precious almost within her reach.
Banning said something to one of the detectives at the table. The singing stopped amidst another round of laughter. To his credit, Banning wasn’t laughing. A champion? He barely knew her. Just a nice guy, telling his buddies not to make fun where she could see them? Small consolation. Or was he embarrassed that they could see her sitting at his desk, linking them together, no matter how impersonally?
Jeb had been embarrassed.
Just like that, the anger was back. Screw this. There had to be someone else in this city she could talk to.
Kelsey stood, adjusted her skirt down to her calves. She slipped her backpack over one shoulder and started buttoning her coat as she zigzagged between the desks and headed straight for the bank of elevators that would take her back down to the street and out into the freezing cold.
“Hey!” She pretended she didn’t recognize the voice, and that he wasn’t calling to her. He’d be glad if she could slip out and never darken his desk again.
She had the elevator button in sight when a band of fingers closed around her arm, just above the elbow. Kelsey jumped.
“Whoa.” Banning quickly released her, holding his hand up in surrender as she jerked around. She didn’t bother with a Don’t touch me. He probably got that idea loud and clear from her startled, chest-clutching reaction. “Where are you going? We’re just getting started.” He held up the two steaming plastic cups he balanced in his left hand. “Coffee?”
Kelsey stared at the cups for a senseless moment, then tipped her chin to look up at him. “No, thank you, Mr. Banning. We’re finished.” Her voice sounded surprisingly succinct as she pushed it past the pounding pulse in her throat. “Hard as this might be for you to believe, my time is valuable. I’m here for a legitimate reason. I saw a woman murdered. I do not make up stories, and I will not be ridiculed by you, your friends or anybody else.”
She spun toward the elevators, but he brushed past her in an eclectic whiff of wool and spice and overbrewed coffee to block her path. “Then let’s get out of here.”
Kelsey stopped short, lifting her gaze above his starched white collar and the jut of his chin. “Embarrassed to be seen with The Flake?”
He didn’t deny the nickname or the embarrassment. But he did offer an unexpected argument. “Well, that hair does draw a lot of attention. I’m assuming it’s not your natural color?”
Was that a serious question, or was he teasing her? The confusion was enough to defuse her temper. She simply explained the color choice. “I get good vibes from red.”
“I always wondered why women dyed their hair. It’s the vibes, huh?”
He thrust his wrist from the end of his sleeve and checked his watch. His jacket veed open, giving her a glimpse of the brass and blue enamel badge clipped to his belt beside the brown leather holster at his hip. The weapon inside was a sobering reminder that just because he was curious or teasing or polite, he was not her friend.
“You eat lunch?” he asked.
“On most days. I am human and do require sustenance.”
He grinned, subtracting years from the serious set of his mouth. The unexpectedly sexy result was almost as disconcerting as when he’d grabbed her arm. “I meant, have you eaten lunch today?”
“Oh.” Kelsey quickly gathered her composure. She had to think of Merle Banning as a cop, not a man. Certainly not an attractive one. “No. I haven’t eaten since last night.”
She hadn’t had the appetite to stomach food.
“Well, since I require sustenance the same way you do, let’s go grab a quick bite to eat. We can continue our conversation someplace without the audience.” He nodded his head toward the break room. “Away from those yahoos.”
Kelsey looked over shoulder and spotted the pudgy bald guy watching her again. Did he think he knew her? Should she know him? Being stared at like that, without any apology, like some sort of sideshow phenomenon, gave her the willies. The barrel-chested man, standing in the open doorway to the Captain’s office and eyeing the interaction between her and Banning like some sort of watchful guardian didn’t help, either. She quickly turned away.
She’d love to get out of here.
Kelsey nodded. “Okay. That’s fine. I need to eat before my afternoon class, anyway.”
“All right. Let me ditch these and we’ll head out.”
Kelsey refused to turn around to see where he dumped the coffee and retrieved his coat. That bald cop might still be staring at her. Well, he could look all he liked. She didn’t have to give him the satisfaction of knowing how his unwanted attention rattled her.
Going out to lunch. That almost sounded like a date.
But it wasn’t. Kelsey knew better. Men didn’t ask her out. Not ones who knew about her talent. Whether Merle Banning believed her or not, this would be a working lunch.
The weight of the bag on her shoulder multiplied with her resolute sigh, bearing down with the burden of so much more than that doll. She carried the memory of last night’s murderous vision, the responsibility of her curse—along with the crippling knowledge that, more likely than not, she would always carry that burden alone.
Chapter Two
The Jukebox, just east of the Plaza in downtown Kansas City, was a 1950s-style soda fountain and burger joint, complete with twirling bar stools, vinyl booths and waitresses with handkerchiefs pinned beneath their name tags. The decor was airy and nostalgic, the food plain and simple. The clientele was mostly retirement-age patrons revisiting their high school years, and young families with kids on Christmas vacation looking for a fast meal served on a plate.
In short, the choice was more laid-back and less uptown than she’d expect Merle Banning to make.
Either he was trying to keep things fast and easy so he could be done with her as quickly as possible, or he’d purposely taken her to an out-of-the-way place so there’d be no chance of one of his cop buddies coming in and seeing him with her.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d been cast aside or hidden away.
At least the food was good. Hearty and filling. She couldn’t exactly say her appetite had returned, but now that she was actually doing something about the doll and the dead woman, practicality had kicked in. Her visions could be draining, physically, mentally and emotionally. She couldn’t stop the headaches, and the emotions would always haunt her. But she could maintain her physical strength, keep her body healthy even when everything else in her life was royally screwed up.
Although the thermometer registered in the single digits outside and the graded snow stood thigh-high or taller along the edges of every street and sidewalk, she’d ordered a milk shake served with the chilled metal cup it had been blended in. In between bites of her steak-burger with cheese, and thin, crunchy fries, she’d drunk and spooned her way through every last delicious drop.
She was paying for the indulgence, though. Even with the sleeves of her wool sweater pulled down to her knuckles, and her coat draped over her shoulders, she shivered with the pervasive chill that hadn’t left her
