But she’d thought about it very seriously the other night, right after one of those annoying Witt dreams. She changed the subject before Cameron could make another comment. “What’s he doing at Nadine’s?”
How long would he stay? How should she approach the two of them? Or should she wait? Why hadn’t they gone to the funeral together? Or maybe they had. Why hadn’t he changed out of his funereal garb? How did she know those weren’t the clothes he usually wore to work?
The questions assaulted her, some hers, some Cameron’s. So many, so fast, she was afraid her brain would implode.
She tackled the last one first. “A suit-wearing office worker would not have a dirty white truck with a tool chest and those great honkin’ orange extension cords in the back. And he wouldn’t be wearing workboots.”
“What are you going to do?”
She shrugged. “How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“Try telling them you’re a vacuum cleaner salesman.”
Max snorted. “They’d turn me down flat, and then I’ll have screwed myself. Be serious, would ya?”
“Tell Nadine you’re a friend of Tiffany’s who couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
Max dismissed that with a wave of her hand. “Between her ex-husband and her sister, they’d pretty much know all her friends.”
“Not if you let them think she had a secret life they didn’t know about. You could shock them both.”
“Jake was at the Round Up that night, remember? I don’t think there’s much Tiffany could have done to shock him. I need to tackle them separately.”
Streetlights flicked on as deep dusk settled in. She pondered her options. “I can use the mysterious friend thing with Nadine. But him ... I don’t know.”
“Tell him you were there the night he dragged Tiffany into the restroom.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say. What if he decided I needed to be eliminated?”
“You’re so melodramatic, Max.”
“You’re not the one who might end up with chunks of concrete tied to your chest when he throws you into the Lexington Reservoir.”
“Then you admit he’s dangerous?”
She slapped a hand across the passenger seat as if she could see him sitting there. “So that’s what this is all about. Dammit, Cameron. Why don’t you just come out and say what you’re thinking instead of *-footing around?”
He gave a self-satisfied snort. “Why don’t you read my mind?”
“You know I can’t do that.” He could read her thoughts, but it didn’t work the other way round.
“Not yet.” He made it sound ominous. “Besides, my sweet, you always seem to remember the lesson if you figure it out on your own.”
“Well, I still don’t think he killed her. And I’m pretty sure he didn’t dress up as Frankenstein or Dracula to dump her body. But I’m not a total imbecile, either.”
“I should have more faith in you.”
His sarcasm irritated her. “You’re damn right.”
“I should have known you’d use your intuition, your psychic abilities, and your powers of deduction in conjunction with one another.”
Sensing a trap, she narrowed her eyes. “I’m getting better at it.”
“And I should have known you wouldn’t automatically assume the innocence of the first hunk that crosses your path.”
Bastard. “You couldn’t resist that, could you?”
His laughter floated out of the convertible. “Why don’t you try touching his truck the same way you touched Tiffany’s front door.”
“I wasn’t trying to get anything when I touched the door. It just happened.”
“See if you can make it happen with that truck over there. Come on, Max, you like trucks.”
“It’s not a Ram.”
“Try it on for size anyway. I’m sure Tiffany must have been in it at some point.”
Prickles of apprehension slithered along her arms to the back of her neck. She was getting used to the visions popping up at odd times. Sort of. But to try bringing one on ... well, that was downright scary. What if it actually worked?
“What on earth will it prove?” she asked.
“We won’t know until you try. And if it works, you can use your psychometric abilities on Miles Lamont’s big black Lincoln.”
The thought of that didn’t frighten her as much as touching Jake’s truck. And, she had to admit, Cameron was right, it was a damn good idea. “Maybe I’ll try it on the Lincoln first.”
“You could be missing a big clue if you don’t do the truck. You wouldn’t want to miss something, now would you, Max?”
Damn Cameron. He’d push and push until he shoved her little house down.
“Fine. I’ll do it. You stand guard.”
Chapter Twelve
Using her psychometric ability, as Cameron called it, shouldn’t have been as scary the second time, but it was. Maybe even worse, because she knew what could happen.
Or maybe she’d lost control of her emotions. Murder kind of did that to a girl after a while.