A Grave Prediction

  “You okay?” I asked when we were alone in the elevator.

  “I will be,” she said, attempting a smile that didn’t quite get there. “It’s tough to hear something like that, even though you told me how it’d turn out.”

  “I can be wrong sometimes,” I admitted.

  Her gaze slid sideways to me. “Oh, yeah? How often?”

  “Not very,” I said. “But sometimes. It happens.”

  She sighed sadly. “I would’ve believed you had a special talent even if you’d been wrong about Sara,” she said.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her, mostly because I was and I didn’t know what else to say. “We can skip going out for a meal if you’re not really up for it.”

  “Abby, I think the only thing I’m up for right now is a drink with a friend.”

  It made me feel pretty good that Kelsey thought of me as a friend. “Thanks,” I told her. And meant it.

  Over plates of delicious pasta and bread so good I wanted to marry it, Kelsey and I got to know each other a bit better. She impressed me on a number of levels, mostly by the way she was so dedicated to her job—a job that requires a certain hardness in a person, and yet, Kelsey had a really lovely soft side. She was sweet and genuine and earnest and I liked her immensely. In some ways she was a little like Candice, but in other ways not so much.

  Candice can sometimes play fast and loose with the law, and she has close friends who play even faster and looser with it. I highly doubted that Kelsey had ever come close to bending the law, much less sending a yearly holiday card to a mob boss (true story).

  Still, I had the sense that I should introduce these two women to each other. Call it a gut feeling. “My best friend would love this place,” I said casually, intending to steer the conversation in that direction.

  “Your best friend?” Kelsey said. “You mean Candice Fusco? Persona non grata around the office?”

  I frowned. “You’ve heard of her, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said with a knowing smile. “I’m a little surprised you didn’t ask me if it was okay that she meet up with us for lunch.”

  “So, you also know that she’s here in L.A. with me, huh?”

  “There’s not a lot we don’t know about you, Abby. We were given a full briefing by the director before you even boarded the plane from Austin.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. Whitacre wasn’t too optimistic about your chances of lending us a hand, and he wanted us to know exactly what we’d have to deal with. It’s why your reception was a little on the chilly side.”

  I laughed. “I like that you think it was only a ‘little’ chilly.”

  “Yeah, sorry about that. If it helps, I’m now a believer.”

  “It helps,” I admitted. “What do you think the odds are that any of your peers will be willing to give me a chance?”

  “Before you found Grecco’s wine cellar, I’d have said they were slim to none. Now I’d put them at about even.”

  “Well, that’s better than I would’ve thought, at least.”

  “The one to work on would be Agent Robinson. He’s the most respected agent in our department.”

  I grimaced. Robinson seriously disliked me, and I didn’t need to be psychic to pick up on it. “Why’s he the leader of the pack?” I asked her.

  “He closes the highest percentage of cases, and he’s known for not letting go of a case until he brings in the bad guy. That’s why what you said to him yesterday about Alejandro Cortina was such a blow to his ego. It’s a trait that, until recently, had been seen as something to be respected, but as the Cortina case continues to go nowhere, I think he’s afraid it’s starting to become a liability. Basically, you fed into his worst fears.”

  “Awesome,” I said flatly.

  “Did Rivera tell you that you’d be working on his case next?”

  “He did,” I confessed.

  Kelsey nodded. “Just do your thing, Abby, and you’ll win him over.”

  “It’s not the Cortina case, is it?” I asked, a little worried that, in spite of my warning, he’d ask me to find a way to lure Cortina here.

  “No,” she said. “It’s another case entirely.”

  “What’s it about?”

  She cocked a playful eyebrow. “You mean, you don’t already know?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes . . . but just barely. People are always attempting to use a bit of “psychic humor” with me, and I’m pretty sure they don’t realize just how often everyone else does it, or, after years and years of enduring it, how totally annoying I find it. “No,” I said levelly, and left it at that.

  Kelsey’s eyebrow lowered and she cleared her throat. “You get that a lot, I’ll bet.”

  “More than you know.”

  “Sorry,” she said. “Robinson and Perez have partnered up to work a series of bank robberies happening in and around La Cañada Flintridge and Pasadena.”

  “Where’s that?” My knowledge of the local geography was pretty limited.

  “North,” Kelsey said, thumbing over her shoulder to indicate the direction.

  “Huh,” I said. “What do you know about the case?”

  “We have weekly meetings to brief Rivera and the team on each of our case files, so I know a fair amount, but I think I should let Robinson and Perez explain,” she said, placing her napkin on the table. “And on that note, I think it’s time we got back. Rivera’s going to lend us some latitude with the late lunch after bringing in a win like we did today, but he’s not going to let us push it.”

  * * *

  We arrived back at the bureau around four o’clock, but it felt much later to me. It was more than just the time change; I was tired and drained. So I was hardly enthusiastic when Rivera called Kelsey and me into the conference room again for a debriefing about the search at Grecco’s house.

  Kelsey did most of the talking, thank God. And she gave a lot of the credit to me, which I seriously appreciated. Rivera did little more than grunt as he listened and looked over the list of evidence sent up from the crime techs.

