Page 12 of Whispers at Dusk
“And I think I still doubted in my way—since we’re taught by our parents and families not to let other people think we’re crazy—that what I’d heard could be real, that the Bureaureallyhad a unit in truth that was composed of...”
“Weird people like us?” she asked, grinning.
He nodded.
“As I told you, I’m still fairly new to the Krewe. Well, not that new, almost a year. I went to the academy, started in the field, and then my supervisor told me I had an interview with a special unit,” she told him. “I believe sometimes the head players at the Krewe know from our records or cases... Well, they have it themselves so they recognize it in others. They seek people from other law enforcement agencies as well. I believe Adam Harrison and Jackson Crow are pretty amazing at studying situations.” She paused, smiling. “It’s a wonderful place to be, with others like us, and they just have that talent for determining who theweirdpeople are. And instead of hiding and feeling weird, we get to see that it is amazing, this ability we have, because it’s like so many things with DNA, just a fraction of a fraction of the population has it, so...”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm?” she asked.
He smiled. “I wonder if Norwegian ghosts will speak any English.”
She smiled in return for a minute, and then she was dead serious. Her eyes were a true green he realized—like emerald lasers the way she was staring at him. “We’re going to make this work,” she told him.
“All right. We’re going to make this work. Partner.”
Her phone was ringing and she answered it quickly and told him, “Our plane is ready and the pilot is aboard. I understand the plane is great. So...”
“On to hours of reading in the air,” he said.
“We are going to work well together,” she vowed.
He forced himself to nod. He had been so uncertain; and then again, as Gideon had said, she had balls. And she wasunorthodox.
He might even like her. He imagined she was an excellent agent, able to use her natural beauty and abilities in her investigations and takedowns.
Yeah, he liked her. But he was going to be careful.
He vowed he wasn’t going to like her too much.
Because nothing changed the fact there were kill-or-be-killed situations.
It wasn’t a good thing to become too involved with a partner—not in their line of business. He’d learned that the hard way. And he’d worked on his own—with plenty of backup, of course—for several years now. Working as a loner had its advantages.
He would have her back. And he’d try to be a team player.
He just couldn’t lose another partner.
Two
Crime scene pictures tended to be horrific.
And as far as that went, Della had seen far worse: bodies shredded and covered with blood, bodies broken and rotting with bones protruding.
And these were perhaps more horrible because of the very fact the dead appeared to be doing no more than sleeping.
The victims had been left like angels, laid out as if with loving care. But there was no loving care involved in the murders, and the angelic display of the bodies was a mockery.
Della closed her eyes and leaned back for a minute.
Leaning back was comfortable.
As far as travel went, Della decided, being with the Krewe of Hunters was proving—beyond the obvious simple ability to be honest about her “sources”—to be a very nice thing.
The jet had a small galley, desks, comfortable reclining chairs as well as couches, and could easily fit eight to twelve people if necessary. There was availability for agents to sleep on long flights, and she just might take a nice long nap while they traveled.
After she had set all the information available to them in her mind, she could do whatever she wanted to do—something new for her.
