He was silent for a moment, and then said, “And do you think you can?”
“I’m willing to try, but there are never any guarantees, whether we’re talking about policing, psi work, or witchcraft.”
Although, as a rule, bluebloods generally could guarantee an outcome 99.9 percent of the time. It was the reason they held so much wealth and power.
“I’ve got some business in Bendigo this morning, so I could meet you at say—” He paused. “Nine thirty? Would that suit?”
I glanced at my watch. It was close to eight thirty now, but Bendigo was only a little over thirty minutes away. “That would be great.”
“Good. There’s a little café called Beans and Greens on View Street. I’ll be wearing a blue suit.”
“And I’ll be the one with the crimson hair. Thanks, Mr. Banks.”
After quickly brushing my teeth and changing into a fresh pair of jeans and a dark green sweater, I grabbed my car keys and handbag, and headed back downstairs.
Belle handed me a coffee-filled travel mug and a cookie on the way through. I grinned my thanks and walked around to the car park that was shared by all five businesses along this section of the street. Once I’d safely placed the travel mug into its holder, I started our old wagon and headed for Bendigo. Sadly, the cookie didn’t even make it out of Castle Rock.
Beans and Greens was a small but bright café abuzz with people and filled with the gorgeous aroma of roasting coffee beans. I stopped near the entrance and looked around until I spotted a man in a dark blue suit reading a newspaper at a table near the stairs. He would have been in his midforties, with dark blond hair and a suntanned, pleasant face. I ordered a coffee and then walked over. He didn’t even glance up. Either the article he was reading was fascinating, or he was one of those people who had no situational awareness. I was voting for the latter.
I cleared my throat. “Mr. Banks? I’m Lizzie Grace.”
He finally glanced up. His eyes, like his aura, were mostly brown—a color that spoke of self-absorption. “It’s not often we see a blueblood in these parts.”
And good morning to you, too, I wanted to say, but bit the comment back. He didn’t seem the type to appreciate sarcasm. I pulled out a chair and sat down opposite him. “You’re not seeing one now. The hair is a gift from a relation decades back that had a brief but apparently fertile interlude with one while she was in Sydney.”
It was a lie I’d told so often it rolled off my tongue as easily as the truth.
“Meaning you’re not really a witch?”
I hesitated. I had no idea what links this man might have to either the council or the rangers, so I couldn’t risk admitting anything more than I already had. Not that that was ever a fault of mine—if I had one thing in common with werewolves, it was a desire to say as little about myself as possible.
“I’m capable of small magic—charms and the like—but not much more, I’m afraid.”
“Then how did you find Karen? The rangers were a little light on detail when I talked to them.”
As I explained psychometry and its uses to him, I searched his face for any sign of grief. Though both his expression and his eyes gave very little away, there were at least some splashes of black in his aura. But there was nothing on the scale of what I’d seen in Aiden’s aura.
“And this is how you’re hoping to find her killer? Via this skill?”
“Maybe, if I can find something that holds his vibes.” I crossed my arms on the table. “When was the last time you talked to Karen?”
He shrugged. “About a month ago.”
“Was it usual for you two to speak so infrequently?”
“Yeah. I don’t think she’s ever really forgiven me for not taking her with me when I left Marjorie.”
Which was the opposite of what Marjorie had said. Of course, it was also possible Karen was playing her parents off each other, using the guilt they felt around her to get what she desired. “If you don’t mind me asking, why didn’t you?”
He grimaced. “Because my work takes me away for days on end, and that’s hardly a practical situation in which to raise a kid.”
Which was a legitimate enough reason, but I very much suspected the real reason was the fact that having her around might have cramped his lifestyle.
“Can you remember anything about that last conversation? Did she by any chance mention a new boyfriend?”
He was shaking his head before I’d finished. “As I said to the rangers, it was weeks ago. To be honest, even if she had mentioned a new beau, it’s not likely I’d remember. I tended to let that sort of stuff just roll over me.”
It was so casually said, with so little remorse that he’d taken his very last conversation with his daughter so lightly, that I wanted to reach across the table and shake him. Maybe the reason Karen had gotten involved with a much older man was not so much that she was looking to fill a sudden void in her life, but rather, seeking something she’d never really had.
The waitress delivered my coffee. I thanked her and then said, “When was the last time she actually stayed with you?”
He hesitated. “Maybe two months ago?”
“Have the rangers asked if they could search the room?”
“Yes, but I doubt they’ll find anything. She really didn’t keep anything personal there—just some clothes and books.”
Which meant it was probably pointless me going there. It also meant this whole conversation was pointless. Unless….
I leaned forward. “Mr. Banks, would you be willing to try a little experiment?”
His expression became wary. “What sort of experiment?”
“Nothing that’s dangerous or invasive, I assure you.” I gave him my best it’ll-be-all-right smile. It didn’t seem to help. “I’ll simply grip your hand while you think back to your last conversation with Karen. If luck is with us, I might be able to catch something you’ve forgotten.”
