Loving Madison

Ten

Cameron shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. He wasn't embarrassed to be seen with the woman the other officers called insane, but mortified to think he'd sunk so low that he'd practically crawled back to Miss Haywood for help. Sadly enough, he was out of options, and she seemed like his only hope.

Her eyes widened before she broke into a loud laugh. "You must be joking."

Startled, he blinked curiously at her. That was the first time he'd heard her laugh, and although it was meant to be sarcastic, he actually liked the musical lift to her voice. "I'm most serious."

"Tell me," she said as her eyes twinkled, "exactly what kind of help are you referring to, Mr. Westland."

Inwardly, he groaned. She was going to make him say it. Bitterness coated his tongue as confusion clouded his thoughts once again. He'd never been so perplexed in his life, and although he'd solved many crimes in his career, trying to understand—and talk intelligently—with Miss Haywood disturbed him more than any of them.

"You were right about the man you saw in your vision. He was dead," he said softly.

He still believed she must have known about Mr. Bailey. That was the only thing that made sense to him. And if she knew Mr. Bailey, then was she trying to frame him in some way? He studied her expression closely. The humor on her face quickly left as a frown claimed her face.

"I'm so sorry to hear this."

His heart twisted. She appeared genuinely saddened, and he wasn't prepared for the sudden compassion that filled him. He had the sudden compulsion to take her in his arms and comfort her as if the loss of Mr. Bailey had meant a great deal to her. Ridiculous! This didn't make any sense to him.

How could he be attracted to this woman and have misgivings about her at the same time? He didn't believe in visions. She must have some way of making it seem so real. She must have a connection with Mr. Bailey. Right now...he needed to know what it was.

"Tell me, Miss Haywood, was there anything else you saw in your vision?" His voice tightened, and he hoped she wouldn't be able to tell how upset he was.

"No." She moved toward the window to open the drapes a little wider. "I told you everything. I recall the room was small and dark. I noticed part of the cot with the blanket laying on top, and a candle that was attached to the wall." She turned and faced him with concern in her eyes. "Was he your friend?"

"No. Just an acquaintance."

"I'm sad for his loss, nonetheless." She moved to the only cushioned chair that sat in this small room which was made to look like a sitting room. The only other pieces of furniture were a bookcase filled with books, a tall table, and a small desk. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the chair and ran her fingers across the white-laced doily that hung over the top.

He'd give anything to know her thoughts right now. But there had to be more in her vision...or more that she knew about the deceased. His whole world was crashing down around him and she might be the one with the answers. Frustration built as he searched for the best way to get information out of her. "Why did you have that vision after touching me?"

She arched one of her eyebrows. "I honestly don't know. I assumed it's because you had a strong connection to him."

Anger grew hot and fast inside of him. "Pardon me, Miss Haywood, but it sounds as if you are blaming me for his death."

She gasped and straightened. "You, sir, are putting words into my mouth. However, now that I think about it, with what has just happened, I do have doubts about your innocence. After all, I don't even know you."