Into the Abyss E-Book

Mayer Dale

• Herausgeber: Valley Publishing Ltd.
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

This is the 10th Psychic Visions Novel from USA Today Bestselling author Dale Mayer.

When she was a child, Tavi's family was taken from her by a serial killer that was never caught. As an adult, she puts on the appearance of normalcy while burying herself in law enforcement as a detective. All her private energy is spent trying to find answers to what happened to her family…and preparing herself for the day she intends to exact revenge from the culprit.

Jericho is just as much of a predator as Tavi is. He's caught the scent of old prey – a serial killer, one he's been a step behind all along. Discovering who the next victim is surprises him. Tavi is clearly a detective who gets her man – every time. The tug-of-war is on. She wants nothing to do with him; all he can think about is her. She doesn't want or need his protection; he can't leave her alone to save his life. Sparks fly between them the first time they meet, the last, and all the times in-between.

Two hunters converge, set to follow their prey into the abyss if need be – right where he can take out two enemies for the price of one.

He’s cleaning up. Turning a new leaf. And wants no one left alive who can stop him…

The Psychic Vision Series

1.Tuesday’s Child
2.Hide’n Go Seek
3.Maddy’s Floor
4.Garden of Sorrow
5.Knock, Knock…
6.Rare Find
7.Eyes to the Soul
8.Now You See Her…
9.Shattered
10.Into the Abyss…
11.Seeds of Malice
12.Eye of the Falcon
13.Itsy Bitsy Spider
14.Unmasked
15.Deep Beneath
16.From the Ashes

Leseprobe

Into the Abyss

A Psychic Visions Novel

Dale Mayer

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

About This Book

Complimentary Download

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

About Seeds of Malice

Sneak Peek from Seeds of Malice

About Simon Says…

Author’s Note

Complimentary Download

About the Author

Copyright Page

About This Book

When she was a child, Tavika’s family was taken from her by a serial killer who was never caught. As an adult, she puts on the appearance of normalcy, while burying herself in law enforcement as a detective. All her private energy is spent trying to find answers to what happened to her family … and to prepare herself for the day she intends to exact revenge from the culprit.

Jericho is just as much of a predator as Tavika is. He’s caught the scent of old prey—a serial killer, the Ghost, one he’s been a step behind all along. Discovering who the next victim is surprises him. Tavika is clearly a detective who gets her man—every time. The tug-of-war is on. She wants nothing to do with Jericho; all he can think about is her. She doesn’t want or need his protection; he can’t leave her alone to save his life. Sparks fly between them the first time they meet, the last, and all the times in between.

Two hunters converge, set to follow their prey into the abyss if need be—right where the Ghost can take out two enemies for the price of one.

He’s cleaning up. Turning a new leaf. And wants no one left alive who can stop him …

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Chapter 1

Tavika Bantrell opened the door to the police station and stopped in the doorway. Her nerves cramped at the laughter inside. It always did when she was forced to return here. She belonged on the streets, not at a desk.

She understood the streets. But the computers, databases, and reports sucked the life out of her. As she entered, she slowly rotated her neck. The tension had balled up under the atlas bone and would hang there, until she could pound it out. Such a thing wasn’t on her agenda anytime soon.

It was determined to sit there, like an irritated gnome, and to make her life miserable.

And she’d had enough of that today. Yet something stirred in her world. She didn’t like it. It brought back memories she had worked so hard to keep hidden. Forced her to burn more energy and roughed up her senses.

“Hey, Tavika. Nice job on that drunk in the tank.” Peters smirked.

“Yeah, Stoner has a thing for you,” Mark added.

The sniggers started at her left and worked around the office. She did her best to ignore them. It was hard when she knew her shirt was ripped off at the lower right-hand side, showing her abs. Of course she wore a series of scratches and colorful bruises instead. Compliments of the six-foot-tall brute in the tank.

She’d gone out to walk the streets right afterward. Her way of working out the tension. She loved Portland. It was seriously beautiful, but it was just another big city in so many ways.

The homeless problem had hit an all-new high. The geese had returned and were shitting all over the place. And the heat, late for this time of year, made everyone crabby.

Including her.

“Nice job, Tavika.” Lawrence smacked her lightly on her shoulder, as he walked past. “You know anyone else would have gone home and changed.”

She snorted. “Like I’m anyone else.”

“True enough.” He motioned at her desk in the back of the crowded, noisy room. “Someone to see you.”

She locked her gaze on her visitor’s face. Her heart stilled, … then raced ahead. She tried for a deep calming breath. “I’m not expecting anyone.”

Lawrence’s voice lowered, as he nodded once more to where her desk sat in the corner. “This guy doesn’t look like he marches to anyone’s orders but his own.”

Damn. This was not what she needed.

Giving Lawrence a curt nod of thanks, she stopped at the coffee station and poured a cup of black sludge. Sour, burned tasting, and hot. It was perfect. Fortified, she headed to her desk, determined to get rid of the visitor as fast as possible. If he was a snitch? Good. He could dump all over her, then hit the skids. She was so done with people today.

His aftershave hit her as she approached. She wanted to wrinkle up her nose in disgust; in fact, she started to, but something about the scent had her closing her eyes in appreciation instead. Her damn feet slowed too. Mentally she jerked hard on her errant body and slammed down her coffee cup atop her desk. She fell into her chair and lifted her scarred boots to rest beside her coffee, as she eyed the stranger over the top of her steepled fingers.

