A Grave Prediction

  “It is,” Kelsey said. “And it’s heartbreaking.”

  I shook my head. Sometimes, no matter how many hours we put in helping the FBI with their cases, it was hard to think we were making any kind of real difference at all. “I hate statistics like that,” I said.

  “Me too,” Kelsey agreed. “But if we’re really lucky, maybe we can help bring closure to one family whose young child was murdered and tossed away like garbage.”

  Candice and I traded a look. We’d do whatever we could to help with that. “It explains why you couldn’t identify the fourth victim from the graves you had a vision of,” Candice said to me. “Remember? You were waffling back and forth between it being a male or a female. If the bones come back as a young boy, then we’ll know why it was hard for you to pin down.”

  “That’s true,” I said. “I hate that it’s true, but you’re right.” And then I just couldn’t get the thing with the Edwards kid at the grave site out of my mind, so I said to Kelsey, “You know, I saw Will Edwards’s son nosing around the excavation site the other night around three a.m.”

  Her brow rose. “Will Edwards? The guy you’ve been tailing for the past couple of days?”

  “Yep.”

  “And you’re sure it was his kid?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “What night was that exactly?”

  “The night after I discovered the remains of the Tongva tribesman.”

  “You’re sure it wasn’t two nights later?” she asked.

  “Positive.”

  “Do we know how old this kid is?”

  I looked at Candice and she answered for me. “He just turned fifteen.”

  “And did you see him do anything suspicious other than snoop, Abby?”

  I frowned. “No.”

  “Hmmm,” she said, drumming her fingers on her coffee cup. “I’ll give you that it’s a really odd coincidence that you believe Will Edwards is connected to the bank robberies, and now his son is caught sniffing around the site where some bones belonging to a possible murder victim were found, but we’ve had reports of quite a few people from the neighborhood ducking under the yellow tape to take a look. Perez and Robinson are out there and they suggested that there’re far too many footprints from too many different pairs of shoes to even begin to track them all.”

  I nodded. I’d figured that merely spotting the young man at the site wasn’t enough to raise a red flag of suspicion, but something about seeing him there that late at night and trolling the neighborhoods on at least one night afterward bugged me. I didn’t know if he had anything to do with the appearance of the extra bones at the burial site . . . but I didn’t know that he was completely innocent either.

  Candice said, “How can we help, Kelsey? I mean, I’m assuming you’re telling us all this for a reason.”

  Hart’s expression turned slightly smug. “You would be right, Candice. Rivera called me into his office when all of this came to light. He doesn’t know what to make of it, but he’s a little spooked that Abby mentioned there would be remains discovered on that hill and now two sets have actually been found. He wanted me to find you, Abby, and talk to you—get your impressions as to what we’re really dealing with.”

  My mouth fell open. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope,” she said, lifting her coffee cup to offer me a little victory toast.

  I wanted to revel in smug satisfaction, but it all felt so hollow. Rivera was only trying to cover his ass, and a young man’s remains had been tossed away like trash. It was too disturbing to feel good about. “I don’t know what I can offer,” I said honestly. “I mean, other than what I already have.”

  “Nothing on the boy?” she pressed.

  I glanced at Candice, because Kelsey was putting me on the spot. Candice made a motion with her hand, like I should offer up something if I could. Taking a deep breath, I focused on the ether surrounding the newly discovered remains, and to my surprise, the image of the cross at the grave site came to mind, only now I could see that the cross wasn’t a cross at all—but a T. And then, floating up from the depths of my intuition came a name. Crystal clear, it played in my mind like a familiar song. “T for Trevor,” I said. It just rolled out of my mouth and it seemed to shock both Candice and Kelsey.

  “You got a name?” Candice asked with wide eyes.

  She had reason to be surprised. I never get names. Well, maybe not never, but it’s super rare for me. But this boy’s spirit was restless. He wanted me to discover his identity. I could feel it. Closing my eyes, I tried to call up his image. It was very nebulous, but I felt strongly like he had dark hair, dark eyes, and long gangly limbs. At least when he was alive.

