Her green eyes snapped. "The man's slime. Educated, suave, filthy rich and slime."

"Any vibes?"

She shook her head reluctantly. "I find it hard to meld minds with someone like him. I couldn't decipher much other than sensing he knows a lot more than he's telling us. That much I could read. And he didn't give a damn about his wife. Just her money. He's having a hot and heavy affair with Miss USA back there and it's been going on for years."

"Ah... the infamous other woman."

"Yeah," she said, viciously pushing the elevator button, "a woman at home to keep him in the style he's accustomed to and the lady at work giving him the sex. Nice set up."

"Most men wouldn't complain."

She rounded on him as the elevator doors opened. "Why you..."

He hushed her with a finger to her lips, pushing her into the empty car. "Just kidding. It's just hard not to tease you when you get that Irish up."

She tried to give him a dirty look and ended up laughing, patting her auburn curls. "Guess it's hard to hide my ancestry, isn't it?"

"If the hair didn't give you away, the temper would."

She pushed the button for the bottom floor. "What temper?" she asked innocently, raising a brow.

"The one that goes with those green eyes," he said brushing a thumb across her cheek.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about."

"I'll bet." He grinned as he followed her into the lobby. "Where to next?"

"The police station. I want to read the report and then visit the crime scene."

"All right, the police station it is. Got any idea where it's located?" he asked as he opened the door for her.

"About two blocks north of here on the right."

"I see you did your homework."

She shook her head. "Not this time. I've been in the city before and what's even better is I know the chief of police. We're related, as it happens."

"You're kidding."

"Nope," she said flippantly, sliding into the car. "Uncle Brian is a sweetie."

The giant of a man that stood to greet them ten minutes later was the farthest thing from a ‘sweetie' that Brad could think of. About fifty years old, with gray-winged black hair and a no-nonsense demeanor and the kind of eyes that could make a grown man cower. Those steel grey eyes softened immediately, however, when he caught sight of the woman standing next to him.

"Alex!" he said warmly, coming around the desk to lift her up, spinning her around. "How's my best girl?"

"I'm fine, Uncle Brian," she said, kissing his cheek then turning in his arms to introduce Brad.

The handshake was firm, his gaze scanning him from head to toe. "Name is familiar. Have we met?"

"Not that I'm aware of, sir."

"Brad Norton," he repeated thoughtfully and then his brow suddenly cleared. "My daughter had an alarm system installed last year. Lives near Charleston. The company was Norton Securities. You that Norton?"

Brad glanced at Alex, not exactly sure where the conversation was going. "Yes sir, I own a security business in Charleston."

The gray eyes warmed a few more degrees. "Nice unit you put in. I inspected it myself."

"That's our goal. To be the best of the best."

He motioned for both of them to sit, glancing at Alex. "You know how stubborn Maureen is, Alex." His gaze flipped back toward Brad. "My daughter is into renovation big time. This is the second old house she's bought with plans to restore it. Great idea. Problem is, it's not in the best of neighborhoods. Now, with a dog and a quality alarm system, at least I have some semblance of piece of mind."

Alex leaned over to pat her uncle's hand, glancing at Brad. "Not to mention the fact that she has a black belt in judo and handles a gun like an expert. If I were any robber, I'd be afraid, very afraid."

Brian laughed, easing back in his chair. "She always was a sassy one," he muttered aside to Brad.

"So I've noticed," Brad muttered back, relaxing.

Alex's lips twitched. "Just what I need, the dreaded male bonding."

"It's a survival thing," her uncle said, winking at Brad.

"Okay, if you two are done, let's get down to business. Uncle Brian, what do you know about the Ferron murder?"

Her uncle immediately sobered, gray eyes hardening. "I know it wasn't what it appeared to be, if that's what you're asking."

"Why do you say that?" Alex asked, catching Brad's eye.

He uncle stood and walked over to a file cabinet, pulling a folder out and tossing it on the desk. "This one still irks me. Prominent woman, well-liked, with no reason to be deep in the factory district after business hours. No robberies reported, no gangs in the area, nothing that would indicate she was the victim of a stray bullet."

"So what do you think happened?" Alex asked.

"I think it was a hit."

She smiled grimly. "We've come to the same conclusion."

Her uncle looked at her in surprise. "What do you know about Anna Ferron?"

"Not a lot. That's why we're here."

Her uncle leaned against the filing cabinet, crossing his massive arms. "Want to tell me why you're interested in a murder that happened miles from your home almost a year ago?"

"My aunt was killed in the same way not more than six months later in a suburb of Charleston," Brian said. "And, like you, we don't think the reason for her death was as cut and dried as it appeared."

"Ellie Lloyd. I remember the case. You have my sympathy, for what it's worth," he finished quietly.

Brad was touched at the sincerity he saw in the man's gaze. "Thank you."

