After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (15 page)

He’d been told only specifically gifted people could see into
the invisible world around them. He’d also heard that with specific exercises,
the gift could be developed over time, but he’d never tried any of them. Now he
kinda regretted that. Two of his coworkers possessed the ability and they always
uncovered answers pertaining to the worst of cases, even those deemed
unsolvable, when no one else could.

Levi could have used some of that uncovering now.

He’d get his answers soon enough, though. He always did. And
yeah, he should be on the phone, finding out what he could about Harper and her
past, as well as her roommate’s past, but he’d heard the pair stomping and
chattering down the hall and he’d decided to follow them instead. He was glad he
had.

A few interesting tidbits he’d already picked up. They loved
each other, were comfortable together. They talked and laughed, teased each
other good-naturedly. Yet ninety percent of the people who passed them eyed them
as if they were certifiable, even the males drooling over Lana. And as beautiful
as the redhead was, and as fragile as Harper appeared, not a single male
approached them.

Of the remaining ten percent, well, five percent eyed them with
amusement, but the other five eyed them with fear. That same remaining
five-and-five eyed
him
with sheer terror. He was
used to people turning away from him, or outright running from him, as if he
were a mass murderer with a blood vendetta or something. But usually those
people were criminals, and he’d just caught them committing heinous crimes.

Finally the two women stopped in front of an art gallery, their
happy moods draining and leaving only grim expectation. The place was small but
open, with big glass windows staring into an elegant space with columns and
hanging lights.

Harper flattened her hand on one of the panes. “I was here, I
remember that much.”

“Yes, and you sold bazillion paintings that night.”

The accent…Czech, maybe.

“And you…”

“Left early on arm of some loser.” Guilt saturated the
redhead’s tone.

“Yes, and I failed to come home.”

Neither female knew he was here, listening. The fact that they
were searching for answers ruled out the possibility of an overactive
imagination entirely. Yeah, people could convince themselves of the strangest
things and actually think they were real, but they usually couldn’t get someone
else to agree with them.

The hand on the pane, so delicate and tiny in comparison to
his, fluttered to Harper’s neck. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply,
seeming to ponder the fate of the world before a slow smile curled her lips,
lighting her expression with a mix of pride and sadness. “I was so happy by the
end of the show, my nervousness gone. My first genuine presentation was a raging
success, more so than I could ever have dreamed, even as amazingly talented as I
am, and every painting sold.”

Yeah, there was no way this woman could have aided a murderer.
He knew criminals, had dealt with them on a daily basis for years, and yeah,
some of them were good actors, well able to mask the monster within, but that
smile…that sadness…combined with her physical reactions, there was just no way
this was an act.

If he was wrong, he’d shoot
himself
in the face.

He was going to find out the truth. He was going to help
her.

“What next? You remember?”

He watched as a tremor rocked the curve of Harper’s spine,
spiraling into her limbs. Nearly knocked her off her feet. “I…I…” She wrapped
her arms around her middle, skin turning a light shade of green.

“You do not do this now,” the redhead rushed to add. “We come
back later.”

“No,” Levi said, stepping from the shadows, “you won’t. You do
this now, Harper.” As sick as she currently appeared, she might not work up the
nerve to return.

In unison, both women spun to face him. Harper reacted first.
With a face bathed in panic and a mouth hanging open to unleash a scream, she
jacked up her knee—and nailed him in the balls.

CHAPTER FOUR

Deserved this,
Levi
thought. He never should have snuck up on Harper. He’d known better. Women were
more unstable than C-4.

What? They were.

Silence permeated the tension-filled space between Levi and
Harper as he struggled to find his breath and forget the fact that his testicles
would probably need to be surgically removed from his throat. Even the crickets
were too uncomfortable to laugh about what had just happened.

Harper’s eyes were wide, her hand now over her mouth, and the
friend was—doubled over laughing, he realized as the haze of pain gradually
faded. Okay, so
she
wasn’t too uncomfortable.
Suddenly he was glad he hadn’t gotten around to asking her out.
So not my type.