  “Yes,” I said. “His name was Trevor.”

  “Trevor what?” Kelsey asked, and I opened my eyes to see her scribbling herself a note.

  “I don’t know,” I said. “All I’m getting is the name Trevor. It could be his first name, or it could be his last. If it helps, I think he had brown hair and brown eyes, but I don’t think he was Latino or Native American. He feels Caucasian to me.”

  “Age?” Kelsey tried.

  I frowned. I wasn’t some database with all the right answers— “Fourteen,” I said, when it just popped into my mind. The information was so clear it was a bit startling. “He died in the area,” I added. “His remains feel close to where he lived.”

  “So, La Cañada Flintridge or Pasadena,” Candice said.

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Can you tell us how he died?”

  “No clue,” I said. Then in my mind’s eye I saw a smoking gun—which didn’t necessarily mean he’d been shot. It was simply my symbol for murder. “He was murdered,” I said. “But exactly how, I’m not sure.”

  “Any idea by whom?” Kelsey asked next.

  Her questions were starting to annoy me. I understood that she was simply naive about how my intuitive brain worked, but being pressed for details like this can feel almost like an invasion, or rather, like someone trying to take over my radar. By simply being asked a question, my radar will respond with an answer, bypassing my free will. I shrugged off the annoyance, however, and said, “By someone he knew. And possibly trusted.”

  “Anything else you can tell me?” Kelsey asked.

  I waited to see if more information about Trevor would come to me, but nothing did. “No. I think you’ve got enough to go on for now. If I get anything else, I’ll call you.”

  “Thanks, Abby,” Kelsey said. “I’ll go back to Rivera with this and we’ll look into it.”

  As she gathered up her things to go, I put a hand out to stop her and said, “Did you get anything on Cindy Clawson?”

  Candice looked sharply at me. I might’ve forgotten to mention to her that I’d asked Kelsey to dig up any dirt she could.

  “No,” she said. “But I only got Rivera to sign off on the subpoena right before I called you. I was in his office talking to him about it when Perez and Robinson called in with the news about the extra remains in the grave.”

  “Okay,” I said, pulling my hand back. “Let me know if you find out anything.”

  “I will,” she said.

  After she’d gone, Candice turned to me. “I didn’t know we were farming out our investigations to her now.”

  My cheeks filled with heat. I should’ve told Candice that I’d asked Kelsey to look into Cindy Clawson. “You were napping,” I said.

  “Really?” Candice replied. “That’s your excuse for sidestepping me?”

  “Sorry. You’re right. I should’ve asked and/or told you about it.”

  “Yep.”

  “Can we be best friends again?”

  Candice rolled her eyes, but the edges of her mouth quirked. “Fine,” she said. “But you owe me dinner or something.”

  “Oh, man!” I said, lifting my phone to loo
k at the time. “I can’t believe it’s almost four! We skipped lunch, Candice! And I didn’t even notice.”

  “Let’s grab something and talk about all this, okay? None of it is making a hell of a lot of sense to me right now, and I want to get a handle on it.”

  “Deal,” I said, and we left in search of good grub.

  A bit later I sat happily in front of a plate of perfectly grilled sea scallops on a mound of polenta that was so rich and creamy you’d think you’d died and gone to heaven. “How does this not have dairy in it?” I said with a small moan of pleasure.

  “I’m telling you,” Candice said, pointing her fork at me as she tucked into her Alaskan sea bass, “L.A. has all the best restaurants for healthy eaters.”

  “We should move here,” I said, not at all serious.

  “We should,” she agreed, and winked.

  After we’d finished eating, we both ordered coffee and got down to discussing everything we’d learned so far. “You’re sure the robberies and the future murders are connected, right?”

