A Siren's Song (Ride of the Darkyrie 2) by Saranna DeWylde Page A

smile. Let him believe I bought into his bullshit.
                  “Officer Hill, truthfully, I didn’t expect you.”
                  Whenever someone added “truthfully” on to any statement, it was the first cue that everything else coming out of their mouth would be anything but truthful.
                  He was trying to hide something.
                  So I pushed past him like I’d been invited and I noticed the house place smelled of chocolate chip cookies.
                  “That smells wonderful.”
                  “My wife bakes cookies every other day to keep the place smelling so homey.”
                  “That’s kind of her. I bet she misses doing those things for Angela and Kelly.”
                  “She does. Cries herself to sleep every night. I just can’t stand what this has done to our family.”
                  “I’m sure.” I nodded. “So, what is it you think will help Angela?”
                  “Coming home.”
                  “Baby steps, Dr. Larkin. You know how the system works.” I wandered into his office and sat down in an overstuffed leather chair. There were the usual diplomas and certifications hanging on the wall. A picture of Angela, Kelly, their mother and Larkin.
                  Angela told me about long, torturous hours spent in this room. Being forced to submit to Larkin was one thing, but Angela made it sound like there was something even more horrible about the room. Some proof of Larkin’s depravity.
                  I opened myself up and reached for that silver cord that was his distinct aberration. He was so arrogant, so secure in the world he’d built himself. He was confident that no one would ever believe a girl over him—the esteemed country club shrink. Angela represented innocence, something he wanted to reclaim. He’d have to cleanse her, scrub her—I blocked those thoughts. I already knew what he was capable of with her.
                  Using my gift, I began unraveling the cord, looking for the fibers that wove it together. Kelly hadn’t been his first, there was nothing special about her, except she felt…present. Not a spirit, but…the gleam of the hourglass on his desk caught my attention. I picked it up.
                  It was white and smooth, like ivory. But it wasn’t ivory and the grains in the glass weren’t sand.
                  It was made of bone and dust. Kelly .
                  “An unusual piece,” I commented in a casual tone.
                  “I keep different things on my desk to engage my patients. Sometimes it helps them feel more at ease about the process.”
                  I smiled at him. “Ensures compliance?”
                  He returned the smile. “Exactly.”
                  “I see.” I placed the hourglass back on his desk.
                  “Do you?”
                  “I do, Dr. Larkin. I really do.”
                  “Call me James.”
                  My muscles coiled tight and I was a King Cobra ready to strike, until the scent of jasmine drifted over me. The small, white trumpet shaped flowers mocked me from their position on table by the door. There was a card on a stick that had been jammed into the dirt as if they’d just been delivered.
                  “Jasmine?” I asked.
                  “Do you like it?”
                  “Some days more than others.” Was Larkin the Capri killer?
                  “Someone sent them to my wife. A secret admirer.”
                  “A secret admirer or are you trying to be romantic?”
                  “I wish I’d thought of it, actually. She’s been through so