“Mind reading? I’m not sure—”
“No, not mind reading,” I cut in, even as I wondered what sort of secrets he was worried about. “It’s more… more like a movie that’s being shown in a cinema. I’m simply standing back watching events as they happen.”
His expression was still dubious. “You can’t see what isn’t there, though.”
“Agreed, but we won’t know for sure unless we try.”
He took a deep breath and then released it slowly. “If you think it might help catch this bastard, then I guess it’s worth a try.”
“Take my hand.”
I reached out. After a moment’s hesitation, he tentatively gripped my fingers.
“It won’t hurt,” I reassured him.
He smiled. “Is my fear that obvious?”
“I’m afraid so. I’m guessing this is your first experience with a psychic?”
“I’ve never really believed—” He cut the rest of the sentence and gave me a somewhat rueful look.
“It’s okay,” I said. “There are more charlatans and tricksters out there than those of us who are the real deal.”
He nodded. “What happens next?”
“Just concentrate on what you remember of that night. Think about where you were when she phoned you, and what you were doing while you were talking to her.”
His brows furrowed and his fingers tightened against mine. I tried to ignore the distaste that rose and unleashed my second sight. For several seconds nothing happened, but, as I closed my eyes, images began to flit across the back of my eyelids. There was a room—a living room with leather sofas, an open fireplace, and a vast TV on which football played. Phillip, sitting on one of those sofas, his expression bored as he talked into a phone.
I couldn’t immediately hear what he was saying, but then something shifted and the sound suddenly came on—and so loudly it made me jump.
“I met the most awesome person last night at the club, Dad,” Karen was saying.
“I thought you said your mother had grounded you?” There was amusement ra
ther than censure in Phillip’s tone.
“Oh, she had, but I snuck out.”
“Karen, we spoke about that—”
“It’s not like she cares,” Karen said. “She doesn’t even bother checking on me.”
“Yes, but still—”
“Anyway,” the teenager cut in, “he was dark and beautiful and totally unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
“And has this stunning sample of boyhood got a name?”
“He’s a man, Dad, not a boy. And I’m sure he has, but he hasn’t shared it yet.”
“So you ogled from a distance?”
“Well, yeah, kinda. But he noticed me. He smiled more than once.”
“It’s obviously true love then.”
“Oh, Dad,” Karen said, her tone exasperated.
“So if you haven’t even talked to him, how do plan to see him again?”
“He’ll be at the club again tonight. I’m sure of it.”
“You will be careful if he is, won’t you?” Phillip said. “Don’t be alone with him or anything like that until you know more about him.”
“Of course, Dad. I’m not dumb.”
Phillip harrumphed, and the conversation moved on to more mundane things like school. I opened my eyes and pulled my hand from Phillip’s.
He blinked. “A man. She mentioned a man.”
“Yes.” I resisted the urge to wipe the lingering sensation of his touch away and picked up my coffee instead. “Do you know what club she was talking about?”
“Not really, but there aren’t many choices in Castle Rock. It’ll probably be one of the hotels.” He paused, frowning. “Although I read somewhere that the old Richards Road Hotel had been recently renovated. That might be worth a shot.”
“Karen was underage—and surely well-known in Castle Rock, given Marjorie’s prominence as a lawyer. She wouldn’t have been allowed entry, would she?”
“Karen was an extremely strong-willed and persuasive young woman,” he said. “If she wanted in, she would have gotten in, one way or another.”
I had to wonder how, given serving underage persons not in the company of a responsible adult was illegal in this state and could incur huge fines. But that was something I could follow up with the owners of said nightclub.
“Did you give your daughter a necklace, by chance? One on a gold chain, with a large, bloodred stone set into the pendant?”
He wrinkled his nose. “It sounds rather ghastly, and no, I didn’t. I have better taste than that.”
No matter how ghastly, Karen would have nevertheless cherished the gift, because it was from him. But his words suggested he’d never really done such things. No wonder Karen had gone searching for something akin to parental love elsewhere.
I quickly finished the rest of my coffee and then pushed to my feet. “Thanks for your help, Mr. Banks.”
“You’ll let me know if you uncover anything?” His tone was somewhat dismissive. His attention had already returned to the article he’d been reading.
To say it annoyed me would be something of an understatement.
“I sure as hell won’t,” I replied evenly, “but I daresay the rangers will.”
“What?” he said, his gaze jumping back to mine.
I gave him a smile every bit as cool as his expression. “Goodbye, Mr. Banks.”
Once outside, I took a deep breath that didn’t do much to wash the lingering wisps of annoyance from my system, and then headed for my car and home. I parked the wagon in our spot behind the café, and then grabbed the pack and walked over to the Tourist Information Center to see what information they had on abandoned miners cottages. Unfortunately, it seemed that while the Heritage Park did have a number of old buildings on their grounds, there wasn’t a list of the many other derelict cottages dotted throughout the region. They did give me a list of cottages that had been renovated and were now available for renting, but that wasn’t what the dream had shown me. I also discovered—via the woman who was serving me gushing about how wonderful the place now was—that the old Richards Road Hotel had become a themed nightclub called Émigré.
