Talking with the Dead by K.L. Phelps

Author:K.L. Phelps [Phelps, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-09-24T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Damian stood framed in the doorway. There were bags under his eyes, and he was suffering from a serious case of bedhead. It’s a sexy look for him, the bedhead not the bags under the eyes.

“And who are you?” my mom demanded, giving him the once-over, twice.

“Mom, this is a friend of mine. Detective Damian Johnson. I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before.”

“Detective?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“How do you know my daughter? You’ve arrested her before, haven’t you?”

“Mom,” I yelled as Jonny erupted into a fit of laughter, and a smile spread across Damian’s face.

“No, ma’am, but I can completely understand how you might make that assumption.”

“Damian,” I hissed.

“Then how do you know her?”

“This might be hard to believe, but she has helped me out a time or two in the past.”

“That is hard to believe,” my mom agreed.

I threw my hands up in defeat. The entire room was against me.

“What are you even doing here?” I demanded.

“One of the guys relayed the message about the break-in. I asked to be notified about anything going on in your neighborhood. I recognized your maiden name so …”

“You’re spying on me?”

“I wouldn’t say that exactly.”

“Well I would.”

“Now, Katrina, be nice. It’s obvious he’s acting out of concern.” Her voice had taken on a different tone, one that made me want to scream.

This was unreal. It had been the same way when she’d met Jonny. It had taken him almost no time to win over my mom. The break-in all but forgotten, she was now sizing Damian up. She was blatantly obvious in her attempt to see if Damian was wearing a wedding ring.

I shook my head and let slip a laugh that bordered on psychotic, or perhaps hysterical.

“I can’t do this right now,” I mumbled, storming to the fridge and downing an entire can of Diet Coke while my mom questioned Damian.

“It’s a good thing those aren’t beers you’re pounding.”

His voice was so close I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun to find Damian directly behind me. He pointed to the can in my hands and then to another empty one on the counter. Had I really pulled out another can?

“Why not try some water. Your kidneys will thank you.”

“Is my dad okay?” I asked, choosing to ignore everything else.

“Yeah. A little shook up by the incident, but no harm done. Unfortunately he isn’t any help either.”

“What do you mean?”

“He got a face full of flashlight—”

“They hit him with a flashlight?”

“No. Relax, I said he was okay. The burglar blinded him with a flashlight, so he didn’t get a good look at the guy. No descriptive details to help in the search.”

“We know who did it,” I insisted.

“We do?”

“Oh come on. The CIA, white suit neck slashers, or the wrestling mask guys.”

A crooked smile spread across Damian’s face, and as much as I wanted to be angry, I knew I sounded crazy.

“With no real witnesses, how do we proceed?”

I opened my mouth but said nothing. How did we proceed? Did we just grab them and beat the truth out of them? Jonny would do that if I asked him, but I doubted Damian would.

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