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“Rue, how are you feeling?” Nathan asks, his eyes moving over my face.
Valen growls in my ear, making me shiver.
“You certainly are possessive. I’ve seen a lot as a cop, and that tends to be a huge red flag.”
“Congratulations. Good thing Rue looks good in red then, huh?” Valen snipes back.
“Mr. Ward, if you could read over this and sign it,” Agent Garfield interrupts and slides the documents across the table to Valen before focusing on me.
“What did you see?”
“The same thing I always see apparently, death.” I whisper before placing the now empty glass back on the table.
“Is Valen free to go now? I want to go home.”
“I can take you,” Nathan offers, but I glare at him, pissed off with the world right now.
“I’m staying at Valen’s, so it’s unnecessary. But thank you.”
“You’re staying at Valen’s? Are you insane?”
“Detective Hask,” Agent Garfield snaps before I lose my shit.
“He’s—” Nathan continues, but I shut him up.
“He’s mine, and he’s not the killer, Nathan. You have got to get over your fixation on him.”
Nathan clenches his jaw so hard his teeth crack together. “It’s not safe,” he reminds me gently.
“Someone came into my room while I was sleeping, Nathan. I can’t stay at home.”
“It could have been Valen in your room.”
“What you don’t get is that he doesn’t need to creep into my room. He has an open invitation. And when I’m staying with him, I’ll be in his bed, in his arms. And right now, that’s the safest place for me.”
Nathan looks like he wants to throw up, which causes a niggle of doubt to rise in the back of my mind. Am I being naïve here? Valen’s actions have all seemed genuine, but what if he’s playing a part just to get me where he wants me? In this case, alienated from the police. Now I’m the one gritting my teeth.
“I know you’ve been through a lot but can you tell us what you saw, Miss Anderson? You’re the psychic, right?” Agent Garfield prompts.
“So I’ve been told.” I sigh and lean back into Valen. “I’m not sure how my gift worked before. Right now, I’m seeing events that have already happened. If the killer has struck again, I haven’t seen it.”
“I don’t think he has. I think his fixation is on you right now. You beat him. That makes you special,” Garfield tells me with an even voice.
“The only thing that makes me special is that I survived. I’m the sole member of a club I never wanted to be a part of.” I blow out a breath and take another sip of water before sliding the glass back onto the table. “I saw Len Smith die. He was in a barn with pigs. The killer made a noose and tied it around the rails of the hayloft.”
“Did he say anything?”
“Who? Len or the killer?”
“Either.”
“Len was confused. He didn’t know who I was—er, the killer, I mean. He didn’t even realize he had anything around his neck until he tried to stand.”
“The killer made him jump?” Nathan asks with a grimace.
“No, the killer pushed him. He was disappointed when his neck broke.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
