Chapter Eighteen

“Nick? Evie?” Remy stepped aboard. The grim set of his mouth set her teeth on edge.

Evie couldn’t pick up on Remy’s thoughts, but the worry surrounding him was darker than the last time she’d seen him.

Nick frowned, his hand dropping down to his side. He stepped away from her.

Thank God for Remy.

Straightening her spine, she gripped the rail beside her, waiting for Remy to spit out whatever had his eyes flashing so darkly.

“We need to talk. Let’s go inside.”

Dread filtered into the apprehension floating in the air. Whatever he had to say was bad and didn’t have anything to do with the way he’d just found them.

Wobbly, and unsure if she could make the trip inside, she protested. “We can talk out here. Just spit it out, Remy.”

He looked over his shoulder toward the dock and the house beyond.

Foreboding grabbed ahold of her, refusing to let go.

The coffee she’d drunk churned sickeningly.

“Just spit it out. What’s going on?” Nick stood legs spread with his arms crossed. He spoke softly, but frustration eked through every syllable.

Remy shot him a hard look.

“Is this about the guy from last night? You get anything out of him yet?” The skin over Nick’s cheekbones tightened, and his mouth hardened into a thin, grim line.

Remy strode over and stopped in front of her. “Does the name Frank Daniels mean anything to you?”

Her mouth dropped open. Linda’s husband? Was it possible he was the killer? She’d done a consultation for the woman whose husband kept disappearing for a week or so every month, but Linda had never gotten back to Evie about whether she wanted to go through with the investigation. If the dates he turned up missing lined up with the dates of the kidnappings, it could be possible he was involved. But something didn’t feel right about it. She’d felt the killer’s energy. Surely if Frank Daniels was the killer, she’d have recognized it when he’d attacked her.

“Evie? Do you recognize the name?”

“If he’s married to a Linda Daniels, I do.”

“He is.”

“In his statement, Mr. Daniels said his wife is having you investigate him. Is that right?”

“It was. Except she changed her mind and decided to hold off on it for now. I don’t think she’s ready to know what her husband’s up to yet. But Remy, she hired me because he’s disappearing for about a week every month. She thought he was having an affair. What if he’s the killer and that’s why he’s disappearing? We need to check the dates. I can’t believe I didn’t make the connection sooner, but his energy didn’t feel right. Not at all like the energy at the crime scene.” Hope fluttered within.

Remy shook his head, the look on his face popping and deflating the rising balloon of hope within her. “He has an alibi. His wife was right. He is having an affair with a woman over in Baton Rouge. That’s where he’s disappearing to every month.”

“But what if…”

Remy raised a hand to forestall the protest she was about to make. “Before you go there, I’ve already sent an officer over to talk to the mistress, and it’s true. In fact, she’s pregnant, which is why he’s been taking the risk of disappearing for a week rather than a weekend here and there. He’s a pig for sure, but he’s not our killer.”

Her shoulders slumped, disappointment washing over her. She wanted this to be over. Wanted desperately to believe they had the killer in custody before he could hurt anyone else.

“Then what’s this about?” Nick asked.

“Evie, why don’ you sit down?”

“I’m fine.” Evie’s head snapped up. The tension was back, and though her cousin tried hard to hide it, sorrow gathered in the depths of his eyes. There was definitely more going on than the man sitting in jail right now. She frowned, worried about Remy. The circles under his eyes grew darker every time she saw him. The case was getting to him, and damn it to hell, his worry over her wasn’t helping. He wouldn’t appreciate her saying so, though, so she remained silent and waited.

“Evie, I don’ want you to make more of this than there is. You can’t assume anythin’ okay?”

Shivers of trepidation crept up her neck, tightening her scalp. She licked her lips and prepared herself. He wouldn’t be warning her if it wasn’t bad.

“Just tell me. Waitin’ is just makin’ it worse.” Damn it, anyway. How was she supposed to fool anyone if she couldn’t control how she spoke when her nerves got goin’?

He took a deep breath, and she caught a flash of sympathy cross his face before he hid it behind what Evie thought of as his cop face. “When’s the last time you heard from Grace?”

Regret darkened his eyes, but his expression remained stoic.

“Grace? Why?” Her brain shut down. In the back of her mind, she knew, yet she couldn’t formulate a full thought. Don’t panic…don’t panic…don’t panic… Oh, God!