“You wanted to see me?” she asked, proud her voice was solid. She was solid. No flights of fancy in her world. She was a black-and-white, by-the-book cop.

But, right now, … at this moment, she wanted to jump this man’s bones.

She clamped down on her jaw and stared at him suspiciously. She was pretty damn sure it was illegal for anyone to be this pretty.

He studied her, a secretive smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “I do.” He lifted that gaze of his and locked it on hers. Shivers started to quake her insides.

Dear God, his eyes. … They were silver. As in molten mercury. They shifted with the same glimmering light too.

She swallowed and struggled to remain in control. “What can I help you with?”

“It’s more what I can help you with.”

Like she hadn’t heard that before. “Oh, and what’s that?”

“I want to report a murder, … if it’s not too much trouble,” he murmured, the wisp of humor obvious in his voice.

Her boots hit the floor, and she straightened up. All business now. “Who? Where? When?” She barked out the questions in rapid-fire fashion. This was her domain. Where she excelled. She hated to say it, but she loved a good old-fashioned murder.

“I can’t say I have all the information you need,” he replied, a note of apology in his voice, “but I can tell you the name of the victim.”

“That’s a start.” She grabbed a pad of paper and pulled it toward her. “What’s your name?”

“Jericho. Jericho Sands.”

She frowned, but inside she sent a mental high five to Jericho’s mother. It was a freakin’ perfect name.

“Who has been murdered?”

“Her name is Tavika Bantrell. Detective Tavika Bantrell.”

She threw down her pen and leaned back in her chair, glaring at him. “That’s hardly a joke,” she snapped. “You’re wasting precious police resources here.”

“My apologies.”

“No, you’re not sorry,” she declared in an accusing voice. “That’s my name, as you perfectly well know, if you came here asking specifically for me.” She threw her arms open wide and added, “As you can see, I’m fine.”

Lord, she hated cases like this. Someone needed to escort this guy away from her desk and out of the station, where he could blend into the landscape. Silvery eyes or not, she wasn’t into loony tunes.

“I meant no disrespect,” he said. “It’s just that I know this killer, and he knows you. Worse, he’s about to make you one of his next victims.”

She slammed her hands down on her desk and glared at him. “And you know this how?”

The silver in his eyes shimmered at her. She swallowed, struggling to not get lost in the potency of that gaze.

“The same way you knew I was here, before you entered the building. The same way I knew when you arrived. The same way I know your body is aching to be mine. … I’m a psychic.”

Her body shivered. She locked down her hormones and stared at him, trying to hide her deep unease. This was so not good. Could he know? How? No one knew. She’d made sure of it. She had worked hard to keep that part of her life hidden, buried so far below the surface that no one would ever know. Particularly the one person hunting her. Who had always been hunting her.

Instinctively she jacked up her energy shield. Her head boomed. She took a shaky breath. Don’t panic. You are safe. You’d stay safe.

Then he lowered his voice and leaned closer, that mercury-colored gaze holding her captive. “A psychic, my dear Tavika, like you.”

Her safely contained world buckled.

Ripples slid through her aura, shaking the pillars of her soul. This was so not good.

And no way in hell would she let him know. She gave a loud snort and sat back, crossing her arms over her chest and sneered. “The circus came into town two days ago. I suggest you go apply for a job.”

He smiled.

That deep intoxicating movement of his lips made her heart thump against her chest. At the same time she wanted to rip out his heart and toss it across the floor.

“I understand you’re afraid …”

She leaned forward and hissed, “I am not afraid.” She waved her hand around the room. “Do you see this? This is a cop shop. This is where we actually work at catching criminals. This is not where we sit and pay five dollars for palm readings.”

At that, he laughed.

A full-on belly laugh, completely amused at her response. Damn. His silvery eyes glistened with all things unknown. She’d seen other eyes like that. They saw past the barriers, slid under one’s defenses, and ripped open your secrets.

Her mother had been like that. She’d never let Tavika have secrets. Or privacy. According to her mother, it was too dangerous. Tavika had no protection against her mother’s pushiness. Yet, of course, her mother had secrets of her own. Like, about her first marriage and the firstborn son she hated to talk about. Tavika could count on one hand the number of times her half brother was brought up in conversations and never in a good way.

Jericho stood up in a smooth and elegant movement that she instantly hated.

If she even tried to act half as suave, she’d trip over her size ten boots. Still, she rose too, not to let this irritating man seemingly lord over her, if only via sheer physical positioning.

“Only time will tell.” With a quick flick of his wrist, he pulled something from his pocket.

She automatically tensed. She’d been on the streets too long. She’d expected a gun, not the business card he tossed on her desk. She picked it up and gave a hard laugh. “A private investigator?” Deliberately she ramped up the scorn in her voice. “I should have known.”

“That’s okay. I love you too.” With a wink and a sexy smile he turned and strode from the room.

As the door closed behind him, silence descended in the bullpen. She plunked her ass back down on her chair and glared at those few hapless detectives who still looked in her direction. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have any work to do?”

Lawrence, who sat at the desk closest to her, but still a half dozen feet away, replied, “Part of our job is to observe people. And that was one of the most interesting interactions I’ve seen in a long time.” He gave her a toothy white smile that shone brightly against his black skin. The color of dark ebony, Lawrence was a good guy. A solid cop.

With a wave of her hand she dismissed her visitor. “He’s definitely loony tunes’ material.”

“Intriguing,” Mark teased. “I didn’t know you went for the crazies.” With a half whistle Mark sauntered off to the coffeepot.

