Deep breaths, Sam.
“Can you tell me any more than that?” I asked.
He studied me, then nodded. “Broadsided over on Grand Street and Main.”
“Broadsided by who?” I asked. And just as the word escaped me, I silently cursed myself, certain it should have been “by whom.” Sigh. I might be undead, but that didn’t make me a grammarian.
“We don’t know.”
“Hit and run?”
“Yeah.”
“You knew him well?”
“Well enough.”
“Any leads?”
“We got some.”
“But nothing you’re willing to pass along?”
He studied me some more, then shook his head. “No,” he said. “Not until I know you better.”
“I could help.”
“We got enough help.”
“Fine,” I said. “What do we know about Lucy Gleason?”
“The broad who went missing from Starbucks?”
“Yeah.”
“We know she’s still missing.”
“What else?”
He studied me some more. He wasn’t sure if he liked me, which was hard to believe. He already felt like he’d said too much, which wasn’t much at all. I knew all of this because I was following his thoughts. He was just about to turn me away, claiming he was busy—he was, but not that busy—when I gave him a gentle telepathic nudge, planting the words directly into his mind:
Tell her everything. And get her a glass of water.
He blinked, nodded, and then said, “Follow me. And would you like some water?”
“Why, how kind of you, Detective,” I said and followed him out, hiding a grin. I should have felt bad that I was controlling another human being, forcing him to do something against his will.
I should have...but I didn’t.
In fact, I liked it a lot. Perhaps too much.
Lord, help me.
Chapter Twelve
I was waiting in another room when Detective Sharp returned with a glass of water and handed it to me.
He stared down at me for a moment, frowning. I peeked into his thoughts and watched him, trying to remember why he had agreed to help me further. He couldn’t remember why, but it had seemed like a good idea at the time, and so he ran with it.