Page 14 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

LOCKE HER UP

Graham

That was… something.

If I wasn’t careful, this girl could easily detonate my entire life.

She’s full of the kind of chaotic energy that hums in my skull on a good day—except she didn’t try to hide it. I usually buried mine just deep enough to avoid an HR complaint.

Inside the precinct, several other officers were abuzz with the daily grind, interviewing suspects, booking perps.

“This way.” I said, holding my hand out, showing her the way to Interrogation.

Her face flushed with embarrassment and frustration as our steps echoed off the walls past Nettles’ office.

“You know, I find it interesting that you’d let me ride with you uncuffed, if you genuinely thought I was armed,” she said.

“You could have denied the search.”

“Yeah… and how’d that look?”

“Like a person who knows her rights.” I placed my palm on the cold metal door of the interrogation room and pushed it open. The hallway stank of burnt coffee and cheap floor wax, like it always did, but she made it feel different.

Maggie brushed past me in a huff.

Strawberries and vanilla. God, why did I like that?

I should’ve cuffed her. For safety. But if she was dangerous—I don’t think I would’ve stopped her from laying hands on me.

Mouthy, sharp, and hard to read. I liked that too.

And I wasn’t staring at her ass. I was assessing her… stride. Tactical assessment. Obviously.

Her nose crinkled in irritation. If I didn’t know any better, it was a tell she had. Not as obvious as the tightly knitted brows, red cheeks, or daggers shooting from her eyes, but visible none the less.

Inside the small room, a single harshly lit lightbulb hung from the ceiling, casting an unforgiving glare.

It buzzed, flickering slightly, like it was trying to piss me off personally.

I couldn’t stand that room. I always thought that the people we brought in here deserved the decency of not being treated like a bug under a microscope.

Sometimes grandmothers filing a report for a missing grandchild were placed here, why did they deserve a cold room and judgmental side-eyes.

I pulled out a hard black chair for Maggie, then I leaned against the wall next to the two-way mirror, waiting for Nettles to join us.

“God, you sure like to hold things up, don’t you?” She was annoyed, and fucking cute when she was. Especially with that flush climbing up her neck like she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap me or kiss me.

“Huh?”

“The doorways, the walls, desks, concrete pillars. You lean on everything. It’s like you think the world is going to collapse if you’re not there to hold it up.”

“You try being six-four, and tell me how your neck feels when you have to stand there looking down at everything and everyone. But if it bothers you, I’ll just let the world fall down.”

She picked at her nails with a smirk. “Are we being watched right now?”

“Probably not.” I said. “It’s more for intimidation.”

“Are you supposed to tell me that?”

“Probably not.” I smiled. “Guess I trust you.”

Trust. That stupid old bitch.

Last time I gave it away, I buried what was left. Now here I am catching feelings over her goddamn shampoo.

Fuck.

This was supposed to be a routine interview. But my gut said she was going to be the hurricane I wasn’t prepared for.

Nettles strode into the room like he owned it. Like he always did. He swung a leg over the chair opposite Maggie, and slapped a folder on the table.

“You sleep it off alright, Miss Maxwell?” His tone was smooth, casual. That usually meant something was coming.

Why was he suddenly being nice? I knew he didn’t care how she was doing, especially since he thought she did it. He’d always been the kind of guy who wanted to torture or beat the truth from you.

“Oh yes… five stars.” She pulled her sweater shut tight around her and crossed her legs, dangling her flip flop over her toes.

He smiled at her response. “Good to hear. Nothing like a good IV drip to clear the head.” The toothpick in the corner of his mouth bobbed with each word. “Now let’s clear up your timeline. We both want that, don’t we?”

“Sir?” I said. His tactics—this time—were completely unexpected. I didn’t know what to do with his good cop act.

Normally, that’d be my role.

I pulled up a seat next to him and opened the folder to take notes. Inside, some of the most graphic, up-close images of the victim, and his hollow chest cavity.

Sick.

“Where were you before you came home today?” He asked.

She sighed. “Like I already told Graham, I went to Nature’s Grove.”

Nettles smiled. “That’s on Fifth, right?”

“I have no idea. Like I said. I just got here.”

“Right.” His eyes lingered on her, scrutinizing every twitch she made. “…and how did you get here?”

“I flew from Ohio to Boston, then took an Uber to Port Grey.”

I scratched her replies into the file and darted my eyes back to hers. Everything about the way she moved, said she was innocent.Steady, calm voice.Maintained eye contact.

