Chapter Fourteen
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From the murder scene at AMI, Grayson had gone back to Reece’s studio. He’d sat on Reece’s bed again, turning the case over
in his mind while the black glass of the windows turned lighter and lighter, until a quicksilver winter dawn stretched across
downtown.
Finally, no closer to answers, he sent a text message to Reece, then set his phone on the nightstand and his head on the pillow.
The chime of his phone woke him a couple of hours later. Without sitting up, Grayson stretched an arm out for it and glanced
at the screen.
Reece: The last time you texted “we need to talk” I ended up in your handcuffs.
TWICE.
Grayson yawned, rubbing his free hand over his face as he tapped out a reply.
Grayson: I got them right here if you miss them, sugar.
Reece’s response came right back.
Reece: As if I plan to ever let you put them back on me
Grayson: As if I plan to ever give you much choice. That’s what this whole “you’re an empath, I’m the Dead Man” thing means
His phone chimed again.
Reece: You’re not making me eager to talk
Grayson rolled onto his back, settling into the pillows as he hit Call.
Reece answered on the second ring. “What?” he snapped.
Grayson didn’t mince words. “Beau Macy and his wife, Adele, were murdered last night at American Minds Intact headquarters—bludgeoned
to death by Dr. Vanessa Whitman. Her body was also found at the scene. I’m sure you remember who she is.”
The other side of the phone went deathly silent.
Grayson cleared his throat. “Whitman was wearing a pair of empath gloves. Your gloves, with your serial number.”
Somehow the other side of the phone grew even more silent.
Grayson waited.
“Sounds like an open and shut case, then.” Reece’s tone was like ice. “Obviously I got my hands on Cora’s thrall and killed
them all.”
“Would I be calling to tell you what happened if I thought you were behind this?”
“I don’t know, Evan,” Reece said bitingly. “Would you?”
Grayson’s gaze went to the windows again. They’d been so close to each other last night. Where was Reece now? “At the time the murders took place, you and I were on the phone. Now, some folks might point out you could’ve been distracting me with selfies while your thrall was wrecking AMI.”
“Some folks,” Reece repeated with an edge. “Am I supposed to believe you think something different? Beau Macy hated empaths.
Why wouldn’t Cora and I have sicced Whitman on him?”
Grayson raised an eyebrow. “Did y’all even know where Vanessa Whitman was being treated?”
“Maybe I found out and put my old gloves on her as a calling card.”
“Would’ve been pretty hard for you to pull off,” Grayson said, “considering I found your old gloves still in my glove box.”
“My glove box, asshole, and maybe it was an older pair.”
“Says the empath still driving my truck, and you don’t have any older pairs. You upcycled them all,” Grayson said. “Who’s framing you?”
“None of your business.”
“Do you even know?”
“Also none of your business.”
“Reece—”
“We will handle it ourselves.”
“The hell I’m gonna let you,” Grayson said. “You think I want you and Alex and Ms. Falcon handling anything? How many bodies is that gonna mean?”
“Sorry, sugar,” Reece said with deep sarcasm, “but we don’t need your permission.”
“Reece, your sister and I don’t know who’s framing y’all or why,” Grayson said. “Maybe they’re trying to rattle you out of
hiding. Maybe they’re trying to start a war and Seattle’s gonna get caught in the middle. Or maybe they just want to get their
hands on all you empaths.”
“Mmm, yes, and that’s so different from what the Dead Man and his handcuffs want.”
“Oh, I want to bring you in too,” Grayson said honestly. “But I’m not gonna run who knows what kind of experiments. I just
want to make sure innocent people are safe.”
“Is that what you’re doing? Not running experiments, just protecting the innocents by locking up the empaths?” Reece said
darkly. “Remind me: How well did Polaris work out for the empaths you took there?”
“Reece—”
But Reece had hung up.
Grayson looked up at the ceiling. That had been a fair point. He had tried to take care of the corrupted empaths, only to
unknowingly send them to a terrible fate.
He looked back at the phone. Their text chain was still open, with last night’s picture of Reece in the bear hat, flipping
Grayson off with the Great Wheel in the background.
Dangerous as hell now, it was true. But still so fucking cute.
And also an innocent victim, in his own way, just like Alex and Cora.
But just because someone had been innocent once upon a time didn’t mean they stayed that way—and it didn’t mean they could
ever come back. Bad things happened to good people—irreversible bad things. It was one of those unfortunate truths that made life so unfair.
Except someone is framing Reece now, whispered a little voice in Grayson’s head, and maybe he does need your help.
His eyes went to Reece’s picture again, lingering.
Finally, he sent two more texts and then got up to make coffee.
Grayson: You can hang up on me all you want: won’t change that someone’s framing you and I’m gonna do something about that.
