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Greer glanced at his watch. “Wish I could. My shift starts in an hour.”
Darius wheeled up. “Yeah, the big bad firefighter, off to save lives.” He made a superhero arm motion, pumping one fist in the air.
Greer’s mouth twisted in a snarl. “I’d rather do that than tinker with com
puter parts all day.”
“Boys,” she said, sounding like a teacher.
Another knock on the door. Hopefully it was Tucker. He was good at stepping in. But it wasn’t Tucker. Two men stood there, their badges at the ready. “Cheyenne Baker?” one of them asked.
She nodded, feeling Greer step up behind her.
“Detective Dan Marshall, and Detective Paul Marron. May we come in?”
“What’s this about?” Greer asked before she could say anything.
“We have some questions about a recent incident.” The man, in his forties, waited patiently for someone to invite them inside.
Greer inspected the badge, nodded to her. It was legit.
Shea checked it, too, then stepped back, bumping into Greer. “These are friends of mine,” she said, waving to Greer and Darius.
Marshall closed the door behind them, taking in both men as though noting their appearance. He focused on her. “You’ve heard about the man who was mauled two nights ago?”
Her mouth went dry. How had they connected that to her? Bad enough that it triggered two men from the other dimension to hunt down their offspring. “Yes, it sounded horrible.” She shuddered, and didn’t have to fake it. “Wild animals attacking people in their own home.”
“We don’t think it was a wild animal. Do you know Fred Callahan, the victim?”
“No, I—” Her words jammed in her throat when she saw the picture he held up, a driver’s license photo probably. All the blood drained from her face. “I knew him as Frankie C.” She cleared the fuzz from her voice. “I haven’t seen him for six years.” She wanted the cops to go, or for Greer and Darius to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.”
Marshall’s eyes flicked to Greer and Darius before returning to her. “We found pictures and notes about you on his computer. There was a letter in his desk drawer addressed to you, indicating he’d written to you before. It wasn’t a very nice letter.”
Her knees went weak. Greer somehow sensed it and clamped his hands on her shoulders. “What are you insinuating?” His hands started warming her, one of his psychic abilities.
Darius wheeled closer. “You can’t possibly think this slip of a girl could tear a man apart.”
“I’ve been getting letters, creepy gifts,” she said. “But I didn’t know who they were from.” Frankie. She had wondered, yes, but how had he found her? And why after all these years?
“May I see them?” Marshall asked.
She’d wanted to throw them away, but thought they might be evidence if things escalated. She went to the file cabinet in her office and returned with the letters, and the box.
Marshall frowned when he opened it and saw the dildo, the flavored lube creams. “Can I take these?”
“Please.” And go. Say no more.
He looked at Greer and Darius. “Did either of you know who was harassing her?”
Darius snorted. “No, but I’m glad the sick fu—the guy is dead. It’s wrong to harass a woman like that.”
Greer shook his head, but his gaze was on her.
Marshall turned to her again. “Callahan worked at the phone company. That’s probably how he found you. You haven’t heard from him at all in the six years since you filed charges against him and the other two men?”
“No, nothing,” she said quickly. “I’d rather not—”
“I’m sure the detective you spoke to talked you out of going forward with the charges. I read the file and agree that it was a long shot to prosecute the case successfully. Still, I wish we had. One of those other men raped a teenaged girl a couple of years back. He’s in prison now. The other’s been jailed a few times on battery charges.”
