Deadly Touch

  She knows where to find the body

  When Raina Hamish tries on a dress in a Miami boutique, she has a terrifyingly accurate vision of a murdered corpse in the murky shadows of the Everglades. She wants to help, but who would believe her when she can hardly believe herself?

  Special Agent Axel Tiger has returned to Florida to help hunt a serial killer, but the investigation doesn’t have much to go on. Raina’s vision is their best chance to uncover more. Axel’s experience with the FBI’s elite paranormal team will nurture Raina’s abilities, and she may be able to help save a life—but it puts her directly in the crosshairs of a killer who is closer than they would ever suspect.

  Praise for the novels of New York Times bestselling author Heather Graham

  “Will keep you glued to the pages. The danger, drama and energy will blow you away, and just when you think you’ve got it figured out...wrong!”

  —Fresh Fiction on The Seekers

  “An intense murder-mystery that kept me turning the pages. Graham never fails to pull me in.... Offers rich history, an interesting murder-mystery and a new romance.”

  —Caffeinated Book Reviewer on The Seekers

  “Graham proves that she is still at the top of the genre with the latest Krewe of Hunters book.... Evil lurks in the background and readers will be trying to figure out the motives of the killer while flipping the pages to see what can possibly happen next. Another great book to add to this long-running series!”

  —RT Book Reviews on Fade to Black

  “The Krewe at its best.... Graham weaves history, ghosts and danger into a gripping story like no other.”

  —Fresh Fiction on The Summoning

  “Graham combines southern charm, paranormal elements, and romance in this fast-paced murder mystery.”

  —Caffeinated Book Reviewer on The Summoning

  “Delivers plenty of suspense... Once again, setting becomes its own character, with places coming to life with vivid details and dramatic imagery.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Dark Rites

  Also by New York Times bestselling author

  HEATHER GRAHAM

  SEEING DARKNESS

  THE FINAL DECEPTION

  THE STALKING

  THE SEEKERS

  THE SUMMONING

  A LETHAL LEGACY

  ECHOES OF EVIL

  PALE AS DEATH

  FADE TO BLACK

  A DANGEROUS GAME

  WICKED DEEDS

  DARK RITES

  DYING BREATH

  A PERFECT OBSESSION

  DARKEST JOURNEY

  DEADLY FATE

  HAUNTED DESTINY

  FLAWLESS

  THE HIDDEN

  THE FORGOTTEN

  THE SILENCED

  THE DEAD PLAY ON

  THE BETRAYED

  THE HEXED

  THE CURSED

  WAKING THE DEAD

  THE NIGHT IS FOREVER

  THE NIGHT IS ALIVE

  THE NIGHT IS WATCHING

  LET THE DEAD SLEEP

  THE UNINVITED

  THE UNSPOKEN

  THE UNHOLY

  THE UNSEEN

  THE EVIL INSIDE

  SACRED EVIL

  HEART OF EVIL

  PHANTOM EVIL

  NIGHT OF THE VAMPIRES

  THE KEEPERS

  GHOST MOON

  GHOST NIGHT

  GHOST SHADOW

  THE KILLING EDGE

  NIGHT OF THE WOLVES

  UNHALLOWED GROUND

  DUST TO DUST

  NIGHTWALKER

  DEADLY GIFT

  DEADLY HARVEST

  DEADLY NIGHT

  THE DEATH DEALER

  THE LAST NOEL

  THE SÉANCE

  BLOOD RED

  THE DEAD ROOM

  KISS OF DARKNESS

  THE VISION

  THE ISLAND

  GHOST WALK

  KILLING KELLY

  THE PRESENCE

  DEAD ON THE DANCE FLOOR

  PICTURE ME DEAD

  HAUNTED

  * * * * *

  Look for Heather Graham’s next novel

  DREAMING DEATH,

  available soon from MIRA.

  HEATHER GRAHAM

  DEADLY TOUCH

  For cousins, near and far, those we’re born with, and those we’re privileged to acquire through marriage.

  For Kristin Ann Stock, with deepest thanks for her wonderful support.

  Jonelle Garofoli and Keith Pozzessere, and my husband, Dennis, with thanks for the incredible (and massive!) family he brought to me, descendants of the Martinelli, Pozzessere, Mero and D’Onofrio families.

  And for one last and never least: my biological cousin, Pat DeVuono, whose mom was the Irish side, my big cousin when I was little, the coolest musician ever, and now the only one who can correct my memories regarding my own past and the tales Granny told us. Like the one about the leprechauns, or how “if we be misbehavin’, the banshees be comin’ for us in the outhouse.”

  She did it well. We were teenagers before we realized we didn’t have an outhouse.

  I am grateful to and for all!

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Dreaming Death by Heather Graham

  Prologue

  Thirteen years ago

  “Imagine, if you will! There are those who fear the creatures of our great Everglades—not a swamp—but a river of grass, one that houses alligators and in certain places crocodiles, as well. Though, frankly,” the storyteller said, pausing to smile, “the true plague we endure can most often be mammoth mosquitoes. Some think the skunk ape is real. But, my dear friends, I have a tale to tell you that will chill your blood, and that is of the cursed pirates who roam the Everglades. Watch for the sails of their lost ship upon this river of grass for they are doomed to sail it forever!”

