers behind bars. I always have to defend myself.” She threw up her hands. “And if you’d let me know what the hell we’re talking about, that would be just great.”
In the silence that followed, he reflected how, lately, his life had been one bad decision after bad-luck-kick-in-the-nuts after another. So of course, he had to open his piehole.
“You’re right, Herbert Cambourg wasn’t killed by a human,” Balz heard himself say. “And you’re right. That shadow in your dream is very, very real.”
“So what is it?” she asked in a reedy voice.
“It’s evil. Pure evil.”
“What’s going on here in Caldwell? What’s behind the curtain? You’ve got to tell me.”
“The less you know, the better. But I am going to protect you.” He put his palm up to her again. “Yes, I know I’m a low-life criminal, a thief, a killer, all that bullshit. But when I tell you I’m not going to let anything happen to you, I mean it.”
“I’m not going to remember this, am I.” She shook her head. “I’ve tripped and fallen into another world, haven’t I. And you’re going to fix it so I stay in mine.”
She had an odd look on her face, as if she had tried to reconcile two mutual exclusives, and when that had proven impossible, had resigned herself to a dual reality that was at once against everything she believed… and the only explanation there was.
Balz had an absurd impulse to reach out and touch her in some way, give her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, brush her face with his fingertips.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he kept his hands to himself.
“Please… please, don’t erase me again.” When her voice cracked, she cleared her throat—and God, those eyes of hers were cutting right into his soul. “All I have in this world is my mind and you’re ruining it.”
“Not by choice.” Shit, he couldn’t bear this. “Erika… I won’t let you get in the middle of all this.”
No, he was just going to bring Devina right to her front door, if he didn’t leave right now. Jesus, the demon had been in her dream already…