Doom with a View (9 page)

“Of course,” he said.

“There will be one more victim.”

The room became very quiet and I could feel all eyes focus on me. “Do you have a sense of when?” Gaston asked.

“Soon, sir,” I said quietly. “Very soon. And I also believe that Leslie is almost out of time as well. I’d give her no more than a month—tops.”

Gaston sighed heavily and motioned to the group. “You heard her, gentlemen. Let’s get to work.”

Everyone got up from the table at once and began to file out the door. Harrison was the first to exit, his fury palpable. Gaston motioned to Candice and me to hang back while everyone else left. When we were alone, he closed the door and began to speak in soft tones. “I’m sorry to have to pair you with Agent Harrison,” he began. “But my hands are tied here.”

I understood that Gaston meant that the internal politics made it very difficult to exclude Harrison from the case. Something that, I suspected, didn’t sit well with the SAC. “It’s fine, sir, really,” Candice said with a smirk. My sense was that she was relishing the opportunity to rub Harrison’s nose in it.

“Still,” Gaston continued, “I have had a lengthy discussion with Agent Harrison about your treatment yesterday, and although I would privately like nothing better than to bring him up on charges of insubordination, he did inform me that he was physically restrained by you, Ms. Fusco.”

Candice beamed at him proudly. “I’m surprised he admitted that,” she said. “I would have thought someone with Harrison’s ego wouldn’t readily own up to being bested by a woman.”

There was the smallest of smiles on Gaston’s face as he replied, “Yes, it surprised me too. However, he was well within his right to place you into custody for assaulting a federal officer. I have convinced him to drop all charges, but I would like you to fully understand the precariousness of my situation. I am the only individual of my rank to be open to utilizing Ms. Cooper’s talents.”

“I get it, sir,” I said. “Your butt’s on the line.”

Gaston’s smile widened. “Yes,” he said. “But this case has a personal connection for me. Bianca’s father has been a close friend of mine since college, and for his sake, I’d very much like to see it resolved, and resolved quickly. To that end I am willing to take a risk and experiment by using you, but I am limited by the tolerance of my own superiors. Another incident like the one yesterday, where one of my agents is physically assaulted and is more than willing to go over my head to report it, would mean the swift end of your participation.”

Candice looked chagrined. “My apologies, sir.”

“It’s all right, Ms. Fusco. Just, please, don’t antagonize Agent Harrison if you can avoid it. Be as professional as possible.”

“Understood, sir,” we both said.

* * *

We made it back to our hotel in time for lunch and ate again at Bistro Bis. While we were waiting, a text came in on Candice’s phone. She glanced at the screen and said, “Harrison has booked us on a flight out of Dulles tonight at eight.”

“I guess that means we should cancel our other flight out for Thursday.”

“It does,” she murmured as she began to poke at her iPhone.

I ate my chicken salad in silence until she was finished and put her cell back in her purse. “I wonder if he’s got us all sitting together,” I mused.

“Who?” Candice asked.

“Harrison,” I replied. “I wonder if he had the balls to book our seats in one row.”

Candice made a derisive sound and jabbed at a sea scallop. “Don’t bet on it. I’m thinking he’ll be on the opposite side of the plane.”

“I just don’t get why he’s being so close-minded about my involvement,” I complained. “I mean, didn’t I lead him straight to a crime scene yesterday? How is he able to reason
that
away? Luck?”

Candice chewed a bite of food for a minute before she spoke. “Abs, don’t take this so personally,” she said. “This really has very little to do with you.”

“Come again?” I asked as I rolled up the sleeves on my arms to point to the thin blue bruises where the handcuffs had pressed on my skin for two hours the day before.

Candice smiled. “Okay, so maybe it has a
little
to do with you. The point is that this is really about Gaston and Harrison. You wait, by the end of this investigation they’ll be pulling out their willies and getting out the measuring stick.”

I made a face. “Ewwww,” I said.

“Too graphic over lunch?” she asked.

“A bit.”