  Raina found herself feeling as if her blood was somehow chilling even in the almost-warmth of the night. In a few days it would be spring, but a late storm had settled over the north of the country, and here, in the very southern end of the mainland of South Florida, the temperature had dipped to a cool fifty degrees that night. Maybe that was causing the chills?

  But the storyteller was good. He was young—maybe eighteen or so. He was extremely good-looking with fantastic cheekbones common in both the Miccosukee and Seminole tribes of Florida, startling gold-green eyes far more common in someone of Northern European descent and a fine smile that wrapped it all up with a rugged charm. But then, she was just going on fourteen. She and her girlfriends were here on a field trip to camp out for a night in the Everglades and had whispered about him and giggled, thinking he was pretty hot. One of the older men—Jeremy Gray, a superfriendly and informative member of the Miccosukee tribe—had given a speech on the effects of people thinking they could “humanely” release
pythons and boas in the Everglades and how those predators threatened the natural flow of life there. The danger being that many native species might soon be wiped out.

  Raina had been excited about their field trip from the beginning. Yes, she was afraid of killer creatures and not at all fond of mosquitoes, but she had always loved the region, so wild with beautiful birds and a haunting, nostalgic beauty when sunset came.

  She loved all of it.

  And especially this storyteller. His name was Axel Tiger—a mixture of ethnicity as intriguing as his appearance. She wasn’t sure if he was Miccosukee or Seminole, since both tribes were here to talk about the Everglades and their culture, history and future.

  Like the other girls, she just knew that he was hot.

  “The pirates were a bloodthirsty crew believed to have been trolling these waters in the late 1600s and into the early years of the 1700s. When a British merchantman came into their sights, they chased it down the coast and through the keys and close to the tip of the mainland where our great sea of grass meets with the bay. They gave no quarter. Hey, they were angry! They had to chase the ship for days! And to that end, they decided the entire crew—left alive after the fierce battle to take her—would walk the plank. The pirate captain especially hated the merchantman captain. The young captain’s wife was aboard, and as he forced her to watch her husband walk the plank—chained at his wrists lest he somehow swim to shore—she looked up to the heavens and cried out, ‘Curse these bloody pirates! Dear Lord above, curse these brutal creatures until the end of time!’”

  Axel Tiger was dramatic, stooping low and walking between the campfire and the campers, hands laced behind his back, his eyes alive with mischief.

  “And so!” he said suddenly, causing several to jump and then giggle. “The captain’s lady’s words were heard, they say. A mammoth storm rolled across the Atlantic to the Caribbean, and despite the seafaring talents of the pirates, the waves rose and fell and rose and fell...and slam! The pirates—and all their stolen treasure—were rent apart and tossed into the far corners of the air and sea. It’s said that hour by hour, day by day, more bodies piled up on the southern tip of the Glades, trapping the cursed souls of the pirates to roam the waterways and the hammocks, high points and mud and muck and sawgrass. They say sometimes when the moon rises high and even when it does not—even when the glory of the sunset fades into the shadow of night—the pirate ship itself can be seen sailing over our river of grass, the pirates manning her doomed forever.”

  There was silence. Raina, wedged between her friends, stared at him. He was smiling—secretly pleased, she imagined, that he had brought them all to silence.

  The campfire snapped and crackled.

  He looked at them, still waiting. “Hey, they’re ghosts. At least they don’t get mosquito bites!”

  Someone giggled. The stories were over. They could head to their tents for the night.

  “That was a bit of fun, folks!” Axel Tiger reminded them as they burst into applause and began to rise. “There’s so much more about this amazing ecosystem you’ll be learning tomorrow. Yeah, we have mosquitoes, alligators, crocs and snakes—but it’s still amazing. Tomorrow, you’ll learn how these wildlands saved a people—and how the Native Americans came to be here, and how we all finally came to be at peace today.”

  He moved on, talking to a small group of men, including one of the tribal members who had taught them about culture and ecology that day, Jeremy Gray.

  She stared after him a minute and then—not wanting to hear about having a crush on the man—she quickly turned to her friends. They were all talking about him, though, comparing him to various movie stars.

  She was in one of the little pup tents at the campground with her friend Lucia, who was laughing with Mya and Elly. Mya had a crush on Tate Fielding, who was standing with some of the other boys, including Jordan Rivera—another slightly older guy beloved by almost every girl at school. Jordan and Tate were two of the coolest guys and best friends. Tate’s dad was a partner in a law firm, and both Tate and Jordan planned on being big-time lawyers one day.

  Raina thought being Jordan had to be easier than being Tate—Tate’s dad could be exceptionally hard on him. And Tate was sometimes embarrassed by him. His dad tended to be around a lot. Tate had grumbled to Raina once that his dad didn’t ever seem to trust anyone—he’d even driven out to the school encampment, as if he didn’t trust the school, the United States government, the state of Florida or a soul within the Miccosukee tribe.