Given I felt no urgency to return to the café—which either meant the place was empty or Belle and Penny were coping just fine without me—I resolutely swung the other way and walked up the hill toward the ranger station. Belle was right—whether he believed me or not, Aiden needed to know what I’d dreamed last night.
A dark-haired woman with a thin face was standing at the reception desk, but the vast room behind her was empty. She glanced up as I entered, but her welcoming smile faded rather quickly. “How may I help you, Ms. Grace?”
I wasn’t really surprised she knew me by sight. There weren’t any other women with crimson hair in Castle Rock, as far as I was aware. “I need to talk to Ranger O’Connor.”
“He’s not available at the moment, but if it’s important, Ranger Sinclair can see you.”
“The definition of importance,” I said, with a slight edge, “would depend greatly on whether you believe a psychic whose dreams sometimes foreshadow dire events can hold any truth or not.”
“Ah,” she said, with a slight blink. “Hold on a moment, and I’ll go talk to Tala.”
Tala had taken over the investigation into Karen’s death when Aiden had escorted me back to the station, if I remembered correctly. I leaned on the counter and watched the dark-haired wolf disappear into the corridor that led to the cells and the interview room. After a few moments, she returned. Behind her was a dark-skinned woman who was about my height but—if the wisps of silver in her black hair were anything to go by—at least twelve years older.
“Ms. Grace,” she said, her voice holding little in the way of inflection. “You have some information regarding Karen’s murder?”
“I have. Whether you believe it or not is entirely up to you.”
“Any information regarding a murder is treated seriously, no matter what the source.” She buzzed open the secure door. “The desk to your far left, please.”
I walked over and sat down. She claimed her seat on the other side of the desk and then took out a notebook. “Right,” she said, pen hovering above a blank page. “Tell me what you have.”
“The vampire is hiding in an old miners cottage.” I described everything I’d seen—the wingtip shoes included—and then added, “Karen will not be his only kill if he’s not caught quickly.”
She paused writing and met my gaze. “Why would you think that? Vampires usually space out their kills by a week, if not more.”
“I know, but I think the only rules this vampire is living by are his own.”
“Again, what makes you think that? The dream?”
“Instinct.” I forced a smile. “There’s something stranger going on here. It’s not just about the kill or a simple need for blood.”
“What do you think it might be about, then?”
“When I find out, I’ll let you know.”
She stopped writing again. “If we discover that you are, in any way, interfering with an ongoing investigation—”
“Marjorie Banks has hired me to find the killer.” It was pointless hiding the fact, given Marjorie was likely to mention it the next time they saw her. “And you can’t actually stop me from doing that—especially if I’m not impeding your investigations in any way.”
“This is a werewolf reservation,” she said curtly. “The rules that apply on the outside do not apply here.”
“Then I’ll sit back and wait for the IIT to appear,” I said. “They’re certainly more receptive of help from psychics and witches—”
“The latter of which you claim not to be.”
“I’m a charm maker. That’s not a particularly strong form of magic in anyone’s books.”
“Mere charm makers cannot command ghost candles.”
If they knew that, it meant they’d been checking up on just what a lowborn witch could and couldn’t do. And that, in turn, undoubtedly meant they’d also been checking into my b
ackground. While that wasn’t unexpected, a too thorough search might just throw up more questions than answers. “They can in areas where wild magic exists, and I’m sure you’re aware that Castle Rock has an abundance of such magic.”
She grunted and made another note. Whether she in any way believed what I was saying, I couldn’t tell. I might have gotten a whole lot of unwanted information about Aiden, but instinct was giving me zip when it came to this woman.
“Anything else?” she asked.
I hesitated. It was pointless mentioning the river of blood, but that wasn’t the only other thing I’d dreamed about.
“Where is Karen’s body currently being held?”
She frowned. “In the morgue, of course. Why?”
“Because I have a strange feeling our vampire hasn’t finished with her yet.”
Her eyebrows rose, and this time, her skepticism was very evident. “You think he’s going to steal her body?”
“Again, I don’t really know. I just got the sense that he was waiting for something to happen.” I paused, remembering the clock I’d witnessed counting down, and did a quick calculation in my head. “The dream seemed to indicate whatever that is, it would happen tonight at eight thirty.”
“I don’t suppose it also happened to clarify what that something might be?”
“No.”
“Of course not.” She paused to write another note, and then met my gaze again. “Anything else?”
I smiled, though it held little in the way of humor. “I think I’ve stretched the boundaries of your belief enough for one day.”
“As I said, all information regarding the case is taken seriously.” She rose. “We do appreciate you coming forward, Ms. Grace.”
“Say that with a little more sincerity, and I might be tempted to believe you.”
“When I have a reason to be sincere, I will be. But you should be aware that I don’t believe in psychics.”
“I don’t expect belief.” My voice was as blunt as hers. “I do, however, hope you’ll take me somewhat seriously given it was those skills that allowed me to find Karen’s body before any of you—despite your noses and natural tracking abilities—could.”