Then she looked at me. Really looked. And I prayed to every dead god she wasn’t a brilliant actress—because something in me wanted her in my bed and in my mess.

“Do you remember the driver’s name?” Nettles continued.

“Uh… Gus, maybe… or—Burt… Yeah. It was Burt. He had almost every ride-share logo plastered on his car. I’ve got his card in my purse. It said something like ‘Haulin’ All’ or something.”

The Cap’s face relaxed, “Ah—Burt, he’s a good guy.

Do you know who else is a good guy?” He reached over and rummaged through the folder in front of me.

“This here’s Paulie Beckett. Upstanding citizen.

Runs a chop shop—sorry—auto shop.” He slapped the morgue photo down like a playing card. “Ring any bells?”

There he was.

The asshole.

The ‘bad cop’.

I guess he couldn’t make up his mind on which role he wanted to play today.

Maggie stared at the photo, her eyes almost welling at the sight of the dead man staring up at her, his face pale and lifeless.

“I don’t know him. And if someone thought I did, they were wrong.”

“That’s funny—he seemed to know you real well.”

He dropped the photos one at a time, deliberate. “Bakery. Airport. Your moving van sexcapade. ”

Maggie’s eyes went huge and could no longer hold back the stress tears she’d been trying to disguise as she recognized herself in each shot.

“Great. If I wasn’t cursed before, I sure as hell am now.” She muttered under her breath.

Nettles rested his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together. “What I want to know is why this man, Paulie Beckett, the owner of Beckett Auto on Huckleberry… a man with no criminal record, was found dead in your woods, with pictures of you in his pocket.”

Maggie swallowed hard. “Yeah, when you find out…care to let me know?”

“We found the knife under your roses. Same one that carved him open.” He pushed another photo toward her—bloody detailed. “Ever seen anything like that before, Maggie?”

Then, he slid a small evidence bag with a single rose petal to her. “Do you know where this rose petal is from?”

“I’m assuming my fence.”

“Very good!” he bubbled, pulling out a second evidence bag with another petal in it. “And this one?”

Maggie shook her head.

“This one and twelve others were stuffed inside the victim’s mouth. There are bite marks on them indicating he was still alive.”

God.

“How did these petals,” he continued. “…that grow all along your driveway get into this man’s mouth before his death?”

“No fucking idea.”

The captain stood up and paced the room, rubbing his hand over his balding head—the wheels inside were spinning now.

“Got anyone who can say you were where you say you were?” He leaned in, voice lower. “Or are we taking your word on it?”

She swallowed and played with the edges of one of the photographs, inspecting it. “Um… I met this goth girl, Katie, at the market. What about Burt? He said he knew Uncle Silas, I bet he remembers dropping me off.”

“What’s Katie’s last name?” Nettles pried.

“Pierce,” I said. “She hangs around with Derek Black a lot.”

“The spook finder? You sure it’s the same girl?” He asked.

“Maggie, what does Katie look like?”

“She’s got black and white hair, um…”

“It’s her.” I said before she could finish.

Maggie looked back at the photo of Paulie, wiped her eyes, and straightened her posture before looking Nettles dead in the eyes. “I didn’t do this.”

I wanted to believe her. Hell, I already did.

But belief and proof are two different demons.

And what was even worse, now I thought she might not be safe alone.

“Look. We want to help you,” I said, “but if you are in some kind of danger, you need to tell us now.” I stared her down, hoping she’d see the concern in my eyes.

Her face turned angry. “What kind of trouble could I possibly be in? I’m just a small town baker’s assistant from Ohio. Living a mundane life… maybe fucking too many people… but other than giving a customer the wrong change by mistake, I haven’t done anything worth this.”

Her emotions were getting the best of her. Time to lay off.

“I don’t know why he has pictures of me or who took them.” She sighed and held her head in her hands. “I don’t know who killed this man, or why they did it in my yard.”

“Pissed off any of those exes lately?” The captain’s voice cut the air like knife.

I shot a glance to Nettles, then back to Maggie.

Her face changed again, this time to pure anger with hurt in her eyes. “One. About six months ago. But he cheated on me.”

Ouch!

“Cheaters suck.” I kept it casual. Didn’t want her thinking I was just poking around in her sex life. Even if I was.

“Did it end well?” Nettled prodded.

What the fuck kind of question was that?

She let out a bitter laugh. “If by end well you mean me threatening to chop his balls off with a dull frosting spreader when I caught him in the act—then yes. I’d say they ended perfectly. I live a quiet life, okay? Or I did . Until your corpse showed up in my woods.”