Damn. Had her attraction to Jericho been that noticeable? Inside, her system was still absorbing the shocks. How had that asshole found her? And what did he really want?

And how would she shake him off her tail?

*

Jericho stood outside the station, staring at the drizzling rain. “Well, that went well.”

In fact, it had gone better than he’d expected. He’d done his research, before walking in. He knew so much about her and yet understood so little.

He’d only confronted her now because time was short. The killer had moved up his agenda, and her name was rising up the list. She could be a hard-ass all she wanted. Jericho would still keep her safe. He knew full well she was psychic. Yet that was no guarantee of staying alive, especially if the Ghost wanted her dead. Ghost was the code name for the serial killer. A prolific sadist, who liked torturing his victims first. As Tavika well knew.

She was also a survivor. She’d been traumatized by her encounter with the Ghost, when she was much younger. From what Jericho could discern from the energy waves around her system, she was stronger than ever.

And, if he were honest, not only did he want to keep her safe but he also wanted to utilize her abilities to catch this killer, once and for all.

All he had to do was get her on his side. Easy, right?

Knowing his phone would ring, he pulled it out and held it to his ear, before the chime went off. He smiled like he always did at the ring tone. It was a few stanzas of music from the movie Halloween. Jericho walked in the shadows himself. Nothing like a good horror movie to make him laugh.

Reality offered more than movies ever could.

He lived it. He watched other people do the same, and, as far as he was concerned, it was his job to take down the assholes who created horror.

He acknowledged his caller. “Stefan, I got nowhere. You were right. She won’t admit to that side of her personality.”

“And yet she’s very talented and uses those abilities for her own purposes,” Stefan argued, fatigue creeping through his voice.

Jericho understood. Stefan saw too much. Heard too much. Understood even more. The one thing they could always count on were the horrors people inflicted on each other. Like Jericho, Stefan had no choice but to help.

“She shut me down.” Jericho laughed. “She wanted me gone and fast.”

“She is no ordinary woman.”

“She might be no ordinary psychic, but I don’t think she has any clue,” Jericho corrected. “However, she’s one hell of a woman.”

“I wouldn’t push that right now,” Stefan warned.

“No worries,” Jericho replied comfortably. “Plenty of time to rock her bones later.” Stefan’s sigh made Jericho laugh out loud. “Okay, I won’t push it. At least not right now.”

“She’s likely to rock your bones and not in a good way. She is tough. Sharp. And has honed her psychic skills like no one else I’ve seen. She also has an energy shield that …”

“That’s killing her,” Jericho butted in. “She ramped it up while I was sitting there. The minute I mentioned the word psychic, her system went into overdrive. And she got hit with a hell of a headache. I watched her cringe, as the energy slammed into her head.”

“The more she denies it, the more she locks that down, the worse the pain will get.” Stefan’s voice faded slightly.

“You and I both know that’s just the beginning of it. If Tavika doesn’t take better care of herself, her energy systems will kill her.”

He lounged against the outside wall of the police station, under the eaves to keep the rain mostly off him, and was completely ignored by the world around him. He loved that about the city. No one noticed anybody because they were so busy trying to mind their own business, as they traveled from point A to point B. “Did you pick up anything more on the Ghost?” Jericho asked, as he turned to study the busy street.

“Not yet. He’s in Portland, but I haven’t narrowed down the location any better.”

Jericho waited a minute to see if Stefan had anything more to add, then asked, “Anything new and ugly appearing now that he’s in town?”

An odd pause followed.

“Stefan?” Jericho nudged him.

“Not sure yet. Drew is on it.”

Drew was a cold case detective, not of the psychic variety. And engaged to Dr. Maddy, a friend of theirs. Only Drew’s department had no budgetary money for this case, unless they came up with solid proof that the Ghost had resurfaced. Drew had been keeping track of Jericho’s progress on the case for years. That the killer had appeared to sleep for the last five years had been both a relief and a concern—if he had now resurfaced.

And he had. Jericho knew it. So did Stefan. Tavika too, regardless of what she’d let anyone else believe.

And no way the Ghost would disappear again. Drew was just as adamant to find him. Drew had eleven cold cases, all with the Ghost’s name attached as a prime suspect. Files that, even with Dr. Maddy’s and Stefan’s help, the department hadn’t gotten far on.

Jericho shook his head, wondering what it would be like for Drew, a humble human, to have an energy worker extraordinaire like Dr. Maddy in his life. But Jericho was also ornery and apparently contrary as well in his taste for women—because all he could think about now was having one very irritating, very female detective under him. He didn’t think Tavika would go down easy. Surrender was foreign to her. But, when they got there, he knew they’d burn down the house.

He couldn’t wait.

*

He stood and stared out the front window of the police station. Coming here today hadn’t been part of his plan, but life was like that. And sometimes there was a damn good reason for it. Like maybe right now.

His mind was consumed with what he’d just heard. Surely the water-cooler gossip had been wrong. But the station buzzed with overheard tidbits of Tavika’s visitor. Something about the psychic calling Tavika the same. Hell, everyone for miles had heard by now. And that was wrong. No way she was. And gossip like that was a career killer. She’d never do anything to jeopardize that.

But, … if she were psychic? That was bad news. He’d saved her once. No way he’d do that again.

Love made one do stupid things, and he was no more immune than anyone else. Still, if she were one of those, he wasn’t sure anything or anyone could save her this time—and why should he?

