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“Staring at me. I can’t read.”
His green eyes tightened into a frown. “Then can I see what you’ve read so far?” He held out his hand.
She started back reading. The first few pages didn’t offer anything new. Times, dates, what officer arrived at the scene. She passed Chase the page as soon as she finished. Then she came to the script of the 911 call.
Her heart stopped. She looked up. “My dad is the one who called 911,” she said. “He wasn’t unconscious the whole time.”
Chase stared at her, his eyes round with concern and maybe even fear. Only then did she feel the room’s temperature.
Only then did she realize he wasn’t looking at her.
She looked over her shoulder, and there behind her, a knife jutting out of her chest, was Bao Yu.
“Do you see,” the ghost said, tears running from her eyes. Reaching up, she pulled the knife out. Blood gushed from the wound.
She used the knife to point to the papers in Della’s hand.
Do you see? He wasn’t unconscious. He did this! He killed me!
“No,” Chase said. “Douglas Stone did it.”
Her aunt looked up at Chase. Fury rose in her eyes. She slung the knife. It sank into the mattress, right between Chase’s legs.
Della was pretty certain that the knife, a part of the vision, wasn’t real. It hadn’t been a real threat to Chase or his boys.
But judging by his pale expression, Chase didn’t see it that way.
Chapter Twenty-five
Where the hell was Burnett? Chase had even tried calling him, but he didn’t answer.
Della had left after they’d argued about letting Holiday attempt to get rid of the ghost.
An hour later, dressed, bored, and furious that he’d been put in timeout, he dropped back on the bed and tried to lower his blood pressure by petting Baxter. The dog rested at his side on the bed reveling in the attention.
When Baxter fell asleep, Chase got up. Still sitting on the sofa were the papers Burnett had brought about the FRU. Needing something to bide his time, he opened and read the contract and list of FRU rules. Rule number twenty-six, the one about every agent being self-motivated and responsible for deciding which risks to take was especially interesting, and one Chase stored away for his defense when Burnett decided to come and chew his ass out.
Looking at his cell for the hundredth time, he growled. Someone needed to go find Douglas Stone. Someone needed to find out what the council knew.
The fact that Douglas Stone had found him first pissed Chase off—for several reasons.
Was being here putting Della and the others at the camp in danger? He wanted to be close to her, but not at the expense of putting her in danger.
His thoughts were interrupted by footsteps moving toward the cabin. Heavy steps. Too heavy to be Della.
Thinking it was the person he dreaded seeing the most—Burnett—and not wanting to appear weak, he jackknifed out of bed and started to the door.
By the time the footsteps arrived at the porch, Chase caught the scent. Not Burnett, but another person he didn’t care to see.
Being beholden to someone never sat well with Chase.
He ran a hand through his hair and waited for Steve’s knock.
Steve stood on the porch, looking about as happy to be here as Chase was to have him here.
“I came to check your wounds.”
“It’s not necessary. I’m fine.”
