Page 18 of In Her Eyes

He curses under his breath. “I know what I’m asking is a lot to deal with, but I’m desperate enough to try anything. Even this touch psychometry thing.” He says psychometry as if the word has teeth, and it bites his tongue.

Great! He’s trying to get me to do some illegal shit, and he’s not even a believer.

“You’re right. This is a lot to ask of me. It’s not just the fact that it’s”—I step closer to him and lower my voice—“illegal. But it’s also my name and career on the line.”

His hands go deeper into his pockets, and my gaze tracks the movement. This is so not the time for me to notice how muscular his thighs look in those jeans or the bulge behind the zipper. I snap my gaze up.

His head dips. “You don’t know me—you have no reason to trust me or help me. I get that. But I’m asking you to do this anyway. I need to find them, and I need to find the man doing this and stop him before another girl goes missing. And if she’s dead, as you say, odds are the other two are also dead. The families of these women need closure, and they need to know the guy who did this to their loved ones won’t do it to anyone else.”

I stare at him. I can’t believe I’m even considering doing this. I’m not a cop. I should just walk away. But his words get to me. If I can use my gift to save someone, isn’t that much more important than dating some old piece of pottery? And he saved my life . . . even if he doesn’t remember me. I might be the only thing between the next girl and death.

I square my shoulders. I don’t want to let him know I’ll help just yet. “Hypothetically, if—and this is a big if—I was to help you. How would we go about this?”

He smiles at me like I’m a cute puppy, and he wants to pat me on the head. “We have one thing on our side. My office also doubles as the evidence room. All the evidence for open cases is locked up in my office.”

My nose scrunches. “Aren’t you supposed to have special rooms for that? With locked doors and someone to sign stuff in and out?”

“In a big city with a big police department, yes. In a small town like ours with a small police force, no. We have a space where evidence for cold cases is stored. But all current case evidence stays in my office. I’m the only detective in our department and the person in charge of any and all evidence for anything that happens in this town. Everything goes through me.”

Well, that’s convenient. “Is that normal? To be a jack-of-all-trades like that?”

“Again, what’s normal in a big city doesn’t apply here. Small towns with small budgets and not a lot of crime make do with what they have. It’s common for evidence to be in an office or even a locker.”

This is crazy. “Why isn’t everyone freaking out about it? What’s happening to all those missing people?” I gesture toward the picturesque buildings, flowerpots in every corner, and baskets hanging from old-fashioned lampposts.

He inhales, his chest expanding with the deep breath. Then exhales. “The majority leave on their own, or at least that’s what the statistics say. But I don’t think this is true for these three women.”

“I can’t believe more people aren’t talking about it.”

“You might see speculation in local papers from time to time. But with adults, it gets less attention than when a child goes missing. And people have short memories. Something else happens, and that’s where the focus goes.”

So, this is it. I’m his last resort. “How long would you need my help?”

“That depends on you and what you find out—maybe a week or two?”

“Two weeks?” My voice goes high.

“We have the time,” Lynn pipes in, ever so helpful.

I give her a warning look and turn back to the detective. “Why would it take two weeks to look at some evidence?”

“It takes time for me to follow up on whatever you find out.”

Okay, that makes sense. “How would you justify my presence? Wouldn’t people ask questions if we keep going back in there again?” I gesture toward the building.

Lynn steps closer. “Oh, I know.”

The detective crosses his arms over his chest and fixes his attention on Lynn.

“You can be his girlfriend.” She claps her hands, shoulders lifting nearly to her ears, and smiles.

“What?” My voice rises again. I press my lips together to keep from saying something I don’t want him to know. She’s trying to set me up with him.

The detective’s only reaction is a raised eyebrow.

Lynn puts both her hands up. “Stop. Listen to me.”

I take a deep breath. I know my best friend is crazy, but her ideas usually have a way of working out.

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