Free Dreamscape by Carrie James Haynes Page B

body was buried under an old trunk. Her right arm was broken. She’d died from blunt force trauma to her head. Later, he admitted he’d used his hammer. Paint from the bike was found on the back bumper of his car.”
    Jackson looked thoughtful. “You know when I first came up to Boston, I told you that I worked with special cases and believed this case tied into the case I was working on in Florida?”
    “You made that perfectly clear, Jackson. Where are you going with this?”
    Jackson sighed, rubbed his forehead. “My first case I was on Sam Caldwell shows up out of the blue. There was no evidence to speak of. Within a few days, Sam had caught a break and we had the guy.”
    “This is getting ridiculous. I’m not playing some kind of guessing game with you. Say what you want to say or I’m out of here.”
    “Sam solved the case by using a psychic.”
    Thorpe sat motionless for a moment. He eyed Jackson. The guy wasn’t kidding. He was dead serious. Thorpe stood. “I’m out of here. You’ve gone off the deep end here, Jackson. You use supernatural tips. You take stock in that crap.”
    “Sit down, Thorpe. Think about what you just did last night. Explain that to me.”
    Thorpe didn’t say a word but slowly sat back down.
    “I know what this sounds like. It’s not like we advertise it. We use the information as any other information or evidence that we gather. We still have to use good old detective work. It doesn’t replace us. We only use it when we have nowhere else to turn.”
    “So what does this have to do with me?”
    “Be patient. I’ll try to explain.”
    Jackson turned his chair and stared out the window. Thorpe stood and looked out too. The Boston skyline loomed. The gray sky added a certain gloom to the day. The snow lay white, never giving any indication of the peril it had caused the previous night.
    Jackson turned back to Thorpe. “The real ones are few and far between, and the really good ones are rare. And then you have different levels of people’s abilities. Most predict things, see things that are puzzle pieces. They might be legit, but without someone or something to understand or connect to the information, it’s useless.”
    “Well, now you think you have the person writing the letters. Go ask her and solve your case.”
    Jackson didn’t smile. Had his patience had worn thin? “You have no idea how this works, so shut up for a minute. This serial killer we’re seeking isn’t a normal person. It’s our belief that at times a person becomes so evil, so detached from the real world around him, that he becomes possessed.”
    “Now what are you saying? You believe in possession? The supernatural?”
    Jackson’s chin set firm, and his tone reflected the seriousness that he took the matter. “Do I believe in demons and evil spirits? Yes, I’ve seen it.”
    For once in Thorpe’s life, he didn’t know what to say. Too tired, too exhausted to argue, he asked, “So you came up here looking for a psychic?”
    “I came to Boston not knowing exactly what I was looking for. When I met you with your background, I felt it was a good shot that you were connected in some way.”
    “Hold on a minute. You think I’m connected in some way? What the hell do you think I know? I can tell you nothing. Absolutely nothing.”
    “Like it or not, yes, Thorpe. I believe you’re connected.”
    Thorpe squirmed in his chair. The conversation took a turn he hadn’t been prepared for. He shook his head. “You’re wrong.”
    “Not according to our source, an old recluse. He ‘saw’ that the one to help us would be found in the Northeast. What he said leads us to believe that this Ramona Damsun could be the dream walker we’ve been searching for.”
    “I have no fuckin’ idea what a dream walker is. Or, for that matter, the kind of connection you believe I may be. What about your source? Why can’t he tell you what you’re looking for?”
    “He’s dead.”
    “Dead?”
    Jackson flipped