Doom with a View (7 page)

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. “People 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?”

I shook my head ruefully. “Okay, maybe you’re right. Maybe
you
shouldn’t get tied down. Maybe you should find someone to fool around with one minute and dump the next. Maybe it’s just safer for everyone involved if you do.”

Candice made her hand into a gun and said, “Pow! Now you’re talking.”

The waiter came by and removed our plates, asking us if we wanted to see the dessert menu. I could feel the waistline of my new skirt pinching into me, so I declined, and shortly after, we had paid the bill and were ready to leave.

As we stood up, something from the other side of the room caught my attention and I gasped as I realized none other than Brice Harrison had just entered the restaurant. A short man hurried over to him and I could hear him say, “Good evening, Agent Harrison! So good to have you back in town with us again. May I show you to your usual table?”

Harrison hadn’t seen us yet and I elbowed Candice and nodded in that direction. “What the hell is
he
doing here?” she snapped.

“Having dinner,” I said.

“Do you think he followed us?”

I asked the question in my head and my radar said no. “I don’t think so,” I told her. “But from what I just overheard the maître d’ say, I believe this is a regular haunt for him.”

“Well then, let’s go,” she said. “This place doesn’t have as much charm with him here.” I led us over to the other side of the restaurant, keeping other dining patrons between us and Harrison on our way to the exit.

As I reached the stairs, I turned to comment on what a great meal that was when I noticed Candice wasn’t behind me. With surprise I realized she was over at Harrison’s table, talking to him, the waiter, and the maître d’. I didn’t know what she said, but it obviously upset Harrison—his eyes smoldered meanly at her while the waiter and the maître d’ appeared in complete shock.

With a little wave to them Candice turned and sauntered over to me on the stairs, chuckling like she’d just cooked someone’s goose. “What’d you do?” I demanded, climbing the stairs quickly.

Candice’s chuckle deepened. “I merely told Harrison—within earshot of the staff of his favorite restaurant, mind you—that I hoped that pesky little business with Internal Affairs over the sexual harassment allegations from one of his fellow agents was ironed out quickly and that he was eventually cleared of any wrongdoing.”

I gasped. “You
didn’t
!”

Candice’s chuckle became a hearty laugh. “Oh, Abby! You should have seen the look on his face!”

“Oh, I saw it,” I said. “And may I remind you that we will be spending a lot of time with him over the next couple of days?”

Candice waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, come on,” she said. “The guy obviously needs to lighten up, and if he can’t take a little joke, who needs him?”

While I agreed with her that Harrison really could use a little levity in his life, I didn’t know if he’d appreciate it coming from us, but as Candice was getting such a kick out of it, I decided not to rain on her parade. Still, these little games between Harrison and my partner were quickly reminding me of a kindergarten playground.

The next morning found us back at the field office. Gaston had left us a message requesting that we report in about ten a.m. We were seated in the lobby again at nine forty-five, and at nine fifty a female agent appeared to escort us up to the sixth floor. She led us down a different corridor from our previous visit, through a maze of cubicles into a large conference room, and asked both of us if we would care for any refreshments. Candice and I both took coffee and waited in the empty room for someone to come in.

As we waited, Candice made a comment or two about the weather, but I didn’t feel like talking. For some reason I was even more nervous today than yesterday. I didn’t have long to dwell on it because at exactly ten o’clock the doors opened and several agents began filing in, each carrying a Styrofoam cup of coffee or a bottle of water. The mood was expectant and serious as they all took their places. Several of the men took notice of me and I could tell they were curious, but other than a “hello” or “good morning,” they didn’t engage us in conversation.

The last two to arrive were Harrison—who took his seat without making eye contact with us—and Gaston.

Gaston took his place at the head of the table and surveyed the group gathered around the conference table. “Good morning,” he said, his voice confident and strong. “Thank you all for attending this meeting. As you know from your SACs, I’ve asked each of you here to address the investigation of three missing college students from neighboring states, all with a parent in the state legislature. As the circumstances of each individual disappearance are similar, we wanted to put this task force together to investigate what I feel is a strong connection. And as I am the lead on this task force, I thought it appropriate to call in any available resource at our disposal.”

Gaston made a point of locking eyes with me, and I had to give the guy credit, because I knew he was putting his butt on the line by including me. “Agents, with us today are Abigail Cooper and Candice Fusco. Ms. Cooper is a very gifted investigative intuitive, and has helped our local Michigan bureau on a number of cases. Her input into those cases undeniably helped the investigation, and in several of them, were it not for her insight, those cases would still be open.”

I felt several sets of eyes swivel to me, but most of the expressions around the table were unreadable—except for Harrison’s. He barely hid his contempt. I nodded at a few of the men looking at me, and Gaston continued. “Her partner, Candice Fusco, is a licensed PI and an old friend to the FBI. I won’t go into the details of our shared history here, gentlemen, but suffice it to say that I consider Ms. Fusco to also be a valuable asset to this investigation. And I want to make it clear that both women will be allowed access to the facts of this case and utilized to the best of their talents and abilities.”

“And I would like to state for the record, sir, that I strongly protest their involvement,” Harrison said, and I was shocked by his lack of diplomacy.