Hot Trick (A Detective Shelley Caldwell Novel) by Rosemoor Patricia

Author:Rosemoor, Patricia [Rosemoor, Patricia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Carina Press
Published: 2011-10-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

I left while the going was good. Deciding to stop at home to feed the cats, I took care of myself, as well. An hour power nap followed by a quick shower and a nuked dinner and I was ready to rock and roll.

I left the book behind. Maybe I would get to sleep in my own bed again tonight. I’d save Chaos Magic for a little bedtime reading.

The sun was setting as I drove back to the Area 4 office, so traffic was light. Thinking about what came next, I felt at loose ends. Norelli was going to stake out Julie Martin’s wake, but joining him held no appeal for me. I wanted to solve this case. Maybe the cop I’d given the black book to had gotten some results. A lead for me to follow.

After all, how could I write up a teleporting incident when I didn’t believe it was possible? Even if I believed, I wouldn’t dare share anything supernatural with anyone official. I’d be laughed out of the department. Or sent back into therapy.

No way was I going through that again.

I’d been playing a dangerous game both privately and professionally, and I had no interest in coming clean. I knew about the underground supernatural element in the city—Jake included—but I wasn’t talking. The job wasn’t the only reason I chose to remain close-mouthed. I’d always done my own thing, but never in a way that made fingers point. I wanted to blend in, to get lost in the crowd, and yet be special in a way that didn’t garner attention. I wanted to be the best damn cop on the force, but didn’t want my name in the papers.

The waning moon on the horizon reminded me of Casey Brogan, made me wonder if there was any way to find him. Leads to the murder were getting thinner.

Back at the office, I parked, and as I left the car, I reiterated my mantra: anything woo-woo stayed between me…and me. Well, and maybe Silke or Jake.

“Good evening to you, Detective Caldwell.”

I froze, telling myself I’d only conjured the voice with the Irish lilt because I’d been thinking of Casey Brogan.

“How would the investigation to the first murder be going?”

Slowly I turned and faced the little man in tweed. “First murder?” I echoed.

“You must admit I gave you good intel, right? So ken I expect compensation from now on?”

“Why did you say first murder?”

“Now would you be thinking that’s it? Once done and it’s over?” He clucked. “For shame, Detective. You’re not seeing the grand scheme of things.”

“What do you know about another murder?”

“Do we have a deal?”

“We have a deal. Now tell me what you know.”

“Only what I see in my visions.”

“And you’ve had another.”

His expression sober, Brogan nodded. Then his eyes glassed over and rolled back. With a long, bone-chilling moan, he whispered, “I see a great height…feel metal cutting at my wrists…and then the ground comes up fast…”

Another moan, more of a wail, slithered right through my flesh.

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