Not with more weird shit happening—like this handprint on a man that for all intents, shouldn’t be dead.
Colin shook his head.
“You seen this before, partner?” Todd asked, not ready to let the topic drop yet. No way was he going to let the guy hold out on him during this investigation.
Colin’s jaw tensed. “I’ve never seen anything like this print before.”
Todd wanted to believe him.
Partners should trust each other.
Yeah, and there also shouldn’t be any secrets between partners. For a cop, there was no one on the streets who was closer than a partner. No one else watched your back like a partner. No one protected your ass like a partner.
And when you found out a partner had been deceiving you, well, nothing hurt as bad.
Todd’s shoulders stiffened as he dragged his stare away from Colin and glanced back at Smith. “Any other tests you can do on him?”
“I’m running more blood work.” She rolled her shoulders. “This—we need someone with a little more expertise in this area, okay?” Her gaze darted once more to Colin. “I’m out of my element here and—”
“What? Smith, he’s a stiff!” It didn’t get any more in her “element” than that! Todd tried to rein in the anger that wanted to shoot out of him. “The dead are your life.”
She frowned at that. “No. They aren’t.” She shook her head. “Look, maybe we should call in a heart specialist, get a second opinion—make certain I didn’t miss anything—”
“You’re not the missing type, Smith.” Colin’s voice was certain.
Damn straight she wasn’t. Todd opened his mouth to respond, then caught the faint quiver of Smith’s fingers.
Shit. This is her first case back—the lady has to be nervous as hell. “Take your time, Smith,” he told her, his voice softening. “Go over the body again, see what you can find.”
Her eyes narrowed and for a minute, he thought she was going to be the one shooting out anger, but instead, she gave a jerky nod. Okay, the lady obviously wasn’t big on getting sympathy.
Todd glanced at Colin. “We’ve got a problem, man—”
“Yeah…we’re gonna have to see the other bodies.”
No choice. Exhuming the dead was a bitch—getting the court orders, dealing with the grieving families—but there was no choice.
“Have you told McNeal about the print yet?” Colin asked.
“I was leaving that to you guys.” Smith pulled the sheet back over the body. Her chin lifted and a brief smile curved her lips. Not really a smile so much as a feral baring of her teeth. “Thought you’d like to give him the info on that.”
Great. Well, they’d have to break the news to the captain pretty fast if they wanted to get going with the bodies.
Colin turned toward the door, paused. “I don’t have to tell you how important it is to keep these details quiet.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes locking on Smith.
“No, you don’t.” Her shoulders straightened and a bit of her old fire flared in her dark eyes. She jerked her thumb toward Todd. “But you do sure as hell need to tell your partner what you’re up against this time.”
“Smith…” A warning.
Todd tensed. He had that shitty, I’m-in-the-dark feeling again. “Tell me what?”
“Not a damn thing,” Colin snapped. “You already know everything about this case that I do.”
“But you didn’t on the last one, did you, Brooks? Gyth shut you out of the loop and went after the killer on his own.”
Colin growled and the hair on Todd’s nape rose. “Listen up, Smith,” Colin snapped. “The way I see it, you really ought to be damn glad I did go after the killer.” He turned toward her, facing her fully with clenched fists. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t be examining dead bodies anymore.” He paused, then said, “You’d be the dead one.” Harsh. Cold.
Smith flinched. “You’re an asshole, Gyth.”
Todd’s eyes widened. Okay, yeah, he had his problems with the guy, but fur notwithstanding, Colin was his partner. And Todd took his loyalties seriously. Maybe too seriously. “Ah, Smith, the guy did save your life.”
She never glanced his way. “You don’t understand what’s happening, Brooks.”
Maybe. Maybe not. “Then why don’t you clue me in?”
Her lips tightened.
Fuck. “I thought so. Colin, let’s get the hell out of here.” He tucked the file under his arm. “You’ve got issues, Smith. Go see Dr. Drake. We need you back to your old self.”
She swallowed. “I’ll never be that woman again, Detective. All the therapy in the world won’t bring her back.”
“How do you know? Letting someone else inside your head could be the best thing you’ve ever done.” He strode to the door. Shoved it open, but didn’t exit. Not the sympathy kind, but too damn bad. He liked the woman, respected her, and wasn’t going to watch her spiral. “I’m worried about you, Smith.” And he was. She was too intense. Too high strung. And holding rage that was all but seeping from her pores. “Get some help. Go see Dr. Drake.”
Emily Drake was, after all, the best in town.
The late-afternoon sunlight trickled through the blinds as Cara lay on the soft leather couch. She stared up at the ceiling and tried to figure out just what she should say.
Ah, hell, just get it over with. “I’ve met someone.”
Dr. Emily Drake, known to her clients as the Monster Doctor, and currently the only psychologist in the South to knowingly treat the Other, slowly lifted her head. “Tell me about him.”
Cara licked her lips. “He’s a cop.” Damn. Hadn’t she heard somewhere that the Monster Doctor was dating a cop? What if the guys knew each other?
“I see.” A delicate pause. “And does he know what you are?” The doctor’s pen was poised an inch above her notepad.
Turning her head slightly, Cara let her gaze fall on the doctor. As usual, Dr. Drake’s black hair was pulled back into a severe bun. Her thin, wire-framed glasses were perched on the edge of her nose. And her green gaze was trained on Cara. “Does he know?” Cara repeated the question softly, then shook her head. “No, even though I’ve…dreamwalked with him.”
The pen skittered across the paper as Dr. Drake jotted down a quick note.
“I didn’t mean to,” Cara said at once, then winced. Even though the doctor’s expression hadn’t changed, she still felt the need to explain herself. To justify stealing into a man’s thoughts. “I swear, Dr. Drake, I never meant to join him in dreams.”
“Then why did you?”
If she couldn’t be honest here, in the safety of Dr. Drake’s quiet office, she couldn’t be honest anywhere. “I want him.” The want was a gnawing ache inside of her. An ache that grew worse every moment.
“It’s all right to desire a man, Cara. We’ve been over this before.”
No, this was far different from the men before. “I-I gave up sex.” Said in a rush.
Dr. Drake’s eyes widened and her pen stilled. “Cara, you know you can’t do that. It’ll kill you.”
“No, I don’t think”—okay, she hoped—“that it will. I’ve got an arrangement with a friend. He has this place for the Other. I’ve been singing there for a while. When I’m on stage and have the focus of the crowd, I can the pull their sensual energy to me.”
“But will that be enough for you?”
“I don’t know, it seems to be working so far. I mean, it’s not like there are a lot of succubi around here that I can ask if I’ll be able to survive—”
“No,” Dr. Drake’s quiet voice cut straight through her words. “That’s not what I meant.” She put the notepad facedown. Leaned forward. “Your kind exist for sex. It renews you. Powers you. I don’t know if the situation you have will keep working for you, though it’s certainly a novel approach for a succubus,” she murmured. “But is it enough for you? Are you happy stealing wisps of pleasure, or do you want your own release?”