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“Leave her with me,” he says.
Agent Gage looks disappointed for a fraction of a second, but then her face becomes neutral again. As she stalks away I get the feeling that she is scowling at me.
The middle-aged man closes his office door and invites me to sit in the chair opposite his desk.
“I’m Section Chief Mike Santagar,” he says. “How can I help you?”
I get the feeling that he is not the sort of man to have patience for a waffling story. I had prepared a whole speech in my head for Storm about giving my psychic skills another chance. About it being his responsibility to use any tool at his disposal to catch DCK, including me. I feel like it will make the chief walk me to the door.
“I’m Diana Bellona,” I tell him.
The expression on his face does not change at all and I cannot tell if my name means anything to him. I would have preferred to not remind him of who I am. Perhaps if I do not mention James Fenway he will not remember me in that context.
“Go on,” he says.
“I was a witness on one of Agent Storm’s cases. He came to question me about it at Wintersdeep Castle where I was working during the Royal Engagement Gala.”
I expect him to say something in response, but he only nods. It hits me that he knew all along who I was. The look on his face tells me to carry on speaking.
“DCK murdered a woman at Wintersdeep Castle. I found her. I imagine Storm told you she was my biological mother.” It hurts to say it out loud. I wonder if it is a mistake to tell him, but I need him to know why this case is so important to me.
Finally he says something. “Outside of Storm’s team, I am the only one who knows that fact.” It is as if he wants to reassure me about my safety. It makes me like him a little better.
I decide to get directly to the point, saying stiffly, “You let Storm give me a job because you thought that I could help catch DCK. He’s murdered again. I need to catch him. I want my job back.”
“Your actions caused a girl to murder her uncle.”
The little voice stirs inside my head, and I can feel her pushing against my tongue. “He was molesting his underage niece,” I snap. “Just because she was a succubus didn’t mean she was old enough to consent.”
The chief raises his eyebrows.
I flush. “I didn’t know Eliza Fenway would do that.”
“Do you think James Fenway deserved it?”
Yes, hisses the little voice in my head.
“No,” I say. “He deserved to rot in jail. He deserved to be publicly tried and found guilty and feel the shame for what he did. And it’s not fair for you to blame me for Eliza Fenway’s actions. I didn’t want her to do it.”
You didn’t predict that she would do it either, the little voice says slyly. That’s what he’s thinking. What
kind of psychic are you?
“I don’t blame you for what happened,” says the chief calmly. “Perhaps we hired you prematurely. You weren’t ready for the job.”
This annoys me, reminding me too much of what Storm said. “I’m not ready for the visions that I keep having either,” I snap. “I didn’t ask to be a psychic, but I keep seeing people die anyway. I saw the murder happen in a dream. That’s what I came to tell you. What do you care where the information comes from if it helps you to solve the case?” My voice breaks at the last few words.
His eyes narrow. “Did you see the killer?” he asks.
I shake my head.
“What useful information can you give me?” he says.
I fiddle with my fingers on my lap, stalling. I need to choose my next words carefully. They will determine whether he gives me my job back or not. “I saw a man with brown hair in his thirties being bashed in the back of his skull with a cat sculpture. I saw the woman, Lynesse Jones, standing at the top of the stairs screaming. But it’s not about what I already saw. It’s about what more I can see if you let me investigate–”
His phone rings, interrupting me.
He answers straight away and barks a greeting. He listens intently to whoever is speaking on the other end. I cannot hear the words but the cadence of the caller’s voice is immediately familiar. It is Storm. My heart skips a beat.