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Let’s hear him out,” Nick said, his tone hard as if barely controlling himself.

“That’s right. I’m just asking right now. Is the last time you saw or spoke to her the day before yesterday?”

“Yes. But you’re not askin’ for no reason, and I want to know what that reason is. Now.” No matter how hard she tried to control it, her voice got shriller with every word she spoke. Her brain no longer at a standstill, horrible thoughts somersaulted their way in, images that sent her pulse racing and heart pounding in a drumbeat of fear.

Remy moved toward her and grabbed a hold of the hand she had clasped into a tight ball as she fought to keep a lid on the alarm rising within. “Mrs. Grayson, her landlord, got concerned when she didn’t stop in last night like she promised, and this morning she called her and only got her voicemail. So she went to check on her and found the door to her apartment unlocked with the lights on. Her purse and cell phone were left on the table by the front door. She got worried and came into the station this morning.

“Now, don’ go gettin’ yourself all worked up. Grace is an adult, and normally we’d have to wait twenty-four hours, but with everything that’s happened and her stuff lyin’ on the floor like that, I’m not waitin’, and neither is anyone else. She seemed really upset the last time I seen her with you. It’s possible she took off for a walk, or she could have gone off with a friend or her family. But Mrs. Grayson insists Grace never fails to stop by when she says she will.”

Nick brushed past her without a word. She didn’t need words; the hard look on his face said it all. “Remy, I’ll be at the station.”

She struggled to pull herself together. Falling apart wouldn’t do anyone any good. Screw him, he was going to have to deal with his own anger and self-blame. This was about Grace.

“I haven’t seen or heard from her. Have you contacted her folks? Maybe she went to talk with them and stayed over.” It was unlikely considering Grace’s relationship with her parents, but Evie grabbed onto the idea like a lifeline. She’d been so upset, afraid of the circumstances she found herself in. Maybe she had turned to them in the hopes that they would help her.

Oh God, what if she’d gone to the Cormeaux’s to tell them about the baby? Could she be there? Evie didn’t think she would have gone to them after their discussion, but what if she had?

“I gave her folks a call. Had to leave a message, but I’m hoping to hear back from them soon. According to Mrs. Grayson, there’s a rift between them, and Grace rarely if ever sees them since moving out. Why was she upset when she talked to you?”

He wasn’t prying. It was a valid question under the circumstances. Yet Evie felt a little like it was a betrayal of trust to share the details.

“She’d just found out she’s pregnant.” In this case, the possibility of Grace being in danger trumped the trust factor.

“Pregnant? Grace?” Remy dragged his hand down over his face. “Do you think she went off somewhere to…handle the problem?”

“No!” Evie denied immediately. “She wouldn’t do that. Yes, she’s young, but she plans on keeping the baby.” Barely holding it together, she closed her eyes and tried to reach out to Grace. Nothing. She and Grace had a link of sorts. It wasn’t as strong as the one with Nick, but she should have picked something up.

But she couldn’t detect even a thread of her energy. Another idea began to take shape. An idea that she’d been playing with since visiting Madam Delphine yesterday. First, she had to get rid of Remy, though.

“Could she be with the father?” Remy cut into her thoughts.

“No. He’s gone.” She didn’t elaborate since he’d only flip out, and Justin couldn’t have anything to do with this.

Remy swore. “Look, Evie, I’ve got to get back. Grab whatever you need.”

“What?”

He placed his hands on her shoulders, regret pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“Nick told you about the story in the newspaper, right? I’m sorrier than I can say ’bout this, ma petite. I shoulda’ never dragged you into it, but you see why I can’t leave you here alone.”

Evie couldn’t stand seeing him looking so torn. He would never put her at risk on purpose. Hell, he’d spent his whole life protecting her.

“First, you couldn’t have known this would happen. You’ve nothing to be sorry for. Second, I know you’re gonna do everything you can to protect me. And third, I need you to trust me. I’ll go inside and lock myself in tight, but there’s somethin’ I have to do before I come down to the station. No.” She shook her head when he opened his mouth to interrupt. “I’m not gonna be telling you about it just yet. It doesn’t include me leaving the houseboat, and I promise to explain soon. You need to trust me. Can you do that?”

