Bryce couldn’t help worrying about the slight unevenness in his gait. He wanted to blame the lawn, but as he followed behind them, he didn’t run into anything that caused a shift in balance. They made their way to the front door where two uniformed cops waited.
“Sergeant said I should show you the way,” one officer said. His name tag readBishop. He motioned toward the living room.
The four of them trooped into the space. The furniture was high end, and there wasn’t a sign that anyone had been in the room that night, much less that anything was missing. Bryce frowned. “Is this the crime scene?”
“The FBI are finishing up in there at the moment. Miss Valless will be out in a second.”
“The FBI?” Bryce repeated.
“Someone’s panicking,” Alex said, in a sing-song voice. He drifted toward the center of the room.
Bishop narrowed his eyes at them, then watched Alex closely. “The FBI makes you nervous?”
“Not me. Him.” Alex pointed at Bryce.
Damn it, Alex was letting himself go too far if he was spouting off anything that came through his senses. Bryce shifted, trying to find the mental shield that would keep Alex from reading any more of his emotions.
“Wonder why that would be,” Bishop said as he turned.
Just what Bryce needed, law enforcement that paid attention.
“We didn’t realize the case would be so important,” Celia said.
“Uh huh.” Bishop didn’t take his eyes off Bryce.
Double shit on a stick. Bryce took a deep breath, but trying to find his calm only made him think of Jesse again. Unfortunately, that led to thoughts about getting discovered inside the house. Was Jesse here? Was he called in on a different case? What were the odds of two emergencies in St. Louis that night that would require federal investigation? Bryce kept a neutral expression, but fought to keep control.
Didn’t help that Bishop was still watching him.
“Someone could be hurt,” Bryce said, trying to find any other reason to explain his anxiety. “We don’t know the exact nature of the crime committed, only that Alexi sensed we needed to be here.”
The cop didn’t lessen his scrutiny by much. If Bryce wasn’t the subject of suspicion, he’d have to hand the man credit for not being easily swayed.
A woman entered the living room. Her long gauzy robe barely covered a thin nightgown. She looked halfway between a ghost and a black-and-white film’s overdramatic star. “I’m Renee Valless. One of you is a psychic detective?”
“Alexi Romanov,” Alex said. “You’re having trouble with your collection. Part of it walked away.”
“As much as I want to be impressed, you do realize I’m quite known for my art. There are police vehicles, so one could draw a natural conclusion.” Renee’s voice drifted, much like Alex’s, but there was more of an act to her words. Bryce didn’t know why she’d fake being so carefree, but it set off warning bells.
Alex turned toward her, and wobbled. If he was that off balance, he was overtaxing his psychic talent. Leaving himself wide open for any emotion would backfire, sooner rather than later. Crimes left pockets of negative psychic resonance, like a rock dropped into a lake. The bigger the lake, the farther the ripples could carry but their intensity faded.
The impact hadn’t had time to travel from the scene of the crime. It could be that the room was filled to the brim with negative power, and Bryce had no ability to go first and get a sense of how truly awful it was. He could barely tell the difference between a resonance’s existence and everyday bad feelings. Walking into the situation ignorant could harm Alex, especially if he wasn’t careful.
“Alexi, perhaps you should close the gates. Certainly we’ve seen enough of your impressive talent,” Bryce said.
“I’m fine,” Alex murmured, dismissively waving his hand. “Our hostess though—Miss Valless, who are you so pissed at?”
Renee blinked, and for a moment the ghost-act dropped, but then an idyllic smile curved her lips. “I’m afraid you are mistaken.”
“Your rage is cold. Like sticking my tongue to a metal pole in a winter vortex. Covered in sugar and cotton candy, but I can taste the metal through that.”
“Interesting,” Renee said and Bryce didn’t like the way her voice shifted. Like a snake, it seemed to coil her words tight, getting ready for a pounce as she continued. “Perhaps you can be of some help.”
A man in a three-piece suit stormed into the living room, and Alex reflexively backed away from him. Celia did as well, while Bryce shifted his weight so he could step between the man and Alex if he had to.
“What the hell are you playing at, Renee?” the man demanded.
Renee waved a hand at the man. “My charming brother, Ronald. He believes I’m too infirm to maintain my own home.”