If she were one of those evil psychics, she needed to die—just like the rest of her family had.

Chapter 2

Tavika looked at her watch. Had she waited long enough? Would Jericho be long gone, or would he be haunting the front door of the station still? It wasn’t like her to ditch the office so soon, unless Dispatch sent her elsewhere. But mistakes at this stage would be fatal. She packed up her desk, locked her drawers, and shut down her computer. Paranoid much? Yeah, but she had her reasons. She strode out of the bullpen without saying a word to anyone.

And met Henry in the hallway. She touched her old friend and mentor on the shoulder. Currently in a police liaison position, he’d been one hell of a detective in his time. She knew he wasn’t solely responsible for her rescue all those years ago. Yet, every time she saw him, she thought of that.

And he’d stuck around since then to help her find normalcy in a world gone crazy.

He narrowed his gaze. “What’s going on?” he quietly asked, checking his watch.

“Nothing. It’s all good.” She gave him a smile. “It’s nice to see you.”

He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. He slipped his hand into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small envelope, holding it out to her with a self-conscious smile. “We finally set a date. You’re invited.”

He turned and walked away, and she grinned, as she watched him disappear down the hallway, figuring she knew what the invitation was all about. At least she hoped so. She stuffed it into her pocket, unopened. He’d been with his partner for as long as Tavika could remember. Originally he’d been a friend of her mother’s and, as such, knew Tavika better than most. Yet still, he didn’t know her—no one did.

She kept herself locked down inside. Always wary and detached. There was life before the Event and life after it. She’d changed afterward. Had disconnected from the world, her surroundings, even herself. It was easier. Then she’d been to hell and back. So who could blame her for holding herself apart from the rest of the world? And, if they did, tough shit.

Heading around to the rear exit of the station and into the back parking lot, she hopped on her Harley. She kick-started the engine and pulled the bike out into traffic. She had no idea where she was going, just knew she had to get the hell away. She pulled onto the highway and hit the gas.

Maybe she’d known she would need this mini-escape today. She usually brought her truck and left her bike for weekends. Today, this suited her mood. Only she had no jacket, and the chilly wind slashed at her bare stomach under her damaged shirt.

Going faster than she should, taking more risks, she navigated the roughly eighty miles in about one hour, and headed down the coast, trying to blow the stress and the fear from her soul.

When she finally pulled off on the side of the road and stared at the water pounding down on the surf below, she realized she’d gone far enough. She sat back on her bike to study her trembling hands. Tavika had let Jericho get to her. Her sister would have a heyday if she knew. And so would her twin, Travis. Her mother? … She’d be scornful and derisive. As always.

Her phone in her left pocket rang. Of course Travis would be calling now. He always knew, but then twins were like that.

She pulled his phone from her pocket and waited for the words she already expected.

“Still running away?” Travis asked her. “You knew that Jericho was coming and that the Ghost was coming. Even after all this time, you’re surprised when you’re right?”

She ignored him. One couldn’t argue with the truth.

“You could try,” he noted comfortably, easily reading her mind, “but it would be a waste of your energy—something you can’t afford right now.”

Speaking under her breath, a quick glance around to make sure she was alone, she asked, “What difference does it make? You’d torment me either way.”

He snorted. “Only because I love you.”

She didn’t bother to answer that. She wrapped her arm around her chest, shocked at the chill to her skin from her fingers. “You’re right though. I did run.”

His voice softened, as he added, “That’s okay. You can’t be strong all the time.”

Like hell. She had to be strong all the time. She had no other option. She had cultivated her abrasive hard outside to stop people from getting too close. That was the last thing she wanted. Everyone who got close died. The only ones left in her personal world were Henry and his partner, Charles. And she let them only so close. She owed Henry. He’d been instrumental in getting her on the force and had helped her make detective. Maybe he did so out of guilt that they couldn’t solve her family’s murder case. It didn’t matter why. She was grateful. Now to get rid of that pesky Jericho.

“He’s right too, you know?” Travis’s voice deepened. “The Ghost’s hunting you again.”

She ignored that. “I’m no one to him. And Jericho isn’t right,” she snapped. “He knows nothing. I’m no one to the Ghost.”

“You’re important. I don’t know why,” Travis argued. “Something about you makes him uncomfortable now. Jericho is looking down the road to the future. To when the Ghost comes after you.”

“I know,” she admitted softly. She’d asked her mom and her sister many times about the identity of their killer, but they went blank and disappeared when she tried to bring it up. Maybe not an unnatural response to a devastating event but frustrating as hell for Tavika.

She had no intention of being found by the Ghost again. Once had been more than enough. She’d come out the winner that time, if anyone could win a deadly game like that. Only the killer had escaped and had gone underground after her family had been exterminated. Hell, he’d slept erratically for years. Coming out to cause mayhem, then to disappear again after he got his fix. Who knew how many people he’d killed in total?

Why the hell would she want to revisit that? Still, she’d never been able to leave it alone. She was always on the lookout for him. No one could ever forget the Ghost.

“Hiding the truth from yourself, that’s one thing. But if you think you can hide it from me, not happening. You knew Jericho was coming. And you know the killer is too.” On that note Travis’s voice disappeared.

Great. Now she’d pissed him off too. She was batting one thousand today. Still, edginess shimmered inside her system, stopping her from finding a level of comfort with her day. Is that what Jericho had intended? To throw her off balance and to keep her there by bringing up painful memories?