“Sorry. Anyway, I’ve seen Harrison’s type before. He’s used to being the golden boy. I’ll bet he’s risen through the ranks very fast, and I’ll also be willing to bet his family expects nothing less of him. He’s been told his whole life that he’s special and all he needs to do is follow the rules, play the game, and he’ll continue to get those promotions one after another. But then, right in the middle of that fast track, he gets sty mied by someone who isn’t following the rules, someone unconventional, who thinks outside the box and is willing to try anything to solve a case.”

“You mean Gaston,” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “And it’s really rattling Harrison’s cage. The fact that he’s been assigned to a new position where his boss and one of his direct reports both like to use a psychic to help solve cases . . . it must feel like he’s entered the Twilight Zone or something.”

I considered that for a while before asking her, “Okay, I see your point, but if you knew all that already, why are you being so tough on him?”

Candice flashed me a toothy grin. “Entertainment,” she said easily. “And the fact that I can’t stand it when you get bullied.”

I laughed. “My own personal bodyguard.”

Candice winked. “Anything for you, Sundance.”

“So now that Gaston has given us a little warning, are you going to be nicer to Harrison?”

“It depends,” she said.

“On?”

“On whether or not he behaves himself.”

“Oh, boy,” I said.

Chapter Four

At six thirty p.m. we were at the airport and making our way through security. Neither one of us saw any sign of Harrison. And when we eventually boarded the plane, we didn’t spot him either.

Once we landed and were able to flip on our cell phones again, Candice showed me another text from Harrison. It read simply:
Troy bureau office tomorrow, eight a.m. sharp.

We both sighed and waited until it was our turn to deplane, but as I got out to the gate, I remembered that I left my book on the plane. “Want me to hang here while you go back to get it?” Candice asked.

“Naw. You go on to baggage claim. I’ll be down in a few.”

It took a little longer than I thought it would to wait out the stream of people getting off, and then I was told that I wasn’t allowed back onto the plane for security reasons. I then had to wait for a flight attendant to search for my book, but happily she found it and I hurried down to meet up again with Candice.

Once I got there, I spotted her right away and, to my complete surprise, Dutch. I walked toward him with a big grin on my face, ready to jump into his arms, but his eyes glazed over me and continued to survey the crowd behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, wondering whom he could be looking at, and when I didn’t see anyone I recognized, I turned back to him.

I noticed that Candice had started giggling, and I wondered what the joke was until I saw Dutch’s gaze wash over me a second time as he impatiently surveyed the crowd. I realized suddenly that he didn’t recognize me and I smiled hugely and continued to make a beeline for him. His eyes drifted back one last time to me and I winked at him. He quickly looked away, as if my attention was unwanted. I laughed and ran straight at him and his face registered shock at first as a stranger came dashing toward him, but in the last moment before I threw myself into him, he realized it was me and I heard him gasp, “Holy cow!”

“Hi, gorgeous!” I sang as I snuggled into his chest.

“I didn’t even recognize you!” he exclaimed.

“I know,” I said, backing up so that he could really see me. “I look totally different.”

“You look hot,” he said, his eyes smoldering.

I could feel the blush hit my cheeks. “Glad you like it.”

“Wow,” he said, looking intently at me. “Just, wow.”

“Shall we head home?” Candice asked politely.

“Sorry!” I apologized as I grabbed Dutch’s hand and we made our way out of the crowded airport. Turning to him as we walked, I asked, “How did you know we’d be here?”

“I got a text from Harrison. He said you would be in around midnight. And I’m glad someone at least let me know.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” I said, still smiling at the sight of him. “But I knew we’d be in late and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to pick us up.”

Dutch wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into him for a squeeze. Kissing the top of my head, he said, “Next time let me know, okay?”

“Got it.” Something occurred to me then and I said, “Weird that Harrison texted you at all about our arrival.”

“Why is that weird?” Dutch asked.

“It seems almost nice,” I explained. “I mean, he’s been nothing but a jerk to us for three days, and here he goes doing something that’s almost thoughtful.”

“I wouldn’t get used to it,” Candice said derisively. “I’ll bet he’s back to his cold, calculating self by tomorrow morning.”

Candice’s intuition would prove to be spot-on: The next morning we arrived with Dutch at the Troy FBI office and he left us at reception with a supportive squeeze of my hand before heading to his cubicle.

