"Mind telling me what that was about?"
She sighed. "I'm an empath with a difference."
He glanced at her, but she still had her eyes closed. "What sort of difference?"
"Instead of sensing the emotions of the living, I soak up the feelings of the dead."
"That's not possible."
She snorted softly. "I wish."
"But..." He frowned. They'd known what he was from the moment he walked up to the motel door, and that was something no one could have told them. Everything else, maybe, but not that. "How?"
"I'm not really sure myself. But it seems the more emotional or violent the death, the more those feelings permeate a room."
"So when you walked into that room — "
"I felt everything that little boy had when he died."
No wonder she'd been so cold. She'd shared head space with violence and death.
"How in hell do you keep sane?"
A smile touched her still pale lips. "I was under the impression you thought I wasn't."
"Well, swimming in the ocean until you were blue is pretty damn crazy."
"I had to wash myself clean," she said softly. "I could smell them. On me. In me."
A sentiment he could certainly understand. He'd done the same thing himself once or twice over the years, though admittedly, he'd chosen a hot shower rather than an icy ocean. "So what happens now?"
"Now we need to get some breakfast and take it back to the motel. You know a bakery open at this hour?"
"I'm a cop. We know the opening time of every bakery, deli and fast food chain in the whole damn city."
She looked at him. "Really?"
"Really," he said solemnly, glad to see her smile had finally touched her eyes.
"Then take me to your favorite, and I'll buy you breakfast." She hesitated.
"Unless, of course, you'd rather go home."
He had nothing — and no one — to go home to. And he wasn't leaving this woman's side until this case was solved. Though he might not believe in psychics and witchcraft, the last few hours had certainly proven these two not only knew everything the police knew, but had an innate ability to be one step ahead of the pack. Right now, that's exactly where he needed to be.
And if he could get into her bed as well, all the better.
* * * *
Gwen was asleep on the sofa by the time they got back to the motel room. Kat dropped the bags of cinnamon rolls and pastries on the small table and walked over.
"Gran?" She kept her voice soft, not wanting to startle the older woman.
Gwen sighed and opened her eyes. "My feet feel like bricks. You'll have to massage them before you do anything else."
"I'll do that," Ethan said behind her. "You go get breakfast ready."
Kat looked up in surprise. "You sure?"