Page 73 of Over the Edge

“You’re wondering if what I’ve told you has any basis in reality, aren’t you?” She popped a piece of the shortbread into her mouth, her posture taut.

Whatever other deficiencies she may have, her ability to read people was top-notch.

“I’m weighing the probabilities.”

She offered him the facsimile of a smile. “That’s a tactful way to put it. Do they teach diplomacy in detective school along with interrogation skills?”

“No. But according to my sisters, I would have benefitted from a class or two on that subject.”

As that admission spilled out, he frowned.

Why on earth had he mentioned his family? It had no relevance to the topic at hand.

Whatever his motivation, the information seemed to intrigue her.

“How many sisters do you have?”

“Two.”

“Older or younger?”

“One of each. Bri’s six months older, Cara’s six months younger.”

Lindsey’s forehead knotted. “I’m having trouble with that math.”

Oh yeah. Anyone who didn’t know his background would be confused.

“We’re foster siblings. Our foster parents took us in after we were pulled from bad situations. They ended up adopting us.” And that was all he was going to say on the subject. He’d already told her more than he told most people. “Let me ask you a few questions about what you saw on the killer’s arm.”

She hesitated, as if she wanted to delve deeper into his personal history, but in the end took his cue. “Okay.”

“Which arm was it on?” After pulling out his notebook and pen, he bit into his pasty.

“The right.”

“How big was it?”

“I don’t know. It started about three inches above the wrist and disappeared into the coat.”

“What color was it?”

“Dark blue or black.”

“Any other colors?”

“Not that I could see.”

“Can you give me any idea about the shape? Focus on the outline.”

Her eyelids fluttered closed, as if she was trying to visualize the mark, but at last she shook her head. “I can’t call up any detail. I do have an appointment with my psychologist later this afternoon, though. Do you want me to see if he has any techniques that could help me remember more—or determine if what I saw was even real?”

“It couldn’t hurt.” He closed his notebook and continued to eat while he processed all Lindsey had told him.

If what she’d seen was real, and if the killer did have a tattoo, this could be a huge break.

But those were two big ifs, especially in light of her bizarre experiences last week.

Maybe her psychologist would be able to dig out a few details that were buried in her psyche, however.

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