Murder isn’t always committed with magic unless a witch is involved.
Detective Reid Sanders doesn’t believe in the supernatural, but when he’s faced with a crime scene that defies the laws of nature, he has no other choice but to start believing. And solving a magical murder involves working with a witch.
Liberty Sawyer embodies the look of your classic evil witch, so, it’s no surprise when she uncovers the murderer is a witch that she becomes Reid’s number one suspect. If she can’t convince him otherwise, more people could lose their lives to dark magic, including her.
Showing her badge to the officer, she slipped under the crime scene tape. A few paces away, she spotted Detective Corbin talking to his new partner, a man she knew by name but hadn’t had the privilege of meeting yet.
“I cannot believe you called her,” the new man was saying when she came up behind them. “We don’t need a damn psychic!”
“Actually, I’m a witch.” She smiled when Reid jolted and turned to face her. “I’m Detective Liberty Sawyer.” She stuck out her hand.
“Detective Reid Sanders,” he grunted back and took her hand.
The feel of his palm against hers sent tingles of lust from the tips of her fingers to her shoulder blade, and she knew he felt it too by the way he jerked his hand back. She winked at him playfully, hoping it would unnerve him even more. Satisfied, she turned to Keith who greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s been a long time, Libby.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I’ve been awfully busy with my other cases. How is everyone?”
“Good. Or at least I think so. I haven’t seen Celeta much since she moved across town six months ago. I worry about her being alone. She seems to be withdrawing from the family.”
“That’s normal for most twenty-somethings trying to find their place in the world. I haven’t talked to her in a while myself, so I’ll give her a call in the morning.”
“I think that’ll help. Thanks.”
Reid stepped forward, impatience etched on his face with a frown. “Now that the two of you have had time to catch up, can we get to this crime scene?”
“Absolutely.” Libby stepped around him and headed for the front door where she paused to lay her gloved hands against it. Beneath her palms, she could feel a gentle vibration within the core of the door.
“There’s no sign of forced entry, is there?”
“No, there isn’t,” Keith said. “How do you know?”
“Because the perpetrator walked through the front door.”
About the Author & Links:
Chrys Fey is the author of the Disaster Crimes Series, a unique concept blending romance, crimes, and disasters. She’s an administrator for the Insecure Writer’s Support Group, running their newsletter and book club. She’s also an editor for Dancing Lemur Press.
Fey realized she wanted to write by watching her mother pursue publication. At the age of twelve, she started her first novel, which flourished into a series she later rewrote at seventeen.
Fey lives in Florida and is always on the lookout for hurricanes. She has four cats and three nephews, both keep her entertained with their antics.