Sixth Sense (A Psychic Crystal Mystery) Read Free

my boyfriend.” Katherine turned her attention away from Jack and toward the man approaching her. “I’m Katherine Crystal. I called in to report a plane crash, and he ignored me. Are you his boss? I want you to reprimand him.”
    “I’m not the captain, but what’s this about a plane crash?” Sergeant Lisle asked.
    Jack jerked a finger at Katherine. “This psycho, I mean psychic , claims Vince Rivers’ plane is going to crash in Georgia and his son is going to die. I humored her, but of course she’s making the whole thing up just to make a name for herself.”
    “Ma’am, I’m Sergeant Anthony Lisle,” he said, extending his hand and nodding politely in Katherine’s direction. “Is what Detective Hale said true?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, young lady, don’t you worry, we’re going to get to the bottom of this,” Sarge assured, covering Katherine’s tiny hand with his big meaty one.
    So, Sarge had charm. Who knew?
    “When is this crash supposed to happen?”
    “That’s just it. I had this vision, but I don’t know. It might already have happened.”
    “Sarge,” interrupted Jack. “It’s a vision . Nothing concrete to act on.”
    “I haven’t seen anything about it on TV,” reasoned the sergeant. “We haven’t had anything reported, except for your call.” Sarge narrowed his eyes and glared at Jack.
    Jack flinched. How could Sarge believe this soothsayer that he’d known for one minute over a cop whose family he’d known for years? Then he gave Katherine Crystal a second look. The reason was obvious. Sarge was a man, and she was a perfectly put together woman. What guy wouldn’t respond to that?
    A rush of uniforms swarmed into the squad room, causing a minor commotion and jostling Jack and Katherine while they vied for Sarge’s attention.
    “Sarge, you’ve gotta come see this,” shouted one officer. “Turn up the volume on your TV. It’s breaking news.” Being the tallest person in the room, Jack strode over to Sarge’s desk and adjusted the volume on the television before Sarge could get to the remote.
    Crowded around the TV, the group looked up at the steaming wreckage on the big screen.
    “Vince Rivers’ plane just crashed at the DeKalb-Peachtree Airport,” said one of the officers. “We got the call to assist.”
    “Is fire-and-rescue on the scene?” inquired Sarge.
    “Yes, and the place is crawling with reporters.”
    “Okay, we’ve got to get down there,” Sarge directed.
    It hit Jack like a punch in the gut when he saw the headline scrolling across the screen:
    Vince Rivers Injured in Private Plane Crash.
    Ocean Rivers Dead.

Chapter Two
    Midtown Atlanta, Three Weeks Later
    Jack paced the highly-polished hardwood floors in his Midtown condo like a caged panther. The place looked like a pigsty. He’d ordered in pizza four nights in a row and finished up the last bottle of beer. Now he’d moved on to the hard stuff.
    He’d tossed and turned but hardly slept since the news of Ocean Rivers’ death went viral. Holed up in his condo for a week after the crash, he’d avoided work because he didn’t want to deal with people. But life as a hermit crab was not all it was cracked up to be.
    He couldn’t get the TV images of a devastated Vince Rivers walking behind the tiny white casket at the cemetery out of his mind. And Vince Rivers struggling to keep his distraught wife from jumping into the grave after it.
    Predicting the death of Ocean Rivers could have been a lucky guess. Jack did not believe in psychics, but maybe this Katherine Crystal was for real and he was foolish for ignoring her warnings.
    Dammit, that Crystal woman was messing with his head. She was all over the news. Every time he turned on the tube he saw her face. Her unforgettable face. He couldn’t stop fantasizing about her long dark ringlets, those violet eyes and pouty lips, and the rest of the irresistible package. He thought maybe it was the beer talking, but even when he was cold stone sober he