Page 74 of Kill Me Again: Psychics

“I understand.” He hung up soon after that, leaving nothing to do but wait.

“What are you doing?” Lake asked.

“Bringing him back,” I said. “For a conversation, so he can tell me what he knows.”

“That’s…” Lake shook his head as if he couldn’t quite find the right words.

“I have to,” I said, feeling defensive. I retreated into another bedroom, imagining an accusation from Jamie that wasn’t there and needing to put some distance between us. It turned out to be a child’s room, with matching Pokemon-themed wallpaper and duvet. Impossibly sad, given the circumstances. The window at least offered a view of the street.

Lake voiced the thought we were both having. “Where do you think the husband and kids are?”

“Away,” I said. “He must’ve known. Or gotten lucky.”

Dawn was already brightening the horizon. “I know you don’t understand this,” I said. “But there’s a time limit on bringing someone back, so I had to decide. It might not even work. It doesn’t always.”

“Do you think that’s what Jamie would want?”

I grimaced. It would have been easy to say something glib about Jamie always having been a kind, helpful person, but it would be an excuse. Something to make me feel better. “Probably not. But it’ll mean he can give me a message for his husband and kids. That has to count for something. So it’s not just a selfish thing.”

Lake went quiet after that, his thoughts giving away his own moral dilemma: the battle between knowing he should talk me out of it, or at least trying to, and having a vested interest in finding out more because he knew it would keep me safe.

Thankfully, Calisto’s car pulled up in front of the house only a few minutes later. I tugged Lake down the stairs with me, wishing their first meeting could be in better circumstances.

Asher was with Calisto. No surprise there. The other two men climbing out of the back of the car were unexpected, though. “You brought Griffin?”

Calisto nodded. “You know I’m not good with stuff like this. Griffin’s used to it, what with all the Satanic Romeo stuff.”

“We also thought,” Asher added, “that it might be in all our best interests to have police present at a murder scene.”

Ben—or DCI Weaver to give him his full title—gave a nod. He looked grimly resigned to what he was about to face. But then attending murder scenes in the middle of the night was nothing new to him. “I should talk you out of this,” he said.

“But?”

“I owe you,” he said, his glance encompassing Calisto. “For all the O’Reilly stuff. You were part of the reason I got out of there.”

I shrugged, not sure how much glory I could take for that whole shit show. Although you could argue that without me, Calisto might never have gained the courage to go to the inbetween and do what needed to be done. And I had told him where to find the demon instrumental in O’Reilly’s downfall. So maybe I was shortchanging myself.

All four men were staring at Lake. “This is Lake,” I said. “My boyfriend.” I zoned out during the introductions that followed, the atmosphere understandably muted.

Next came a procession up the stairs, Asher falling into step beside me. “I let Cade know what’s going on.”

“When?”

“In the car on the way over here. Calisto drove.”

“You didn’t bring the Porsche,” I pointed out absently.

“Calisto’s car is less conspicuous. Less memorable.”

“True,” I agreed. “What did Cade have to say?”

“Not a lot. I think he’ll have more to say tomorrow when it’s sunk in. I don’t think this is what he envisioned when he told you to sort your life out.”

Griffin went into the bedroom first, closely followed by Ben. “Just like old times,” he said to his husband. “I can’t say I’ve missed hanging out at murder scenes.”

Ben surveyed the room slowly with a practiced air. “What time was the call?”

I checked my phone. “Three minutes past four.”