She didn’t have to be a psychic to know the idea of leaving her there was killing him.

“Remy, you have a job to do. Just focus on catching the killer and finding Grace, not worrying over me. I’ll be right behind you.”

“You’re right, but I’d worry less if you weren’t hell bent on staying here by yourself. You’ve got one hour to get your ass down to the station or I’m gonna send someone to get you, and likely it’ll be Leroy.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I will. So best you be there. Now get inside so I can hear the door lock before I go.” He turned her toward the door and gently gave her a push in that direction.

“I love you, too,” she said before shutting and locking the door.

She slumped back against the door, shaken by the emotions mounting within. She shoved them all aside other than the desperate need to find Grace. Since visiting the crime scene, an idea had been simmering at the back of her mind. She’d replayed the scene out by the bayou over and over again and couldn’t shake the feeling that both energies held psychic threads. After visiting Madam Delphine yesterday, she thought there might be a way to find out. If she could hold the connection long enough, just maybe she could delve deep enough to get a clue about the killer.

The problem was the only time she’d ever tried reaching out to another psychic had been in close proximity and with someone she knew. It was ludicrous to think she could do it. The only thing she had to go on was the thread of psychic energy she’d felt at the scene. It hadn’t belonged to Bethany.

It was darker and had an edge to it. It had to be the killer’s. She could make this work. The photos she’d seen at the station surged into her mind. Her stomach clenched and churned with nausea. She had to make this work.

Evie dug deep for the courage to reach out and find the killer.

Closing her eyes, she blocked everything out and concentrated on the warm energy flowing within her. Using the same technique she’d used at Madam Delphine’s, she began taking slow even breaths to center herself, concentrating on the ebb and flow of the energy. Slowly, she imagined opening a door and pushing her energy outward. She floundered for a minute.

Maw Maw had taught her years ago how to build an internal wall. She’d built the strongest one she could to protect herself from the emotion-filled energy floating around that people weren’t even aware of. Maybe this morning had taken more out of her than she’d realized. Taking a breather, she gave herself a couple of minutes before attempting to push her energy free once more.

Again, something blocked her from moving forward. The harder she pushed, the more she recognized this wasn’t her own wall holding her back. What the hell? Someone had put up some kind of barrier around her abilities. She hadn’t even known that was possible. Oh, she’d heard of people who could shield a person’s psychic abilities. When she’d been younger, before building her own wall of protection, she’d longed to meet such a person. But this didn’t feel like protection, but more like her gifts had been imprisoned.

Thoughts of Nick rose along with images of Grace.

Focus, damn it!

Gritting her teeth, she concentrated on shutting everything out again. It would be easier if she had something to direct her energy at. Focusing, she imagined a fictional wall in her mind. She took another deep breath and pushed mentally against the wall. Tingles of excitement skittered through her as she sensed the solid matter weakening. With a final shove, she pushed through the barrier, and snap, her energy broke free. Relief flooded her, and in its wake, exhaustion.

Her head pounded out a slow steady protest against the abuse it had been put through. If she were smart, she’d wait until she was stronger to attempt the next step, but time was wasting, and so was her courage. Reaching out and trying to connect with the mind of a killer was disturbing, and if she waited, she could lose her nerve.

No, this is for Grace.

Stiffening her muscles and praying for strength, she put every bit of energy into reaching out, blindly searching for the one familiar thread that could lead her where she needed to go. It became easier once past the wall of negative energy lingering in the air from this morning. Time ceased to exist.

She had no idea how long she’d been searching when she started hitting pockets of energy. Before long, she found herself surrounded by a web created of gossamer threads holding an abundance of emotions. Rage, grief, joy…the threads were endless. Resisting the emotions slamming into her from every direction, she searched for a single thread, the one she would recognize.

Suddenly, something familiar slithered by and circled back. Instinctively, she tried to pull away as dizziness assaulted her. Something was off. Caught in a dark vacuum, she found herself sucked into a long tunnel. It was him. Her instincts were to fight the pull. She struggled against it, needing to find something familiar. Something that would lead her back. A flash of light, there and gone in an instant. A brief glimpse of Grace fighting back. Hope filled Evie. She could sense how close she was to gaining what she needed. And then she felt it, a cold, inky dark energy…terror surged, paralyzing her, right before it struck.