No way he could know she was psychic. That was not how it worked. She’d heard of a couple specialists in the field who were capable of assessing other individuals for psychic abilities, and, of course, there were the media-hound psychics, looking to drum up business, who often told desperate tales about dead loved ones.

Still, a few good ones were out there. According to everything she’d heard, Stefan was one. Dr. Maddy another, although she was better known for her healing abilities. Tavika had heard cops for miles around sing Stefan’s praises. They used to sing her mother’s. Her mother’s reputation was always there in the background, terrifying Tavika of being found out. Knowing people looked at her sideways, wondering if she had abilities of her own.

Her phone in her right-hand pocket rang. She glared at it. And saw Dispatch on the caller ID.

“Reports of a deceased male. On 984 Hollard Street. Two blocks back from Kinsman Park.”

“Kinsman Park?” Her heart stalled, then it picked up and raced forward.

“Yes. Two units on the way.”

She was eighty miles away. Shit. Why had she gone so far out of town, when she was on duty? Murder didn’t stop just because she needed to clear her head. She turned her bike in the direction of home and gunned it.

Kinsman Park area. Interesting location. Every time she heard that name, it brought ugly memories back. Two blocks from that very same park was where she’d been held prisoner for one week.

She slammed the memory back down into the black hole, where it belonged, to focus on the business of getting home again. When she pulled up outside the correct address about an hour later, she found the place already taped off and multiple black-and-white cars everywhere. She pulled her keys from the bike, pocketed them, and strode to the front door. No one said a word. Then again they already knew her.

And she knew them—in ways they wouldn’t understand.

*

Jericho waited in Kinsman Park for Tavika to show, taking a seat on a nearby park bench, having a good view of the scene of the crime. He’d seen her take off from the station, flying down the highway as if the devil were after her. And he was. The devil called the Ghost. She just didn’t seem to care. Of course she’d met the Ghost once already and had survived. Did she really think she’d do it again?

Details on her abilities were sketchy. Stefan had told Jericho a little, but no one knew anything for sure.

Every time Jericho tried to read Tavika, the dominant impression he picked up was confusion. He knew she had an energy barrier up. Was that showing up as confusion? Or were her thoughts behind it confused?

Her barrier was so slick and almost electrified that it was damn-near impossible to read the truth behind it. That she could even keep up such a defensive wall revealed much about her power and inherent abilities.

If she ever learned to direct that power, the world could be in trouble.

Nothing in her file said she was unstable or dangerous to the public. As he’d been collecting this data, he knew a lot about her already. He was a precog, so he saw things before they happened. And when the visions came in as strongly as they had been lately? They were scarily right. No matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to change the outcome of what he saw. But that didn’t mean he always understood his visions. And, if he were right, Tavika would not survive her argument with the devil a second time.

Focusing on his surroundings now, the energy of this neighborhood swelled around him. He closed his eyes and let the music dance. He was one of the few psychics with more than a single ability. And when energy spoke to him, it came in many forms.

Sometimes in color. Sometimes through music. Really no way to know how a message would manifest. If they couldn’t get it to him one way, then they would through another.

Now if only he understood what they were trying to tell him.

In his mind’s eye, he saw energy approaching the house, going around to the back, before sneaking into the open patio doors. He’d seen the original vision yesterday—and had recognized it for what it was. The Ghost’s latest victim.

The old man had fallen asleep in front of the television. His death quick and easy. Not this killer’s normal MO. The cops would never consider the Ghost for this job. It wasn’t his style. A single knife slice across the throat wouldn’t have given him anywhere near enough fun. But it was fast, efficient, and, in this case, expedited a problem.

At least that was Jericho’s impression of the scene.

Jericho didn’t understand what the Ghost was up to; Jericho just knew the asshole had to be stopped. So Jericho had waited in the park for several hours, awaiting Tavika’s appearance. And then he sent her a message. He opened a spirit corridor, walked the short distance, and knocked on the door to Tavika’s mind. When it opened, he delivered his message. Come talk to me, he said. You know you want to.

He almost laughed at her shocked response, followed by her epithet. The door slammed in his face. He could send as many messages as he wanted to hereafter, but she was no longer receiving.

And that was not what he wanted. If he couldn’t tell when she was in trouble, how was he supposed to help when she really needed it?

I told you to watch it with her, Stefan warned Jericho in his head. I don’t know how much she believes in all this or whether she’s just a loner who needs to keep her own counsel.

“That will get her killed,” Jericho stated out loud, looking around to confirm that he was alone and that no one heard him talking to himself. “I’m trying to keep her alive.”

Then I suggest you use a little of that finesse you’re well-known for, not a battering ram.

This time Jericho did laugh—the sound ringing out across the park. “I figured she needed the battering ram. That’s the only way anyone will get through those defenses of hers.”

As he stood to leave the park, he froze.

Tavika stood ten feet from him, a frown on her face and accusation in her voice as she asked, “Did you kill him?”

*

That didn’t take them long. He frowned; it was too fast actually. He hadn’t been watching from his window in the last few hours to see if anyone had traipsed in there, but surely the old man should have gone unnoticed for a day or two. He’d counted on it.

Every time something happened out of schedule, it bugged him. He liked things to be perfectly lined up.

And, when they weren’t, he wanted to know why.

It was his fault that he hadn’t already been watching the old man’s house before now, and that bugged him. He didn’t make many mistakes, but he’d assumed the old man was alone. And no one would know for days.

But someone had.

Another black-and-white unit pulled up to the house.

