The Seance by Heather Graham Page A

said he was hungry. He’d showered, and the smell of the autopsy room no longer seemed to fill his nostrils.
    But he couldn’t forget the dead woman or what had happened at the cemetery.
    Couldn’t forget that Christina Hardy was a beautiful redhead.
    He warned himself to get his thoughts under control. He couldn’t let himself become obsessed with this, couldn’t let it consume him and everyone around him.
    â€œSo how’s it going in jingle land?” he asked. “What’s your latest?”
    Her smile deepened as she played with the dial on the microwave. “‘Come to the Grand, walk on the sand, hear the steel band, sunsets and glory, the minute you land,’” she sang lightly.
    â€œThat was you? I hear it all the time,” he told her.
    â€œIt’s a great resort,” she told him. “I was given a comp weekend when I was hired, so I got to check it out for free. It’s one of those all-inclusive places. Really nice. You step out from your private bungalow right onto the beach.”
    â€œNice work if you can get it,” he teased.
    â€œAs long as I am working.”
    â€œWell, this place is worth a mint,” he told her.
    â€œI’d panhandle before I sold this house,” she assured him passionately, then seemed embarrassed by the emotion she had betrayed. She offered him a wry smile. “Hmm. And are you suggesting I won’t get work?”
    He laughed. “Never,” he vowed solemnly.
    The microwave beeped. She reached in for his plate, and he walked over to take it from her. The scent of barbecue was strong, but her perfume was more alluring. He remembered how, years ago, he had thought she was a pain in the butt and wished she and Ana would go away.
    Things certainly changed, he thought wryly.
    She smiled and brushed by on her way to get him a fork, knife and napkin. His muscles tightened. Hell, yes, things changed.
    Ana appeared in the kitchen. “Hurry up,” she said to Christina. “You’re the only one who can make that stupid Ouija board work.”
    â€œI wasn’t doing anything,” Christina protested.
    Jed felt his muscles tighten again, and not in a good way.
    â€œBeau Kidd?” he said to Christina.
    She flushed. “I swear, I didn’t make it do anything,” she protested.
    â€œWhatever you say,” he said curtly.
    He hadn’t meant to be so brusque. She barely moved, but he could feel her stiffen from across the room.
    â€œIt’s just that I worry, okay?”
    She sighed. “I know. I’m a redhead.”
    â€œA beautiful redhead,” he told her, trying to atone.
    â€œI’m a big kid, and I’ve lived on my own for a long time now. I don’t do stupid things.”
    â€œDon’t assume that all victims are stupid.”
    â€œI’m not. But I am careful,” she told him. “Really.” She was irritated. Why not? It was a good cover-up for being frightened.
    She walked out of the kitchen, toward the parlor. He followed her, keeping his distance and stopping in the doorway.
    â€œYou made that name—Beau Kidd—appear,” Mike said, staring accusingly at Christina.
    â€œI sure as hell didn’t,” she replied, and her voice betrayed her annoyance. “Twelve years ago, I was thirteen and my mom turned the news off every time something came on TV that she thought I shouldn’t know about. In fact, my parents used to argue about it. My dad thought I needed to be aware of what was going on in the world, but my mom just thought I was too young to know some things—no, a lot of things.”
    â€œYou still must have heard the name,” Dan said. He was sitting on the floor, back against the wall, arms folded over his knees.
    â€œI’m sure I did, but a lot has happened since then, in my life and in the world,” she informed him, her tone irritated. “I didn’t move the