Harper, on the other hand… His fairy with the broken wing and
secrets in her ocean eyes had a nasty flight-or-fight response. It wasn’t such a
wonderful thing when he was on the wrong end of her knee, sure, but it’d be
white-hot sexy when he wasn’t, he was certain.

Still. Lesson learned. Never again would he underestimate her.
But next time—and considering the amount of time they would have to spend
together, working this case, there would be a next time—if given a choice, he
would much rather chase her. Then, at least, he’d get to tackle like the good
ole days when he’d played for OU.

Finally oxygen passed through his nostrils, filled his lungs.
He smelled car exhaust and sunshine and…cinnamon. Her. He liked the smell of
her.

Her hand fell away from her mouth. “I’m not going to
apologize,” she said, chin lifting. With the morning sun stroking her exposed
skin, flushing her cheeks to a deep rose, she practically sparkled with
vitality. “You scared me, and I reacted. Deal with it.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I do.” He rubbed the back of his
neck, grunted out a quick “Sorry” and left it at that. It was more than he’d
given anyone in years, and you know, it hadn’t left the bleeding, gaping wound
that he’d expected.

The stiffness drained from her, and she worked up a beautiful
grin that lit her entire face. It was genuine, with no hint of sadness, and she
looked as if she’d swallowed the sun. Her hand fluttered just over her heart as
she said, “Wow. Never has a more poetic apology been spoken. I’m all warm and
tingly inside.”

His body reacted to her words—warm and tingly—heating, tensing.
He really had to get this attraction thing under control. He didn’t mind wanting
her, liked it, in fact, but he did mind the growing intensity of that wanting.
“So you disappeared from this place?”

“I think.” The grin was the next to drain away, followed by
that gorgeous light. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“I just remember bits and pieces.”

He heard the frustration and anger in her tone and sympathized.
Levi knew he’d attacked the serial killer, but didn’t know what he’d done or
what had provoked him. He had flashes of flying fists, could even hear grunts of
pain, but that was it. And for a man who prized his memory, having never
forgotten a locker combination or even a file number, that irked.

“Ever talked to the owner of the gallery, asked questions? Ever
talked to anyone who was there the night you’re speaking of and might know?”

“No, but—”

“I have,” the redhead said.

He arched a brow at her, a silent demand for her to
continue.

Harper waved a hand between them. “Levi, meet Lana. Lana, meet
Levi.”

“You are so pleased to meet me, I know. Now, no one knew or saw
anything,” Lana said, the accent vanishing with an obvious, concentrated effort.
Her hand had fluttered to her neck, where her fingers tapped against her pulse,
seeming to mimic the cadence of her voice.

“I need the names of the people you talked to, and anyone else
you remember being there.”

As she rattled off the names, he read the hours of operation
listed on the gallery’s window. It was eight in the morning, and the place
wouldn’t open for another hour. He checked the door. Locked. He knocked, just in
case someone was in back doing inventory or something. No one answered.

“Shouldn’t you be writing down these names and numbers?” Lana
asked.

“No,” he said without looking at her.

“Apparently, he remembers things,” Harper said drily.

He rattled off every name, every number, and both women gaped
at him. With two fingers, he helped Harper close her mouth. “Anything else
either of you want to share before I start looking into this?”

Harper gave a little gasp, as though surprised by his agreement
to help—or by his touch—and shook her head, but Lana shifted nervously from one
foot to the other. Suddenly suspicious, he homed his gaze in on her. She licked
her lips, narrowed her eyes, shifted from one foot to the other. He remained
silent, waiting for her to crack. They always cracked.

Determination filled those green eyes. “Nope, nothing,” she
said.

Oh, she knew something, and he
would
find out what it was. But not here, and not now. He’d dig up
some details about her, Harper, the art gallery, the owner, the people who had
attended Harper’s gala, and go from there. The more armed he was with
information, the better chance he’d have of intimidating Lana and forcing her to
talk.

