“Yes.” He struggled to recall exactly what he’d witnessed, worked to excise his own emotions from the description. Certainly, his own disbelief.
“Like a dark cloud,” he said flatly. “But blacker. At first I thought it was her, a silhouette, but then I saw her face. Clearly.”
A ripple passed over him at the memory. “She was in excruciating pain. The thing, it covered her, pressed her into the corner . . . pulsing with energy.”
Mick’s gaze wasn’t so steady now. Concerned. Disbelieving. “You’ve had a shock. You’re upset and—”
“Detectives?” They turned to the paramedics. “There’s nothing we can do for her.”
“Any idea what killed her?” Mick asked.
“Cardiac arrest is my guess—”
“No,” Zach shook his head. “She was attacked.”
The young medic frowned. “We didn’t see anything to indicate a physical assault.” He shifted his gaze to Mick. “No body trauma, blood or other wounds—”
“What about the wound on her right shoulder?”
“We didn’t see a wound, Detective.”
“Just under the right collarbone, circular. Real nasty looking.”
His stomach sank at the strange way the young man was looking at him, as though he had a big-time screw loose.
“It was there.”
“Show me, maybe we missed it.”
They hadn’t, Zach saw. Where the angry bruise had been—nothing but smooth, unmarred skin.
He stared at the spot, for once at a loss for words. The paramedic slapped him on the shoulder. “The light and dark play tricks on us, Detective.”
Zach watched him walk away. The light and dark play tricks? How weird, him saying that.
“Coroner’s on his way,” Mick said, coming to stand beside him.
“It was there, Mick. The wound. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Look, Zach—”
“I’m not crazy. This was no heart attack. She was murdered.”
“Nobody said you were crazy.”
“Yeah, you did. Without words.”
She shifted her gaze slightly. “It’s been a crazy couple days. Let’s just wait and see what the autopsy tells us.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Tuesday, July 16
12:25 P.M.
Patricia Putnam’s disappearance had made the national news. The details had been kept from the press, but Micki figured it was only a matter of time before they started leaking out.
It wasn’t every day a Senator’s kid went missing, and it was proving to be a press event. Full circus, big top and sideshows included. Major Nichols was so far up their asses, Micki wondered if she or Zach would ever walk upright again. She didn’t blame him, he had both the chief and the mayor up his.
No one cared about the death of a French Quarter fortune-teller.
No one but Zach.
The autopsy report had just arrived. It was official, her partner was a full-on whack job. Coroner had determined Knight died of natural causes. Cardiac arrest. Knight had been neither young nor in good shape; the coroner suggested the attack might have been precipitated by her flat-out run as Zach pursued her.
Not even close to his version of what happened.
Micki glanced his way. He sat at his desk, buried in paperwork. They hadn’t spoken much; she’d been grateful for the space. To think things through. What he’d said. What he hadn’t said.
She’d decided there was a lot he hadn’t said. And she meant to find out just how much he’d been hiding from her.
Micki stood and crossed to his desk. She dropped the coroner’s findings in front of him. “Read it and weep, Hollywood.”
He studied the report. She watched as an angry flush climbed his cheeks. He lifted his gaze to hers. “I know what I saw. And it wasn’t a woman having a heart attack.”
“Medical examiner called it, dude. He found nothing to indicate anything other than death by natural causes.”
“She may have died because her heart stopped, but the reason it did was anything but natural.”
She lowered her voice. “And the perp was a pulsating shadow that appeared to be swallowing Knight. He picked you up and tossed you across the alley.”
“Nuts as it sounds, yeah. And I’ve got the bruises to prove it.” He lifted his shirt, revealing the bruises on his side.
The man sported a swoon-worthy six pack, which she would’ve taken a few more moments to appreciate if she wasn’t on a mission. “Are those supposed to prove something?”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, seriously. You could have gotten those anywhere.”
“But I didn’t.” He made a sound of frustration. “Brite Knight was murdered. And we’re just sitting here.”
“What do you suggest we do? Feds plucked the case out of our hands, you have orders to keep all your super-special powers super-secret, and I don’t have a huge urge to believe a partner who’s been playing games with me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Micki folded her arms across her chest. “Which part?”
“The game playing part.”
“Now, that just pisses me off.”