A Glimpse of Evil

I laughed. “What? You and me argue? We never do that!”

  “Never do what?” Brice asked, walking in on the last part of the conversation.

  “Jump to conclusions,” I said quickly. I didn’t repeat the inside joke to him, knowing it might hit a little too close to home.

  Brice nodded, but he seemed distracted. “I’m headed out to meet with Candice for a few. Dutch, you’re in charge until I get back.”

  “You got it, sir.”

  “Good luck,” I added as he turned to leave.

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. “Will I need it?”

  “Probably,” I told him honestly, and his face fell. “Try starting off by telling her how nice she looks. She’s a sucker for flattery.”

  Brice’s lips pressed together, but he nodded and hurried off. Dutch shook his head. “I think we need to stop sticking our noses in their business from now on.”

  I waved my hand dismissively. “Too late, cowboy. We’ve entered the vortex and there’s no getting out until they resolve it or split up.”

  “I’m not sure which to hope for,” Dutch said.

  “How about wishing for a sandwich?” I asked, pointing to the clock, which read noon. “Drama always makes me hungry,” I added when Dutch gave me a humorous look.

  Brice returned about two hours later and I noticed that he carried the folded contract with him. Close to five I found the courage to head to his office and ask him how it’d gone. “She signed it,” he said.

  My eyebrows shot up. “She did?”

  Brice leaned tiredly back in his chair. “It took a great deal of coaxing, but I finally convinced her that I could weather any fallout that might come out of it better than she could.”

  “Awesome!” I wanted to ask him how the talk had gone between them, but I considered what Dutch had said about butting out, and decided it might be time to do just that. “Very well, sir. Will we see you for dinner tonight?”

  Brice nodded. “Yes, but let me pick it up this time. I’ll be over around seven. Just text me what you two are in the mood for and I’ll grab it on the way.”

  Dutch and I left the office around six, and I’ll admit, I was so tired and had such a headache I could hardly think straight. “You okay?” Dutch asked as we drove.

  I realized I was squinting from the throbbing behind my temples. “Fine. Just another headache.”

  “You get your staples out tomorrow,” he reminded me.

  I brightened a little at that. “I know. And thank God! I cannot wait to shampoo my hair.”

  Dutch was about to reply when my phone bleeped. I dug it out of my purse and said, “It’s Candice.”

  “So answer it.”

  I punched the screen and greeted my good friend. “I signed the contract,” she said right away.

  “Good for you!” I didn’t want to let on that I already knew.

  “Brice insisted.”

  “I figured he would.”

  “I’m still worried this could come back to bite him in the butt.”

  “I’m not,” I told her firmly. “Really, Candice, the energy isn’t there for trouble. It actually feels like now that you’ve signed the contract, a lot of stuff is going to fall into place for you.”

  “You promise?”

  “I do.”

  There was a bit of a pause then, and I had to bite my lip to keep from asking her if she had told Brice her true feelings. Waiting paid off because she said, “We didn’t talk about anything other than the contract.”

  “I figured.”

  “But I am going to talk to him soon.”

  I sighed. “You know, Candice, for someone who used to jump out of airplanes all the time, I’m amazed at how scared you are to take this one tiny leap.”

  “It’s not a tiny leap,” she insisted. “This is way bigger than that.”

  “See, and it’s because you’re thinking it’s some huge thing that you’re putting it off. It’s just a conversation, honey. And through that will be an exchange of information. Either he feels the same as you do, or he doesn’t. My money is that he does, because Brice Harrison does not strike me as the type of man to take risks with his career lightly. But he’s doing that for you.”

  It was Candice’s turn to sigh heavily and this was followed by an even lengthier pause. “So I heard from Genevieve,” she said, changing the subject.

  “Yeah?”

  “She’s almost through with the list. She’s going to fax it to me in an hour or so.”

  “So you’re back on the case?”

  “I’m contractually bound to investigate,” she said, and I detected the humor in her voice. “I need to bring this one home for Brice.”

