Dangerous to Touch by Jill Sorenson Read Free Book Online Page A

staircase. He’d set her up on purpose by giving her an article of clothing that belonged to Detective Lacy, not Candace Hegel. The attempt to prove her false had backfired, yet Sidney was the one wallowing in humiliation.
    When she’d held the slippery fabric in her hands, a thrill had raced through her, as undeniable as any of the emotions she channeled secondhand. She’d felt the scarf trailing over her naked body, followed by a woman’s eager mouth, and she’d responded.
    She couldn’t believe how she’d responded. Intensely aware of his presence, even while under the sensual spell, she had mistakenly assumed she was witnessing a
ménage à trois
between Lieutenant Cruz, Detective Lacy, and another woman.
    The very idea of it heated her cheeks.
    Equally embarrassed, Detective Lacy had made her excuses, leaving Sidney to complete whatever sinister task Lieutenant Cruz had in store for her. They stopped in front of a heavy door marked Morgue.
    “Oh, no,” she said, shaking her head.
    “Oh, yes,” he countered. “You’re going to use that psychic touch on Candace Hegel.”
    “No,” she repeated, shivering. This morning’s chill was back with reinforcements.
    “I still have that arrest warrant, if all else fails,” he warned.
    “Have you ever heard of a body cavity search, Miss Morrow? It’s very invasive, I assure you. Especially for someone as sensitive as you.”
    Fury washed over her. “You are such a bastard,” she said.
    A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he made no reply as he unlocked the door. Leading her into the depths of the cavernous interior, he located a metal locker and pulled out the horizontal drawer. Before she could turn away, he unzipped the body bag.
    Sidney felt the color drain from her face.
    “What do you want? Her hand?” With callous indifference, he opened the bag further, exposing a woman’s head and upper torso.
    It was Sidney’s first glimpse of death.
    Candace Hegel’s attractive features were slack, robbed of beauty, devoid of expression. Her naked chest was bisected with a hideous, Y-shaped incision, and with no oxygenated blood pumping through her body, her skin was strangely discolored. Her lips were dark and her areolae an odd purplish-gray. She looked…cold.
    Taking the corpse’s pale, limp hand away from her side, Marc held it out toward Sidney, his expression inscrutable.
    Her eyes filled with tears as she pressed the dead flesh between her two palms.
    With no warning, cold enveloped her, encompassed her, consumed her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Pain exploded inside her head, a quick flash, and she sank heavily into the darkness
.
    Marc caught her as she fell.
    He couldn’t believe she’d actually held her breath until she passed out-what kind of grown woman would resort to such extreme measures? Laying her out on the floor carefully, he reevaluated her motives. Maybe she was just a sad, lonely basket case, one who truly believed she had special powers.
    However she’d come by her information, he couldn’t imagine her hurting anyone, and she didn’t deserve to be treated this way. He rarely used cruelty as an investigative technique, and had to admit his motivations for doing so now were more about his personal bias than about her.
    In his opinion, psychics were little better than vultures, picking on the bones of the bereaved. Because of people like her, his mother was still trying to communicate with his father via the spirit world. She couldn’t let go of him, a man who hadn’t been worthy of her affection while he’d been alive.
    It drove Marc crazy, thinking about all the time she spent chasing ghosts. Walking down dark alleyways and being ushered into back rooms. Paying money in exchange for lies.
    Clenching his jaw in annoyance, he stared down at Sidney’s chalk-white face, waiting for her to resume breathing. She didn’t. After falling unconscious, the body’s natural inclination was to kick up the oxygen, yet