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Peeking through the shuttered blinds, Elizabeth watched the Nissan whip into her driveway and lurch to a stop just short of the garage, Rex behind the wheel. In aviator sunglasses, a day’s growth of beard shadowing his chin, and his lips compressed into a blade thin line, he climbed out of the car and half-ran up her walk.
It’s now or never. You have to tell him everything.
Heart in her throat, Elizabeth opened the door and resisted an unlikely urge to throw herself into his arms. He was a PI, for God’s sake, little more than a stranger. He wasn’t her savior.
She moved aside just as he reached the door and stood back. He didn’t hesitate, just stalked inside.
“Thank you for coming,” she said, her heart beating faster than it should. She shut the door behind him, then, for good measure threw the dead bolt.
“Tell me about the police,” he said as he surveyed the inside of the house, almost like a burglar casing the joint. “Why do they think you’re a suspect in your husband’s murder? I want to hear it from you.”
“They think I look like this woman who was on the freeway . . . and at a hotel in Rosarito Beach where my husband stayed with . . . Whitney Bellhard.”
“I know all that. What else?”
“I don’t know. There isn’t anything else.”
To her shock, he placed his hands on her shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. She could see the striations of cobalt and royal blue in the gray depths of his. Her heart beat hard and deep. Her mouth was dust.
Tell him. Tell him now.
Elizabeth took a deep breath. “Ravinia said that some people, especially people associated with her family, sometimes have unique abilities.”
“Yes, she’s told me that.”
“And you know she thinks I’m her cousin. That my mother is her aunt Catherine who gave me up for adoption.” She licked her lips, drawing his eyes briefly before they returned to stare into hers. “Ravinia said a lot of things last night and I was listening, but I didn’t hear it all. It doesn’t matter. I kind of knew where she was going.”
“Because you predicted the pedestrian bridge falling before it happened.”
Elizabeth nodded, feeling her knees sag a bit. “I may need to sit down.”
In truth, she was relieved when he released her, and she walked on rubbery legs to the couch. He followed her, but stood against the kitchen bar, arms crossed over his chest.
“But that’s not all I can do, apparently,” she said, clenching and unclenching her fists. “I can see danger before it happens, but I can also wish people dead. Don’t think Ravinia knows about that one,” she added on a short laugh.
“You’re going to have to explain,” he said after a beat.
“If I get angry enough at someone, furious to the point of seeing red, they suddenly befall some horrid fate and die. At least, that’s what’s been happening recently.”
For a moment, silence filled the room, then he broke down and laughed. “You’re putting me on.”
“I know what it sounds like.”
“No, seriously. What is this?”
“I told this very thing to Detective Thronson the night that she was shot.”
“You were mad at her? What’d she do that made you so mad?”
Elizabeth opened her mouth, then shut it again. He was making fun of her, but he’d inadvertently made a point. “No . . . I wasn’t. Not mad. I was scared, though.”
“Well, it’s impossible to wish someone dead,” he said, controlling his mirth when he realized she was being serious.
“Is it? You’ve spoken to Ravinia, heard what she has to say about her family who all live in that lodge, Siren Song. And I know you won’t believe me, but I sometimes feel danger when it’s coming near me.”
“You were at the restaurant the other night.”
&n
