classes at the Savannah College of Art & Design.”
“What about you?”
She clamped her teeth over her lower lip for a minute. “I own a shop called Mystique. We sell specialty gifts, New Age books, stories of local folklore and ghost legends, candles, voodoo kits and dolls.”
He frowned, still mesmerized by her eyes but disturbed by her answer. So she was into that New Age crap. Probably believed in the supernatural and local ghost legends.
“How did you and Natalie meet?”
She hesitated again, this time looked away as if she didn’t want to answer.
“She visited the store,” she finally said quietly.
He waited, wondering, testing to see if she’d fill the silence and volunteer more information. Instead tension vibrated between them. She didn’t fit the profile of an arsonist, and didn’t seem like the vindictive type to set a fire to hurt anyone. But it still struck him as odd that she’d been present at both scenes.
Although she’d given him no reason to think she or Natalie had been targets or that she knew the arsonist, he definitely wanted to find out more about Rosanna Redhill. What made her tick, what made her so intriguing, what made him want to hold her when they had nothing in common.
Why he wanted to ask if she had a boyfriend or any lovers when it probably had nothing to do with the case.
Why he sensed she was hiding secrets, that she wasn’t at all the innocent angel she appeared to be.
Chapter Five
Rosanna hated to lie to the detective about how she’d met Natalie, but she’d detected disapproval when she’d mentioned her store.
She’d met the same instantaneous dislike before. People were either open to paranormal and supernatural phenomenon or they weren’t. Because of his job, Detective Walsh analyzed facts and evidence, although she’d bet he used his gut instincts more often than he realized.
Still, she’d also agreed not to discuss the CIRP experiment outside the clinic. Besides, the project and the circumstances surrounding her friendship with Natalie had nothing to do with her friend’s death.
He was watching her as if he expected her to say more when the doctor strode in.
The detective moved to the window while the doctor checked her vitals. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
“All right,” Rosanna said, although her ankle still felt stiff and achy. “I’m ready to go home.”
He nodded. “I’ll get the discharge paperwork ready.”
Remembering that her dress had been ruined and that they’d cut it off of her when she arrived, she clung to the bedsheet. “Doctor, do you think one of the nurses might find me a robe or something to wear home?”
He gave a quick nod, and whisked out the door.
The detective turned back to face her. “I’ll give you a lift home.”
She knotted her hands by her side. “That’s not necessary.”
“Why? Do you already have a ride?”
She hesitated, considering another lie but sensed he would be able to read her. “No, but I can call a taxi.”
“I said I’d drop you off,” he said in a clipped tone.
She wanted to refuse, but didn’t want to draw suspicion. Not that he had any reason to suspect her of anything.
No one knew about her past. It had been buried with her grandmother and would stay buried.
The doctor appeared with discharge papers in order. A nurse rushed in with a smile, and dropped a cotton robe on the foot of the bed. “An extra,” she said. “One of the discount stores in town donates them.”
“Thank you. I really appreciate it.” She quickly slid her arms in the robe and belted it tight. Grateful the paramedics had found her purse, she grabbed it. The nurse gestured for her to take the wheelchair.
“I can walk,” Rosanna argued.
“Hospital policy,” the nurse said cheerfully.
Rosanna reluctantly relented, feeling vulnerable as the woman wheeled her to the elevator. The detective walked silently beside her, a force of such power that her insides fluttered with nerves.
The short ride to her apartment felt strained. Detective Walsh was so big and masculine that his body filled the small confined space. And his masculine scent made her stomach tighten, made her more aware of how naked she was below the robe and gown.
He parked in her driveway, then rushed around to help her out. She hated to accept his outstretched hand, but the moment she put weight on her foot, pain shot through her ankle and up her leg.
“You’re hurt?” he asked in a dark voice.
“It’s just a light sprain,” she said, shrugging off his concern. “I’ll be fine.”
“Do you have any family or friends to stay with?” he asked as he assisted her onto the stoop.
She dug her keys from the bag and unlocked the door, smiling as her black cat, Shadow, darted up to welcome her. She leaned over and petted his back, then straightened to dismiss the detective. “No, but I’ll be fine. Thanks for dropping me off.”
He nodded and handed her a business card. “If you think of anything else, remember anyone who looked suspicious, please give me a call.”
“I will.” She leaned against the doorjamb. “Do you really think someone set that fire on purpose?”
His expression hardened. “We’re investigating the possibility.”
“But why would someone try to burn down the bar, especially when it was filled to capacity?”
“Motives for arson vary. Insurance. Revenge. To cover another crime.” His gruff voice grew lower. “Excitement is a possibility, too. Some arsonists feed on the energy of the fire.”
She frowned, thinking about his statement, about some of the participants in the research study. One of the doctors had discussed energy, specifically psychic energy, mind over matter…
“We’re still questioning everyone at the bar, and later today, we meet with the crime scene investigators.” He twisted sideways for a minute, scanned the sidewalk as if checking to make sure the area was secure. “We’ll talk to her family, but if you learn anything else about your friend from them, maybe the name of an old boyfriend or lover, let me know.”
“I’ll ask them.” Her throat felt thick with grief as she remembered Natalie. Her family would be flying in, making funeral arrangements….
He lifted his hand as if he might touch her, then his gaze penetrated her, caressing her body all over as if his fingers had actually brushed her skin.
Her
