Page 61 of Counting Quarters

Chapter Twenty Six

Blaire

Kylehadanotherset of victim's clothing to show me, so we could attempt to make contact with their spirit. I was losing hope that any of them would remember the horrible things the Movement had done to them. The ways they defiled their bodies. But Kyle clung onto the idea that we only needed one to remember. To give us some semblance of an idea of where to look.

He led me through the station as he'd done three times before, only this time, no other officers were at their desks. It was well into the early morning hours by the time he peeled himself away from me to drive us through town and into the station. The lights were only on halfway, and save for Randy, the town drunk, mumbling in one of the holding cells, we were mostly alone.

Amy Bishop's spirit appeared with less force than the others had. Her small figure fizzled into the room, eyes wide and bouncing around.

“What's going on?” she asked, glancing at the table where her clothes lay.

Rayner's favorite spot to grab women was the Watchtower Tavern. I knew because most of his victims were either waitresses there, or were clad in skimpy clothing that suggested they were enjoying a night out when they were captured.

Amy was the latter, wearing a black cropped tank top and tight leather shorts with fishnet stockings. Her feet were clad in a pair of combat boots that apparently weren't a part of the Movement's disgusting animal display because they were the only part of her outfit that wasn't sitting on the table before us.

Once we got past the awkward, 'you're dead and we're trying to figure out why,' talk, Amy proved to be the most useful spirit we'd encountered.

And the most annoying.

“Do you remember anything about where you were taken?” Kyle asked, his usual optimism lacing his tone.

Amy thought for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I do. It was somewhere in the woods. Near the Forbes property. I remember thinking it was weird he took us out there, given how much he hated them.”

“Us?”

“Yeah, there were three of us taken. Me and my two friends were celebrating their bachelorette party. They had just gotten engaged.”

Me and Kyle shared an excited look. She actually remembered. This was huge.

“I wish I'd paid more attention to you when it mattered,” she purred, standing as close to Kyle as she could without misting through him.

I scowled at her. “Put your tongue back in your mouth.”

“I'd rather put it somewhere else.” She dropped her eyes to his crotch and smirked.

“Yeah, that's not how that works.”

“We'll make it work somehow.”

I looked to him for help, my eyes widening at her brazen attitude. “Why do they always flirt with you?” I whined.

He shrugged, his brows lifting as he started to answer before Amy cut him off.

“I think it's the uniform.” She dragged her hand over his chest, and it disappeared. “It doesn't leave much to the imagination.”

I quickly ended things with her after that. Kyle politely sent her on her way to wherever they went, and we closed up the evidence locker, making sure to leave everything just as we found it.

When we left the room, one of the younger officers sat at his desk with his back to us. I glanced over to Kyle's office and tugged his hand, not giving myself a chance to rethink my decision.

He stopped and turned to see what I was trying to say, then glanced back at the officer to remind me we weren't alone. I sucked my bottom lip into my mouth and raised a brow, challenging him.

His resolve didn't last long before he allowed me to lead him over to his office. With a quick glance back at the officer, who still hadn’t bothered to turn around, we slipped inside and quietly shut the door behind us with a soft, nearly inaudible click.

Three of the walls were made up of floor-to-ceiling glass windows looking into the station, while the back wall had a large window overlooking the empty parking lot. Blinds covered two of the interior walls and I assumed it was to stop the evening sun from shining on him, only leaving us exposed on two sides.

I looked over and saw the door to the evidence room we just came from, but the officer's desk had been on the other side of the station, currently blocked from view, as was Randy's cell.

“What are you doing?” Kyle whispered as I slowly shut the paper curtain to the small window on his door—the only spot we could be seen from.

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