  “Good for you,” I said as we pulled into our sub. “Keep me in the loop, okay?”

  “Will do,” she assured. “And speaking of keeping people in the loop, I’ve decided to bring Antoine in on this.”

  “Really?” That was a surprise.

  “Yes. I have a distinct feeling he was the one who turned me in to the board.”

  “Uh . . . then why would you want to loop him in?”

  Candice sighed. “Because I think you were right to recommend we do that in the first place. The guy did save your life, and if I were him, and someone was purposely stonewalling me, I’d probably mess with them a little too.”

  I smirked. “Really?” I mocked. “That doesn’t sound anything like you.”

  Candice ignored the sarcasm. “Yeah, well, maybe once he sees that we trust him with our information, he can trust us with his. And who knows? If we show him the names we get from Genevieve, maybe one will register with him.”

  “Oh, honey! That’s a great idea!” But even as I said it something nagged at me but my headache prevented me from digging too deeply into what felt off and as Dutch pulled into our driveway I was actually anxious to get off the phone with Candice and go find some Excedrin. “Listen, hon, we’re home and I’ve got a killer headache. Can you and I chat later?”

  “Oh, sweetie! I’m so sorry. Of course, of course. Go take care of yourself.”

  The doorbell rang at seven thirty. I got up from the table where we’d all just sat for dinner to answer it, thinking it was probably Dave—because no one knew when we were having a nice hot meal better than that man. I was surprised then when I opened the door to see Candice looking sheepish on my doorstep. “Hey,” she said.

  “Oh, hey! What’s up?”

  Candice held up several sheets of paper. “Genevieve’s list of congregation members who have occupations as handymen or contractors.”

  I motioned for Candice to come in, and she stepped through the door, already shrugging out of her coat when she happened to catch sight of Dutch and Brice, sitting at the table and looking quite surprised by her appearance. “Ooops,” she said, her voice almost panicky. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I can come back later.”

  I flattened my back against the door, barring her hasty exit. “Don’t be ridiculous! Please, come join us for some Chinese.”

  With her back to the table, Candice gave me a steely glare. “I don’t want to impose,” she said loudly.

  I narrowed my eyes right back at her. “It’s no imposition at all! There’s plenty. And you look hungry. We’d love it if you’d stay, right, Dutch?”

  From the other side of the room I saw the deer- in-the-headlights look on Dutch’s face, but one warning glare from me and he quickly recovered. “Sure,” he said. “There’s plenty of food for one more.”

  “And Brice wants you to stay too, right, sir?”

  I expected that since Brice had been caught off guard, he’d mutter something stupid, like, “Uhhhhh. . . .” But he completely surprised me when he actually got up from the table and came over to us. “I’ve got your favorite, kung pao chicken,” he said calmly, taking Candice’s sweater from her and motioning to the table.

  “Uhhh . . . ,” Candice said, and I stifled a giggle.

  We had a wonderful time at dinner and it reminded
me of old times. At first, Candice and Brice were a little stiff and formal with each other, but soon their obvious attraction took the edge off, and by the end of dinner they were laughing and sneaking goo-goo eyed glances at each other.

  I cleared the dinner dishes, suggested they take advantage of the lovely evening and go for a nice walk. “It’s such a cute neighborhood,” I coaxed as I grabbed plates and glassware. “Really, you two look like you could both use some fresh evening air.”

  Candice smiled slyly at me and I pretended not to notice. Brice got to his feet and offered Candice his arm. She blushed and could hardly refuse. Once they’d gone, Dutch came in to help me with the dishes. “You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?” he asked.

  I realized belatedly that I was wearing a rather smug grin. “Had to be done,” I told him. “I mean, I’m so sick of hearing all their excuses for not talking to each other. They’re worse than a soap opera.”