  At last he leaned back in his chair and said, “Great work, Agent Hart. You can get back to your prepping for your interrogation of Grecco in the morning.”

  Kelsey hesitated to get up. It was clear that Rivera was dismissing only one of us, and I thought she might’ve wanted to stay with me in a show of support. I was quick to smile at her like I wasn’t worried in the slightest about spending more time with the special agent in charge. “Good luck tomorrow,” I told her.

  “Thanks, Cooper,” she said. As she walked past my chair, she squeezed my shoulder to let both me and Rivera know that she valued my contribution. It meant a lot to me that she continued to demonstrate such strong faith in me when we’d really only known each other two days.

  After she’d gone, Rivera studied me silently for several long moments. I made sure to return the stare. “So, you’re a snowboarder?” I said to him.

  He blinked. Then blinked again. “What?”

  I pointed to him and sorted through a few of the images flickering in my head. “Snowboarder. You’re going snowboarding soon. Not locally, though. You’re headed east a bit.”

  Rivera blinked several more times. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  I reached into my purse and pulled out some lip balm. Casually I swirled the balm over my lips as I replied, “Purple mountains majesty. Colorado. Rocky Mountain high.” I paused the swirl long enough to smile, both at how much fun it was to tease Rivera and at the look on his face.

  Tucking the lip balm away, I sighed wistfully. “I’m not much of a skier or a boarder. And it’s been a while since I’ve even seen snow. You’ll have a great time, though. Late February is the perfect time for that kind of a trip.”

  Rivera made a sound, a sort of expelling of b
reath combined with a snort, and then he simply shook his head. “Okay, Cooper, you can knock that shit off. I get it. There really is something to this whole psychic stuff.”

  “For reals?” I said, leaning forward to put my elbows on the table. “Just like that, you believe me?”

  “It’s not just like that,” he said. “After you left with the team this morning, I took the time to make some calls and check up on you. It appears that you do have some sort of ability, but whether that ability can be harnessed by anyone but you, or can be used to help us solve more cases, is what I don’t yet know.”

  I shrugged. “Only one way to find out. Put me on the next case and if I prove myself, let me coach your team about developing their own intuitive abilities. It won’t turn any of them into professional psychics, but it will make them even better investigators.”

  Rivera squinted skeptically at me before taking out his cell and tapping out a text. He then set the cell on the table and went back to eyeing me keenly. The door opened a few moments later and in walked agents Robinson and Perez. Both of them looked like they’d just been given detention. Once they’d taken a seat at the table, Rivera addressed the two men while motioning in my direction. “You’re to give her a brief history of the Pasadena/Flintridge robberies, then follow up on any leads she provides. Answer any questions she may have honestly, and don’t give her a hard time about it. I’ll be expecting some progress by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  With that, Rivera got up and left us alone together. Joy.

  I leaned back in my chair and laced my fingers together, while looking expectantly at the men. Robinson was his usual stone-faced self, while Perez was sweating nervously. I wondered if he thought I was a witch who might put a spell on him. After a long moment where no one spoke, I tapped my wrist and said, “Time’s a-wasting, gentlemen.”

  Perez looked at Robinson, but that man didn’t seem to mind disobeying a direct order. He continued to sit there and gaze at me with dull, flat eyes. Finally, Perez said, “We’ve been investigating a series of bank robberies.”

  “Okay,” I said, glad that at least someone was moving the train forward.

  “Five banks in five weeks around Pasadena and La Cañada Flintridge.”

  “Five in five weeks?” I repeated. “That’s a pretty aggressive schedule.”

  “It is.”

  My radar was buzzing. The energy around their case was electric, and that was good. It usually meant I wouldn’t have to work too hard to draw out a clue. Neither Robinson nor Perez had brought in a file for me to look at, so I took it upon myself to peer into the ether and see what I could tease out. “This isn’t just one robber,” I began. “There’re multiple people involved. They’re organized, like a gang of thieves.” Across the table Perez was nodding slightly. “I feel like they’re very systematic about things. They have a routine that is always the same. The same number of robbers each time taking up the same positions within the bank, and I keep seeing a clock in my mind, which means they probably rob the place in exactly the same number of minutes each time. Like, down to the second. And it’s the same bank being hit each time, just at different branches.”

  Perez’s mouth fell open. The cynical side of me thought that these skeptical bureau boys really were a bit too easy to impress. “The sixth robbery hasn’t happened yet,” I continued. “They’re off the pattern.”

  “Yes,” Robinson said.

  I was a bit startled that he’d spoken, but I tried not to show it. “And you guys don’t know why they’re off said pattern. In other words, you don’t know if that means they’ve moved on to another city, or if they’re taking a break or even if they’ve given up robbing banks altogether.” Focusing on Perez, I said, “How long has it been since the last robbery?”

  “Two weeks.”

  I tapped my finger on the conference table. “Hmm. That’s interesting.” Purposely, I didn’t elaborate. If these two wanted more of my input, they’d need to ask. Politely.

  “That it?” Robinson said after a lengthy pause.

  I sighed and stood up. “No. There’s a whole lot more. But I’d like a look at the crime scenes before I comment further.”