He only hoped Harper was safe with her.

Has been so far,
he told himself.
“I’ll swing by this evening,” he told Harper, crowding her backward and forcing
her to stop against the building. Their gazes were locked, the air charged
between them. For a moment, her breath hitched in her throat.

He leaned down, careful not to touch her a second time—would
she gasp if he did?—and whispered straight into her ear, “Consider this your
first and only warning. Next time your knee goes near my balls, I’ll retaliate.
But don’t worry…I think you’ll like it.”

* * *

W
HEN
THE
ELEVATOR
DINGED
and opened up to the OKCPD
bull pen, Levi tensed and he wasn’t sure why. He recognized the sights: guys in
button-ups and slacks, guys in uniforms, cubbies and desks, computers, criminals
cuffed to chairs, papers all over the walls. He recognized the sounds: heavy
footfalls, the clack of high heels and the stomp of boots, inane chatter, angry
shouting, fingers tapping keyboards, phones ringing. And the smells: coffee,
aftershave, soap, unwashed bodies, perfume, sugar.

He just wasn’t sure he belonged here anymore. He felt
disconnected, separated, and wasn’t sure it had anything to do with his
suspension. So…why?

Your neighbors’ crazy is rubbing off on
you, that’s all.

Small comfort. He maneuvered around the cubbies, throngs of
people headed in every direction, each too busy to pay him any attention. He
reached his partner’s office and rasped his knuckles against the already open
door. Vince sat behind his desk, head bent over a file. His gaze flicked up,
landed on him, but quickly returned to whatever he was reading. His features
were pale, drawn, and lines of tension branched from his eyes. Though he was
only thirty-four, he appeared fifty and unable to care for himself, his cheeks
hollowed, his sandy hair disheveled and his white shirt coffee-stained.

“Ignoring me still?” Levi asked. Vince had yet to forgive him
for attacking the suspect and placing himself in the line of fire.

A reel of memory suddenly played, startling him. He and Vince
had stormed into a small basement room. The perp had raised his arms, seemingly
accepting of his arrest, and smiled. Smiled, smug and proud of all he’d done to
his victims—and silently promising to do it all over again if ever he was
released.

Levi had worked too many gruesome crime scenes because of the
man, the last one enough to turn even
his
iron
stomach. A young female had been staged, her lifeless, bruised and battered body
pinned to a billboard for all of Oklahoma’s downtown commuters to see as they
hurried to work.

That smile had razed the jagged edges of his already shaky
composure, a desire to protect the rest of Oklahoma’s females rising up inside
him. A desire he hadn’t been able to fight. He’d rushed forward, busted the guy
around—and gotten busted around himself.

In the present, he experienced a pang in his side. His kidney
must have taken a couple shots.

“Come on, Vince,” he said, and was once again ignored.

Detective Charles Bright stalked down the hall, spotted him and
did a double take. “Levi?” His gaze roved the area just over Levi’s shoulder
before returning. “What are you doing here?”

He watched as Vince finally glanced up. Jaw clenched tight, he
gritted, “What do you think I’m doing here, Bright? Working. Maybe you should do
the same.”

Talking through him. “Real mature,” Levi said, flipping him
off.

Bright waved Vince off, then led Levi to the office at the end
of the hall. He closed and locked the door, and motioned for Levi to sit as he
claimed the chair behind a desk scattered with papers.

Levi had always liked Bright. Guy had dark skin and eyes and
kept his head shaved to a glossy sheen. He was a laugher, truly cared about the
victims he fought to protect and would work himself to death to solve a
case.

“I can’t believe Vince is so mad he refuses to speak to
me.”

A soft, sad smile greeted his words. “Had you put him in
danger, he’d be over it and you’d be forgiven. But you put yourself in danger,
and that’s harder to forget. He loved—loves—you like a brother.”

“He better still love me.” Vince was all the family he had.

