Page 55 of Deadly Blooms (Psychic Unraveled #1)

CONNECTING THE DOTS

Graham

I handed the captain the gem Clover had found—smooth, cold, and glinting faintly under the harsh fluorescent light.

“This was found in Maggie’s woods,” I said. “Looks like a stone from the brooch Portia Valmont was wearing.”

Nettles took it, rolling the clear gem between his fingers, inspecting it. The scent of coffee and copy paper hung heavy in the air.

“Portia Valmont?” He muttered. “Christ, Graham… she’s the precinct’s biggest supporter.”

“Yeah,” I said, watching the stone catch a sliver of light, “but don’t you think it’s a little weird it turned up in the same woods where we found the body?”

He gave a slow sigh, the kind that said: You’re not wrong, but I hate where this is going .

“You and I both know Silas was fond of Portia,” he said. “Used to gift her jewelry all the time. Even if it is hers, it probably fell off during one of their… strolls. He kept those trails looking nice for a reason.”

“But Cap,” I said, trying to keep my voice level, “shouldn’t we at least bring her in?

Maggie’s unraveling. She’s watching her every move.

Worried she’s being hunted. She even bought one of those ridiculous keychain defense kits—you know, the ones with the cat knuckles, alarm, pepper spray, the whole grab bag of false security.

She won’t say it, but she’s scared out of her goddamn mind. ”

“Is that why you turned in an LTC application on her behalf?”

“Sir, I just figured it was better safe than sorry.”

“Locke, you can’t bend the rules for her, there’s protocol to be followed, or people get hurt.”

“I just wanted her to feel safe.”

“Dammit,” Nettles didn’t look up, “It’s not your job to make her feel safe. It’s your job to keep her safe.”

He stroked the edge of his mustache, his gaze distant for a moment before he reached for a folder and dropped it onto the stack on his desk. “You’re getting too close. To her. It’s clouding your judgment.”

I clenched my jaw. That was the point, wasn’t it?

“You think every shiny rock is a clue, every sideways glance makes someone a suspect because they looked at the new girl in town. That’s not detective work. That’s obsession.”

“Sir?”

Don’t take me off this case.

I didn’t say it. Not yet. But it hung in the air between us, loud as a warning shot.

“Look, Locke,” the captain’s eyes almost turned kind for a split second.

“I know you’re working toward detective, but right now?

Your job is surveillance. Keep her safe.

Keep your eyes on her. That’s it. And if things go sideways—if something happens to Miss Maxwell—God forbid, I don’t want you carrying that weight alone. ”

What the hell happened to doing whatever it takes to bring down the bastard responsible?

I ground my teeth. “I really think this case could benefit from my skills.”

“I’m sure it could.” Nettles leaned back, lacing his fingers across his chest. “But it’s not up to me. The county boys are taking over.”

“Why the hell is County taking over? This isn’t a goddamn statewide thing. Every victim has ties to Port Grey.” I dropped into the chair across from his desk, eyes locked on his.

“It was local,” he said, sliding a thick folder toward me. “Now we’ve got a body in Salem and another in Beverly. Same M.O.—clean cuts, missing heart, no forced entry. They’re connecting the dots, and they want in.”

I flipped the folder open and stared at the crime scene photos.

Different towns, same nightmare.

My stomach coiled. If they pushed me off this case, if they pushed Maggie into someone else’s jurisdiction, we’d lose everything.

I cringed at the sight of the hollowed-out chest cavities—bloody petals splayed wide, empty and bare. The flesh was dark red where the blood had coagulated, the edges curling inward like they were trying to seal the truth under open wounds.

But something didn’t track.

“Is it a copycat, sir?” I asked, reaching for the photo. “Look—” I shoved it closer to him. “This one’s carved in a square. But in Maggie’s case? The victims had diamond-shaped cuts. Look here.”

I flipped open Maggie’s case file on his desk and jabbed my finger at the photo of the mechanic. Ick. My stomach still flipped every time I saw it—the jagged cavity, the missing heart, the almost reverent precision.

“I don’t think so,” Nettles said, leaning back in his chair again. This time he rocked—a rare tell. It meant his wheels were turning.

“Sloppier work,” he muttered. “Same killer, different pace. We’re onto them—or they think we are. They’re rushing, maybe trying to throw us off their trail.”

“So wouldn’t that mean we need more eyes on this? Not fewer?” I asked. I wasn’t trying to challenge him, not directly. But fuck, if someone was escalating?—

—then we were already behind.

I didn’t care if it was local, federal, or supernatural. If someone was still out there cutting into people like filet mignon, I was going to find them. Before Maggie ended up next.

