LITMIR.BIZ

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Her career. Her chance to lead a normal life.

      But if she kept her own dark secret safe, Tanner’s daughter might lose her life.

      The curse of the Delacroix women.

      “Talk, Georgette. South Louisiana is covered in swamps. I have to know more.”

      Her insides quaked. “If I tell you the truth, you must promise never to tell a soul.”

      He exhaled sharply and for a second she thought he’d say no. Finally, he released his hold on her and let his arms fall to his side. “I’ll promise whatever you want. Just tell me how you know about Lily.”

      She looked away from him and stared out the window, unwilling to let him see how this was tearing her apart.

      “I know because…” Her voice faltered. “I know because I have the gift.”

      TANNER STOOD THERE, staring, while Georgette spun a tale that rivaled something from a late-night horror flick. “You actually expect me to believe that you fall into trances and see visions of Lily?”

      “I’m not asking you to believe anything. I’m telling you the truth.”

      He started to tell her he didn’t believe a word of it, but talking of this had transformed her from confident, intimidating attorney to someone who looked as if she might shatter and break at any moment. She picked up her briefcase as if she were ready to leave.

      Tanner planted himself in front of the door. “You can’t tell me something like this and then walk out.”

      “I have to go.”

      Dammit. Her soft brown eyes were moist and she was shaking. The last thing he needed was to let her get to him. “Stay and talk to me,” he said, this time keeping his voice calm.

      “Why stay if you don’t believe me?”

      “I’m trying, so work with me. You say you have visions, but they only go so far. What do you have to do to nudge them up a notch?”

      “It doesn’t work that way.”

      “Explain how it works.”

      “The trances come at will.”

      “There must be more to it than that.”

      “No. I have no control over them. If I did, I’d never experience them at all. It’s not as if I enjoy being a freak.”

      “When did you first have visions about Lily?”

      “The night I ran into you in the hospital. You seem to be the link that joins me with Lily,” she admitted.

      “We’re together now. Are you feeling anything—or seeing anything?”

      “No.”

      “Then we’ll stay together until you fall into another trance, or get the gift, or whatever you want to call it.”

      “I can’t do that. I have to go back to the office.”

      “I’ll go with you.”

      “No.”

      He was losing patience fast. “It’s not like we have all the time in the world, Georgette. Hours count. Hell—minutes count.”

      “Even if we’re together, the visions may not return.”

      “But there’s a better chance that they will. You said it yourself. I’m the link.” He took her hands in his. “I’ll beg if that’s what you want. Just help me find Lily.”

      She shuffled her feet, moved her gaze from him to her briefcase and back again. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. We can spend some time together then.”

      “That won’t cut it. I don’t see a ring on your finger so I’m guessing you’re not married.”

      “That has nothing to do with this.”

      “It makes it easier for us to spend the weekend together.”

      “I can’t spend the weekend with you.”

      “You can’t spare one weekend to save a young woman’s life?”

      She sighed, and he knew he was getting through to her. Great. He’d have hated to have to kidnap her.

      “What is it you want from me, Tanner?”

      “The same thing you wanted from me. Information. Is there anything we can do other than spend time together to improve the likelihood you’ll have another vision?”

      “Location might help.”

      “You mean, if we were in a swamp.”

      “Perhaps. I don’t really know, Tanner. I’ve always tried to avoid the visions before.”

      “We can start out tonight,” he said. “Drive south and find some swampy area and see what happens.”

      She looked as if she were about to protest again. He didn’t give her a chance. “You need me to keep your psychic powers a secret, Georgette. Well, I need something from you, too. So, give me your address. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

      “There are no guarantees this will work, Tanner.”

      “But it could, and I’ve tried everything else.”

      “Okay. At seven.” She scribbled her home address and phone number on the back of one of her cards and handed it to him. “It’s a condominium complex in the Arts District. I’ll meet you out front.”

      He opened the door for her. She hurried past him, as if she couldn’t get away from him fast enough. He watched as she headed down the hall and to the elevator—her lustrous black hair caressing her slender shoulders, that gray suit skirt ultra conservative but still short enough to show off her shapely calves.

      Not the kind of woman you’d expect to utter talk of visions and psychic powers. Whether she was on the up-and-up or this was some kind of dirty scheme, he had no choice but to go along. They were linked together by a daughter he barely knew but would do anything in his power to keep safe.

      His thoughts stayed with Lily as he ducked out of the main building and walked back to his own office. He’d find her. And then he’d tear out Maurice Gaspard’s heart with his bare hands and feed it to the rats in the streets.

      SEBASTION’S OFFICE DOOR was open a crack. Georgette knocked lightly. “Do you have a minute?” she asked, when he looked up from the manila file folder he had open in front of him.

      “Sure, come on in. Actually, I was about to see if you were back. I wanted to talk to you before you left for the weekend.”

      “What about?”

      “A problem, but let’s hear yours first.” He closed the file and pushed it to the front edge of his desk.

      “It’s the disposition from Sara McManus.”

      “Is that the Griffith murder trial?”

      She nodded. “Sara changes the details every time she tells her story. The defense is going to rip her to shreds if I put her on the stand.”

      “Isn’t she your only witness?”

      “Yes, but the evidence stands by itself. We don’t have to have a witness.”

      “Do you think she actually witnessed the murder?”

      “Absolutely.”

      “Why?”

      “She gets so upset when she describes the actual stabbing that it’s impossible not to believe her.”

      “That’s your answer, Georgette.”

      “Then you think I should put her on the stand.”

      “It’s your call. It’s a matter of whether or not you trust

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