Doom With a View

  Suddenly, the image in my brain changed, and I had the distinct feeling I needed to go back to the kitchen. I snapped my eyes open and turned around to walk through the hallway, bumping into Harrison in my hurry to get there. “Sorry,” I called over my shoulder as I practically ran there.

  I could hear Candice’s footfalls behind me as I reached the doorway to the kitchen and looked around, waiting for a sign from my crew. I got one when I felt a tug on my energy pulling me over to the sink. I moved there and looked about. Nothing near the sink called my attention, even though my eyes darted back and forth, searching for the thing that my crew wanted me to focus on.

  Outside, I heard in my head, and I immediately looked up and out the little window above the sink. The house directly behind us seemed to glow with urgent energy.

  My mind’s eye filled with the image of a chalk outline, and a gravestone that said RIP. “We’re in the wrong house,” I said breathlessly. “The murder didn’t happen here!”

  “What?” Candice and Harrison said together.

  I whipped around and stared angrily at Harrison and instantly I realized he knew the truth of it. “That’s a staged crime scene in there,” I said, yanking my head in the direction of the master bedroom. “The woman who lived here died of natural causes. There was no murder.”

  Harrison’s expression immediately turned to one of shock, but was quickly replaced with a cop’s poker face. “That’s correct,” he admitted. “No one was murdered here.”

  “That is totally unfair!” Candice shouted at him, her hands balling into fists.

  “The real murder took place over there,” I said, pointing to the house behind us.

  Harrison’s cop face was quickly replaced with one of triumph. “Wrong,” he said as a smug smile crept to his lips. “There was no murder. This house belonged to the widow of a former agent. She left this place to the bureau when she passed away quietly in her sleep a few months back, and we’ve been using it ever since as a staging ground to train new recruits.”

  Candice’s face was full of rage. “You mean you purposely brought us to a fake crime scene just to throw her off?!”

  “It beats having her get to a crime scene staged by a murderer out in the real world and pumping us full of false info,” Harrison snarled back. The friction between him and Candice was heating up.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” said Candice, her temper flaring again. “That is total bullshit, Agent Harrison, and you know it!”

  I was about to add to Candice’s comment and tell Harrison where he could stuff it when my radar insisted that I turn around and look at the house behind us again. I did and kept seeing a chalk outline. “Something happened there,” I said again. “Something bad went down in that house right behind us. And it happened recently.”

  “Nothing happened there,” Harrison said, glancing with annoyance at the house I was pointing to. “I told you, this is the staged crime scene.”

  I looked at Candice. “Come on,” I said to her. “Let’s check it out.”

  Without another word Candice and I walked over to the rear door leading to the backyard. “Hey!” Harrison called. “You can’t go trespassing around out there!”

  Candice and I ignored him and walked out the door, my partner making sure to slam it in Harrison’s face. “You’re sure someone was murdered over there?” she asked me as we trudged through the leaves on our way to the other house.

  “I’m positive,” I said. “I mean, I don’t expect to find a dead body, but I want to get close enough to make sure the energy I’m picking up is right.”

  Behind us we heard Harrison yank open the door and begin to chase after us. “I’m serious!” he said. “That’s private property!”

  I flipped him the bird and kept walking. I didn’t care if he was Dutch’s new boss—he’d finally pushed me over the edge. When I got close to the house, I quickly jogged over to the back door and rapped loudly three times.

  Candice stood next to me and rubbed her hands in the cold wind blowing around us. Meanwhile Harrison had come up to us and attempted to grab me by the arm. It was the wrong move in Candice’s opinion, ’cause the next thing I knew, Harrison was twisted around with his nose wedged against the wall of the house and his right arm pulled up at an odd and painful angle behind him.

  “Ach!” he shouted, and tried to twist out of the lock she had him in, but Candice merely pulled up harder on his arm while pushing her body weight into his back.

  “Move a muscle and I’ll break it,” she told him menacingly.

  “You’re assaulting a federal officer!” he shouted at her. “I can put you away for good on just that!”

