“The chief thinks you can help.”

“But you don’t.”

“No, actually I don’t.”

“Because you don’t believe in psychics.”

He raised his blue-eyed gaze steadily to hers. “That’s right.”

“Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not all that convinced, myself.” She crossed her arms.

“Excuse me?”

She chewed her bottom lip and tried not to feel like a big, fat fraud. “I can’t seem to control where and when I see stuff. It’s not a tap I can turn on and get a big glass of sparkling psychic water. I just want you to know that up front so you’re… you’re not disappointed if nothing happens today.”

“I won’t be disappointed. I’m expecting nothing to happen.” He tilted his head to the side. “Does the chief know how you feel about this?”

“He wouldn’t listen to me.” She had explained that it was doubtful she’d be much use to them, but he’d insisted — although Eden suspected it had a lot to do with appeasing his enthusiastic wife. “I figure if I don’t turn out to be much help, he’ll start to leave me alone. Maybe I only have a knack for finding lost dogs.”

Ben looked confused. “So you’re a psychic who doesn’t believe in psychics?”

“I… I honestly don’t know.” It was the truth, at least. “Feel free to kick me out of here, you know, whenever you like.”

Why was she sharing this information with him? She wasn’t exactly sure, although sometimes it was better to admit one’s weaknesses right away so there’d be no room for later misunderstandings. It might have also had a lot to do with Detective Hanson bringing out the schoolgirl babble inside of her. Once her mouth started spilling words, it was hard to stop the flood.

He studied her for at least thirty seconds before his frown turned into the first smile she’d seen on his face — and wow, he had one hell of a great smile. “I think you might be the only skeptical psychic I’ve ever met.”