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“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know. Whatever preconceived ideas or beliefs you may have, I’m not it.” She closes the door quietly.

Did she see that too? Did she see my reason for not believing?

I drop to my chair. But it’s no longer there because I pushed it out of the way. The ground meets my ass, but not before my flailing arms knock more papers to the floor.

“Fuuuuck!”

I get to my knees, and the first thing I see is the necklace she left behind. I’ll send it to forensics, but I know they won’t find any prints on it. At least no prints other than Ava's—Miss Bloom's—or the store owner. Every other piece of evidence we found before was wiped clean.

“Jesus! What am I doing?” This is the first break I’ve had in months. I have to stop her. I search for my sunglasses, but I can’t find them. I hate the stares, the squinting, and questions that come with the realization I have different-colored eyes. “Fuck it. They already saw my eyes.”

Chapter6

Avalon

“What an ass.”The early sympathy that filled me during the detective’s vision burned to ashes.

“Yes, he has a great ass.”

I roll my eyes at Lynn. “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard.” She waggles her eyebrows.

Even in the middle of a worst-case scenario, I can count on her for comic relief. “I envy your ability to find humor in everything.”

Lynn shrugs. “That’s how I deal with stress.”

We get back to my car, and I dig in my purse for the key fob. The jingle of metal against metal comes from the other side of the car. Lynn holds my key chain. She lobs them into a wide arch over the hood. I step back to catch them and bump into a hard-muscled chest. A hand that’s not mine catches the key fob over my head. I turn to see who the thief is.

The detective.

What the hell? I step away from him with an extended arm, palm up, and wiggle my fingers.

He closes his hands around the fob, enclosing them tightly in his fist, and glances away before returning his gaze to me.

“Listen. I don’t know what happened back there . . .” He squeezes the back of his neck with his free hand.

Day-old stubble shadows his square jaw. Glints of gold highlights in his hair make it look more blond than brown. He’s what one could call jaw-droopingly handsome. He reminds me of a young Robert Redford or Harrison Ford—two of Grandma’s favorite actors. I miss spending time with her and watching old movies.

“But I need you to do it again.” His voice comes out as if someone is strangling him. As if it costs him to say the words out loud.

Of everything he could have said, this is the last thing I expected. “W-What?”

His free hand goes through his hair, pushing the strands away, only to have them fall back on his forehead.

I have the strangest urge to brush his hair away from his face. My fingers twitch with the need, and I curl them into a fist. What the hell? I should have the need to punch him for being a jerk, not to pet him.

“I must be fucking insane,” he says under a breath. “Okay.” Both his hands come up, my key chain dangling from one of them. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but can you do the psychometry thing again? With something else?”

I cross my arms. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“That means yes. She can do it again.” This comes from Lynn, who is still standing on the other side of my car.

“Lynn!”

She walks around the bumper and puts both hands on my shoulders in a side hug.

“What do you need Ava to put her hands on, Detective?” Lynn smiles. “She’ll be happy to touch all the things.”