Sizzle and Burn

her seriously. “I’m at fourteen Crescent Lane, the Tallentyre house. Tell whoever responds to bring a tool that can cut through a padlock. Hurry.”
    The woman refused to be rushed. “What’s wrong, ma’am?”
    “I just found a dead body.”
    She hung up before the operator could ask any more questions. When she closed the phone she realized that Doug was still standing at the foot of the stairs. His features were partially obscured by the shadows but she was pretty sure his mouth was hanging open. The poor man was obviously starting to realize that there were reasons why the other local real estate agents hadn’t jumped on the Tallentyre listing. He must have heard the rumors about Aunt Vella. Maybe he was starting to wonder if the crazy streak ran in the family. It was a legitimate question.
    Doug cleared his throat. “Are you sure you’re okay, Miss Tallentyre?”
    She gave him the smile she saved for situations like this, the special smile her assistant, Pandora, labeled her screw you smile.
    “No, but what else is new?” she said politely.

    The officer’s name was Bob Fulton. He was the hard-faced, no-nonsense, ex-military type. He came down the basement stairs with a large flashlight and a wicked-looking bolt cutter.
    “Where’s the body?” he asked, in a voice that said he had seen a number of them.
    “I’m not certain there is one,” Raine admitted. “But I think you’d better check that storage locker.”
    He looked at her with an expression she recognized immediately. It was the everyone-here-is-a-suspect-until-proven-otherwise expression that Bradley got when he was working a case.
    “Who are you?” Fulton asked.
    “Raine Tallentyre.”
    “Related to the crazy lady—uh, I mean to Vella Tallentyre?”
    “Her niece.”
    “Mind if I ask what you’re doing here today?”
    “I inherited this house,” she said coldly. He’d called Aunt Vella a crazy lady out loud. That meant she no longer had to be polite.
    Clearly sensing the mounting tension in the atmosphere, Doug stepped forward. “Doug Spicer, Officer. Spicer Properties. I don’t believe we’ve met. I came here with Miss Tallentyre today to take a listing on the place.”
    Fulton nodded. “Heard Vella Tallentyre had passed on. Sorry, ma’am.”
    “Thank you,” Raine said stiffly. “About that storage locker—”
    He studied the padlocked door and then glanced suspiciously at Raine. “What makes you think there’s a body in there?”
    She crossed her arms and went into full defense mode. She had known this was going to be difficult. It was so much simpler when Bradley handled this part, shielding her from derision and disbelief.
    “Just a feeling,” she said evenly.
    Fulton exhaled slowly. “Don’t tell me, let me guess. You think you’re psychic, just like your aunt, right?”
    She flashed him her special smile.
    “My aunt was psychic,” she said.
    Fulton’s bushy brows shot up. “Heard she ended up in a psychiatric hospital in Oriana.”
    “She did, mostly because no one believed her. Please open the locker, Officer. If it’s empty, I will apologize for wasting your time.”
    “You understand that if I do find a body in that locker, you’re going to have to answer a lot of questions down at the station.”
    “Trust me, I am well aware of that.”
    He searched her face. For a few seconds she thought he was going to argue further but whatever he saw in her expression silenced him. Without a word he turned to the storage locker and hoisted the bolt cutter.
    There was a sharp, metallic crunch when the hasp of the padlock severed. Fulton put down the tool and gripped the flashlight in his left hand. He reached for the doorknob with gloved fingers.
    The door opened on a groan of rusty hinges. Raine stopped breathing, afraid to look and equally afraid not to. She made herself look.
    A naked woman lay on the cold concrete floor. The one item of clothing in the vicinity was a heavy leather belt coiled like a snake beside her.
    The woman was bound hand and foot. Duct tape sealed her mouth. She appeared to be young, no more than eighteen or nineteen, and painfully thin. Tangled dark hair partially obscured her features.
    The only real surprise was that she was still alive.

Two
    K nives were always the worst. People did unpleasant things with them, and they did those things close up and in a very personal way.
    “I don’t like sharp objects,” Zack Jones said.
    He did not take his attention off the