  “Now?” Perez said, glancing at his watch. I knew it was just before five.

  “No,” I repeated. “Not now. Tomorrow. Nine a.m. In the meantime I’m going to head back to my hotel and rest. It’s been a long day and I’m tired. I think you guys need a break too. At least a break from being total hard-asses. Tomorrow how about we all meet back here and at least pretend to play nice, m’kay?”

  With that, I left them to glare at my backside.

  * * *

  Candice met me in the hotel bar at six. “Sundance,” she said smoothly, sidling up to take the barstool next to mine.

  “Huckleberry,” I replied.

  “How’s things?”

  “Peachy.”

  She motioned to the bartender and pointed to my margarita. He nodded and while he got busy making her a goblet of goodness, she considered me critically. “Brice and I have a bet, you know.”

  I inhaled deeply and let it out slow. “You don’t say?”

  “Yeah. He bet me you wouldn’t make it past the first week.”

  I turned my head to arch an eyebrow at her. “Did he, now?”

  “Yep. Dutch has you down for ten days, though.”

  I chuckled. “Glad my own husband has such faith.”

  “I have you down for the full two weeks,” she said.

  “How much?”

  “Last time I checked, the pool had five hundred bucks in it.”

  “There’s a pool?”

  “There is,” she said. “Oscar thinks you’ll crack the day before you’re scheduled to leave, while Cox didn’t think you’d even go. He laid money down that you’d head west all right, but he thought you’d bypass L.A. and make for Hawaii.”

  I laughed and shook my head ruefully. “So, now that you’ve told me about the pool, you’re thinking that I’ll stick it out to the end just to let you, oh, true friend of mine, cash in and split the winnings with me, right?”

  Candice picked up the margarita the bartender had set in front of her and took a demure sip before answering. “Actually, I was just counting on the first part of that scenario.”

  I made a dismissive sound. “No way, Huckleberry. If I make it to the end of this nightmare, I get half of that pot.”

  “I suppose that’s fair,” she said. “Although I might be more motivated to help you stay focused and on track if the split was closer to say . . . seventy-thirty.”

  “Only if that seventy percent comes this way, darlin’,” I said, pointing to my chest.

  “Fifty-fifty it is,” she said.

  “I thought so.” We sipped on our margaritas in silence for a bit before Candice said, “I take it today was as tough as yesterday?”

  “Not really,” I admitted. “Actually, today was pretty good. I scored a big win helping Agent Hart with her case against the stolen art fencer. I was the one who found his hidden wine cellar, where the team discovered a ton of evidence to convict the art dealer’s sorry ass and send him away for a long, long time.”

  “Abby, that’s great!” Candice said, patting me on the back. “And it must’ve gone a long way toward convincing these L.A. Feds that you’re the real deal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “You know, you’d think that would be the case. However . . .”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, they’re a stubborn group.”

  “So what’s next on their agenda for you?”

  “A series of bank robberies. There’s a ton of supercharged energy around the crimes, so I’m thinking I’ll be able to do some solid good on the case. Tomorrow, we’re going to visit the banks where the robberies took place.”

  “Sounds promising,” she said. I nodded and she
added, “So why’re you here with that sad face and this big-ass margarita?”

  I swirled the drink and frowned. “Because nothing I do seems to be good enough for these guys. I mean, Agent Hart is awesome. We had a late lunch together and I swear you’d like her too, Candice. But the other ones . . . Man! They’re just cold, you know?”

  “Why do you need them to be all warm and fuzzy toward you?”

  I made a face at her. “Come on, Candice, you know me better than that. I want them to think I’m awesome because I’m emotionally needy. Like . . . duh!”

  “Ah,” she said. “Yes, I forgot. Your parents didn’t love you and the rest of the world has to pay.”

  “Can I help it if I had a crappy childhood that left me broken and damaged beyond repair?”

  She grinned. “No, I suppose not. And for the record, you are neither broken nor damaged beyond repair. Dented, maybe, but not broken.”

  “That, right there, is the reason I love you. You just get me.” For emphasis, I saluted her with my drink. And then I got serious. “You’re right, though, I suppose. I’ve been trying all day to keep in mind what you said last night about it being their stuff, not mine, if these guys are so skeptical. Still, it’s really tough to work in a hostile environment.”

  “Is it really hostile?” she asked curiously.

  “I’d have to say that it is, and it makes me uncomfortable. It’s tense and it’s angry and no one but Agent Hart trusts me. I was fine this morning, Candice, I really was, and I thought after I brought in the home run on the Grecco case that the boys would ease up, but they’re not. It’s as hostile as ever and when it’s coming from all directions, I have a hard time ignoring it.”

  “You can bring me in, you know,” Candice said seriously. “I mean, fuck this Whitacre dude who wants me to stay out of his bureau. If you need me, then I’ll go with you tomorrow.”

  I had a brief flash of Candice being physically removed from the building by Robinson and Rivera—the two biggest men at the bureau. That wasn’t sure to end well . . . for them.

  “No,” I said with a sigh. “It’d only cause trouble for both of us.”