Mind Sweeper by AE Jones Page B

severed head? And why would someone be willing to pay a large amount of money for it?” Dalton persisted.
    “Maybe they want what’s in it?” Doc suggested.
    “Brains?” I grimaced.
    “No, memories. Hampton used straends on someone to extract information. It makes sense, then, that Hampton would have that information in his memory. Misha, correct me if I’m wrong on this, but I’ve heard stories over the years that certain demons have the ability to extract memories from other beings. True?”
    Misha frowned. “I’ve heard rumors of pulling memories from people, yes. But from a dead vampire?”
    I interrupted. “Could whatever stopped Byron’s heart also be able to pull memories from a head?”
    “Maybe,” Misha agreed.
    Dalton nodded. “So we need to find the head first.”
    And, I thought, we needed to find out what this vamp knew that could trigger an apocalyptic power struggle.

Chapter 9

    Dolly handed me a message before Dalton and I made it two steps into the office. Tim Connor had called. I cringed. I had offered to help his daughter, Trina, forget a horrible experience, but he had not trusted me at the time. Now a couple of weeks had passed. Since he was calling, that meant things were not going well.
    Dolly bit nervously at her lower lip. She was aware of the case, since the family were shifters.
    “Where’s Jean Luc?”
    “He’s in his office. I’ll let him know that you need him to go with you.” Dolly got up and walked into the back room.
    “What’s going on?” Dalton asked.
    “I’ve got to handle something concerning a previous case. I need Jean Luc to come with me.”
    “Do you need help?”
    “No, you can’t help with this.” I watched his jaw set and plowed on before he could argue. “It’s a sensitive case, and the family doesn’t trust outsiders.”
    “No problem. I’ll stay here with Misha and help go through the computer files.”
    Jean Luc and I took the shoreway to the burbs. He drove past Trina’s school and followed the streets she used to walk home so I could become familiar with them. After a few minutes, we pulled up in front of a two-story Tudor house with a well-kept lawn. The American dream.
    We walked up to the house and, before I could ring the bell, the door opened. Tim Connor’s wife, Stephanie, stood in the doorway. I bit my tongue to stop from gasping. I had met her two weeks ago, and since then she had aged ten years. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail, accenting her haunted green eyes.
    I nodded at her. “Stephanie.”
    “Thank you for coming.” She stepped back, inviting us into the foyer. “Tim is in his office.”
    We followed her through the hall to a door on the far right. Connor sat behind his desk staring out the back window. His wife walked over and rested her hand on his shoulder, practically whispering his name, as if afraid to startle him.
    “Tim, they’re here.”
    He turned toward us, looking even more worn down than his wife. “Jean Luc, Ms. McKinley.”
    We sat down across from his desk, while his wife remained standing behind him, her hand still resting on his shoulder. Where Stephanie was blonde and fair, Tim was dark, with brown hair and eyes.
    “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
    I leaned forward. “How’s Trina?”
    He swallowed hard. “She’s not well. She’s haunted by the memory of that man and what he threatened to do to her.”
    I gritted my teeth. A poacher had grabbed Trina on the eve of her twelfth birthday, when shifters normally change into their animal forms for the first time. The scum had told her that when she changed into her animal, he was going to skin her. Virgin pelts, as the poachers called them, were worth a lot of money. Luckily the pack had found her and taken care of the poacher, pack style. I hadn’t asked for the details.
    “You want me to remove the memory?”
    “Yes, but first, I owe you an apology.”
    I shook my head. “No you don’t. You were trying to protect your