Page 12 of A Seer and Present Danger

“He’s dead,” a voice said from the darkness.

I startled and pressed my hand over my chest. “Jean? You scared the gravy out of me.”

She stepped closer, light bleaching her to bones. “He’s dead.”

Her eyes were wide, the blue of her irises a thin line around the darkness of her pupils.

Shock, I thought. But there was something more.

There was blood. On her hands, on her shirt, like she’d wiped her hands on it. She was shaking.

“Okay, it’s okay. Hold on. Jean?”

She looked like she was about to pass out.

Jean was the one who handled emergencies. Jean was the one who solved crimes. Jean was the one who showed up when things went terribly wrong.

But now something terribly wrong had happened to her.

So I took over.

“Just let me…” I bent and checked the body for a pulse. Nothing. I stepped carefully around him toward Jean, trying not to trample the scene. Was this a scene? Was this murder?

It sure didn’t look like an accident.

“I’ve got you.” I wrapped my arm around her waist and guided her toward the picnic table. “Let’s just sit down. Are you hurt?”

She did as I asked, trembling, her movements robotic. I had a weird déjà vu of her being at the table this afternoon, happy in the sun, and now, deathly cold in the dark.

I was usually calm in a crisis, but this was big. Personal. Jean was my friend.

“Where’s the blood coming from. Jean? Can you tell me what happened?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t. There’s so much blood. Why is there blood?”

That was a good question and since I didn’t have a good answer: 911 coming right up.

I dialed. “I think you’re in shock, and that’s okay. This is a shock kind of situation. I’m calling the police.”

“Police?” Jean blinked, coming out of her daze. “Good. Yes. Oh, my gods. Piper. He’s dead. There’s blood. Blood on me. How is there blood?”

“Yep. I got this. We’re going to deal with all that in just a sec…”

“Nine-one-one. What is your emergency?” Delaney asked.

“Delaney, it’s Piper. You need to come out to the Blue Owl. Jean’s here and she’s okay, but she’s in shock. A man’s been stabbed or shot or something. He’s dead.”

Her response was firm and immediate. “Stay right where you are. Don’t touch the man, don’t get close to him. Tell Jean to stay with you. I’m on my way.”

“We’re behind the building. Should we go inside?”

“No. Stay where you are. Don’t let anyone near the crime scene.”

The call ended and I knew she’d be here in under 10 minutes.

Crime scene. The reality of the situation, the clarity of this now settled, and I had a sinking feeling things were going to get worse.

Someone had killed that man—whoever he was—behind our building. Jean was covered in blood.