Page 76 of D for Dead

‘Okay, Vic, so you’ve never had a supernatural experience?’

‘No.’

‘Not even an odd experience or sensation you can’t explain. Like you’ve never put something down in one place, yet found it in another; or heard a weird sound or a whisper; caught sight of something out of the corner of your eye; felt the temperature of the room you’re in dip for no reason?’

‘Nope.’ Although it was another warm day, Vic was aware he had goosebumps on his arms. He didn’t believe in ghosts, but the idea of them still scared the crap out of him. He’d had to leave the light on all night after watching that Bruce Willis film with the kid who saw dead people.

‘What about when you’re asleep? Have you never woken up convinced there is someone in the room with you watching you while you sleep?’

‘Okay, enough.’ Feeling unnerved, he walked back into the kitchen, grabbed his coffee. Damn woman, spooking him like that. He wouldn’t sleep tonight now. He drew a deep breath, realising he looked a fool.

So much for winning her over with your big strong hero act, Vic, you idiot.

‘So you believe, then?’ he asked, trying to play down his outburst.

Amy shrugged. ‘Not necessarily. I’m not sure what I believe, to be honest, but I find it fascinating.’

She left Huckleberry with his rope toy, eyeing the mail on the table.

‘But you must believe if you’re writing about ghosts?’ Vic pushed.

‘I guess, maybe a little.’

She sounded distracted as she opened the two envelopes, pulled out what looked like bills and cast them to one side. She turned her attention to the package.

‘I don’t remember ordering anything.’

Vic watched as she tore open the bag, hoping to see something lacy or maybe silky come out. Maybe she’d ordered underwear and forgotten about it.

Instead, Amy pulled out a chain. A large pendant hung on the end and she held it up, a confused look on her face.

‘What have you got?’

Amy didn’t answer; her face had gone pale. Vic put down his cup and went to her.

‘Amy?’

It was then he noticed the deep red of the pendant.

‘It’s a vial.’ She turned to him, her expression calm, but her golden eyes betraying her with a brief flicker of fear. ‘It’s someone’s blood.’

Realising what she was holding, she put the pendant down on the table, took a step back from it.

Vic stared at the pendant. Was this for real? Had someone sent her a blood necklace?

Taking charge, he told her, ‘I need a rubber glove or a plastic bag.’

Without saying a word, Amy disappeared into the kitchen, returning seconds later with a pair of yellow rubber gloves. Vic glanced at them disdainfully before slipping one on. He picked up the package, holding it by one corner so as not to destroy any evidence. The postmark was local and the bag heavy: something still inside.

He shook it and a paperback and an envelope fell onto the table, both stained in blood. The cover of the book was barely visible, but he could tell it was another of Amy’s novels, Blood Crime.

He glanced at her briefly. She stood by, watching, clenching her hands and biting nervously on her bottom lip.

‘He’s killed again, hasn’t he?’

Vic didn’t answer her, instead turning his attention to the envelope. It wasn’t sealed and he carefully removed the card inside, laying it on the table. Typed words stared up at him from the bloody paper.

To Amy