Personal Demons by Stacia Kane Page A

after you.”

Chapter Six
    M egan didn’t know if she should laugh or start crying. The man was obviously not well. But was his illness dangerous to her?
    â€œI see,” she finally said. “There are demons out there after me. Hmmm. I haven’t seen any, but I’ll keep my eyes open from now on, okay?”
    He pulled into her driveway and cut the engine. “You arrogant woman. You’re a psychic and you refuse to believe there might be supernatural beings living on earth?”
    Megan stiffened. “Psychic?”
    â€œCut the shit, Megan. You know it and I know it, just like I know you tried to read me the other night, just like I know you read your patients all the time.”
    She cleared her throat. Her eyes stung. “Why do you care?”
    Dante shifted in his seat. Megan, her eyes focused on the door of the glove compartment, only caught the movement out of the corner of her eye. “Looks like this will have to wait,” he said. “You have company.”
    Brian Stone stood near the front of the car, peering through the windshield with his arms folded. His lips were set in tight, thin lines.
    Megan picked up her purse. “This is not over.”
    â€œNot by a long shot.” He sounded as glum as she did. Brian would probably think they were having some kind of lovers’ spat. R ADIO C OUNSELOR C ANNOT H ANDLE S TRESS OF R OMANTIC R ELATIONSHIPS .
    Megan and Dante got out of the car like condemned prisoners who’d just finished their last meal.
    â€œHi, Brian.” She tried to sound cheerful and relaxed, but she suspected he wasn’t fooled. Or maybe he was just too angry to care.
    â€œCan I talk to you for a minute?”
    A negative reply was on the tip of her tongue, but she changed her mind and shrugged. He might as well. “Come in.”
    The three of them trooped up the steps to the porch, where the men waited and did that peculiar looking-at-the-sky thing like strangers in line at the ATM while she unlocked her door.
    She’d barely even turned on the lights when Brian grabbed her arm and steered her into the blue-gray kitchen. Dante walked past them, presumably into the living room but Megan didn’t trust him to stay there. Her bedroom was right off of it. It wouldn’t have surprised her one bit to find him nosing around in her drawers.
    Brian glanced over his shoulder to make sure Dante wasn’t lurking behind him. “Why didn’t you tell me, Megan?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œI know you aren’t crazy about this whole interview thing. But I’m a good journalist, and something like this was sure to come out. You should have told me.”
    â€œTold you what?” Her eyes shifted towards the living room.
    Brian followed her gaze, then looked back at her. “I got a email this evening, from an address I didn’t recognize.Normally I’d delete it as spam, but the subject line was your name, so I opened it.”
    â€œAnd?”
    He reached into his back pocket and pulled out two folded sheets of paper. Opening them, he handed her one.
    Dear Mr. Stone,
    I know you are writting about Megan Chase. Megan is a murderor. She don’t deserve your story.
    A Concerned Friend
    â€œOh my god.” The words left her lips before she realized it. She leaned against the countertop. The marble lip made a cool stripe across her back and soothed her. It felt real. Nothing else did.
    She cleared her throat and started to hand the paper back to him. “Some crazy, I guess.”
    He didn’t reply. Instead he handed her the other sheet.
    She took it with unsteady hands. It was a scan of a photocopy, she guessed from the slightly out-of-focus look of the page, but it was clear enough to read the headline: T EEN W ILL N OT F ACE C HARGES.
    Megan closed her eyes.
    â€œRead the article.”
    â€œI don’t need to read it,” she said. “You know I don’t.”
    â€œWhy