He shrugged. Oh well, time to make the best of it.

He walked back to the kitchen, hoping there was still a pack of popcorn. He’d planned to shop for more but thought he had time.

There was one left. Chortling, he popped it in the microwave. Who needed television? He had his own real life crime drama show to watch.

Chapter 3

Tavika rested her hands on her hips and glared at the cocky ass in front of her.

Until he comprehended her question, then his cockiness fled to be replaced by an anger like she rarely saw. He bolted toward her. She narrowed her gaze at him and braced herself.

“You really think I killed that old man?” he asked in a low but harsh voice.

She studied the look in his eyes but saw the truth in his energy, regardless of his words.

“No, I don’t.” She took one step closer and widened her stance, as her own anger grew. Then again, anybody who’d seen what she had just found would be angry too. “It was just an old man, watching TV.”

“And he’s connected.”

Her eyebrows shot up. That wasn’t what she expected to hear. “Connected?” Was he telling the truth? What did Jericho know? Psychics were invariably unsure of the black-and-white answers when pressed. “Connected to whom?”

It was his turn to look at her in surprise. “You can’t tell?” He took several steps on the path away from her. “Have you really distanced yourself so far from what happened before that you can’t recognize the same energy of the man who preyed on you and your family as being the same one who preyed on that old man?”

She shook her head. “That makes no sense.” Hell, it had better not make any. She looked at the ground uncertainly. She wasn’t sure she could recognize the Ghost’s energy. She could tell when someone was lying but hadn’t considered energy recognition. Were the energies of people all unique? Like DNA or signatures or fingerprints? She didn’t remember hearing anything like that, but what if such a thing were possible?

He waved a hand around. “Sometimes you have to step outside the rules.”

“It’s a different MO,” she replied abruptly. She didn’t mention that the Ghost had been known to change his methodology when it suited him.

“Sure, and that’s not his regular target. But, for whatever reason, something in his world has changed. It’s up to you and me to find out why.” And this time he turned and walked away. When he was about ten feet from her, he called back, “Thanks for answering my request.”

She didn’t want to ask, but her curiosity got the better of her. “What request?”

His laughter resounded throughout the park, bouncing off the trees and rippling through the leaves, and then he was gone.

“Hell, that was no request. That was a fucking order,” she muttered. She spun around to stare toward the house. Could Jericho be right? She studied the pattern of leaves on the grass, her mind assessing what she’d seen versus what she knew.

What possible motive could the Ghost have for killing an old man watching TV? The cops hadn’t as yet ascertained whether anything was missing. The place hadn’t been disturbed in any other way, except what was required to take a few steps into the room, slice a man’s throat, then step back out.

The killer hadn’t even stepped in the blood. And there had been a lot of it.

The cops would work the crime scene, but they already knew they’d find little. She snorted. That was actually the best reason to consider the Ghost yet.

The Ghost never left evidence behind. And yet he was thought to have committed eleven murders by her count. It could be much more. She’d often wondered if he’d traveled to other states, when she had deemed him as simply “asleep.”

The evening air produced a cold bite by the time she returned to the crime scene.

Two of her colleagues, Mark and Lawrence, looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Sorry I’m late.” She didn’t add to that. She made a point to give very little in the way of explanation.

One of the beat cops, Calvin, turned to face her. “None of the neighbors heard or saw anything. We are still out canvassing.”

“Of course.”

She walked through the rest of the house, noting the sparse furnishings, living one step above poverty level, the lack of food in the kitchen cupboards, and the lean, frail body of the man who’d met an early demise. His life hadn’t been easy, and he certainly didn’t deserve to die like this.

“What do we know about the victim?” She placed her hands in her pockets, as she listened to the recital.

“Seventy years old, his name was Connor Breaker, a retired electrician, still did odd jobs for friends for a little bit of pocket change. He was on a pension and not much of that. A widower. His wife passed on some twenty odd years ago.”

“So he lived alone. Are we thinking he’s the victim of a random act of violence?”

The cops nodded.

She shook her head. “I’m not buying it. Whoever killed him had to come around the back of the house and into the yard to do so. Had to know the old man lived here. And that he lived alone. That meant someone who knew him—or of him. Let’s find out why. Maybe then we’ll find a motive.”

She stepped back, as the coroner arrived. Tavika didn’t need to know time of death or how Breaker died. She’d get those soon enough. What she needed to know was why, and the medical team wouldn’t be any help there. “I’ll need the tox screen results as soon as you have them, Shelby.”

Shelby was a fifty-something gray-haired, grizzled woman, who had no use for anybody. But, as such, Tavika understood her well.

“You’ll get them as soon as I know something.” Shelby stood and stared down at the old man. Then she shook her head. “What is the world coming to? We can’t even have a cuppa tea and watch our favorite show anymore.”

Tavika spun slightly and stared at the tea. “I wonder if that was drugged. It might make it easier to do this job.”

“It wouldn’t have taken anything to slice his throat. He’d likely been asleep at the time anyway.” Shelby lifted her gaze to Tavika. “We’ll test the tea anyway. I see no defensive wounds and no blood on his hands. He went down without a struggle.”

“Which supports sleeping and/or drugged.” Tavika thought about that. If she were sound asleep, and somebody slit her throat, she’d still reach up in a jerking reaction. But that didn’t mean the slice wasn’t deep or fast enough that Breaker couldn’t do anything about it. Blood was all over the man’s chest, with an arterial spray to the left. So the killer stood behind him, grabbed the man’s head, and sliced to the right. The old man didn’t have a chance.