  “They’ll figure it out.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Dutch tossed the kitchen towel he was using to dry the dishes over his shoulder and lifted my chin with two fingers. “Because we did,” he said, and kissed me gently on the lips.

  “I’m thinking we shouldn’t wait up for them,” I said, turning off the water and snuggling into his arms.

  “I’m thinking you’re right,” he agreed.

  The next day was fairly routine; Candice had left a copy of the church list on the dining room table along with a note thanking us for dinner and asking me to take a look at the names over the weekend to see if anyone jumped out at me. Skimming through the pages, I guessed there were close to fifty names on the list. “Yikes,” I muttered. The church obviously catered to a large blue-collar base, but fifty names were a lot for my radar to deal with, and I mentally made a note to ask her to narrow it for me if she could.

  Brice was still with us that morning, but he assured us over coffee that he would be out of our hair by Saturday. “I’m thinking of checking into a hotel,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to protest, but Dutch subtly squeezed my arm and said, “Whatever is most comfortable for you, sir.”

  Brice nodded. “Thank you for your hospitality,” he added. “But I really think it’s time for me to find my own accommodations and let you two have your house back.”

  On the way to work, I got a call from the doctor’s office to confirm my appointment for the staple removal. I’d scheduled it over lunch, and it was close enough to Candice’s that I could pop over there and take a quick shower.

  When we got to the office, we checked in with Todd, Cox and Rueben about the murdered young men, and I was surprised when Cox said he thought he might have something. “I found a connection,” he said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “Facebook.”

  I blinked. That was so not what I thought he was going to say. “Say what, now?”

  “All three guys had accounts on Facebook,” he said.

  “Uh,” I said, wondering how he could possibly think that was a lead. “Isn’t the whole world on Facebook?”

  “I’m not,” Cox said stubbornly.

  I bit my tongue and asked, “Did they friend each other, then, or something?”

  “No, but Avril and Felix were both fans of Jay-Z.”

  “How do you know?”

  “It’s on their profile page,” Cox told me, pointing to his computer screen like he’d just cracked the case wide open.

  “Ah,” I said, and eyed Dutch skeptically. “Keep digging,” he told the agents before motioning me to follow him to his office.

  “What’s up?” I asked when he pointed me to a chair.

  “You’re squinting again.”

  I took a seat and rubbed my temples. “I can’t seem to get rid of this headache,” I confessed.

  “Are you coming down with something?”

  I shook my head. “No, this usually happens when I overwork the radar.”

  “Can I get you some Tylenol or something?”

  “I’ve been popping Excedrin since yesterday and it hasn’t even made a dent.”

  “Did you want to go back home?”

  I took a deep breath and forced myself to smile. “I’ll be fine. Really. I just need to push through it.”

  Dutch looked unsure, so I got up and forced an even bigger smile. “Work on Agent Cox, would you? That Facebook thing isn’t even close to a lead.”

  “Is there anything else you can suggest that might help us narrow where to look for this list that these guys are on?”

  I rubbed my temples again but stopped the moment I saw Dutch’s face. “All I can tell you is what I saw in my mind’s eye, Dutch.”

  “What was that exactly?” he asked.

  “It may sound weird, but the image I had was Santa reviewing his naughty list, and Felix, Jason, and Avril were on it.”

  Dutch considered me for a long moment. “You’re right. That does sound weird.”

  I threw my hands up. “It’s all I’ve got.”

  “Okay, Abs. I’ll keep working it with Cox, Rueben, and Todd. Now go get some coffee and take it a little easy today, will you?”

  He didn’t have to tell me twice, especially since the moment I began auditing files, my head was throbbing like a souped-up bass.

  At eleven thirty I reminded Katie that I was taking a long lunch and hurried to my doctor’s appointment. The process to remove the ten staples in my scalp was remarkably quick, and I could barely contain my excitement afterward when I showed up at Candice’s door with shower supplies in hand. I rapped loudly on her door, but no one came to answer it. “Crap,” I said, and knocked again. “Come on, Cassidy! Sundance needs a shower.”