Grayson: And I don’t need YOUR permission.
Grayson’s safe house was in a small cove on Salt Spring Island, with a big back deck and a short backyard down to a wooden
dock that jutted out over the waters of the channel. The morning was cold, the air crisp and damp with rain as Jamey stood
on the deck in her coat and hat, the phone in her ear ringing uselessly until it finally went to voicemail.
“You’ve reached Gretel Macy of Eyes on Empaths, the number one empathy awareness blog in the Pacific Northwest—”
Jamey waited for the message to finish and the telltale beep. “Hey, it’s Briony St. James. I think you know me from when I
used to be a detective with the Seattle police. I got your number from Liam.” She looked up at the cloudy sky and tried to
find the words. “Gretel, I am so sorry about your parents. I know you might not want to talk, but if you could just text me,
I’d appreciate it. I’m worried about your safety. I’m worried about you. I want to help. Just—get in touch. Please.”
She hung up. Jesus, this was awful. It had always been gut-wrenching to talk to the victims’ families, and Jamey knew all
too well what it was like to find yourself without parents too young. And with the secrecy around empaths, what had Gretel
even been told about her parents’ murder? Would she even be able to bury them?
Up at the house, the sliding door opened. Jamey tucked her phone away as Aisha and Diesel stepped outside to join her.
“Did Gretel pick up?” Aisha asked.
Jamey shook her head. Aisha and Diesel had twin expressions of grief that mirrored Jamey’s heavy heart. It was true that Gretel was the brains and voice behind Eyes on Empaths, and none of them agreed with her views. But all three of them understood loss, and none of them had ever wished something
like this on any of the Macys.
“She could be in danger too.” Aisha was bundled in a puffy coat, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and a stainless
steel tumbler in her hand.
Jamey’s eyes fell on Liam down on the dock, prepping the plane. “I was going to stay until the pacifist empaths arrived, but
I think I have to go back to Seattle.” She ran a hand over her own hair. She was so stressed her curls were getting fluffy.
“Are the pacifist empaths safe at least?”
“I’m in touch with all of them,” Aisha promised. “They’re all en route to Bellingham today.”
And Liam would pick them up in the morning and bring them to the safe house. Jamey blew out a breath. It would have to be
enough.
Aisha and Diesel exchanged a look. Then Aisha cleared her throat. “There’s something else.”
Jamey raised an eyebrow.
“Victor Nichols was supposed be researching how to reverse corruption,” Aisha said. “I want that research.”
Both of Jamey’s eyebrows went up. “You think he was actually doing it?” Jamey said skeptically. “Given—” She waved a hand
helplessly, like it could sum up given he was an evil mad scientist running a lab out of nightmare.
“He was a sick person with sick methods, but he would have at least been faking it for Grayson. There might be something in
there,” Aisha said. “I’m looking for hope anywhere I can find it.”
Fair enough. “Speaking of hope,” Jamey said dryly, “do you think there’s a chance Nichols did die in Polaris?”
Aisha was quiet a long moment. “I wish I thought there was,” she finally said.
Jamey nodded. “Be safe,” she said, and hugged Aisha and Diesel goodbye.
After hanging up on Grayson, Reece tossed the phone on the bed and stormed off. Anger was crackling along his skin again;
Alex and Cora would feel him coming before they saw him.
Sure enough, when he stepped into the kitchen, Alex and Cora were already looking his way. “You have to see the news,” Reece
said, snatching up the remote for the wall-mounted TV.
A moment later, the headlines were flashing: American Minds Intact president found dead—
“Oh shit,” Cora breathed, as Alex’s eyebrows flew up.
“The part the news doesn’t know,” said Reece, “is the Macys were murdered by Vanessa Whitman. And she was wearing my gloves.”
Alex and Cora listened as Reece told them everything Grayson had told him. Alex’s expression grew darker and darker.
Cora ran a hand over her braid. “So they kept Whitman on life support all this time?”
“Apparently, but why did she kill the Macys?” Reece said. “Last I saw her, you’d put her in a state of gibbering fear, not
homicidal rage.”
“There are drugs that could send a person into a rampage,” Cora said. “Some of them are on hospital shelves. But where has
she been? And who did this?”
“I think it’s time to talk to Traynor.”
Cora and Reece both turned toward Alex. The three of them exchanged looks for a moment, a conversation of feelings, not words.
“Alex,” Cora finally said. “Are you sure?”
“Traynor’s gonna know a lot of useful stuff,” Alex said.
“But once he’s thralled, we’ll have limited time with him,” Reece pointed out.
“And we’ll make the most of it.” Alex had gotten to his feet. “But someone out there thinks they can fuck around using your
thralls and your gloves,” he said, pointing at Cora, then Reece. “And they’re going to find out that I’m not gonna stand for
it.”