  My attention had left the door and I was now staring slack-jawed at my partner, who had apparently lost her mind. “Candice,” I said in a low, even tone. “Really, honey . . . that’s not necessary.”

  “Knock again, Abby,” she said calmly. “And if no one answers, head around the house and look in all the windows. Let’s make sure before we get hauled off to jail.”

  I gave another three raps to the door and called, “Hello?” but no one answered. I then cupped my hands and peered through the window of the door. There was a sheer curtain over it, but I could just make out the shapes inside.

  After a moment I stood back and gave Candice a sober look. “Let him go,” I said tiredly. Candice hesitated for a few seconds. “I’m serious,” I said. “Let him go.”

  Candice gave one more small yank on Harrison’s arm before releasing him, and he wasted no time in whipping around and grabbing Candice roughly by the shoulder and slamming her into the side of the house, where he cuffed her hands behind her back faster than I thought possible. “You are under arrest!” he snapped, then looked at me as if he was weighing whether to call in reinforcements.

  “Go ahead,” I said, for once giving him a smug smile. “Call in the cavalry. Oh, and while you’re at it, you’ll need to call the coroner too. There’s a dead guy on the floor in there. By the looks of it, he’s been like that for a few days.”

  Harrison stared at me for a full minute, no doubt trying to decide if I was bluffing. Finally, he pulled Candice along the wall toward the door and ordered me to sit down on the ground with my hands on top of my head.

  I humored him by sitting down and lacing my fingertips above my head, but I couldn’t help smirking up at him for a change.

  After I was sitting all nice and quiet-like, Harrison edged over to the window and peered in. I watched with great satisfaction when his head whipped back as if he’d been slapped. “Son of a bitch!” he said, and yanked up the cell phone clipped to his waistband. “Bentsen?” he barked into the phone. “It’s Harrison. I need a team of techs, agents, and the coroner to meet me at the house directly behind the staging house, pronto!”

  Candice, who was still pressed up against the side of the house, squirmed her head far enough around to give me a big, gorgeous smile. “Way to go, Abs,” she said. “Way to go.”

  Chapter Three

  From where we sat in the back of Harrison’s car, handcuffed and freezing our butts off, we were able to catch only small snatches of information about what went down in the home behind the staging house.

  One of the investigators had collected a statement from a neighbor right in front of the car we were sitting in, and it was pretty obvious what had occurred a few nights earlier.

  The neighbor told the investigator that the house belonged to Russ Cadet and his wife, Patrice, who the neighbor suggested had been arguing and fighting loud enough to be overheard ever since Russ had been laid off from his job four months back. The neighbor admitted to hearing a loud argument between the couple around midnight three nights earlier, but ignored it and went back to sleep, although now that he thought about it, he sort of remembered hearing some faint popping sounds in the early-morning hours, but had convinced himself that he must have dreamed it.

  We learned a bit more when one of the CSIs showed his coworker a suicide note writte
n by Russ, which the tech had found on the kitchen counter near the two bodies.

  We were saved from the cold, our discomfort, and hearing any more of the tragic details when Agent Gaston arrived on scene. He drove up in a sleek black sedan and approached Harrison, who’d been directing crime-scene techs and local-police traffic all afternoon. Candice and I watched intently as Gaston and Harrison shook hands and began talking. Everything appeared civil until Harrison said something that made Gaston snap his head in our direction. Candice and I both smiled big “Please help us!” smiles and Gaston lost it. There was yelling, finger-pointing, and a march straight over to the car where we were held captive.

  “Thank God,” Candice said right before the door was yanked open and the full volume of Gaston’s voice echoed about the car.

  “This is unacceptable, Agent Harrison!” Gaston yelled as he motioned for Candice and me to come out. “I placed these women in your care and you treat them like criminals?”

  “Sir,” Harrison was saying in a voice that was cool and unapologetic, “these two disobeyed my direct orders, and that one,” he continued, pointing to Candice, “assaulted me.”

