Читать книгу Criminally Handsome - Cassie Miles, Cassie Miles - Страница 6

On their way to the impound lot where Aspen’s car was being held, Emma rode with Miguel in her little gas-saving hybrid so they wouldn’t have to switch the baby seat in and out of the sheriff’s cruiser. Though they were in her car, she let Miguel drive so as not to further affront his authority. His sarcasm clearly told her that he didn’t much care for mediums, psychics or spirit visions. The only thing that sparked his interest was that VDG scribble.

She stole a glance at this dark, lean man with the shaggy black hair and dark green eyes—the color of a cool, deep forest. When he wasn’t making smart-alecky comments, he was attractive. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so. Baby Jack adored him; they’d bonded in seconds. After finishing his bottle, Jack wiggled cheerfully in Miguel’s arms and made gurgle noises that sounded like an alien language. Riding in the backseat, Jack still hadn’t stopped burbling. His was the only conversation in the car.

Emma couldn’t think of a word to say. Though she’d always been terminally shy, this long silence was ridiculous. She cleared her throat. “The snow is melting fast.”

“Yeah, it’s about time it started feeling like spring,” he said.

More silence.

“So, Miguel, are you new to Kenner City?”

“I’ve been here about a year. I was one of the first employees at the new crime lab.”

“Where are you from?”

“You tell me.” He shot her a wry glance. “You’re the psychic. You’re supposed to know these things.”

Usually, she paid no attention to those who doubted her visions or—even worse—those who treated her with great deference as if she were the Oracle of Delphi. But she wanted Miguel to accept her. Maybe because he was good with the baby. Maybe because he could help her find Aspen. And maybe…just because. “Are you challenging me?”

“Go ahead. Astound me.”

“Fine.” She studied him for a moment. His identity shouldn’t be so hard to figure out.

The sheriff had mentioned that most of the employees at the lab were from Colorado. She assumed that Miguel wasn’t newly transplanted from a big city like Denver; his cowboy boots were well-worn and looked like his habitual footwear. He didn’t have the roughened hands of a cowboy or a farmer from the San Luis Valley, but she noticed calluses on his fingertips, typical of a guitar player.

She figured that he’d gone to college to study forensics. But where? Which school? She remembered that when he looked at the design on her pursuer’s necklace, he identified the marking as a grizzly claw. Not a bear, but a grizzly. And the grizzly was the school mascot for Adams State College in Alamosa.

“I’m not sure if you were born there,” she said, “but you lived in Alamosa.”

“Correct.” He arched an eyebrow. “The sheriff told you, right? Everybody thinks Patrick Martinez is the strong, silent type, but he can’t keep his mouth shut.”

“I never heard your name until I met you this morning.”

He pulled up at a stop sign, pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and stared at her with an intensity that she found both intimidating and sexy. As his gaze scanned her face, searching for a hint that she was lying, she faced him without flinching.

He asked, “What else can you tell me?”

“You play guitar.”

He held out his right hand. “You saw the calluses.”

“You’ve got a fresh grease stain on your jeans. Maybe you ride a motorcycle.”

“A Harley,” he confirmed. “You’re using logic. Not psychic intuition.”

“Does it matter if I find the answers with logic or by a vision?” she asked earnestly. “Both are methods of observation. Different paths that lead to the same truth. You’d understand if you could be inside my head, walk a mile in my shoes.”

He glanced at her feet. “Purple sneakers with white stars? I don’t think so.”

“They match my jacket.” She ran her fingers down the zipper of the purple leather jacket she’d bought on her last trip to New York. The style was so not from the Southwest, but she loved it.

As her tone lightened to match his teasing, she realized that she was enjoying this conversation. Moments ago, she’d been tongue-tied. Now her wits were fully engaged. How lovely to talk to an adult who wasn’t a nagging ghost. “We have more in common than you think, Miguel. We’re both investigators.”

“But you see things that aren’t visible to the naked eye.”

“So do you. Every time you look into a microscope.”

“You make a good point.” His brow furrowed. “So much of forensics, like DNA testing and trace evidence analysis, isn’t readily visible.”

“Paranormal phenomenon is the same thing. It exists, but nobody has invented the tools to accurately reveal these signs and symbols.”

Until someone created a reading device, it was up to people like her—psychics and mediums—to interpret.

They parked outside the ten-foot-tall chain-link fence surrounding the police impound lot. The person in charge wasn’t a police officer in uniform, but a crusty gray-haired man who looked like he knew his way around a junkyard. As soon as Miguel showed his badge, the old man unlocked the gate and slid it aside.

After a brief discussion, Miguel agreed to hold the baby so she could concentrate, but he refused to wear the colorfully patterned designer baby sling she’d ordered online. Instead, he tucked the baby in the crook of his arm as he answered his cell phone.