“He does. Give him time. He’ll come around.”

Levi understood the need for time, he did, but his balls were
sore and he wasn’t exactly in the best of moods, so he decided to forget Vince
for now. “Listen, I’m not actually here to beg my partner’s forgiveness. My
neighbor thinks she witnessed a murder and I promised to help her find out the
truth. I can’t access any databases, so I need your help.”

Bright frowned, instantly intrigued. “Your neighbor?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if I told you but I moved into an apartment
building downtown, close to Brick Town. She just moved in, too.”

“Her name?”

“Harper.”

“And the rest?”

“Just a minute.” Levi shifted to dig in his back pocket. He
withdrew the driver’s license he’d slipped from her purse when he’d backed her
into the building. After reading the text, a laugh bubbled from him. “Aurora
Harper.” How freaking adorable. Aurora fit her in a way Harper did not.

Fingers clicking on the keyboard, Bright was silent for a long
while. He would stop and read, then type again, then stop and read again, then
type again. With every pause, his frown deepened. The wait for answers nearly
drove Levi to pace, punch a wall,
something
.

“Okay, here’s what I know,” Bright finally said, propping his
elbows on his desk. “Your Aurora—”

“Harper. She prefers Harper, and she isn’t mine.” He paid no
attention to the fact that having her referred to as “his” affected his body
just as strongly as her nearness had. Heat and tingling and want…so much
want.

The denial earned him a swift grin. “All right. Well, Ms.
Harper is twenty-seven. Five foot two. One hundred and ten pounds. She’s gotten
three tickets for speeding, one for parking illegally, and was in a car accident
two years ago, but it wasn’t her fault and she walked away with only a few
bruises.”

Silence.

“That’s it?” Levi demanded. “That’s what had you frowning?”

Bright drew in a deep breath, slowly released it. He settled
back in his chair and folded his arms over his middle. “Milana Buineviciute, her
roommate, works for After Moonrise and has the ability to see and communicate
with the dead. Ms. Buineviciute reported her missing five weeks ago.”

Milana Bonnie Wee Cutie. Now there was a name. Five weeks ago.
Early October. She’d been in the apartment for a week, so that left four weeks
unaccounted for. And the After Moonrise thing wasn’t a point in her favor.

A few times, an After Moonrise agent had helped the OKCPD with
a case. And for each of those few times, Levi had had to deal with a wealth of
irritation. A.M. came in with their fancy equipment and superior attitudes and
simply took over, acting as if the detectives couldn’t find their way out of a
paper bag. But his favorite? They’d called him a “norm,” as if it were a
four-letter word.

Wait. It was. Whatever! It had ticked him off.

“Inquiries were made, and it was discovered that Harper was
last seen at Carmel Art Gallery, on October fifth around midnight.” Bright
paused, flicked his tongue over an incisor. “That gallery certainly has been
popping up on our radar a lot lately. Seems your boy Cory Topper bought a few
paintings there. Only came to light a few days ago, since the sales were made
under the table. We didn’t think to tell you because you’re, uh, off the
case.”

His stomach clenched. Topper. The serial killer who’d kept
pieces of his victims in his freezer. The lunatic who’d tortured women in his
basement. The psychopath who’d left a dead body on a billboard. The smug little
ant whom Levi was now suspended for brutalizing.

To find out there was a connection between Topper, a dirtbag
scum with evil in his veins, and Harper, a delicate, fragile little thing with
knees of iron…he didn’t like that. At all. But to learn that she’d been missing,
to now know beyond any doubt that something
had
happened to her, was even worse.

He brought her painting to the forefront of his mind. The male
Harper was bringing to life certainly fit Topper’s body type, he realized now.
Average height, slim build, deceptively gentle-looking hands.

“Where was Harper found?” he rasped. “When? And where had she
been?”

“Oh, hmm.” Bright glanced at the screen. “She wasn’t found. At
least, nothing has been entered into the system.”