PsyCop 1: Among the Living by Jordan Castillo Price

was that other detective? He your new partner?”
    “Temporarily. He works for another precinct and he’s already got a partner.”
    “That’s too bad. He seemed like a good cop.”
    I found a black T-shirt in my closet that I’d accidentally bought a size too large and never worn, and tossed it into the bathroom while averting my eyes. Then I brewed some double-strong coffee and wondered if Lisa would have the stomach for chicken pot pies for breakfast. Probably not. We’d need to eat out.
    Lisa emerged from the steamy bathroom with the end of a tight braid pinched between her fingers. My T-shirt was stretched taut on her, making her seem chestier than she’d looked in a suit. “Got a rubber band?”
    “Um…doorknob.”
    Lisa found a band and wrapped it around the end of her braid.
    “How’s your power today?” I asked her.
    “I dunno.” She sat on the second stool and took the cup of black coffee I handed her. “I think it’s coming back. Answers pop into my mind when I ask questions, but I don’t feel so sure of them.”
    “It comes back gradually,” I said. “We’re people. You can’t turn us on and off like TV sets.”
    Lisa sipped her coffee and winced. “You really gotta clean out your coffee pot.”
    “Put some cream in there, you won’t notice it so much.” Lisa attempted to gag some coffee down while I slid a couple of aspirin her way. “If you want, I can take you somewhere with decent coffee.”
    Lisa peered at me suspiciously.
    “Where the second murder victim just happened to be hanging out the night of his death,” I added.
    Lisa’s eyes went wide. “You can’t do that, Vic. You’ll get in trouble bringing me in on the case while I’m suspended.”
    “But we’re just going out for a little coffee,” I protested.
    Lisa looked into her cup. “The second crime scene—all covered with mirrors like the first one?”
    I nodded.
    “Those poor boys,” she said, getting up to dump her coffee into the sink. That seemed like an odd thing to say, considering that they were probably about her age, but I didn’t remark on it.
    A kid with a pierced eyebrow was working the counter and I was relieved that I didn’t have to deal with the gum-chewing girl who’d seen me talking with the dead guy. I got a latte and a chocolate chip bagel while Lisa just ordered a black coffee, extra tall. “Let’s sit over here,” I said, carrying our coffees to a table while balancing my bagel in the crook of my arm. I gestured toward a table in front with a tilt of my head. “That’s where the second victim supposedly had chai with Darth Vader.”
    “And a dead witness told you this,” said Lisa. She peeled off the lid and blew on her coffee. “Dead guys ever lie?”
    “Why don’t I ask you, Miss sí-no . Do dead guys ever lie?”
    Lisa grinned. “Yes.”
    “And they get their stories all mixed up, too,” I told her. “They’re just as thick as the living. Sometimes worse, since they get stuck in these crazy ruts and keep repeating themselves.”
    She wrinkled her nose. “You hear any dead people talking now?”
    I shifted my focus but the room felt quiet. “Not now. But this is a new building. The older ones almost always have someone hanging around. It’s worse at night.”
    “No wonder you take Auracel. Once I took that pill and the sí-no was gone, I felt kinda lonely. I couldn’t figure out why you’d want to get rid of your power—unless it stopped you from doing your job. But I guess it’s pretty different from mine.”
    “And how could you ever think that a talent like sí-no would stop you from doing yours? You put yourself in some hot water by applying to be a PsyCop. If you’d just stayed in the regular force, you’d probably make detective with the first opening. What were you thinking?”
    Lisa slouched against the back of her chair. “The sí-no told me to. I saw the job posted in the breakroom, with about a hundred others. PsyCops, they’re still pretty novel