She made one more walk-through of the small house, before stepping outside into the clean air. Nothing like the smell of fresh blood. It wasn’t something she’d ever get used to. In her case it was the stuff of nightmares.

She walked over to her bike, keys in hand, and one of the cops called out to her, “Do you want a lift back to the station?”

She shook her head and waved. “I’ll be fine, thanks.” She gunned the bike and took off down the street. At the first corner she leaned into the curve and whipped around the block. She wasn’t going back to the office. She was going hunting.

*

Now what the hell was she up to? Jericho stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. In his mind’s eye he saw her rip down the street on the bike. She’d just left the crime scene, so what the hell was she doing now? He watched her slowly turn the corner, heading into a shady area. Even in his vision, the neighborhood appeared run-down and seedy.

An area he recognized.

He frowned. Now why would she want to go back there?

Unfortunately, just because he saw bits and pieces of visions, it didn’t tell him motivations or what the person was doing outside of his particular view. Right now he really could use that information. When he saw her park the bike and hop off, he swore. An old couple passing by him shot him a dirty look. He gave them a half smile and stepped off the pathway.

He’d planned to check out this recent crime scene, after the cops were done, so he’d been hanging out in the park. But, at this point—after all these hours, after his confrontation with Tavika—Jericho’s presence would be noticed. His phone rang, and he checked the text messages coming in. Hunter was out on a different job, trying to find a child who’d been kidnapped. Hunter was just that. A hunter of bad people and a psychic too.

Jericho kept catching little bits and pieces of Hunter’s case but nothing big enough to help. Jericho’s own skills were growing and improving, but it was a process—not one he could hurry. And he couldn’t dredge information out of thin air. If visions didn’t come, then they didn’t come.

Hunter was looking to see if Jericho had more. Anything?

He responded in the negative. Maybe if he could solve one of these cases, the other would get more attention. Right now he felt splintered—his visions going in both directions, with neither case getting the full benefit.

Tavika wasn’t exactly a case, but neither was she somebody he could ignore. He knew perfectly well the Ghost was involved. He’d been hunting this asshole for way too long to let the opportunity slip through his fingers. If Tavika didn’t like Jericho getting involved, well, that was just too damn bad.

In his head he saw her reach for the doorknob, and, in spite of himself, knowing she couldn’t hear him, he cried out, “No, don’t.”

Where was her instinct here? Something was wrong there.

A second later, he closed his eyes, focused his will, and blasted her the same message but ten times harder. Don’t open that door.

Not waiting, he bolted for his truck. This would not end well.

In his mind’s eye, he watched her hesitate. Then she lifted her middle finger in his direction—a sure sign that she’d heard him—and pushed open the door anyway.

Shit.

*

Ah, happy day. He was getting to watch a double feature. He loved the view out his front window.

The popcorn was long gone. He’d been glued to the window. He did like to see Tavika so tormented.

“You’re welcome,” he said, with a sneer to the empty room, as she entered the destroyed house. It had once been a nice neighborhood but had long since fallen on hard times. Hell, the streets and those around it were the poorest of the poor now. When she’d lived there, it had been a nice middle-class area. Now vagrants lived wherever the hell they wanted. Most houses were otherwise empty and slated for destruction.

The whole street was supposed to come down with a new multifamily complex going up in its place, but the financing had fallen through.

He grinned. It was probably because the place was haunted.

He should know. He was the one who sent those freaks into hell where they belonged.

The youngest one was still on his list. Would he let her live? Was she a threat to him? At the moment he felt generous. After all, a man in love was entitled to some feel-good moments. He’d been alone for a long time. He was making a lot of changes for the love of his life. Major decisions to clean up his act.

He watched Tavika hesitate, then lift a middle finger to someone watching.

Shocked, he leaned forward. No one was around her.

What the hell? Who was she flipping off?

That her reaction was perfect timing to his thoughts sent a chill through his body.

Was that directed at him? Surely not.

He slowly walked closer and pressed his nose against the window. But she didn’t come back out of the house.

If that middle-finger salute had been directed at him, then that would mean she’d seen him. … In which case, … he’d have to do something about her.

How to know for sure?

Chapter 4

Tavika didn’t know why she insisted on coming here on a regular basis. The place held nothing but pain and torment for her, but knowing her family had died here gave her a connection. One she couldn’t leave alone.

Or they couldn’t.

Their spirits resided here. Even though she’d done her damnedest to help them move on—or at least move them to a nicer place—they had stayed tied resolutely to their violent ends. It was why Tavika had contacted Stefan years ago, to see if he could help her send their souls home. But Stefan had told her that she could easily do it herself. She’d hung up on him at that point. She could do a lot of things, but that didn’t mean she was up to doing them.

For that reason she visited. As if somehow their existence would be a little easier by having her around.

Like hell.

The place looked the same as the last time she had been here. The city had planned multiple times to raze the property to the ground, but, of course, they never did. The land wasn’t worth much. The neighborhood was a drug haven. Outside of a few homeless people who moved into the building every once in a while, Tavika usually found the place empty. Even the homeless moved out quickly. The house was haunted after all.

She applauded her sister’s and her mother’s efforts to amuse themselves, when, in a cop’s reality, what they did may inadvertently save someone else from dying as they had. She didn’t know if the Ghost returned here or to the scenes of his other crimes, but it was a common theme among killers. She’d questioned the neighbors every once in a while to see if anyone came by regularly. The neighbors changed with the seasons, but the message was always the same. Besides a few vagrants, no one came here but her.

