Free Blood Game by Iris Johansen Page A

even more difficult for him . . . if something did happen.” Megan turned and headed for her bedroom. “Maybe Eve’s wrong. She wasn’t sure. Maybe it’s something else.”
    Joe Quinn rang the doorbell forty minutes later.
    His gaze raked her up and down as she opened the door. From the top of her dark hair to her feet. “You’re dressed. Were you expecting me?” His lips twisted. “Maybe some psychic premonition?”
    “I don’t have premonitions. I have only two psychic talents of which I’m aware. That’s more than I want. Come in, Joe.” She stepped aside. “We might as well go into the kitchen and have a cup of coffee.”
    “I don’t want to sit down and have a cozy chat. That’s not why I’m here.”
    “No, there’s nothing cozy about you at the moment.” She doubted if that word would describe him at any time. He was all hard, lean strength and keen intelligence. “You’re angry, and you want to strike out at someone. Be my guest. I probably deserve it.” She turned toward the kitchen. “But we’d better pretend to be on good terms. My uncle is very defensive, and you’re not on his list of favorite people.”
    “That doesn’t bother me.” He followed her into the kitchen. “I can handle him.”
    “If you do, you’ll have me to deal with. He’s my only family, and I’m defensive too.” She sat down at the table and gestured for him to sit down across from her. “I tried to tell him you have a right to be angry, but he’s not buying it.”
    He sat down but his posture was as stiff as his expression. “And why should I be angry with you?”
    “Because I may have done you harm.” She poured coffee into their cups from the carafe on the table. “Have I?”
    He didn’t speak for a moment. “I don’t believe all that stuff you told Eve. It’s something from a sci-fi movie.”
    “More like a horror film.” Megan shrugged. “And not only for me.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “Is it, Joe?”
    His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. “Are you reading my mind?”
    “No, your body language.” She lifted her cup to her lips. “Tell me, can you read minds now? Did I do that to you?”
    “Hell, no.”
    “Good. I imagine that would be a nightmare.”
    “Don’t you know?”
    “I’m an amateur. I’m new at this. I do know that I caused that in one man. He went insane.”
    “I’m not insane.” His lips were tight, his eyes glittering.
    “But you’ve been wondering.”
    He didn’t speak for a moment. “I’ve had a few doubts. But I came to the conclusion that I either accept that you may not be the charlatan I thought you were, or I accept the fact that I may be heading for the funny farm. I find the former far more palatable. So I’m here to ask questions. So far, you’re not being very reassuring.”
    “Tough. I don’t think you want reassurance. You want answers. I may not be able to give them to you, but I’ll try to help you find them. Ask your questions.”
    “Ghosts. You hear the dead. Do you see them?”
    Her cup stopped on the way to her lips. “No, and I never considered them ghosts. More like echoes of what happened at a given time and place.” She gazed at him for a moment before she put the question to him. “Do you see them?”
    He didn’t answer for a moment. “Maybe.” He scowled. “Damn, that was hard to say.”
    “Do you know who they are?”
    “Bonnie. I thought at first that I was having a hallucination because of the stress of the years of trying to find her.”
    “How many times have you seen her?”
    “Once.”
    “Then you could be right.”
    “I wasn’t trying to find Nancy Jo Norris, and I saw her.”
    “The girl who was murdered? I saw the story on the evening news.” She frowned. “How do you see them? Is it just a fleeting glimpse?”
    “No, they talk to me. Like you, like anyone.” He started to stand up. “I’m done. I’m getting out of here. I sound like the nutcase I probably am.”
    “Wait. Why did you come?