Page 19 of Shiver

Chapter 8

“Who?”Riley asked, at once filled with hope that they were finally getting somewhere. “Who ishe?”

Devra released his shirt and dropped her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know.”

Riley blew out a frustrated sigh. He didn’t have time for this, not the patience nor the energy.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her eyes beseeching him to do just that. “Everyone thought it was me, and sometimes I believed it myself. But deep down, I knew it couldn’t have been me. No matter what they all thought, they were wrong. The locket proves that.” She stood and gestured toward the gooey mess on the floor. “So does this.”

Riley needed a shower to clear the grit out of his eyes and a pot of strong coffee for the cobwebs in his head. Then, and only then, would he have a minuscule chance of figuring out what in the hell she was babbling about? “Can we just slow this boat down, back up, and try again?” He held up the typed pages. “Let’s start with these.”

She stared at the papers. “Yes, those. Well…”

He waited for an eternity. “I’m drowning here.”

She looked him in the eye and stated matter-of-factly, “I have dreams.”

He took another deep breath and slowly let it out before responding. “Yes, don’t we all.”

“No, I mean I havedreams.” Her blue eyes locked onto his as she emphasized the word.

“The water’s real muddy over here. I’m not following.”

She took the papers from his hand and held them up. “I had this dream last night.”

He looked from her, to the papers, then back to her again.

“It’s true,” she insisted.

“You expect me to believe you dreamed Michelle’s death in precise detail, then typed it all down?

“Yes.”

He’d heard of cases like this. Who hadn’t? Every other shop in the Quarter spouted a voodoo priestess, palm reader, or some other psychic brouhaha. New Orleans was a mecca for paranormal nutcases. He’d never put much stock in them before and he certainly wasn’t hearing anything that would convince him to now. He shook his head. “I don’t know where to go with this. Your story’s a little over the top, even for New Orleans. Let’s stick with the facts.”

“How could I have given Michelle my locket if I didn’t even have it?” she insisted.

“How can I be sure you didn’t?”

Her eyes rolled heavenward. “Because Joey, the little boy at the hospital, gave it to a man claiming to be my friend. I told you this already.”

“We’re still checking on that.” He made a mental note to call Tony and have him talk to Joey and the nurse.

“Then there’s this.” Again, she gestured toward the mess on the floor.

“It’s some kids’ idea of a prank,” he countered.

“No, it’s not,” she insisted. “Raspberries were Tommy’s favorite fruit. Whoever did this knew that they knew about Tommy.”

Riley groaned in exasperation. “Who the hell is Tommy?”

“Tommy is the boy I didn’t kill!”

Riley dropped his head and gave it a shake. This just kept getting better and better.

* * *

Devra could tellhe didn’t believe a word she said. Doubt and suspicion were all he could see, all he could feel. Why had she thought he’d be any different than the others? To this day, the whole town of Rosemont, Washington, population twelve hundred and fifty-four, still believed she killed Tommy Marshall, including her own parents.

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