"You think the two cases are related?"

"We think the six cases are related," Alex said.

Brian raised an eyebrow, pulling his chair out and sitting once again. "What six cases?"

When Alex was finished, her uncle just sat with hands folded for a moment. "Other than that all of them were killed by a drive-by, what else do you have?"

"Not much," she said. "However, right before we left, one of my contacts discovered something very interesting. Anna Ferron met with several well-known divorce attorneys about a month before she was killed. Even went so far as to begin proceedings."

"Did you find out what grounds she was suing for?"

She shook her head. "No but I will, believe me. Just his multiple affairs would be grounds enough in my mind."

"I gather you couldn't convince the local authorities of any connection?" he asked Brad.

"Not with what we have at present."

"Then what makes you think there is more?"

Brad weighed his answer, liking the steady gaze of the older man. "Because I've got this gut feeling that my aunt was killed for a reason that is much more sinister than an accidental shooting. Like the Ferron woman, she was murdered with one bullet, perfectly placed." He paused, fighting the familiar emotion. "One death like that maybe, two, suspect, and more than that tells me there's a killer on the loose."

"You feel the same way?" Brian asked Alex.

"I do."

He leaned back in his chair, nodding. "I like people with convictions. As it happens, I think you're on the right track."

"Uncle Brian, is there anything that you discovered during your investigation that might give us any clues that this isn't what it seemed?"

He opened the folder in front of him. "Here's what we've got and it isn't much. Anna Steadman Ferron, victim. Age forty-two. Only child of the very wealthy Ronald and Cheryl Steadman, deceased. Worth on the order of two-hundred-fifty million dollars, give or take some change. Ran the business with an iron-in-velvet glove. Well-liked by her employees, active in local charities and politics." The picture he placed in front of them was of an attractive brunette with a pleasant smile and a chic kind of look that said money.

"Any enemies?" Alex asked, picking up the photograph.

"Not that we could find."

"What about Russell Ferron?" Brad asked.

"He is a different story," Brian said dryly. "Loves to flaunt his wealth. Fancy cars and suits, first class restaurants and hotels. We investigated him thoroughly. Didn't find anything. No prenuptial agreement, so money wasn't a motive. Had a few affairs that his wife apparently knew nothing of and there were plenty of people who didn't like him. We interviewed several family members who said the marriage wasn't all wine and roses, no matter how Mrs. Ferron strived to make it appear so."

"Why?"

Brian flicked through some papers in the file and pulled one out, handing it to Brad. "That's a list of people who overheard the couple, on several occasions, argue loudly. Not one of them could give us the gist of what they were arguing about, however."

Alex glanced at the list in Brad's hand and shook her head. "Unfortunately, Uncle Brian, couples argue all the time."

"Not at black tie affairs. As in plural. Apparently Anna Steadman Ferron wasn't the type to air dirty laundry in public, so it stuck in their minds."

"Could be she discovered his affair or affairs and called him on it," Alex said thoughtfully. "People go to those parties to trade gossip, especially in the tier of society they mingled with."

"According to the people we interviewed, they appeared to be the perfect married couple until about six months before her death. That's when the arguments started."

"How did Ferron act when the police interviewed him?"

"Put on a very good act, playing the grieving husband complete with tears."

"Why do you think it was an act?" Alex asked.

"Because I had him followed. According to our investigation, he went directly to his little receptionist's apartment—a very expensive apartment, I might add—and didn't surface until the next afternoon. Ordered dinner and champagne from room service, according to my detective."

"Drowned his grief in sex and booze," Alex said dryly.

"Or celebrated ridding himself of a problem," her uncle said succinctly.

"Did you subpoena his banking records?"

"We did. Nothing we could find that indicated a payoff, but then again it's easy to hide cash expenditure when you're loaded like our Mr. Ferron is."

"Anyone witness the shooting?" Brad asked.

Brian shook his head. "There were a few people who came forward saying they were working late and heard the gunshot, but no one saw anything."

"How about phone records?" Alex asked. "Anyone call her close to the time she was shot?"

"We examined home as well as cell phone records. She was killed around seven p.m. We identified every one of the callers for two hours before as well as those who left messages on her cell phone afterwards. None raised a red flag."

"If money wasn't the motive then what was?"

"That's the million dollar question, honey. Without that answer, the woman's death appears to be just what the investigation was forced to say it was."

Alex stood, pacing. "There's something we're missing. A connection that has nothing to do with what we've discovered thus far. I feel it."

Brian exchanged looks with Brad. "Define feel."

She stopped pacing, picking up the folder. "Someone on this list has the clue we need. He or she just doesn't know it yet." She glanced at her uncle. "Can I have a copy of this?"

He nodded, taking it over to the machine, glancing at Brad as he waited. "You know about her clairvoyance?"

"He knows," Alex said, taking the copy he handed her.

