The Séance. Heather Graham

and gave him a quick, friendly hug in greeting. “Welcome. There’s still barbecue in the kitchen.”

      “Good. I’m famished.”

      “Hi, Jed,” Mike said. “You know Tony, but have you met Ilona?”

      Jed nodded toward the woman at Tony’s side. They’d met briefly at the funeral. “Nice to see you again,” he told her.

      “You, too,” Ilona said.

      “Did you know Jed’s a famous writer?” Mike asked.

      “I’m not really famous,” Jed said quickly, embarrassed.

      “Speaking of which, guess what name those two—” Mike paused to indicate Ana and Christina “—just dredged up. Beau Kidd.”

      Jed frowned. Even if his nerves hadn’t already been on edge, the name would have stung. Damn it, he thought. He hadn’t caused what had happened to the cop. He had just built fiction around the facts of what had already happened.

      Yeah. Fiction that clearly skewered the man.

      “Beau Kidd?” he said, and he knew that his voice was harsh.

      “Oh, Jed, don’t sound so mad. We were just playing with the Ouija board,” Ana said.

      “After talking about the recent murder,” Dan explained.

      “Ouija board?” Jed said skeptically.

      “Hey, blame Ana, not me,” Christina said lightly.

      “I’m telling you, it spelled out his name,” Ana said stubbornly.

      “Come in the kitchen, I’ll warm up some food for you,” Christina said.

      “Don’t bother,” Ana teased. “He used to be a cop. He even eats cold pizza.”

      “Well you don’t have to eat cold barbecue,” Christina said firmly, then stared at him with those crystal-blue eyes of hers and smiled slowly. “Thanks for coming.”

      He shrugged a little awkwardly. “Sure.”

      She strode past him, smooth and sleek. He followed.

      She was already reaching into the refrigerator by the time he stepped into the kitchen. She handed him a beer.

      “So how’s it going?” she asked after he thanked her, helping herself to one, as well, and leaning back against the counter. A subtle grin curved her lips. “When does your next book come out?”

      He arched a brow. “Last month, actually.”

      “Oh. Sorry.”

      “That’s cool.”

      “I should have kept up.”

      “Amazingly, the entire world doesn’t rush out to the store the minute a book of mine comes out.”

      She flushed. “Yeah, well, I’m one of Ana’s best friends. I should have known.”

      “Not even all of Ana’s friends rush out the minute I have a book on the shelves,” he assured her.

      She smiled and dug into the refrigerator again. He realized with an inner smile that she had planned for his arrival as she pulled out a microwave-ready plate with chicken, ribs and corn on the cob.

      He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he was hungry. He’d showered, and the smell of the autopsy room no longer seemed to fill his nostrils.

      But he couldn’t forget the dead woman or what had happened at the cemetery.

      Couldn’t forget that Christina Hardy was a beautiful redhead.

      He warned himself to get his thoughts under control. He couldn’t let himself become obsessed with this, couldn’t let it consume him and everyone around him.

      “So how’s it going in jingle land?” he asked. “What’s your latest?”

      Her smile deepened as she played with the dial on the microwave. “‘Come to the Grand, walk on the sand, hear the steel band, sunsets and glory, the minute you land,’” she sang lightly.

      “That was you? I hear it all the time,” he told her.

      “It’s a great resort,” she told him. “I was given a comp weekend when I was hired, so I got to check it out for free. It’s one of those all-inclusive places. Really nice. You step out from your private bungalow right onto the beach.”

      “Nice work if you can get it,” he teased.

      “As long as I am working.”

      “Well, this place is worth a mint,” he told her.

      “I’d panhandle before I sold this house,” she assured him passionately, then seemed embarrassed by the emotion she had betrayed. She offered him a wry smile. “Hmm. And are you suggesting I won’t get work?”

      He laughed. “Never,” he vowed solemnly.

      The microwave beeped. She reached in for his plate, and he walked over to take it from her. The scent of barbecue was strong, but her perfume was more alluring. He remembered how, years ago, he had thought she was a pain in the butt and wished she and Ana would go away.

      Things certainly changed, he thought wryly.

      She smiled and brushed by on her way to get him a fork, knife and napkin. His muscles tightened. Hell, yes, things changed.

      Ana appeared in the kitchen. “Hurry up,” she said to Christina. “You’re the only one who can make that stupid Ouija board work.”

      “I wasn’t doing anything,” Christina protested.

      Jed felt his muscles tighten again, and not in a good way.

      “Beau Kidd?” he said to Christina.

      She flushed. “I swear, I didn’t make it do anything,” she protested.

      “Whatever you say,” he said curtly.

      He hadn’t meant to be so brusque. She barely moved, but he could feel her stiffen from across the room.

      “It’s just that I worry, okay?”

      She sighed. “I know. I’m a redhead.”

      “A beautiful redhead,” he told her, trying to atone.

      “I’m a big kid, and I’ve lived on my own for a long time now. I don’t do stupid things.”

      “Don’t assume that all victims are stupid.”

      “I’m not. But I am careful,” she told him. “Really.” She was irritated. Why not? It was a good cover-up for being frightened.

      She walked out of the kitchen, toward the parlor. He followed her, keeping his distance and stopping in the doorway.

      “You made that name—Beau Kidd—appear,” Mike said, staring accusingly at Christina.

      “I sure as hell didn’t,” she replied, and her voice betrayed her annoyance. “Twelve years ago, I was thirteen and my mom turned the news off every time something came on TV that she thought I shouldn’t know about. In fact, my parents used to argue about it. My dad thought I needed to be aware of what was going on in the world, but my mom just thought I was too young to know some things—no, a lot of things.”

      “You still must have heard the name,” Dan said. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, arms folded over his knees.

      “I’m sure I did, but a lot has happened since then, in my life and in the world,” she informed him, her tone irritated. “I didn’t move the planchette.”

      “Right. Beau Kidd did it himself, because there is no copycat killer and he wants us to know he’s innocent,” Mike murmured dryly.

      “Maybe he didn’t do it,” Ana said. “And