Dead of Winter (Cold Case Psychic #15) - Pandora Pine Page 0,11

now, was that Skye might not know who killed her. She may not have seen the person’s face, or worse, her killer could be a total stranger.

“When will you start to reach out to Skye?” Kevin asked, nibbling his bottom lip.

“Not until we’re familiar with the case and we’ve met with her parents. I want to have all the known facts available if Skye decides she wants to talk to me.” Ten knew one of them was going to have to make the call to her parents soon. He was hoping it would be Ronan or Fitzgibbon.

“What’s this?” Ronan asked. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and his laptop in the other.

“Kevin was asking about when I’d reach out to Skye’s spirit.” Ronan, more than the others, would know exactly how he worked.

“I’m guessing that means she isn’t here?” Jude asked, looking around the reading room as if he expected to see Skye.

“Right,” Ten agreed. “I didn’t think she would be. All we have here is a copy of the evidence. Nothing that belongs to her, like her clothes or personal effects.” In a way, Ten was glad. He wasn’t quite ready to face the murdered teenager just yet.

Fitzgibbon reached into the first pouch of the folder and pulled out the crime scene photos. Next was the evidence reports and witness statements. He went through the photographs before handing them to Tennyson.

Ten took them with shaking hands. Instead of fanning them out like a poker hand, he left them stacked on top of each other. He took a deep breath and stared down at the first photo. It was the one Cisco had shown them last night. Skye Washington with her blue eye shadow, purple button-down shirt, and black suspenders. She looked like an extra in a New Kids on the Block video. Her smile was bright, as were her eyes. This was a child with no worries. At least not at the moment, Ten said to himself.

His hand hovered over the glossy photo before he set it down. The palm of his hand covered Skye’s face. Nothing. He waited a few more minutes, but all he sensed was lingering residue from Cisco, who’d been anxious to get Luca home last night for a round or two of hard fucking. Ten shivered. The last thing he needed was to hitch a ride on Cisco’s fantasy train.

“What’s wrong?” Ronan asked. He set a hand on Tennyson’s.

“Nothing.” Ten managed a smile. “I was hoping to get something from Skye, but all that was left on the picture was from a horny Cisco.”

“Really?” Ronan looked intrigued for a moment before a darker look came over his face. “Do you think you’ll sense Skye in the other photos?”

“I’m not sure.” Ten knew the next photos were from the crime scene. He didn’t want to look at them, but knew he had no choice. Taking the picture of the smiling, carefree Skye, he flipped it over and focused on the next photo. It was an image of the crime scene. It was obviously nighttime. Hard-packed and heavily footprinted snow surrounded the body of the teenager. Skye was lying on her stomach, with both hands reaching forward for help that never came. The snow around her was tinged with red from her spilled blood.

Ten had seen pictures like this before. Hell, he’d even been to murder scenes where the body was fresh and the blood still wet, but this picture hit him hard. He set his hands down over Skye as much to read it as to hide her reaching hands from his vision. Nothing. Another dead-end.

Not wanting to linger, Ten did the same thing with the remaining pictures in the stack. Each one was more detailed and gruesome, including shots of Skye’s bloodstained hands and jacket. He knew the autopsy photos would be worse. They’d be clinical, but the evidence of violence would still be there.

“Are you okay?” Ronan asked gently.

“There’s so much violence. So much rage. And before you ask, no, I’m not getting anything from the pics, but I know violence when I see it. Whoever did this wasn’t just angry, they went nuclear.”

“That’s what the autopsy report says, only in more clinical terms. They recorded forty-nine stab wounds, but believe the total was higher since some of the wounds were larger than others.” Ronan handed the report to Jude.

“I don’t understand.” Ten looked from Fitzgibbon to Ronan.

“Watch this.” Ronan flipped to a blank page in his notebook. He raised