“She’s not going to come back to life. But you have some kind of a connection. You saw her when you tried on a dress she’d tried on. I confirmed that, by the way. She was the last person to try on the dress before you did. If you touch her body, in your mind you might see even more.”
“In my mind,” she echoed.
What he was doing was not the least bit fair. People had a difficult enough time seeing their loved ones when they had died, even of natural causes. Police officers, agents, soldiers and others saw death far too often. They were accustomed to touching the dead frequently, hoping they might find a spark of life.
Raina was not involved in any kind of law enforcement. He was asking her to touch someone who had been murdered, her remains viciously altered by insects and birds.
He decided to be honest. As he drove, he filled her in.
“The Krewe of Hunters is a special unit—my unit. The main man behind it is Adam Harrison. I met him when I was young—when a hurricane had ripped our neighborhood all to shreds. He was friends with my grandfather, who had a fair amount of money and ran charity events. Adam was and still is often involved with several philanthropic endeavors. I also learned his son was ‘special,’ that he saw things. When his son died, he passed that special something on to his best friend.”
He paused to let that sit with her for a moment.
Then he went on. “Adam spent years connecting with people who had gifts. He was big in Washington, DC, for that reason. Eventually, he formed the Krewe of Hunters—that’s an unofficial name. We’re officially a special unit. All the members go through the academy and must pass all the tests and receive the certifications required. But my team is handpicked by Adam, and by a man named Jackson Crow, often recommended or brought in by others. The unit is quite big now—but small still, in comparison to the rest of the bureau.”
They’d come to a traffic light, so he looked over at her for the next part. “I see the dead. Those who choose to be seen. Some souls remain behind because—as lore states—their own lives were brutally ended. Some stay because they protect certain places or people who were special to them. I’ve seen some move on, too. When the time comes, when they’re satisfied something has been solved or fixed or rectified—when justice has been done, or someone else is saved.”
She was staring at him but he couldn’t read her expression. The light changed to green and he turned his eyes to the road.
“There is an incredibly small percentage of the population with gifts,” he continued. “Most keep quiet about it. Other people laugh at them or don’t believe them, and yes, that makes life uncomfortable. Anyway, I’m grateful you’re willing to work with me. I’ve personally felt protective about the Everglades most of my life. And I believe a heinous killer is using this land now as a dumping ground. I know this has been done far too often in the past. But I think this is a very particular killer. A calculating, organized killer—someone who is getting rid of people for a reason, and who believes the Everglades will hide the fact the murders are continuing.”
He glanced at her quickly. She was looking at him and nodding gravely.
“Thank you,” she said simply.
“You’re okay with all this?” he asked.
He liked the wry smile that touched her face.
“Hell, no!” she told him. “But it’s better to try to understand.” She hesitated. “I’ve just never...well, I’ve never been to the morgue. But I did touch my grandfather when he died. And all I felt then was that he was gone. His body was cold. The man I loved was gone.”
“I think it’s always best when they just move on,” he said. “And yet I’m grateful some remain behind.” He glanced carefully at her again. “Real people perpetrate real crimes and murders. Not the dead. They...they’re not to be feared. Not in my experience, and I work with that minuscule percentage of special people who see the dead or experience strange messages from them.”
“Messages from the dead.”
“Not like text messages,” he said dryly. “But the dress, for example. You were touched by the dead through the dress. We don’t know how this all works. But we don’t close our minds to anything.”