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enough from the policy to bury her sister. Nothing else was left. Dahlia Blue possessed no funds to bequeath. She lived financially on the edge. Had the fight over the stolen boutique money prompted the killing? He stood in front of her. “Miss Blue, are you changing your story and confessing to murder or being an accomplice? Wait a minute.” He shot a hand in the air. “Remember you have the—.”
    “You can save your Miranda rights. I’d never harm my sister.” She folded her arms over her chest and sat back in her chair. “I’ll explain, but you must try to believe me.”
    He nodded, unsure what was to come next. Resting his hip on the end of the desk he waited for her to begin.
    “Remember, keep an open mind. I wasn’t literally there.” She swallowed several times as though the words refused to come out of her mouth. “Since Dahlia…died, I’ve been undergoing a few…paranormal experiences.”
    A ping of caution erupted in his chest. He worked to keep the surprise out of his voice. “Paranormal meaning−?”
    “The night she died, I was with my sister because I entered her mind, but I couldn’t make out everything, or I’d pinpoint the location.”
    Was she serious? Luke reconsidered her. Possibly, he’d let her attractive face mislead him. It wouldn’t be the first time, but he’d sworn off pretty females long ago.
    “You were in your sister’s mind?”
    “Kinda. I watched.” She shrugged and held out her palms. “My explanation sounds odd, but we sometimes shared feelings, experiences—though nothing like when she was murdered. Last night, for instance, I saw Dahlia in a pond, the way she died.” Rose paused and swallowed. “I believe Dahlia cried for help, and she brought me to her when she was killed.”
    The woman was original. At least she wasn’t spouting the worn out my-controlling boyfriend-forced-me defense, or the Ledgeview River Monster did it. “Can you remember anything about the killer? Shoes? Tattoo?”
    “I’d guess she was murdered by a man. His form was more of a shadow. I think he attacked from behind because I felt the blows.” She laid a hand on the back of her skull and winced. “Then my sister fell down onto the rock. Her killer tied her up in duct tape.”
    “But you weren’t really hit? Have you always been psychic?” If this story didn’t work, would she claim aliens beamed down the information?
    “I’m not. Except for the night I described, Dahlia and I always communicated in the normal way, and I’ve had no luck talking to her so far. Let me explain.” She gripped the top of her purse. “Growing up, my sister and I experienced the usual identical sibling occurrences. We chose the same toothpaste, shampoo, but nothing like the night she died. Once Dahlia broke her foot, and I experienced the same pain although my foot was fine. It was a twin thing.”
    “A twin thing,” he said, taking in the information.
    “I’ve talked with a few people and found out not everyone develops their psychic ability at an early age or recognizes it. I’m guessing the fact my grandmother strongly discouraged us having our own twin talk or sharing mentally interfered with my psychic development.”
    “Sure.” Had the woman told him anything truthful?
    Rose gripped her hands together. “Gram was very religious and brought us up in her faith. Anything supernatural or in the psychic realm was against our beliefs. It was a sin. I wasn’t about to go against Gram or our church. I always denied mental communication with my sister and passed it off as intuition, but now I realize the ability was always there. We often knew where each other were or felt without words, unless we were fighting or blocking the message.”
    “Were you fighting when she disappeared?” he asked, observing the nervous tightening of her hands.
    “Yes.” She shifted in her seat with discomfort. “We argued over the boutique’s missing funds. Since the night Dahlia died, I’ve been trying