  Gaston’s face was red with fury, and he held out his hand and growled, “Give me the damn key, Agent Harrison.”

  Harrison dropped it into his open palm and I quickly turned at the waist to expose my hands to Gaston, as I was so uncomfortable that I couldn’t wait for the cuffs to come off. When I was free, I shot out of the car to stretch and rub my wrists while Gaston unlocked Candice’s cuffs and helped her out of the car. When he turned back to me, I smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, sir,” I said.

  “My sincere apologies, Ms. Cooper,” Gaston replied. “I would understand if you wished to be chauf feured back to your hotel and opt out of helping us further.”

  I looked at Candice, who was glaring at Harrison. “What do you think?” I asked her.

  “Oh, I’m totally in,” she said, still glaring at Harrison. “I say we go for it.”

  I ducked my chin to hide a smile and waited until I could speak without laughing. It was the perfect revenge for being put through Harrison’s tests all day. “Game on, Agent Gaston. We are at your service.”

  Gaston looked relieved. “Thank you. If I can convince you to stay in D.C. for another day or two to go over the details of the case we’re working on, and to get your input, it would be most appreciated,” Gaston said.

  Candice whipped out her iPhone and began her quick finger poking at the screen. “Absolutely, sir,” she said. “How about I schedule us for a flight out of town on Thursday? That should give us plenty of time to assist you.”

  “Excellent.” Gaston beamed before turning to Harrison. “Agent Harrison, please escort our guests back to their hotel and meet me in my office by six. I want to have a word with you.”

  It was Harrison’s turn to smolder. I watched him bunch his jaw as his eyes pivoted between Gaston, the crime scene, and Candice and me. “Sir,” he said carefully. “I believe I’m still needed here. I can have another one of the agents take them back.”

  “Are you disobeying a direct order, Agent Harrison?” Gaston asked quietly, and I could immediately sense the power struggle between these two.

  After a notable pause, Harrison said, “Of course not, sir.” Turning to us, he said with forced politeness, “Ladies, if you would please get back into the car.”

  “And, Agent Harrison,” Candice said coolly, “if you wouldn’t mind stopping at the nearest Starbucks, I could really go for a latte.”

  Harrison ignored her and walked briskly over to the driver’s side. I shot her a sneaky smile and we both got into the back of the sedan without hurry. I even took time to stretch my sore arms and shoulders—for the record it’s damn uncomfortable to have your hands cuffed behind your back.

  Once we were back in the car, but before we’d even had a chance to buckle up, Harrison pulled away from the curb. Candice sat with a satisfied smirk on her face and purposely positioned herself in the backseat so that if Harrison even glanced in the rearview mirror, he was sure to spot her looking amused.

  The entire way back to our hotel, Harrison spoke only once, and that was simply to ask which hotel we were staying in. I noticed too that we passed about four Starbucks along the way and Harrison made sure to accelerate as we passed—but that only sent Candice and me into giggles and a little whispering in the backseat.

  We arrived at our hotel and Harrison pulled to a stop without looking at us or saying a word. Instead, he put the car into park and pushed a button for the trunk. Then, he got out, went around to the back, and put our luggage on the curb before hopping back into the car. Candice and I also got out of the car without speaking to him, and as the doorman hurried to help us with our luggage, we heard Harrison’s wheels squeal as he sped away.

  “If I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t like our company,” I said drolly as we entered the hotel and made our way to the front desk to recheck in.

  “Wonder why,” Candice mused in the same light tone. “I found him to be perfectly charming.”

  Just as Candice was finishing up with the registration, I heard my cell go off and I fished around in my purse to retrieve it. “Hi, Dutch,” I said as soon as I saw the caller ID.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his voice filled with concern.

  “Glorious,” I said, and meant it.

  “Gaston called me. He filled me in on what Harrison put you guys through. I’m sorry, doll, I had no idea he was going to be such an asshole.”

  “It’s fine, cowboy. I swear. And we’re on the case, so it was worth it in the end.”

