Sam turned his gaze back to Jim. He didn't like the man's belligerence, or the way he wanted to get rid of them. Did he have something to hide?
"I'm fine, Evans. I'm not going home." He clenched his jaw. A hundred wild horses couldn't get him to budge right now. Even if it meant losing his badge.
"Mr. Carrington, I don't know how to tell you this, except to be brutally honest." Evans paused. "We found a woman in an alleyway not far from here. Your wife's identification was found near the victim. We need you to come down to the hospital with us and tell us if the woman is, in fact, your wife. We don't know if she'll make it, sir. She's in bad shape."
Jim's eyes widened. "H-hospital?" he choked out the word, and feathered his fingers through his blond hair. "Y-you're kidding, right?"
Sam opened his mouth to speak, but Evans held up his hand. "No, sir. We're sorry, but we need you to come down now. The hospital will probably need you to sign some paperwork."
Jim sank onto the couch, his head in his hands, but he still hadn't shed one tear. "Does it have to be now?"
Sam's distaste for the man went up another notch. From the moment Jim had opened the door, he'd been nothing but rude and hateful. Eight years on the force had taught Sam to follow his instincts, and every instinct he had told him something wasn't right. After all, he was one of the youngest detectives on the squad, and he hadn't gotten there by ignoring his intuition.
He looked over at Evans. He knew the detective was getting the same vibes about Jim that he was. His coworker may look calm and laidback, but there was an underlying stiffness to the way he sat. He knew something wasn't right.
A loving husband loses control when he's told his wife is near death. Maybe even breaks down and cries a little. But Carrington was belligerent and condescending. Not the reaction Sam had expected.
This guy has something to hide, and by damn I'm going to find out what it is. Sam moved toward the parlor door. "The sooner you do this, the sooner we can get on with our investigation."
Evans cleared his throat. "You mean, the sooner I can get on with the investigation."
Sam darted a hard look at his fellow detective, and narrowed his gaze. There was no way he was going to be left out in the cold on this case. Police protocol or not, he was going to solve it, even if it got him fired.
Jim sighed and rose to his feet. "Uh, yeah. I guess I can come down there now." He looked down the hall. "Just let me get my keys." Pausing, he turned back.
"What about my daughter? Was she with her mother? Is she okay?" For a moment, his gaze filled with fear. His fear lessened, however, the minute Evans told him that his daughter was not found at the scene.
He nodded, but still looked concerned. "Was she taken? Maybe whoever did this kidnapped her." Eyes wide, he searched Evans' gaze for answers.
Evans shook his head. "Sir, there is no evidence that your daughter was in the alley with your wife."
Jim let out a breath and looked down.
Sam found it odd that Jim hadn't asked what had happened to his wife. That was usually one of the first questions asked by a victim's family. "I can drive you if you want."
"Oh, hell no! I'm riding with you, and I'm not getting into the same car with that man," an outraged feminine voice said.
There's that damn voice again, Sam thought. I'm hearing things. My God.
He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of that very feminine voice. Its huskiness brought to mind a woman who'd just been thoroughly pleasured. Electricity danced across his nerve endings. Phantom voice or not, it shouldn't make him feel this way. Not at a time like this.
"No, thank you. I'll take my Jag." Jim left the room to get his keys.
"If it's okay with you, I'll follow you to get them." Evans didn't wait for an answer as he walked closely behind Jim.
"Yeah, that's right, Jim," the disembodied voice said, mocking him. "You wouldn't want to be caught dead in anything less than luxury."
Who the hell is that? Sam wondered. Am I going insane? Is the stress of the job and losing my sister really getting to me?
Jim returned with his keys with Evans right behind him. "Lead the way, Detective."
"I don't understand who's behind this," the voice said. "Who would want me dead? Is my husband responsible?"
Once inside his car, Sam really started questioning his sanity. Why in hell am I hearing this woman's voice in my head? And why is she so damn sarcastic when it comes to Carrington? Sam sure as heck didn't believe for a second that it was his feminine side speaking to him. He didn't have a feminine side. No way ... no how!
"Okay. We're alone now," he said. "Who the hell is here?"
No answer.
A cool breeze whooshed by his cheek, sending shivers up his spine.
"I'm not sure you want to know who I am," the phantom voice said. "I don't know if you can handle it. I'm having a hard enough time dealing with it myself."
Sam's cold shivers turned into warm tingles when her husky voice met his ears. "It can't be any worse than me thinking I'm going nuts. Hell, I probably am. I'm talking to the air, for crying out loud."
"You're not talking to air, Detective." The atmosphere around him shifted again. "I'm Lisa Carrington."
)
