Free Her Last Whisper by Karen Robards

hoping it couldn’t. She did know that it knew where he was right now, and
that
gave her the willies.
    Tony was looking at her hand. “I noticed the bandage. You hurt yourself on the job today? What happened?”
    “She was attacked by an inmate,” Pugh told him. “We’re already re-evaluating our security procedures.”
    “A subject I was interviewing grabbed my hand and bit me,” Charlie said shortly. “It’s nothing.”
    “See, that’s the thing about them serial killers,” Michael’s drawl was pronounced as he fixed Tony with a hard look. “They’re downright dangerous. That’s why most of us like to keep our women away from them.”
    That was sexist, possessive, and otherwise offensive on so many levels that Charlie didn’t even know where to start to bristle. Unfortunately, beyond shooting Michael the most fleeting of dirty looks, there wasn’t any response she could make.
    “I’m sorry that happened to you,” Tony said with such genuine sincerity that she rewarded him with a smile. Moving nearer, he started gathering up her dropped items and handing them to her. The pink and flowery case of her Miracle-Go kit looked ridiculously feminine in his very masculine hand as he passed it over. Their fingers brushed: his felt solid and warm. “Let me help you with that.”
    “Fucking Boy Scout,” Michael muttered, seemingly to no one in particular. Then, to Charlie, he added, “What do you want to bet missionary is the only position he knows?”
    “You made the right call about the infirmary, Dr. Stone,” Pugh said to her at almost the same moment, which allowed her to pretend that she hadn’t heard Michael’s last remark at all, which actually was a far more effective way of dealing with him than glaring, as she had learned from experience. Pugh then asked, “And how did
you
feel while you were in the infirmary? Other than your hand, I mean? Headachey? Short of breath? Any kind of physical symptoms?”
    “I had a headache,” Charlie replied slowly, as if giving careful consideration to her answer, while she continued to scoop up her belongings. After all, what had happened in the infirmary had to be explained away somehow, and the truth just wasn’t going to cut it. The kind of scenario Pugh seemed to be suggesting worked for her. She decided to go with it. “And I was a little nauseous, now that I think about it.”
    Pugh said, “Ah,” but before he could expand on that another guard came rushing up.
    “Warden!” There was a whole boatload of urgency in his tone. His voice lowered as Pugh turned to look at him. “Something you ought to know!”

CHAPTER SIX
    “What is it now?” Sounding testy, Pugh once more moved away to deal with whatever dire matter was being brought to his attention. Since it didn’t involve a hunter swooping down out of nowhere or some fresh crisis relating to Michael, Charlie didn’t even try to listen. She was, in fact, relieved to no longer be the object of his scrutiny. She lied when she had to, which, thanks to Michael and her ongoing ghost problem was more often than she would have liked, but she wasn’t all that good at it. She always felt uncomfortable, and sometimes it showed.
    “What’s with the salt anyway?” Tony asked, low-voiced, when, as he thought, no one else could hear.
    “Ants.” Desperate, Charlie managed to latch onto something halfway plausible. Maybe. Anyway, it couldn’t sound even a fraction as insane as the truth. “There were dozens of them in here earlier, and I hate ants. My purse had candy in it. When it fell they started swarming and”—okay, she was babbling; cut it short—“haven’t you ever heard that salt wards off ants?”
    “Ants,” Tony repeated. To his credit, he sounded only faintly dubious. “No, I hadn’t heard that.” He glanced around. “I don’t see any now.”
    “That’s because it worked,” Charlie answered. The note of triumph in her voice sounded genuine because it was genuine: she was proud