He gave her that apologetic look he had when they were younger and his dog had torn the head off her favorite doll.
“Is it true that you’re psychic?” Martinez asked.
“I am,” she answered, lifting her chin.
“And how do you know Lucy?” he asked, tossing a color photo of the woman that they’d just sketched into the middle of the table.
She picked it up. Her heart raced as her gaze caressed the unknown woman. Hope blossomed in her chest for the first time since she’d been having these dreams. “If you found her, then that means you can save her.”
“Afraid not.” The detectives shared a look before they tossed another photo onto the table. Lucy’s blood-drained faced had cut marks marring her face. Any hope Becca had been feeling fizzled out of her body.
Unable to stand, Becca plopped back down into the chair. “I was too late.”
“Where were you last night?” Detective Martinez asked.
“A wedding.”
“And after the wedding?” Detective Griffin asked.
“Home,” she answered, lifting her gaze to theirs.
She probably did it.Becca heard Martinez think in his head.
Give them your alibi and leave.Becca heard Danny’s thought. She rose.
“Is that all, Detectives?”
Danny let out a resigned breath, as though thankful that she’d heard him.
“Can anyone corroborate you were home all night.”
Becca clasped her hands together. “Ian McDougall. He drove me home from the reception and stayed.”
Danny’s brows dipped in confusion, and she tried to stay out of his head. She didn’t need to read his thoughts. She could see the disappointment on his face.
“Any idea where we can find Mr. McDougall?”
Becca shrugged. “Probably out in the parking lot. Just look for the big Highlander in the black SUV. He followed me here.”
A big highlander? He could have killed these women. Maybe he skipped out of the wedding. Maybe she’s covering for him. Were they a team?Becca heard in Martinez’s thoughts.
“He’s a friend, and he was worried about me. That’s all.”
Chapter Six
Becca arrivedhome after running errands to find the lights on inside her house and Ian’s SUV parked in the driveway. The headache that had just started receding was starting to reappear.
“This isn’t happening.” She let out a resigned sigh while pulling out her cell to call her sister. Quinn answered on the third ring.
“Hey, nut. Have you killed him yet?”
“What’s it going to take to call off your guard dog?”
“You’re mistaken if you think Ian listens to me.”
“Well, aren’t you a lady or something in Scotland? Doesn’t that equate to royalty? Can’t you just proclaim it into law or something?”
Quinn’s chuckle raked down her spine like the sight of Ian leaning against the door frame. His tall, muscular body blocked out the room behind him. His intense gaze traveled down her body and back up, as if he were checking for proof of where she’d been.
