Part 3 (1/2)
”Sitting up?”
A chill danced along his nape. ”Yes.”
She studied the layout of the cards, her dark hair swinging forward along her neck. He did his best not to follow the movement but the dark, silky strands against the paleness of her skin fascinated him.
”She was performing a reading for someone.”
”No, I don't think so.” He jerked his chin toward the opposite side of the table. ”The other chair was pushed up. The carpet was unmarked. There would have been indentations had anyone been sitting in the chair and moved it back. She, your aunt, hadn't been gone very long when she was found.”
Maris lifted her head, gazing toward the far side of the room. ”How long?”
”I'm not a medical professional, but I'd wager a few hours only.”
Maris closed her eyes, tipped back her head, her neck slender, long, and graceful. He pictured his mouth against it and looked away. Fantasies like these could land him in deep trouble. He didn't even know the woman. He hadn't known the woman in the bar either, yet off he'd run to the station imagining she'd come looking for him. Imagining a good deal more than that. He needed a grip on reality.
”There's a card missing.”
Dan started guiltily. ”Is there?” The Priestess flashed into his mind's eye in her blue garment, dark hair long and curling. He mentally shoved it away, apprehensive that she would see it, too. An absurd notion he couldn't shake.
”Right here. From the formation.” She pointed at the empty s.p.a.ce on the cloth. ”Of course, she might have been in the process of laying them out when she died.” She turned and looked at him directly, her eyes almond-shaped, long-lashed, and so very pale. There was no denying the familial relations.h.i.+p between her and Alva Mabry. Strange how much they looked alike. He couldn't imagine a generation lay between them based on the photo.
Scanning the table again, Maris's gaze flickered over the surface, then seemed to linger on the empty place among the Tarot cards. He had a feeling she knew exactly where the missing card had ended up. The sensation of her knowledge troubled him more than if she had accused him outright, called him out on a mistake, a momentary lapse of awareness. But to pull the stupid thing from his pocket now would make him look like an a.s.s. Dishonest even. And yet he wanted to. Wanted to ask her to tell him what the card meant, explain its significance. As if he'd ever really given a c.r.a.p about something like that.
”Detective.”
He released a breath. ”What?”
”Someone was here. Aunt Alva was not alone when she died. She's telling me that.”
”No.”
”What?”
”No. In no way am I going to believe your deceased aunt is giving you information from beyond.” And yet he'd known others who'd experienced the unexplained-people with whom he shared more than the acquaintance of a mere half an hour. G.o.d, he'd seen things himself that sometimes caused him to wake out of a sound sleep soaked in sweat and reaching for the light. The vanis.h.i.+ng figure behind his car tonight paled in comparison. Had strangeness become so commonplace that he rejected and mocked it?
”Believe what you want. As her only surviving blood relative, I am asking you to check. Do not dismiss my aunt's death so easily. I don't care how old she was. I think she deserves a few hours of your time. I'm not denying her death was natural, but whoever was here with her might be able to tell me something about her last moments.”
”Ms. Granger...”
”Maris. Call me Maris, will you? Calling me Ms' anything isn't going to make a difference in what you feel about everything I've said.”
Dan scratched his head, observing Maris across the room as she tucked her hair behind her ear. Multiple earrings glittered in the light, a feather dangling from her lobe drifting in the current of air created by her hand. How had he missed that? She was...outlandish, not his type at all. And yet...and yet nothing. ”I think it's time for me to bring you back to your car. You can get on to wherever it is you're staying for the night, and we can discuss this further tomorrow after I've had a few more hours of sleep.”
”May I go upstairs first?”
”No.”
”I'd really like-”
”No.”
She c.o.c.ked a hip. In another woman, there might have been something s.e.xy about it. In her, the movement looked like an issued challenge. He shrugged. ”Tomorrow. Take it or leave it. I want sleep and the opportunity to think about what you're saying. I mean, look at the place. Nothing disturbed, no signs of anything amiss. Your aunt was ninety-three, Maris. She lived a good long life.” He moved toward the light switch. ”Let's go.”
Maris hesitated. ”Someone was here with her when she died. Maybe it was natural causes, maybe not. But someone was here.”
With a sigh, Dan snapped off the light, plunging the room into darkness. Only the porch fixture s.h.i.+ning through gla.s.s cast a dim illumination over Maris's features. Dan indicated the front door with a jerk of his head.
”Then why doesn't she just tell you who the h.e.l.l it was and save me the trouble?”
Maris strode past him and yanked open the door. ”It doesn't work that way. I wish to G.o.d it did.”
Dan followed. ”You wouldn't happen to have a key?”
”Of course not.”
Dan pulled the door shut after locking it in order to secure the house overnight. Tomorrow they'd have to get a locksmith out here to make a key. ”Give me your number. I'll call. We'll take it from there.”
With a nod, she strode to his car, walking with a provocative but baffling elemental grace. He hit the key fob to unlock the door. She'd gotten into his vehicle and yanked the seat belt into place before he'd reached the driver's side.
They rode in silence back in the direction of the station. He tried to think of something to say. An apology worked its way to his lips as he tapped the steering wheel in indecision. Finally, he bit the words back. What the h.e.l.l did he need to apologize for? What he needed to do was double-check Maris's claims of estrangement, her whereabouts for the evening. Without all the mumbo jumbo she had thrown at him, her knowledge of her aunt's demise was suspicious. Maybe the woman really hadn't died of natural causes and her supposed grandniece was merely trying to throw him off.
”I'm not guilty of anything but responding to a call for help.”
Dan snorted. ”Is my face that easy to read?”
”Everyone's is.”
”So you admit that's how you and others like your aunt fool people?”
”Having no idea what others do, I don't admit to anything.”
”That's not an answer.”
”Yes, it is.” She reached into the console and drew out a pen in order to write on a narrow slip of paper, a receipt maybe. ”Here's my number.”
He tucked the paper into his breast pocket, a small shock running through his body when he felt the surface of the Tarot card beneath his fingertips. Driving the rest of the way in silence, he only spoke again when he'd pulled into the department lot beside a car with out-of-state plates. ”This yours?”
”Yep.” Before he'd put his own car in park, she flung open the door and climbed out with a nod. ”We'll talk later?”
”Yeah. Later.”
Through the rearview mirror, he watched her pull out of the lot and turn left. He'd gotten most of the numbers from her plate, but not all. He was curious if the registered address would match up to her license. h.e.l.l, he was curious about anything related to Maris Granger. She intrigued him. That wasn't an easy thing to do.
It also felt distinctly dangerous.