  “I am,” I said. “There is a connection between them, but I can’t really decide what it could be.”

  “And what about Trevor? Do you think his murder figures into this?”

  I really wanted to say no, mostly because I didn’t want to head down yet another rabbit hole, but something told me that his murder was another link in this very complicated chain. “He figures into this too,” I said.

  Candice made a face. “What about the ancient remains belonging to the tribesman? Does he figure into this?”

  I let out a small laugh. “No. But he’s pretty much the only one that doesn’t.”

  “So we’ve got a bank-robbing gang of thugs who also could be serial killers?”

  “No,” I said. “That’s not it. It’s one killer and four robbers.”

  “That we know of.”

  “Come again?” I said.

  “We only know of four because that’s all the video shows. There could be others orchestrating the robberies who never actually appear at the bank.”

  “True.”

  “And we’re still pretty sure that Edwards fits into this somehow, right?”

  “He didn’t get all sweaty and ditch us at the In-N-Out Burger for nothing,” I said.

  “True,” Candice agreed. “The most perplexing clue you’ve turned up so far is Cindy Clawson. I’d be curious to see how she fits into all this.”

  I sighed and looked at the table. None of this made sense. “Me too,” I agreed. “She seemed really nice, but if my interpretation of the dream I had is correct, she’s linked to all this somehow. And I’m also pretty sure her daughter could end up being one of the murder victims someday.”

  “That’s what’s really bothering me,” Candice said. “I have this urgent desire to look her up and warn her.”

  “Without sounding crazy?” I said. “Or freaking out a young girl a year and a half before she’ll really be in danger? Good luck.”

  “You’re right, but, Abs, if we’re not successful and can’t solve this one, then I am going to find a way to warn her.”

  I grinned at Candice. “You’ll have to beat me to it. Anyway, the one clue that I’m actually bothered by is the old guy from the bank. I just find it too much of a coincidence that he was indisposed at the time of the robberies.”

  “You mean Phil the security guard?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You want to go have another talk with him?”

  “I do,” I said. “Right now if possible.”

  Candice eyed her watch. “If he’s even working today, he’s probably on an eight-hour shift, so we’d have to hustle.”

  I pulled out my wallet and motioned to the waitress. “Let’s hustle, then.”

  We arrived at the pharmacy just as Phil was putting on his jacket, ready to leave. Candice waved at him to get his attention and he brightened at the sight of her. “Well, hello, pretty lady. Nice to see you again.”

  “You too, Phil,” she said. “I was wondering if you had time for a little chat.”

  He cocked his head at her. “I was just on my way out, but I’m only going home, so I got time. What can I do you for?”

  Candice took a deep breath and dove right in. Nodding to me, she said, “My partner and I are investigators, working for a private citizen who’s interested in helping solve the La Cañada and Pasadena robberies.” Phil pulled back his head slightly and he looked on the edge of getting pissy, so Candice was quick to add, “We don’t think you were involved, Phil.”

  “I wasn’t,” he said firmly.

  “Yes, yes,” she said sweetly. “But maybe you told someone you didn’t feel well on the morning of the robbery, or even when you took your lunch, and maybe they took advantage of that information somehow?”

  He scowled. “I felt fine that morning,” he said. “I had my tea and some banana nut bread, read my paper, and felt my usual self. It wasn’t until about six or seven hours later that I started to have some issues, and I don’t usually take a lunch. I just snack a little on crackers during the day and have a big meal at dinner.”

  “And you never told any of the customers that you weren’t feeling well?” I asked.

  Phil scratched his head. “No,” he said. “It came on really sudden. Well, the gurgling started a little earlier I guess, and then I just had to bolt for the bathroom. God, it was awful.”

  “You threw up, huh?” I asked.

  Phil’s face reddened. “No. It was the other kind. You know. The trots.”

  I was sorry I asked, but Candice was eyeing Phil curiously. “You said it was six or seven hours after you had your tea, Phil?”