As usual, I waited impatiently, my knee bouncing, as the clock over on the far wall edged past eight a.m., but around ten minutes past, Harrison appeared and addressed us formally. “Good morning,” he said, although there was no warmth in his tone. “If you will follow me, please.”

He led us into what appeared to be his office, and I noticed right away that Harrison was as uptight as I’d suspected. There were no personal effects to speak of in the spacious office, no pictures or mementos or decorations that reminded me he was human. All the items on his desk—and by that, I mean an in-box with two folders, an out-box with three folders, a blotter, a notepad, and a pen—were perfectly aligned. I even wondered if he’d used a level.

Harrison took his seat behind the desk and motioned to the two chairs that faced him. Candice and I both sat down and looked at him expectantly. The ASAC regarded us with his cool-eyed stare for a minute before reaching into his in-box and pulling out the first folder. Flipping it open, he seemed to skim the page before saying, “Candice Fusco, current resident of Royal Oak, formerly of Kalamazoo. You’ve just renewed your PI license, correct?”

Beside me I could feel Candice’s energy stiffen a fraction. “If that’s what’s in your file, Agent Harrison, then it must be true,” she said easily.

Harrison looked up at her, much the way a sleepy cobra looks amusingly at a mouse before deciding whether it’s hungry enough to exert the energy to strike. “I’m actually surprised the state granted your renewal,” he mused.

Candice refused to take the bait; she just sat there waiting for him to get to his point.

“Had a few brushes with the law recently, haven’t you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have a clue about what you’re referring to, Agent Harrison,” she replied smoothly. “I’m a law-abiding citizen through and through.”

The corner of Harrison’s lip turned up. “Law-abiding . . . ,” he repeated. “Did you know that identity theft is a crime, Ms. Fusco?”

“I do indeed,” she replied. I couldn’t believe she was being so calm under this line of questioning. One of Candice’s little secrets was that she often used the alias of her deceased sister.

And as if reading my mind, Harrison said, “Your sister Samantha DuBois died in nineteen ninety-three, correct?”

Candice nodded, her face perfectly placid.

“Yes,” Harrison mused. “You see, I have her death certificate, but apparently she’s either faked her own death or she’s reaching out beyond the grave to use her credit card at Neiman Marcus and renew her Las Vegas driver’s license. Your sister looks amazingly like you, Ms. Fusco. She could be your twin.” Harrison then swiveled to me and said, “What do you think, Ms. Cooper? Is Ms. Fusco’s sister reaching out from beyond the grave?”

“Maybe,” I said as coolly as I could. “I understand that the lines at the Heavenly Gate DMV can really be a bitch.”

Candice ducked her chin to hide her smile, but Harrison didn’t seem amused. Setting the first folder aside, he reached for the other one in his in-box and opened that up. “And I see you’ve also had a few brushes with the law recently, Ms. Cooper.”

I mimicked Candice and let my eyelids droop like I was bored.

“Did you know it’s a federal offense to impersonate an FBI agent?”

“You don’t say?” I said, my heart hammering in my chest as he reminded us about a recent stint in Vegas where Candice and I had done just that.

“Yes,” Harrison continued, his voice eerily cool. “It carries a pretty stiff penalty, in fact.”

“I would imagine it does,” I replied.

“Lying to a federal agent is also grounds for perjury,” Harrison continued.

“Well, that makes sense,” I said. I didn’t really know where Harrison was going with all this, and if he meant to unsettle me, he was doing a damn good job.

But he actually surprised me when he closed the folders and placed them both in the out-box. He then folded his hands and regarded us like a principal about to discipline two malcontent fifth graders. “As you’re well aware,” he said, his voice low and serious, “I object to your participation in this investigation, but
for the moment
, I have no choice but to bring you along. After I’m through laying the ground rules, we’re going to drive to Battle Creek and meet with the Lovelaces. You will not reveal how you are connected with the bureau or to this case. I will not introduce you as federal agents, and we’ll just allow the Lovelaces to draw their own conclusions. During the course of my interview with them, do not speak. Just sit there and observe. Do we have an understanding?”