  “There are some intriguing young men over there. Smokin’ hot for sure! We could slip into that conversation,” Mya whispered.

  “Yes!” Elly said. She giggled. “And look—there’s Mr. Fielding. Tate’s been ignoring him—but he’s finally leaving. Guess he’s not a fan of the mosquitoes!”

  But Mrs. Oster, their science teacher, came hurrying by, shooing the boys into their tents for the night. She was giving Mr. Peters, the gym teacher, a very stern look, indicating he had to get his young charges under control. Mrs. Oster was vivacious and usually fun, but she could be stern, too.

  It had been a long day; they should have been tired. They were, but all a little bit frightened, as well. Being in the Everglades made them wary, even if they did have mosquito protection and adults guarding them, not to mention Timothy, the massive rottweiler, a dog that—so they’d been told—somehow knew to warn people about snakes and alligators, should they come too close.

  Personally, Raina found the dog to be wonderfully warm and cuddly. But she could see how snakes and alligators would feel different.

  They giggled more but then obeyed. They were attending a magnet school and those who didn’t follow the rules could be easily replaced. In the tent, Lucia brushed her hair, hoping she wouldn’t find too many bugs in it, and swore she’d never sleep.

  But just minutes after Lucia’s head touched the pillow attached to her sleeping bag, she was very softly snoring.

  Raina couldn’t sleep so easily. For a while she stared at the tent’s ceiling, watching the way the fire danced on the canvas of their tent.

  But then Timothy let out a little “Woof!” and she sprang to her feet, staring at Lucia.

  Lucia softly snored on.

  It was nothing, Raina was sure. She didn’t want to wake Lucia, but she knew she wasn’t going to sleep herself. She hesitantly stepped from her tent.

  * * *

  Axel saw the group of men standing just down from the camping area. His good friend, Jeremy Gray, was among them, along with two Miccosukee patrolmen and an older officer from the Miami-Dade County Police.

  He glanced around the campground. The kids had been ordered to bed by their chaperones. They’d been a good audience, interested in ecology, culture and the Miccosukee and Seminole tribes of Florida. He’d enjoyed working with them.

  There were always guards on duty when groups like this camped out. The Miccosukee force always managed a few volunteers.

  Miami-Dade police didn’t show up that often.

  But he knew as much as he loved his strange homeland—well, what he saw as his homeland, though he’d been born in Baptist Hospital, Miami—that, over the centuries, the Everglades had a history of being used for sinister deeds.

  Far beyond the long-ago murder spree of the pirates, over a hundred and fifty bodies had been found in the Everglades since the 1960s. Seeing the Miami-Dade cop, he was afraid it signaled yet another disappearance.

  He would prove to be correct.

  He walked over to the group.

  “Hey, Axel, how are you doing? You must be heading off to some Ivy League school before long.”

  Axel realized he knew the older county policeman who had spoken. Vinnie Magruder’s patrol was out in this region and he was friends with a lot of the Miccosukee police.

  “No, sir. I’m going into the marines, then I’ll go to college,” Axe
l told him.

  “Well, good plan,” Vinnie said, glancing at Jeremy and the two Miccosukee policemen who were there.

  “My folks are both good with it, thanks. What’s going on?” Axel asked.

  “A Kendall area woman is missing. Fran Castle. I found a car deserted on the Trail, on the embankment between here and the casino, near one of the power stations where there’s no guardrail. Found it right around two o’clock. Sounds like she and a friend were at the Miccosukee casino and then suddenly the friend couldn’t find her. Not necessarily a big deal—until I found the car.” He hesitated, shrugged and sighed deeply. “They’ve got cops and dogs working the area. They’ll skirt north and west after. I was just letting all these guys know to be on the lookout. We’ll be searching county land, tribal land, state and federal. Makes me sick, the crime that goes on here. Killers and sickos think they can make people disappear and get away with it. Well, I intend to put a stop to that. You haven’t seen or heard anything?”

  “You think...she’s dead? Killed and dumped?”

  “I, uh, sorry—I mean, she could be lost out here somewhere. Or she could have just left her car—illegally, where it is—not knowing. She could’ve just taken off.”

  “I’m only out here to tell tales to the school group,” Axel said. He shook his head and added, “I wish I could help. If something bad has happened, if there are more search groups starting up, I’d be happy to join in. I, too, hate that people think they can use this land to hide their crimes and get away with them. It has to be stopped. Hopefully, this woman is found alive and well.”

  “Hopefully. We’re just a little jaded and worried. The Everglades. One-point-five million acres. It’s a wonder and a danger if people don’t know what they’re doing.” Vinnie paused, shaking his head. “Anyway. Keep an eye on the kids, huh? But for now, don’t say anything. Who knows? Maybe someone met her and they decided the Seminole Hard Rock had better payouts and they headed to Broward County.”

  Axel didn’t think he believed it. But he also agreed not to tell. The kids on the school trip were filled with the wonder of the Glades—ecology, fast airboats and even alligators.