Emma picked her way across the gravel lot where most of the snow had melted. Some of these tightly parked cars and trucks looked like they’d been here for years with their tires gone flat and the paint jobs dulled by constant exposure to the elements. Aspen’s beat-up sedan seemed new in comparison.

The last time Emma saw this vehicle, shortly after her cousin disappeared, she’d felt confusion and fear as she imagined the desperation Aspen must have experienced as she fled. Similar emotions roiled inside her, but this fear came from her own terrible foreboding that her cousin was never coming back. Please, Aspen, you have to be alive. She had so much to live for. Her son. Her new job as a teacher on the rez. After years of struggling and working lousy jobs at the Ute casino and in Las Vegas, Aspen had finally finished college at the University of Nevada. She’d been so close to reaching her dreams.

Miguel strolled up beside her. His calm, no-nonsense attitude reassured her. “That was Patrick on the phone. He has other police business and won’t be joining us. When we’re done here, can you give me a ride back to the lab?”

“Sure.” She circled the hood of the car, hoping to get a clue that would lead to her cousin.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Sometimes, when I touch things, I can tap into a spirit energy. In my vision, I saw the car. It must be important.”

“If your cousin isn’t dead…” He shook his head. “I can’t believe I’m saying this.”

“Keep going,” she encouraged. “A mile in my shoes.”

“If your cousin isn’t dead, what spirit are you hoping to contact?”

“I saw a woman wearing an FBI jacket. I’m not sure, but I think her name is Julie.”

He reacted with a start. “And she’s dead?”

“Yes.”

His jaw tensed. “Don’t play games with me, Emma. You heard something about the FBI investigation. Correct?”

“I haven’t heard anything. Why would I?”

“The sheriff mentioned it. Or you heard local gossip.”

His accusations irritated her. “I’ve barely been out of my house for five weeks, ever since Jack came to live with me.”

“What about before that?”

“I live alone, and I work at home. When I get together with friends, we don’t discuss FBI investigations.” She confronted him directly. “Who is Julie?”

“Agent Julie Grainger. She was murdered in January.”

She heard the cry of a bird and whirled around. Crows symbolized death for her. When her aunt Rose passed away, a flock of the big black birds had blanketed her yard. Their cries had been deafening.

She looked up, searched the blue skies and saw nothing. No birds at all. But she’d heard something.

There was another chirp, and she realized the sound came from Jack. Miguel stroked the baby’s head. “It’s okay, mijo. You’re a good boy.”

“Did you know Julie?”

“A little.” His jaw unclenched. “Are you okay, Emma? You look pale.”

“As if I’ve seen a ghost?”

When he smiled, his demeanor changed from hostile to gentle. “I guess that happens a lot to you.”

“Too much.” She glanced at Jack when he made another chirp. “Maybe you should take the baby back to my car. I don’t want to frighten him.”

“Are you going to do something scary? Roll around on the ground? Squawk like a chicken? Do a voodoo dance?”

When she glared at him, he grinned.

“You like to tease,” she said.

“Life is too sad not to laugh. I mean no disrespect.” He rested his hand on her shoulder. His touch was steady and strong as an anchor in a storm. “Do whatever you need to do. I’m here for you. Nothing bad is going to happen.”

A dark mist rolled in at the edge of her vision. She’d just told him to go away, but now she wanted him to stay close, wanted to maintain physical contact. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“You got it.”

She laid her palm on the hood of the car. Her sight narrowed. Though still aware of the cars and snow in the impound lot, she seemed to be peering down a tunnel. At the end, she saw the tall woman in an FBI jacket. Julie Grainger. Beside her was a teenage girl in a lovely white gown. Words and images raced through Emma’s mind. Rapid-fire. Like film on fast-forward.

Then the vision was gone.

“What is it?” Miguel asked.

Her brain sorted the jumbled impressions. The aspen had been leafy and green. Her cousin was still alive. Julie told her Aspen had escaped. Then she’d made a weaving motion with her hand. A river? A snake? “A trail,” Emma said. “I should start at the beginning and follow the trail.”

“From the crime scene.”

“Yes. We should start there.” Emma had also seen the VDG symbol again. “VDG is important.”

Again, Miguel’s interest picked up. “Is VDG connected to your cousin’s disappearance?”

“It could be.”

She remembered the girl in the white dress. Her presence had nothing to do with Aspen. She was Miguel’s sister. Teresa. She had died young, less than a year after her quinceanera, the ceremony and party that celebrated the fifteenth birthday of a young woman. Teresa wanted her brother to know that she was all right, that she’d found the light and gone to the other side. Teresa believed that Miguel would understand.

But Emma wasn’t sure. Though Miguel seemed more open to her ability as a medium, he might not be ready for contact with his tragically dead sister, and she didn’t want to alienate him. She needed Miguel to help her find Aspen.