Still, she wished her family would find a way to cross over. According to them, they weren’t leaving her alone until their killer was dead too.

Which meant Tavika would die first.

And soon—if her mother’s visions were correct. Tavika had had a few visions herself, but they were hit or miss. She didn’t know if she could trust what she saw. And none were anything she wanted to come to pass.

Her phone jingled in her left-hand pocket. “I told you that it doesn’t have to end this way,” her twin brother, Travis, said, without preamble.

“You’ve told me lots. That doesn’t mean fate will be changed just on your say-so,” she replied, as she turned in exasperation.

“You changed your fate once. You were supposed to die with everyone else. That you haven’t is already a change. You don’t have to die this next time either. With the life you lead, you could have gotten shot any number of times, but you changed the course of life, extending yours much longer. That can happen again. The Ghost is out there. Yes, he’s watching you. Yes, he might get you. But you also have the ability to take out him this time. Just think. You could put a stop to this, once and for all.”

“Now if only that were true,” she muttered. She tried to keep those words quiet but knew Travis would pick up on it. He always knew what she was thinking.

She walked through the desolate bungalow. She felt an edge to the air today. She stopped in the center of the living room and turned around slowly. What was different?

The energy was different.

Then she got it. With a wolfish smile she studied the energy around her. She saw … something. Something … familiar. He’d been here. The Ghost had actually been here. When? Had he done anything while he was here?

She closed her eyes and let the wisps drift through her mind.

She’d imagined him so many times. Squatting down, almost at the exact place where she stood now. A smile on his face as he relived the moments when he had wiped out her family. Asshole. She couldn’t stop the stabs of hate darting through her. She’d always known he would kill her one day. As long as she took him out too, she didn’t care.

The whispers of energy disappeared, and she was left alone, once again, inside this cold and empty place. As she studied the room, she caught a glimmer of something in the corner of her eye and slowly straightened. In a soft gentle voice she whispered, “Hello, Bellamy.”

Her sister’s spirit drifted closer. In a weird echoey voice her sister responded, You know you shouldn’t be here, Tavika.

“But you’re here.” It was the same irrefutable answer she gave every time. Her mother and her sister didn’t want her to continuously come, but, as long as they were here, Tavika felt compelled to visit.

“He was here, wasn’t he?” She waited for the answer, watching her sister hesitate. “Bellamy, tell me the truth.”

Instead of speaking, her sister nodded. Then, in a voice barely above the breeze dancing on the flowers outside she said, Yesterday. He was here yesterday.

Shut up, her mother ordered.

Instantly Bellamy disappeared, even now compliant under her mother’s orders.

Tavika froze. “What?” She spun around, her heart slamming against her ribs. “He’s back. Oh my God, he’s really back.”

Her mother’s voice slammed through her consciousness. You will not pursue him.

Tavika straightened and turned to face the dominant presence in the room. Unlike Bellamy, who drifted in and out of existence, her mother’s ghost was angry, vengeful.

Even in spirit form, she was hard to deal with. Tavika faced her. “I will do everything I have to do to bring him down.”

And if it kills you? If he kills you? What then?

Tavika whisked the tears from her eyes. “Then we will be a family again.”

Determined to not listen to the pleas of those long gone before her, Tavika turned and strode to the front door. Standing in the doorway, she caught a whisper of something else. Slowly, her heart in her throat, she turned.

And saw a beautiful little blue ball. A child spirit. Tavika shook her head. In a soft voice she whispered, “Who are you, and why are you here?” No answer came. As Tavika watched, the child’s spirit blinked out of existence. “Bellamy? Mom? Who is this new spirit?”

As Bellamy tried to answer, her mother’s voice cut through with displeasure. Forget about her. You can’t help her now. Besides, she’s been here forever. How typical that you didn’t see her until now.

Unfortunately that was quite possible. Tavika couldn’t see everything. And what she did note, she couldn’t trust. Some truths were just too painful. Sadly Tavika whispered, “If you’re right, there was never anything I could do to help anyway.”

And she strode out into the sunshine.

Then froze. She took a hard gasping breath of the fresh air and slowly turned back to the dilapidated hovel.

What if her mother was wrong? Or just being spiteful—as she’d been so often in real life? What if the child was a new spirit? If she was, that meant a new murder. And in this location? That meant the Ghost had not only returned but he’d gone back to his old habits—murder. Only this time he was killing children.

*

Jericho didn’t need to be psychic to see the shock in Tavika’s rigid spine, the shaky hand she stuffed in her pocket. He was across the road, leaning against a tree. Following her around seemed to be his life at the moment. But it wasn’t much fun when pain radiated from her very soul. He shouldn’t have come. It hurt to watch her torment herself.

But, of course, she was not only a cop but someone who was dedicated to hunting down the Ghost. … Well, he understood that part.

Although not the cop part. He’d spent his life avoiding them. Not his favorite people.

Other psychics made it their life’s quest to help the police.

Jericho went the opposite direction. He bypassed the cops and went after the killers himself.

He could play the authority game, if he had to, but he had no tolerance for it. Some things were much more fun, and sticking it to the establishment was one of those things. He hadn’t always been that way. At one time he’d believed in the same rosy view so many other people did—that the cops were there for you. They would help when you ran into a calamity. But, when his life had been split wide open, and disaster had hit in a big terrorizing way, the cops hadn’t been there for him.