  “I heard,” he said proudly. “And Gaston tells me you guys even led Harrison straight to a murder/suicide scene near one of the staging houses?”

  “We did,” I said with a smile and a wink at Candice as she waved our new room key cards and motioned to follow her. “It looks like we’ll be here until Thursday, so will you give Eggy and Tuttle a bunch of extra attention while I’m gone?” I was referring to our two adorable dachshunds.

  “Like they need any extra of that,” Dutch teased. “Are you going to be able to rearrange your client schedule while you’re down there?”

  I smiled. “My appointment book has been a little thin lately. I don’t have any readings until Saturday.” It was tough being in a service industry at the moment; Michigan’s economy was suffering greatly, and my clientele had fallen off sharply in the last few months as the local folks cinched their belts and buckled down on extraneous expenses.

  “Okay, well, you be careful, stay safe, and call me if you get any more crap from Harrison.”

  Candice and I had reached the elevators by now and I let my eyes close as I felt a deep pang of home-sickness for my guy and my dogs. “Thanks, Dutch. We’re at the elevators and I might lose you, so let me sign off, but I’ll call you tonight before we turn in.”

  A short time later, Candice and I deposited our luggage in our room and promptly went out to eat. By now it was six o’clock and we were both famished, as we’d forgone breakfast and lunch. Candice was in a fabulous mood, so she suggested a wonderful little Italian place in Georgetown called Filomena’s she’d read about in the Washington Post.

  As we dined on some of the best damn pasta I’ve ever eaten, I grilled Candice about her obvious familiarity with D.C. “I spent some time here a few years ago,” she said, focusing on twirling her linguine.

  “On a case?” I asked, my radar hinting in that direction.

  “Yep.”

  I smiled. Candice was monosyllabic only when it came to things I probably shouldn’t inquire about. “And you can’t tell me any of the details,” I said.

  “I could,” she said, taking a sip of wine. “But then I’d have to kill you, and where’s the fun in that?”

  I laughed. She’d said it so Valley girl and it was such a switch from her usual cool, smart demeanor that I found her hysterical. “I’m not worried,” I said easily. “Pe
ople know I’m with you. Big, strong, manly people with guns.”

  Candice sat back and wiped her mouth demurely with her napkin.“That’s what I need,” she said dreamily. “A nice heaping dose of manly.” And then she sighed.

  I cocked my head. “I thought you were dating what’s his name?” Last I heard Candice was doing the hot and heavy with a trainer down at the gym.

  But I immediately knew I was out of touch because she rolled her eyes and informed me, “Honey, I dumped him weeks ago.”

  “Ah,” I said. “Yeah, I never could keep up with your social life.”

  “What’s to keep up with?” she asked me. “Lately it’s been nothing but crickets.”

  “You know what I think your problem is?” I said to her, and ignored another eye roll. “I think you get bored too easily.”

  Candice gave me one of her famous smirks. “Gee, Abby, you think?”

  I chuckled. “I know, allow me to point out the obvious, but seriously, honey, what you need is a boyfriend, not a fling. You need someone who can put up with your shit and give it to you right back. You also need someone who doesn’t look in the mirror at his own reflection every five seconds.”

  “Wow,” she said with a laugh. “Talk about a one-eighty!” I blushed, as I knew exactly where she was going. “Two years ago you were all, ‘Guys, who needs ’em? I’m going to be single forever!’ and now you’re lecturing me on boyfriend material? Ladies and gentlemen, the world as we know it has officially ended.”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. “I’m serious,” I insisted. “Candice, ever since I’ve known you, you’ve only had one serious boyfriend.”

  “See?” she said. “That should tell you I’m not hopeless!”

  “He was married!”

  “Ah,” she said, fiddling with her napkin. “So he had one tiny, little, insignificant flaw.”

  “And his wife came after you with a butcher’s knife!” I said, recalling her telling me about that particularly ugly scene years ago.

  “What?” Candice said innocently. “She missed, didn’t she?”