Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Sarah McKinley’s attempts to take her foreknowledge of crimes to the Seattle Police Department marked her as a troublemaker and were never taken seriously. Starting over in Austin, she plans never to reveal her gift, but shortly after she arrives, the dreams begin again, and the local police want to know why she has knowledge only the killer could possess.
Detective Jesse Cordell watched his mother con people with her “psychic ability” all through his childhood. He hones in on Sarah, who has means, motive, and opportunity to have murdered the victim in his current investigation. Instinct tells him she didn’t commit the crime, but she definitely knows more than she’s letting on.
Can he put aside his doubts and join forces with her, against everything he believes in, to find the real killer? Or will he do his job and put her behind bars? After all, there’s no such thing as the “psychic ability.”
Or is there?
The buzz around her head grew louder as more students joined the crowd. Yellow tape secured the crime scene several yards away, but limbs still stuck over the cement edge of the water fountain.
A guy in plain clothes ducked under the tape and ventured toward them. A gold shield hung from his belt. “Can anybody tell me what happened?”
“She can!” a male voice from behind called out.
Hoping to take attention off herself, Sarah joined the other students in whirling around to see who the guy meant. Several voices rushed toward the man, accosting him with different versions of the crime. Sarah floated through the sea of people, away from the crowd.
For the nine months, she’d lived in Austin, she’d never mentioned a word about her so-called psychic gift. Almost a full year had passed. She’d started to think she would be normal again.
But a brand-new dream reminded her she would always be different.
Heading toward the street, she picked up her steps. Don’t look back. You’ve done enough damage.
“Miss! Hey, wait up!”
“Damn.” She slowed her feet. No point in trying to run. She’d look guilty of something then the cops would have a reason to haul her off the school campus in cuffs.
Turning, she came face-to-face with the striking plain-clothes cop. “I’m Detective Cordell with Austin Police.” He stood at least six inches taller than she, his jet-black hair sheared in a standard cut for police. The bulk of his chest stretched the material of his short-sleeved dress shirt. With dark eyes and sexy confidence, he was all sorts of captivating. If he hadn’t been such a threat to her freedom, she might even have called him handsome. “Do you have a minute? I’d like to ask you some questions.”
There died his charm.
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