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He was a tall man, broad-shouldered, with a fine, strong jaw, deep blue eyes, and dark hair. She could see that he wanted to question Carver himself. She was sure he had a way of looking at a suspect that played on a man’s nerves.
He’d managed to look at her in a way that did a number on her nerves.
Yet she was curious why he had possibly given up a career that could have left him set for life. He obviously cared about the work.
About people.
As she fell asleep, she found herself wondering just what had happened with him, how he had discovered he could see the dead when most of the world couldn’t.
She fell asleep wondering about the man’s story.
And her dreams were bizarre. She saw him without his typical dark suit. She’d had a glimpse—just a glimpse, but still a glimpse—of his ability to smile.
She realized as much as she had disliked his attitude, there was something about him that drew her and made her want more.
No.
Work the case with him. That’s what they did at the Krewe. They worked unusual cases.
She needed to stay the hell away from him. Let him cast his attitude on another poor soul. At least the dog was great.
She woke to her phone ringing, her memory touched by strange dreams.
It was his voice that came to her over her cell.
“It’s six. Just making sure you’re going to be ready.”
“I will be ready,” she told him. “Outside, on the sidewalk, at precisely seven.” She gritted her teeth and added lightly, “And ready and able to accept the command of my senior officer.”
She hung up before he could reply.
