Ramie went pale, her eyes closing. Her hands trembled in her lap and Caleb slid his fingers down her wrist to curl around one fist.
“You aren’t alone this time, Ramie,” he assured her.
EIGHTEEN
RAMIE’S palms became damp, and sweat formed on her upper lip. She sucked air in like a guppy out of water, her chest tight, each breath like fire through her lungs.
She couldn’t believe she was willingly putting herself through this again. When she’d sworn not to. She felt like a circus freak show, put on display and expected to perform.
At the very least, it would go down her way. No one else was going to call the shots.
Her jaw was clenched so tightly that her teeth ached. She barely managed to nod as the two detectives introduced themselves. Caleb was impatient and in no mood to prolong the matter. He swiped at his hair and gripped the back of his neck as he listened to the men explain the phone call they’d received from the man stalking Ramie.
She tuned out the voices. Sinister laughter echoed through her mind and she wasn’t sure if she imagined it or if he was amusing himself at her expense.
When she realized that evidently everyone expected her to channel the killer right there in the living room while they watched, she shook her head. One of the detectives held out a small handbag, waiting for her to take it. She refused, staring at it like it was a snake. She knew the second she touched it, she’d be pulled into the abyss and this time she wasn’t sure if she’d return.
“Ramie?” Eliza said softly. “Tell me how you want to do this. You’re the one calling the shots.”
Her mouth went dry and she swallowed painfully. She nodded her acceptance but made no move toward the detective holding the clutch. There was dirt on it.
And blood.
She stared at the purse, dread tightening her chest and stomach.
Caleb pulled her into his arms, turning his back to the rest of the room, shielding her from view. He pressed his lips to the top of her hair. His arms were strong around her. Implacable.
She stood silently, absorbing his strength, preparing for the onslaught ahead. Steeling herself, she stepped away from Caleb and then turned her focus on the two detectives.
“Not here,” she said in a low voice. “Give it to Caleb. I’ll do it upstairs.”
Detective Ramirez exchanged looks with the other detective and then cleared his throat. “This is evidence. I’d prefer not to let it out of my sight.”
“Do you want to find her?” Ramie interjected bluntly.
Beau and Quinn had identical looks of distaste on their faces, but she wouldn’t let them shame her. She had to be strong. Ruthless. Or she’d never get through this.
“Everyone out,” Caleb said tersely.
Eliza hesitated, glancing at Caleb. “Do you want me to stay?”
“No,” Ramie said quietly. “Just Caleb. He’s seen it before. He knows what it’s like.”
Caleb flinched, regret simmering in his dark eyes. “Go,” he said in a low voice. “I’ll take care of her.”
“I’d like to tape her,” Detective Briggs spoke up.
“Absolutely not,” Caleb said before Ramie could launch her own protest. She was horrified and appalled. The very last thing she wanted was her vulnerability broadcast far and wide. All it would take is one leak to the media and the video would go viral all over YouTube and Facebook.
A chill descended, like it had upstairs in the bedroom she had no desire to go back to. She clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. They’d all think she was crazy or ill. It had to be ninety degrees outside. In October. How did anyone bear the heat for so long?
Caleb noticed though, his gaze sweeping up her arm where chill bumps dotted her skin. He frowned and gestured for the others to leave the room as he’d instructed.
“Are you all right?” Caleb murmured. “Perhaps you shouldn’t do this.”
“I just want to get it over with,” she said through her clenched jaw.
Her head was starting to ache fiercely. Nausea welled in her stomach and she hadn’t even established a link yet.
“Hurry, please,” she whispered.
Caleb barked orders at the occupants of the room. Ramie broke away from him and sank onto the couch, bending over to stare at the floor. His hand slid over her shoulder and to her nape, gathering her hair between his fingers, tangling and then soothing.
She turned her gaze upward, seeing the small purse in his grasp. She stared at it, holding her breath, wondering what horrors it hid.
Caleb lowered himself to one knee in front of her, not extending the bag yet. She ran her hands up and down her legs, feeling the rasp of the worn denim beneath the pads of her fingers.
Sucking in a deep breath, she tentatively reached for the bag and blackness consumed her. Dizzyingly, she spiraled down, screams so loud in her ears that she was nearly deafened.
The scent of blood was overpowering. Metallic and acrid. It burned her nose, assaulted her senses. She knew with certainty that it was too late for this victim. She’d never had a chance.
There was a gasp of awareness in Ramie’s mind. The victim thought she was already dead and that the sudden burst of warmth in her mind was an angel. Ramie didn’t dissuade her. Instead she tried to comfort the dying woman the only way she could.
“I won’t let him get away with this,” she whispered to the victim. “Justice will be served.”
“Thank you,” the woman whispered.
Ramie’s head exploded, darkness engulfing her. Evil so strong, so radiant it was like a black hole sucking her inward.