  A few more seconds passed and the door was opened abruptly. I took a huge step back when I came face-to-face with a rumpled-looking Brice Harrison wearing Candice’s silk robe and several smeared lipstick stains on his face. “Abby!” he said, clearly flustered when he saw me standing there all slack-jawed.

  “Uh . . . ,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat.

  “Errr . . . ,” he said, his own face turning red.

  And then no one said anything more. I simply turned on my heel and hurried away, wishing that once I got outside, a freak solar flare would burn away my retinas and I’d never have to see anything like that again.

  I dashed back to the office, stopping to pick up a sub on the way, and when I got there, I grabbed several Bankers Boxes and told Katie I’d be working on them in the conference room. I didn’t know how long I’d be able to avoid seeing Brice after that encounter, but I was hoping it would be at least for the rest of the day.

  I got my wish, as I was left to work undisturbed for the afternoon, and it wasn’t until four thirty that the door opened and Dutch poked his head in. “Hey,” he said when he saw me.

  I sat back in the chair and squinted at him. “Hey, yourself.”

  “How’d it go at the doctor?”

  “I’m no longer the bride of Frankenstein,” I said, dipping my head so he could see my scalp.

  “Didn’t have time for that shower at Candice’s after all, huh?” he said, coming into the room.

  I felt my cheeks heat again. “Nope.” And I left it at that.

  “You look beat.”

  “I am beat. And this headache is now like a raging bull.”

  “Too much intuiting?”

  “Definitely.”

  “Harrison said we could knock off early.”

  “He won’t get any argument from me,” I said, shoving the folders back into their boxes.

  As we walked out, I asked, “Any luck tracking that connection to Avril, Felix, and Jason?”

  “Not yet. But I keep thinking back to your vision. There’s something obvious that we’re missing.”

  “Tell me about it,” I agreed.

  We arrived at Dutch’s car then and I handed him his keys. “Mind driving?”

  Dutch unlocked the doors, and while I was getting in, my phone beep
ed. After digging it out of my purse, I noticed that there were three missed calls and three voice mails, all from Candice. “Uh-oh,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Candice called.”

  “Why is that an uh-oh?”

  I tore my eyes away from the phone display and quickly decided against telling Dutch about the encounter with Brice earlier that afternoon. “I didn’t have a chance to look at the list of contractors and handymen from the church,” I said quickly.

  “She’ll understand. Call her up and tell her you’ll get to it later this weekend.” I didn’t say anything and Dutch must have interpreted that to mean I was still feeling guilty over it. “Really, dollface, you should think about taking it easy for a day or two. You look a little pale.”

  “I think I’m getting a migraine,” I admitted, realizing the constant throbbing headache I’d had all day was starting to intensify.

  “Now, that’s an uh-oh,” Dutch said.

  And he wasn’t kidding. Over the course of the next day and a half, all I did was lie in bed with a cold compress on my forehead as the most god-awful headache took hold and refused to abate.

  It was so bad I had to lie in bed with all the blinds closed and the lights off. I couldn’t even tolerate the light from the television.

  Dutch came in to check on me about every hour. He tried to get me to eat something too, but I was just too miserable.

  Finally, by Sunday morning I began to feel better and eventually made it out of bed long enough to tolerate a nice long shower.

  When I headed downstairs, I found Candice in my living room holding her car keys and looking terribly worried. She and Dutch were whispering and they stopped abruptly when I appeared. “Abs!” Dutch said, getting to his feet to come over to me as I moved slowly down the stairs. “What are you doing out of bed?”

  “I’m a little better,” I said. “And I think I’m hungry.”

  Dutch grinned. “Well, then, I know you’re better. The time I worry is when you’re not eating.”

  He then went off to make me a sandwich and I sat down with Candice on the couch. “I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well,” she said to me.

  “It’s okay,” I assured her. “This happens when I overdo it with the radar.”