She added, a little wryly, “Grayson says he’s the proverbial lone wolf. But if he ever does form his own team, I’ll be first in line.”
Jamey gestured around them. “Does everyone here know Grayson as well as you seem to?”
“No,” Easterby admitted. “The rest of the team thinks we come after the cops to clean up scenes too gruesome for the public to discover. I’ve just met the Dead Man for—well.” She touched her neck. “Reasons of my own.”
Jamey’s gaze darted to Easterby’s scar.
“Grayson didn’t do this, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Easterby said, wryly but firmly. “I can’t tell you the story—it’s classified—but Grayson is the reason I survived.”
Classified. Jamey wanted to know, but she didn’t push. “Has anyone talked about the killer’s motive?”
“No. But no one does in these cases. These killers don’t need a motive; it’s sadism for sadism’s sake.” Easterby bit her lip. “Although...” She shook her head. “Never mind. It’s uncharitable of me. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“I’ll do it then,” Jamey said. “Good riddance to Jason Owens.”
Easterby startled. “What makes you—”
“He showed up at my place a few years back and tried to convince me that my brother turning twenty-one meant he had to come to Stone Solutions for mandatory tests.”
“How did that go?” said Easterby.
“I explained the actual law to him in nice small words. There may have been a strong implication that he shouldn’t come back.” Jamey glanced at the house behind her. “An implication pretty similar to this scene, actually. I should probably make myself a suspect.”
Easterby huffed a short laugh. She leaned on the rail next to Jamey, closer this time. “So your brother is a—oh!” Her face lit. “Of course: Detective St. James with the empath brother. I’ve read about you guys. There’s this blog everyone in the industry follows,Eyes on Empaths—”
“I know it.” Jamey turned away.
“Wait,” Easterby said, drawing Jamey back. “I just check it for news, I don’t believe the trash they publish.”
“You work at Stone Solutions.”
“Yeah, but Ilikeempaths.”
“Really?” Jamey said dryly. “When you know how Owens and Hathaway were killed?”
“I’m hardly going to blame the empath,” Easterby said, with feeling.
“Why not?” Jamey said, nonplussed.
Easterby winced. “I shouldn’t have said that, it’s all classified. Just—I like empaths. And not in a creepy,I want to run tests on themkind of way.”
“You know the world’s only empath hunter by name.”
But Easterby only shook her head. “Grayson isn’t an empath hunter. And he’s not the enemy. Not yours, not your brother’s.”
“He’s not our ally either.”
“No,” Easterby admitted. “He’s definitely not that. He’s—complicated.”
Complicated. Jamey looked back out to the lake. The Dead Man was turning out very different than she’d expected, from his indifference to a gun in his face to his sharing information to his good looks andyes ma’ams. “I want copies of all your reports.”
“Sure.”
“And any theories for where our suspect is heading next.”
“Of course.”
“And I want to know if anyone sees that red i8.”
