He pulled two empath gloves out of the glove box, holding them up to the streetlights. “So, yeah. It looks like someone used Ms. Falcon’s thrall to frame your brother,” he said, “and we’ve gotta find out who.”
Chapter Fourteen
On hiatus.
—Blog home page,Eyes on Empaths
From the murder scene at AMI, Grayson had gone back to Reece’s studio. He’d sat on Reece’s bed again, turning the case over in his mind while the black glass of the windows turned lighter and lighter, until a quicksilver winter dawn stretched across downtown.
Finally, no closer to answers, he sent a text message to Reece, then set his phone on the nightstand and his head on the pillow.
The chime of his phone woke him a couple of hours later. Without sitting up, Grayson stretched an arm out for it and glanced at the screen.
Reece:The last time you texted “we need to talk” I ended up in your handcuffs.
TWICE.
Grayson yawned, rubbing his free hand over his face as he tapped out a reply.
Grayson:I got them right here if you miss them, sugar.
Reece’s response came right back.
Reece:As if I plan to ever let you put them back on me
Grayson:As if I plan to ever give you much choice. That’s what this whole “you’re an empath, I’m the Dead Man” thing means
His phone chimed again.
Reece:You’re not making me eager to talk
Grayson rolled onto his back, settling into the pillows as he hit Call.
Reece answered on the second ring. “What?” he snapped.
Grayson didn’t mince words. “Beau Macy and his wife, Adele, were murdered last night at American Minds Intact headquarters—bludgeoned to death by Dr. Vanessa Whitman. Her body was also found at the scene. I’m sure you remember who she is.”
The other side of the phone went deathly silent.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Whitman was wearing a pair of empath gloves.Yourgloves, with your serial number.”
Somehow the other side of the phone grew even more silent.
Grayson waited.
“Sounds like an open and shut case, then.” Reece’s tone was like ice. “Obviously I got my hands on Cora’s thrall and killed them all.”
“Would I be calling to tell you what happened if I thought you were behind this?”
“I don’t know, Evan,” Reece said bitingly. “Would you?”
Grayson’s gaze went to the windows again. They’d been so close to each other last night. Where was Reece now? “At the time the murders took place, you and I were on the phone. Now, some folks might point out you could’ve been distracting me with selfies while your thrall was wrecking AMI.”
“Some folks,” Reece repeated with an edge. “Am I supposed to believe you think something different? Beau Macy hated empaths. Why wouldn’t Cora and I have sicced Whitman on him?”
Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did y’all even know where Vanessa Whitman was being treated?”
“Maybe I found out and put my old gloves on her as a calling card.”