"Good. Listen to her."

"I intend to," Brad said, rising as well and offering his hand.

"Smart man," the chief said, shaking it firmly. "Mix a Delaney with a Leahy and you've got some powerful magic. Wish I had inherited more." He grimaced, putting the Steadman file back in the cabinet.

Brad's eyes narrowed. "Powerful what?"

Brian quickly glanced at Alex, catching the slight shake of her head.

"Come on, Brad. I want to see the murder scene before it gets dark. Uncle Brian, can you give us directions?"

He nodded, jotting them down on a piece of paper and handing it to her. "The victim was found in her car directly in front of the steel supply company at that address." He frowned. "Watch yourselves. If this was a hit as I suspect, there's someone out there that isn't going to be too happy about you poking around."

"We will," Alex said, tucking the paper in her purse. "Besides, that's already been made perfectly clear on the way down here. We were followed."

Her uncle raised a brow. "You sure?"

"Positive. We managed to lose him but that only makes what we believe even more credible. You have my cell and office phone numbers, Uncle Brian. Anything you find that might help us please call me."

"Sure will, honey."

She reached up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek and he wrapped her in a bear hug. "You be careful, you hear me! Tell your family I'll be in touch soon."

"I will."

Alex opened her purse and pulled the directions out as Brad held the door open for her. Together they walked into the sunshine. Alex slid into the car, studying the map. "You need to take the next road on the right according to this," she said. When he didn't respond, she glanced over at him and found him staring at her. "What?"

He shifted in his seat, meeting her gaze squarely. "Powerful magic?"

She should have known he wouldn't let that comment go, she thought. "You sure you want to hear the explanation?" she asked candidly.

His eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Because you're not one to believe in things that aren't in black and white."

"I'll keep an open mind."

A horn sounded behind them and Brad put the car in gear, pulling into the street and around the corner to a fast food restaurant. "Feel like a cup of coffee?"

Glancing at the setting sun, she nodded. "Sure, as long as we don't take too long."

Moments later they were settled in a booth toward the back. Alex took a sip of her coffee and then tilted her head at Brad, contemplating the best way to start.

"Do you believe in magic, Brad?"

He didn't hurry his answer. "No, at least not in the way I think you mean. As you said, I deal in the day-to-day stark reality of life. That's what I do. Protect people from the bad men and women surrounding them. Nothing magical in that."

She shook her head sadly. "You don't know what I'm actually asking, do you?"

"I thought I did. Why don't you explain it?"

"All right, I'll try. My ancestry comes from Ireland on both sides." She smiled, fingering a red curl. "Magic is as much a part of my background as living and breathing. You've read it in the literature and seen the movies. You know, leprechauns, pots of gold at the end of the rainbow, and banshees. Things we love to speculate about, set aside a day to celebrate. Yet, folklore always has some basis, some reason for being."

"You're not going to tell me that there really are little men running around Ireland, are you?"

"I've never seen one but that doesn't mean that they don't exist."

"Come on, Alex. You're kidding right?"

"Actually I'm not, but I refuse to discuss that right now. I have a feeling if I did you and I would end up fighting." She took another sip of her coffee to calm her temper and then slid her gaze back to his. "Uncle Brian is right. When my mother and father married, their combined backgrounds served to heighten the gene pool. My sister and brother, as a result, have varying degrees of, shall we say, magic."

"What kind of magic?"

"I'm clairvoyant and I also have the power to heal. Alan has the ability to move objects and Alicia is remarkably adept at sending mental suggestions. Unfortunately, my twin brothers didn't inherit any powers. My father says that was because they split the genes at birth and rendered them inactive."

"Alex, do you know how hard it is to believe all this? Psychics are one thing, but magic?" He shook his head. "I don't know."

She sighed. "I guess if I were in your position, it would seem somewhat implausible. But it isn't, Brad. Uncle Brian knows it and so do the rest of my relatives." She stood, tossing her coffee cup into a nearby trash can. "Right now, it doesn't really matter. We've got more important things to worry about, like visiting that crime scene while it's still light."

He stood as well, obviously uncomfortable with what she had just told him. That, she could understand. However, the cynicism she sensed underneath made her blood boil.

"Nothing is impossible if you are open-minded, Brad," she said through clenched teeth. "I'm just not sure you're capable of that."

She walked out the door, leaving him standing there with his cup still in his hand. He tossed it viciously in the garbage and strode after her, reaching her just as she opened the car door. He spun her around.

"Listen, lady, you don't know what I'm capable of. Hell, you don't even know me. You give me some cock-and-bull story about magic and gene pools and I'm supposed to just accept it at face value?"

"I don't give a damn what you accept," she snapped. "I don't lie and if you have a problem with that, then so be it. Now get in the damn car and drive." She slammed the door so hard the windows shook.