Serendipity (Bayou Magic 3)

“Hey, Daph.”

“I’m staring at a photo of a woman with no eyes,” I say by way of greeting. My heart still feels as if it’s pounding out of my chest. “And I’m driving to you.”

“Where are you?”

“Five minutes away. Meet me out front.”

I do my best to ignore the face and the fact that I’m now wearing my delicious coffee, and hurry through traffic to the police department.

When I pull up out front, Cash is waiting for me on the steps.

“Jesus, why didn’t you move it so you didn’t have to stare at it?”

I shake my head as I get out of the car. “Because I don’t want to touch it.”

“Wait, do you see things when you touch the photos?”

I stop, suddenly stunned. “Actually, no. I don’t see anything at all. I just feel the heartbeat. The warmth.”

“That’s creepy enough,” he says grimly. “You haven’t touched that at all?”

“Nope. It’s a virgin, just waiting for you.”

“Just like I like them—don’t tell your sister I said that.”

I grin and watch as he slips on gloves and gingerly takes the photo out from under the wiper blade.

He flips it over to look down at it.

“God, she’s young.”

“I noticed.” I lean to look over his shoulder. Naked shoulders and her head are all that show in the black and white photo. “The timestamp.”

“Tomorrow,” he says with a nod. “He hasn’t killed her yet.”

“I hate this so fucking much,” I growl. “I hate knowing that he has her, however that’s possible, and is doing horrible things to her. That he’s going to torture her and kill her. We don’t know who she is, or how to find her. I hate feeling so helpless.”

“I know,” Cash says. “Trust me, I know. I’ll run her. We might get lucky.”

“I love your optimism.”

“I’m going to do everything I can to find her before he kills her,” Cash promises and leans in to kiss my forehead. “Should we call the others?”

“No.”

I blow out a breath when he just raises his brows in surprise as if to say: You’ll be in trouble.

“Seriously, this is starting to happen so often that if we get together every time, we’ll always be together, and no one has time for that, Cash. I’m going back to work. I need to change these clothes and get on with my life.”

“Okay. At least tell the others, Daph. They need to know.”

“Yeah. I will. See you later.”

I climb back into the car, relieved that the photo is gone. The drive to my shop takes longer than normal in traffic, and by the time I park in my spot and walk into Reflections, I’m in a very surly mood.

“Hey,” Jack says with a grin but then sobers when he catches sight of me. “What happened?”

“I need to change,” I reply and march straight into my office where I have a spare outfit waiting—just for times like this.

He follows me and doesn’t turn away as I start to strip out of my soiled clothes.

He swallows hard when I’m down to my bra and panties.

He’s been staying with me, sleeping with me for several days, but aside from some stolen kisses, there hasn’t been any sex.

We’re both exhausted, physically and emotionally, by the time we fall into bed.

But I can see by the light in his eyes that he’d like to change that very soon.

“Tell me what happened,” he says.

“I got coffee at Witches Brew,” I reply. “Went to see Mallory, picked up some fun things. We’re going to Inn Boudreaux for a thing next week, by the way.”

“A thing.”

“That’s right, a thing.” My voice is snappy now, but I don’t care. “Then I went back to my car, and there was a creepy-ass photo staring at me through the windshield. I’m getting really sick and tired of these photos, Jack. People missing their eyes is just…wrong.”

“I won’t argue that. Where’s the picture?”

“I took it to Cash.” I walk past him to the little kitchenette I have for coffee emergencies and start to make a cup.

“Without showing the rest of us?”

I scowl and wait impatiently for my coffee to brew.

“It’s just like the others. Well, except he’s not going to kill this one until tomorrow.”

“Shit,” he mutters and stalks around the kitchenette. “Male or female?”

“A woman.” My voice is softer now. “She’s pretty. And he’s going to kill her. And, frankly, I’m sick to death of being scared. And worried. And drinking potions in my fucking coffee.”

I pour cream into the brew, give it a quick stir, and take a sip.

“I’m tired of this, Jack. Of feeling like I’m walking on eggshells. Hell, I can’t even walk through the French Quarter to buy some damn soap without him scaring the shit out of me. I dropped my coffee all over myself, and it was just awful. Millie insists I drink her potions, but I just want coffee. That’s it. Just caffeine and angel tears in a cup.”