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She gave him an icy smile. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hang around until the cops get here. We all know Seaton would have a few questions if he saw me. It wouldn’t do for Gossard Consulting to admit that they brought in a psychic to find the missing body. Bad for the brand.”
Roger winced and glanced uneasily over his shoulder. “Keep your voice down. I told you, Bailey and Thomas think you’re a forensic psychologist who figured out the most likely dump site after studying my profile of the wife.”
“I won’t blow your cover. A job is a job and I need the money.” Talia looked at the trash bin and then quickly averted her gaze. “Besides, it’s not like I want to be here when they retrieve the body.”
Roger frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Absolutely.”Well, except for an incipient anxiety attack and the knowledge that the night ahead will be very long and very dark. What the hell. Not my first dead body. I’m a professional. Don’t try this at home.“I’ll ride off into the sunset now.”
“Don’t forget to send your bill.”
“Oh, I won’t.” She realized she was still holding the gold cuff link. She unclenched her fingers and held out her hand. “You can have this. I won’t need it anymore.”
“Right.” Roger picked up the cuff link and slipped it into a pocket.
She went down the loading dock steps, pulled up the hood of her jacket, and walked toward the far end of the alley. The relentless howl of a siren in the distance announced the approaching police vehicle. The big SUV roared into the alley just as she was crossing the street. She did not look back.
It was a good thing that Roger had not asked for an explanation of how she had located the body of Ray Clayton, because she did not understand it herself. She was not sure she wanted to comprehend it. Her new ability was unwelcome on so many levels. She had not been forced to look at the face of the dead man in the trash bin today, but that would not protect her from the psychic fallout.
Tonight there would be nightmares.
CHAPTER TWO
Come any closerand I’ll kill her,” Martin Pilcher yelled.
Luke Rand opened his senses to the nightmarish currents of energy that shivered through Pilcher’s threats. It didn’t take any psychic talent to figure out that the man was totally unhinged.
Pilcher was in the doorway of the small, shadowed house. He tightened his arm around his wife’s throat and put the barrel of the pistol against her head.
“I’m not fucking around here,” he screamed.
“He’s going to do it,” Luke said quietly. “We’re talking a couple of minutes at the most before he pulls the trigger.”
“Shit.” Sam Hobbs’s expression was grim but resigned. “I’ll signal Wilson to take the shot.”
“It won’t work,” Luke said. “Wilson can’t get a clear shot. Best case is the bullet punches through Pilcher and strikes the wife.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” Hobbs’s jaw tightened. “I don’t have a choice. We don’t have time for any more negotiation.”
“Let me try before you give the order to Wilson.”
Hobbs hesitated. “Okay, you’ve got one minute.”
“Understood,” Luke said.
He and Hobbs were standing behind one of the three police vehicles parked in the front yard of the house. Katy Pilcher had tried to hide in the rural town in Northern California after obtaining a restraining order that was supposed to keep her stalker husband from contacting her. But Pilcher had tracked her down. Katy had managed to dial 911 just as Pilcher broke in through a window.
When the police arrived on the scene it became a hostage situation. Now it was about to mutate into a murder-suicide.
So much for the rural community’s promise of safety, Luke thought. Lesson learned. Katy Pilcher wasn’t the only one who had chosen the small, remote town as a hideout.
In hindsight, it had been a mistake to accept Hobbs’s invitation to play poker on Friday nights, but it had seemed like a small risk. Unfortunately, over cards and whiskey, Luke had mentioned that he had done some hostage negotiation. Now he was paying for that slip of the tongue. Fifteen minutes ago Hobbs had called, asking for assistance at the scene of a crime in progress.
Luke focused on the man in the doorway. “No one here is going to make any moves, Mr.Pilcher. What do you need?”
On the surface, the words sounded calm and reassuring, but they formed an invisible Trojan horse carrying the currents of a psychic trap.
“I need you and everyone else to leave us alone,” Pilcher shouted. “This is none of your fucking business. She’s mywife.”
