Demon's Dance (Lizzie Grace 4)

The rangers had undoubtedly already asked all these questions, but it didn’t hurt to repeat them, if only for my own peace of mind. Plus, the more information I had, the greater my chance of filtering out the muck and getting to the nitty-gritty when I tried tracking her mother.

“She said an old friend had rung out of the blue and that she was meeting her for dinner. She didn’t say where and I have no idea who the friend was, other than her name was Marilyn.” Tears glistened in the flickering light. “Please, you have to help me. Something has happened to her, I’m sure of it.”

“I’m more than happy to try, but there’s no guarantee I’ll succeed. Psychometry isn’t always exact—”

“I know,” she cut in. “But I just need you to try. I can’t—won’t—sit around and do nothing.”

A sentiment I could certainly understand given it was the exact same one that had driven my attempt to rescue my sister.

I just had to hope that this search wasn’t similarly doomed.

“I’ll need something of hers,” I said. “Something she kept close to her skin.”

“I brought the necklace she wore most days—she only ever took it off when she was going somewhere fancy. Would that be okay?” When I nodded, she opened her bag and then pulled out a blue velvet jewelry box and offered it to me.

I flexed my fingers and then carefully took it. The minute my fingers touched the box, the psi part of me began to stir.

And not in a good way.

I took a deep breath in an effort to calm the gathering trepidation and then opened the box. Inside was a delicate silver chain on which hung a plain silver wedding ring.

“It was my dad’s,” Alice murmured. “He died just on a year ago.”

“It must have been a hard time for you both.”

It was a statement rather than a question—even without touching the necklace I could feel grief emanating from it. What I couldn’t immediately feel was any sense of life, and I really hoped that was due to the fact I wasn’t yet holding it. I very much doubted Alice would cope with the loss of a second parent.

“Yes.” A tear tracked down her cheek. “I don’t know what I’d do—”

I reached with my free hand and squeezed hers. Her fear and grief washed over me, a wave that would have been overwhelming had I not been prepared.

“There may be a simple explanation for all this.” I kept my voice soft—soothing. “You may be stressing over nothing.”

She nodded, even though her expression suggested she didn’t agree with me in the least. I half wondered if she had undiagnosed psi powers; I couldn’t see anything in her aura to suggest it, but that might just be because her fear and grief were overwhelming everything else. “Are you getting anything from the necklace?”

“A little.” I carefully freed it from the box. The grief increased in intensity, but the pulse of life remained absent. It really wasn’t a good sign.

I returned my gaze to Alice. “If you could just sit silently for a few minutes, I’ll see what I can get.”

She nodded and hastily dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Despite the growing sense that this would not end well, I closed my eyes and reached down to where my second sight lay leashed and waiting.

But there was absolutely nothing on this necklace for it to latch on to—no pulse, no hint of life. The only thing I could pick up were shadows and grief—and while it very much suggested death had already claimed Alice’s mom, it did at least mean there was still a chance I could find her remains. But only if I hurried—emotions rarely clung to such items for very long after death.

Which was not something I could say to Alice. Not until I was absolutely sure. I opened my eyes.

“Well?” she immediately asked.

I hesitated. “I couldn’t pick up much more than the lingering veil of her grief over your dad’s death, but that might just be enough to track her down.”

She thrust to her feet. “Can we go now?”

“I’ll go, but it’d be better if you—”

“I can’t stay behind,” she cut in fiercely. “I need to know she’s okay.”

“Ms. Dale,” I said, keeping my voice conciliatory as possible. “For tracking via psychometry to work, I need airspace untainted by deeper emotions. I’m afraid your fear will likely disrupt the signal.”

“Oh.”