“To me it would,” Nettles said, his tone softening for just a second. “But like I said, son… it’s out of my hands. Either stay on as surveillance, or get off the case.”

Goddamn it.

I clenched my jaw so hard my molars ached.

I couldn’t do that.

I couldn’t just babysit her while some sick bastard turned the rest of Port Grey into a morgue.

“Well, since it’s probably nothing,” I said, voice flat, “I’ll take the gem back to Maggie. Maybe she’ll want to keep it.”

That was a lie. No way in hell she’d want a souvenir from this nightmare. But it might give me a reason to look her in the eyes again, just long enough to feel like I was doing something. That we were still connected.

The captain handed it back without another word. I slid the stone into the inner pocket of my Kevlar vest—close to the chest—and turned on my heel.

“Remember, Locke.” His voice followed me out. “Surveillance only.”

I exhaled through my nose. “Yes, sir.”

But I was already planning my next move.

I climbed into the SUV, the door shutting with a metallic thunk that echoed in the quiet lot. The precinct behind me felt like a cage door slamming shut.

Turning the key, the engine rumbled to life—steady, familiar. My fingers hovered over the dash for a second before grabbing my phone off the passenger seat.

You up?

I stared at the screen, thumb hovering, until it buzzed in my hand.

Maggie:

Yes. Thank you for the owl. I love it.

A breath eased out of my chest. I didn’t even realize I’d been holding it. I let my head fall back against the headrest, the faint tap of rain starting to hit the windshield like a ticking clock.

You’re welcome. I hoped you’d find it.

A pause. Then the screen lit again.

Uncle Silas showed me. He said you stayed here all night?

I cracked a tired smile and rubbed a hand over my jaw, scraping the stubble.

Yes, I just wanted to make sure you were safe. It’s my job, remember?

Thank you.

When will you be back?

I stared at that one longer than I should’ve. The way she asked. Soft. Hopeful.

I’m on my way now.

Another buzz.

Good, I’d like to go into the woods, just to look around, see if we can find anything… something—but I’d prefer if you were here with me.

That landed. Low and deep. The kind of sentence that twisted under my ribs and made my damn pulse stutter.

Ok. Be there in 10.

I locked the phone and dropped it into the center console, rolling my shoulders back.

Then I drove like hell to get to her.

Maggie

The text from Graham was short, simple, but enough. Just knowing he was coming back steadied something inside of me—at least for now.

I dressed in jeans, a soft grey hoodie, and the hiking boots that hadn’t yet broken in. Standing in front of the full-length mirror in my closet, I studied my reflection. Not for vanity. For… something else.

They’ll keep coming…

Your heart with the others…

The words echoed—cruel and cryptic. My stomach twisted.

What did I do to deserve this?

A nasty little voice offered an answer.

Oh, I don’t know. Maybe slept with half of Lorain County back home, when you knew the side-effects of the spell? Karma’s just playing catch-up, sweetheart.

I rolled my eyes. “Not helpful.”

Chester brushed against my ankle like he sensed it. I bent to scratch under his chin, grateful for the soft purr that followed. Always knew when to show up, that one.

“I’m ready for this to be over,” I whispered.

I wasn’t asking for a fairy tale. I just wanted a life. A quiet one, maybe a little weird—but mine. One where I didn’t have to glance over my shoulder in a cafe and wonder which smiling face was picturing how they’d carve me up.

Not too much to ask, right?

I had to prove it. It was either Belvedere… or Portia. That look she gave me at the precinct? That wasn’t grief. That was fear. And not the innocent kind.

“Uncle Silas—!” I called into the air, sharper than I intended. But I wasn’t in the mood to be polite to the dead. “Uncle Silas!”

The air chilled, the scent of grape cigar smoke and scotch curling into my lungs like a private calling card. I didn’t even flinch anymore.

The green smoke gathered like it always did, and there he was—floating before me with that professorial concern written all over his ghostly face.

“Good heavens, child… what is it?”

“I need you to be sure. Positive. The brooch—Portia’s. The one she had on at the precinct… the one missing the two stones. You gave it to her?”

He sighed, a long-suffering sound suggesting his displeasure. “Not this again.”

“Yes. This again.”

“I gave it to her the night of our six-month anniversary,” he said, lifting his chin. “Of our first date.”

“Cute,” I said flatly. “And you’re absolutely sure it’s the same brooch?”

He blinked. “Yes. Why?”

“Because one of those stones was found in the woods near the body.” I met his eyes, daring him to deny the implications. “Which means she was either there… or whoever killed the victim wanted us to think she was.”