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “What kind of tea?”

  “I don’t know,” he said. “It was some peppermint blend—really intense on the peppermint. The new girl at Starbucks talked me into it.”

  “The new girl?” Candice said.

  “Yeah. She was a sweet young thing. Said it was her first day there and they were telling her to push the herbal teas, so I cut her a break and tried it. I didn’t much like it, though. It was too froufrou. I like the hard stuff. Their Royal English tea is the best.”

  Candice nodded and then she said, “Do you remember the name of the girl who served you, Phil?”

  He scratched his head again. “Nah,” he said. “Sorry.”

  “Have you seen her since?” Candice pressed.

  “No,” he said. “I think maybe she quit.”

  “And where do you get your morning tea from exactly?”

  “The Starbucks on Verdugo Boulevard, why?”

  Instead of answering him, Candice squeezed his shoulder and said, “You’ve been awesome, Phil. Thank you so much.”

  He looked a little stunned at the abrupt end of the conversation, and frankly I was too. I wasn’t sure what Candice was on to, but as she’d already turned away, I decided to wave to Phil and follow her. “What’s going on?”

  Candice wound her way through the aisles until she arrived at the herbal remedy section of the pharmacy. “Eureka,” she said, holding up a box with a purple label. I squinted at the lettering.

  “Smooth Move tea,” I said, and then it all clicked. “Holy shit!”

  “Yep,” Candice said. “Phil said the tea was strong. She probably hit him with a double dose.”

  I looked back toward where we’d spoken to Phil. “That poor guy,” I said. “Whoever that girl was, she set him up and cost him his job.”

  “She did. The hard part is going to be proving it.”

  “She could be the girlfriend of one of the robbers,” I said.

  “That’s what I was thinking,” Candice replied.

  “I take it we’re now heading to Starbucks?”

  Candice put the tea back on the shelf. “Wow, it’s li
ke you’re psychic,” she deadpanned.

  I rolled my eyes and led the way out of the pharmacy.

  The Starbucks was only three blocks over from the Sun Coast Bank branch where Phil used to work. We walked in and Candice asked to speak to the manager. A kid—who couldn’t have been older than nineteen—came out from the back. “Hi!” he said after one of the baristas pointed to us. “What’s up?”

  I smirked at the informal greeting and thought, This should be easy. I then let Candice do the talking. “Hello,” she said. “My name is Candice Fusco. I’m a private investigator out of Texas, here in California investigating a civil suit about to be brought against your establishment.”

  The kid in the green apron blinked behind his big-framed glasses. “Really?” he said, like he couldn’t believe it.

  “Yes, really,” Candice said. “My client, who was here on vacation and visited your establishment approximately three weeks ago, was slipped something in his herbal tea that caused him significant gastrointestinal distress, and we believe one of your baristas purposely poisoned him with intent to cause great bodily harm. I’d like to speak with her and get her side of the story before I recommend to my client whether to file the suit.”

  My own eyes widened at the end of Candice’s speech. She’d laid on the ruse pretty thick, and I hoped the kid didn’t freak out and start making a lot of phone calls.

  “Holy crap!” he said, loud enough for everyone in the place to hear him. And then he put up his hands and said, “Ummm, you know what? Let me call my dad. He’s a criminal defense attorney and he’ll know what I should do.”

  Candice realized her mistake immediately. “It’s not necessary to get any lawyers involved,” she said quickly. “All we need is the name of one of your former employees. A girl who worked here on the morning of—” But it was too late. The kid was already moving away from her like she had big, lawsuity cooties.

  “Sherlock!” the kid called.

  Another young man in a green apron popped up from behind the counter. “Yeah?”

  “You’re in charge out here for a minute. I gotta go call my dad.”

  Sherlock looked from his manager to us and back again like he didn’t really understand the problem, but he’d be fine on his own. After receiving a nod from Sherlock, the manager bolted for the back.