“Technical issues,” Nolan said, making air quotes around the words. “Your officers are still trying to recover the files. How hard can it be?”
Files vanishing before they could identify the car or the driver.
How very convenient that FBI agents would fail to show and technical issues block their investigation right when Evan Grayson got involved.
“The mayor called again,” Nolan said. “American Minds Intact found out about the murder, and now we have the loudest opponents of empathy in the damn country claiming the senator was killed because of her anti-empathy agenda.”
Jamey barely managed not to wince.
“This case is a shit show,” he said. “I’d almost expect the Dead Man to show up, if I believed in ghosts.”
He strode past her, continuing up the dock toward the tent and the parking lot, disappearing at the top of the ramp.
Ghosts.
Jamey had a folder in her desk at headquarters, kept in the locked lower drawer. It was full of cases she’d been collecting over the past two years. The most recent one was from the summer, another multiple homicide but with an empath among its victims. She’d requested records directly from San Francisco PD. The report had been barely two pages long, with no photos of the crime scene available and the empath’s cause of death listed as drugs.
As if anyone who knew an empath would believe that.
There had been no arrests associated with those murders, and despite the shock of multiple deaths, it hadn’t made national or even local news. It’d made the anti-empathy blogs, though, gleeful speculation that the mythical Dead Man had appeared to quiet the press and bring everyone to justice.
There were rumors about what Grayson considered justice too, and it didn’t involve due process.
Reece needed to be long gone before Grayson got here.
Reece stared at the text on his phone, mind churning.
Don’t touch the witness
How the hell did Grayson know what he was doing?
Before he could come up with an answer, his phone went off again.
Get out of there
Run
Reece shot to his feet, nearly dropping his phone with fumbling hands. The EMT was staring at him like he’d lost his mind, which might not be far from the truth. He looked helplessly toward the ambulance door. “I, um, I have to—”
The EMT’s expression crumpled. “You’re not leaving, are you? Look at him, he needs you.”
There was more blood on the gauze under Braker’s nose now. “Mr. Braker,” the EMT said, pleading eyes on Reece. “We’ve got someone here to help you.”
Was Reece really going to abandon this man to his catatonia because of some texts? Because of some inexplicable lies? No string of words mattered as much as this man’s life.
Reece jammed his phone back in his pocket and perched on the edge of the gurney. He shoved down all of his nerves about the read; Braker hadn’t given any signs of pain, but even if he did, Reece would take it in and deal with it.
It wouldn’t be like March.
“Can you hear me at all, Mr. Braker?” The catatonic man wouldn’t see them, but Reece held up his gloved hands anyway. “I’m an empath.”
Braker jerked upright and screamed.
Shock sent Reece tumbling off the gurney and crashing to the floor.“Help him.”
But the EMT was already in motion, elbow-deep in one of the overhead bins.
Reece rolled onto hands and knees and looked up just in time to see her grab a syringe. He flinched, covering his face as she went for Braker’s neck.
