The Pawn of the Phoenix (The Memory Collector Series Book 2) by Jamie McLachlan Page B

She’s lost someone in a moment of injustice, and I wonder if she’s a relative of Ginny or Rebekah. I had seen both victims, and this woman standing before me doesn’t resemble either one of them. Maybe she’s distantly related. Her gaze cuts to me with obvious antagonism, and it finally dawns on me her sorrow is for the man who was just executed.
    I scoff.
    She looks back at the detective, her uncertainty long gone. “I’m Mrs. Bradford. Anthony’s mother.”
    Keenan nods his head respectfully. “How can I be of service, Mrs. Bradford?”
    By the look in Mrs. Bradford’s eyes, I know Keenan has asked her the wrong question. Her ire pierces through her misery, and her face twists into an expression of fury. Her son has just died, and she’s looking for someone to blame. Yet I have no way of warning Keenan, so her accusation comes to him unexpectedly.
    “Because of you my son is dead,” she spits at him venomously.
    “I beg your pardon?”
    “Anthony wasn’t responsible for killing anyone. He was a good man—a man of the law.” She steps closer, glaring accusingly at Keenan. “I’ve heard about Mr. Anderson’s death, and I know about the lies the police are telling us. If you spent less time with this whore,” she pauses to look at me deliberately before she continues. “You would have found the real killer by now and my son would still be alive.”
    Keenan has—not surprisingly—remained calm during Mrs. Bradford’s allegation, and I wonder if he encounters this sort of situation often. He has undoubtedly caught his share of criminals during his ten years of service, and there’s always someone who believes in their innocence. How many people resent him for imprisoning a loved one?
    “I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Bradford,” he says cordially. “But I assure you your son was responsible for raping and killing Ginny Parker and Rebekah Gray. He was also guilty of raping several other women. I know this because the Elite’s blockers had read his mind and had found each memory.”
    Her eyes widen in indignation. “Well, we’ll see about that, Mr. Edwards.”
    She huffs and walks away before he can respond.
    We’re quiet on the drive toward the police station, and I can just imagine that Keenan’s mind is replaying Mrs. Bradford’s words. I don’t like that she mentioned Mr. Anderson’s death or alluded to the fact the police are lying to the citizens of Braxton. Nor do I like how she blamed the detective for her son’s death, and her last words had sounded ominous. Last night’s scene flashes before me, and I hear Keenan telling me that when he should be concentrating on the case he’s thinking of me instead. I glance at him sideways, wondering if those thoughts are positive or negative ones. Does he blame me for distracting him just as Mrs. Bradford had done?
    “Do you suppose she knows about the Phoenix?” I ask, breaking the silence.
    “You tell me, Moira. You’re the one who’s the empath.”
    “It’s not like I invade every person’s mind and read their entire life in that moment.” I think back to what I had sensed from her. “But even though she mentioned Mr. Anderson, I honestly didn’t get the impression she knows there’s an empath killing members of the Elite. She’s definitely suspicious though.”
    “Yes, and someone has been talking.”
    “Are you thinking of anyone in particular? Because there’s a number of people who could have let some information slip. Perhaps it’s one of the constables. A lot of them had been in denial when we caught Anthony.”
    He glances at me sideways. “Actually, I had Mrs. Anderson in mind.”
    “Why would she talk?”
    “Because her husband was just recently killed, and her son was persuaded by an empath to kill him. She’s frightened for herself and Andrew.” He sighs before continuing. “And when people are frightened, they talk.”
    “True.” I consider the side of his profile, trying to gauge his thoughts.