Looking into his eyes, she measured her words, trying to find a balance between proving to him that she wasn’t a phony and not freaking him out. Teresa had shown her a family photo with Miguel standing beside his brother, who appeared to be the same age. She said, “You’re a twin.”

He nodded slowly.

“Fraternal, not identical. Alike, but different.”

The silver medal he wore around his neck on a chain glittered in the sunlight. Though she couldn’t make out the design, it didn’t appear to be a saint. Instinctively, she reached toward it. When her fingers touched the surface, her hand glowed. She identified the image on the front: El Santuario de Chimayo, near Taos in New Mexico.

“Chimayo,” she said. A legendary healing place like Lourdes. The words etched on the back of his medal were Protect and Heal. Teresa wanted her to know that Miguel had been near death, close enough to see the light.

His near-death experience was why her ability to communicate with dead people threatened him. He knew she was telling the truth, knew there was something beyond this world. He’d been there.

IN THE BACK OF HER CAR, the baby had begun to fuss, and Miguel knew their time for further investigating was limited. He didn’t want to believe that Emma’s pronouncements were anything more than random guesses, but he couldn’t ignore her accuracy. How the hell did she know he was a twin? How had she described his relationship with his brother, Dylan, so accurately? Alike but different. That pretty much summed it up. They were both in law enforcement, but Miguel relied on forensic science while Dylan was a supermacho FBI agent.

Emma reached toward the backseat, hoping to calm Jack. “I should get him back home.”

“Mijo,” Miguel said. “Give us a break. You’ll be okay.”

Immediately, Jack’s cries modified to quiet little sniffles. He was a good baby, a good boy.

“Amazing,” Emma said. “I can’t believe the way he responds to your voice. It’s almost like you’re his father.”

“His father is a pig. If mijo was my baby boy, I would never abandon him. Family is everything.”

“But you’re not married.”

“Don’t remind me.” Though he and his brother were thirty-three, neither of the Acevedo twins had found a wife and settled down. “I get enough nagging from my mama.”

The leftover snow had melted enough that he could pull onto the shoulder at the edge of the road. This area—where Aspen’s vehicle had been found—was outside Kenner City, but there were houses within sight. There had been no witnesses, no one who stepped forward and said they heard her scream.

“This is it,” Emma said. “The start of the trail.”

“We won’t find anything here. I did the crime scene analysis. There’s nothing more to be learned.”

Not unless she did that weird vision thing. When she’d touched the car in the impound lot, he’d felt the tension in her body. She seemed to catch her breath. Her blue eyes went blank as a corpse. Muy loca, like a trance. But it had lasted less than a minute. If he hadn’t been standing beside her with his hand on her shoulder, he wouldn’t have noticed.

She shoved her car door open. “I want to take a look around. Jack seems okay. We can leave him in his car seat.”

Reluctantly, he joined her. If she managed to somehow turn up evidence that had been overlooked, he needed to be with her to verify and to maintain proper procedure.

Her gaze scanned from left to right and back again. What could she possibly hope to find? The blizzard had erased any footprints. He and the other crime scene investigators had already measured and photographed the skid marks on the pavement.

She lifted her chin and gave a sniff.

“Now what?” he asked. “Are you channeling a bloodhound to scent the trail?”

Instead of bristling, she chuckled. “Might be handy to have a ghost dog. I wouldn’t have to pick up the poop.”

“You made a joke, Emma.”

“But you didn’t laugh.”

“On the inside, I’m in stitches.”

“Seriously,” she said, “were search dogs involved?”

“There wasn’t time before the blizzard hit.” And he regretted that they hadn’t been able to call on that resource to locate her cousin. “We only had a few hours to process the scene, and the sheriff’s first concern was taking care of Jack.”

“I know. As soon as he checked the car’s registration, he came to me with the baby.” Guilt furrowed her brow. “I should have been here, should have gone out into the snow to look for my cousin. But I was overwhelmed. I wasn’t prepared to care for an infant.”

“You managed.”

“Only because I could order all the baby equipment online. I hired someone to come in four hours a day so I can get my work done, but I’m still sleep-deprived. Sometimes I’m so exhausted that I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Losing your mind?” He couldn’t resist teasing. “How can you tell?”

“Very funny,” she said. “Laughing on the inside.”

She walked to the intersection, turned and walked back toward him. Her purple sneakers dug into the snow and mud. Then she went in the opposite direction.

Noises from the baby seat in the back of her SUV reminded him that they didn’t have much time. “We can come back here later.”

She hunkered down beside a pile of dirty snow. “Over here.”

He joined her. The dark leather of the medallion stood out against the snow. The black design, etched into the leather, was a grizzly paw print.