Possession Read Free Page A

small boy had been abducted that she had screwed up her courage and called in to the tip line to leave the first of many messages she would later phone in. Back then her payoff had been to hear that the guilty had been nabbed, tried, and sentenced. That had been her ultimate satisfaction.
    Until the Milkman murders.
    A cold finger ran its icy nail up her spine. It had taken everything out of her to approach the police in person because her gift had screamed that she needed to view the scenes. She had to go there and relive every brutal blow. After putting herself through that ordeal, the information she had given the authorities had been enough to have them put a tail on Leander Wrightson. Unaware he had been fingered, the man had merrily gone about his business, only to find the law waiting for him when he entered the kitchen of intended victim number five.
    After the jury pronounced him guilty, J had been handed a check for a thousand dollars. She had never taken money before, even when her calls to the tip line paid off. It wasn’t a lot of money, but she had accepted it. She had put it in a special savings account. Why, she didn’t know. It was one of those time issues again. Some day down the road she would need that money. Her inheritance was enough to keep the house and property in her name. Enough to pay the taxes and the bills. To put food on the table and clothes on her back.
    This extra, it would be needed for something else. And long ago J had come to accept whatever the voices in her head told her, no questions asked. After that first job, she had taken anything the police offered in payment as long as it was at least a thousand dollars. She didn’t balk if they offered her more, but she wouldn’t take less than a grand. Again, she had no idea why.
    The doorbell rang. It was one of those old-time chimes that sounded like a clock striking the hour. Grandmama said the tune was called Church Bells Will Ring . The house was full of odd nuances like that.
    Pasting on her best smile, J opened the door, and hoped the detectives coming to get her hadn’t already formed a permanent opinion about her.
    * * * *
     
    “Friggin’ hell! Can you believe it? A psychic!”
    Sam glanced sideways at his partner. The scowl on the man’s face looked permanent. “Chill, bro. No judging until we get there, okay?”
    Silence flowed past them, as well as the scenery. Apparently this woman lived in the older part of town. Either she was from old money, or she was a sitting duck for the dregs of humanity. Not a good choice, either way.
    He glanced again at the man sitting in the passenger seat. One thing Kiel was never good at was disguising his emotions. “Hey, don’t worry. If you can fool a precinct full of experienced cops, this woman won’t be able to figure it out, either. So chill. Put on your best homicide detective guise, and I’ll do most of the talking.” He made a motion toward the folder in the man’s lap. “What did you find out?”
    Kiel snorted. “Not a helluva lot personally. But she’s been instrumental in at least seven cases, three voluntarily and four by request.”
    “Any idea how she works?”
    “Works?”
    “Yeah. Like, does she roll her eyes back into her head and go into a coma, and act as if she’s possessed? Does she use a crystal ball or some of them Tarot cards? Or does she hear little voices in her head telling her who’s guilty?”
    “You’re nuts.” Kiel sneered.
    “Yeah? Well, have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately?” Sam shot right back. Several long seconds passed, when Sam shook his head. “Sorry, Kiel. I went over the line.”
    “No. It’s understandable.” The man snorted again. “There isn’t a person alive who can say that what we’re having to go through is normal.”
    “Alive or dead.” Sam tried to smile over his bad pun, but failed. “Twenty-one twelve. Was that the address?”
    “Yeah. Oh, wow.”
    “Yeah. Wow.”
    Their first impression of the