A Panicked Premonition

by Victoria Laurie

  “We’re going to continue to work the case privately,” Candice told him.

  Brice was silent for a moment, but then he said, “Let me run that by Gaston first.”

  “You can run anything you like by him, but as a private citizen who holds a PI license, I can investigate anything I want,” Candice said firmly.

  Brice sighed audibly. “Sometimes I think you try to make my life harder.”

  “Once you tell the cops that the prints and the truck are a match for Dave, they’ll peg him for the killer and they won’t look at anybody else. This is the only way we’re going to figure out what the hell happened at that residence.”

  “You guys don’t think Dave did this, do you?” Brice suddenly asked.

  “No,” I said quickly, and glared at Candice when she hesitated to say it too.

  “Good,” Brice said. “Me either.”

  “I’m in that camp,” Dutch said, and I realized that Brice had switched the phone to speaker. “Something else is going on here.”

  “All the more reason for Abby and me to continue the investigation, privately.”

  There was a very long pause on Brice’s end of the line. I wondered if he’d put the microphone on mute while he and Dutch discussed it. At last he said, “Fine. But you can’t mention to anyone you interview that you’re a consultant with us, Candice. You can’t link the FBI back to the case.”

  “I won’t,” she said. I looked at her sharply because my lie detector had just gone off, big-time.

  She ignored me and said that she’d be in touch as soon as she learned something useful, then clicked off so that Brice and Dutch could reach out to APD.

  “We can’t use our credentials,” I told her, reiterating Brice’s warning.

  Candice folded her hands on the desktop and considered me with a determined expression. “We’ll use every means at our disposal to get to the bottom of this case, Sundance. And if that means throwing our FBI consultant IDs around, then I won’t hesitate to do that.”

  “It’s too risky.”

  “It’s only risky if we get caught or if Dave actually had something to do with murdering those four people. I don’t plan on getting caught, and according to you, he’s innocent of that crime. Unless your intuition is telling you something else now?”

  I squirmed in my chair. I didn’t think Dave had murdered anyone in cold blood, but there was also a lot going on regarding him right now, and I wasn’t sure I could pick the pieces apart well enough to understand how he was connected. “I still believe he’s innocent and that there’s something else going on here.”

  “Okay, then,” she said, as if the matter were settled. “Let’s come up with a game plan.”

  “Where did you want to start?” I asked. I’ll admit I was at a complete loss as to how to proceed.

  “I think our time of driving all over the city looking for Dave is over, and now it’s time to start calling people.”

  “Who’re we going to call?” I asked.

  Candice rocked back in her seat. “Anyone who may have a connection to Dave. His friends. His family. His construction crew.”

  “Do we have all that info?” I asked.

  “No, but I can call Gwen and get a list of his friends and have her call his extended family. And in the meantime you can text Dutch and ask him for a contact list of the construction crew. He should have it, since he does payroll.”

  “That’s gonna be a lot of people,” I said with a small groan. Safe Chambers had seven construction crews of three to four guys each.

  “I’m sure,” she said, already reaching for the phone. “So there’s no time to waste, is there?”

  I took the hint and got up to head to my office and request the info from Dutch. I also might have held a little pity party for myself while I was at it.

  • • •

  Candice and I spent the whole rest of the day calling everyone on the lists that both Gwen and Dutch had sent us. I think I alone made thirty calls, and not one person had heard from Dave, but several had sent him messages about projects and schedules and he’d never gotten back to them. There was one curious thing, however; it seemed that the last time anyone had heard from Dave was early Saturday morning. One guy from his crew, Alejandro, told me he’d gotten a call from Dave the day before about that time to see if Alejandro could use his magic to fix a rip in the drywall at one of the sites. “I’m very good with drywall repairs,” the man told me proudly.

  “How did Dave seem on that call, Alejandro?”

  “Fine. He was, you know, just normal.”

  “He didn’t seem tense?”

  “No.”

  “What time was this?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It was early. Maybe seven?”

  “How long did you talk?”

  “A couple of minutes,” he said. “He wanted to know if I was ready for the baby.”

  “Baby?”

  “Yeah, my missus, she’s due at the end of the month.”

  My mind filled with the image of a blue baby rattle. “You’re having a boy.”

  “Oh, we don’t know yet. We want to be surprised.”

  I felt my cheeks flush. I’d just unwittingly spoiled the surprise, but luckily, Alejandro didn’t seem to realize it was a predictive statement. “Well, congratulations,” I said quickly. “That’s great. But, getting back to Dave, you’re sure he sounded normal?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Rivers. He was very normal. He even told me a joke.”

  “He did?”

  “Yeah, let me think—it was pretty good. Oh, yeah, what do you get when you cross a crocodile with a cow?”

  “What?”

  “No idea, but if I were you, I wouldn’t try milking it.”

  I chuckled in spite of myself. And then I felt sad. Dave loved jokes. He usually had a new one every day, and knowing that he was in trouble hit me right in the heartstrings. “Thanks, Alejandro,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

  I think he noticed, because he said, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Rivers. He’ll turn up.”

  “Yeah,” I said, that knot of worry getting a little bigger in the pit of my stomach. “If you hear from him, though, call me or Dutch right away.”

  “You got it,” he promised.

  After hanging up with Alejandro, I found Candice at her desk, with her chair swiveled around to face the window, putting her back to me. I stopped when I heard the distinct sound of a sniffle and saw her wipe her eyes. “Hey,” I said softly.

  She jumped slightly and wiped her other cheek before turning to me. Adopting a forced smile, she said, “Any luck?”

  “No. You?”

  The smile vanished. “No. Where could he be, Sundance?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Candice cleared her throat and fiddled with a paper clip from her desk. “Brice called a little while ago. He made one call right after alerting APD, and that was to a buddy at TSA. Dave McKenzie appears to still be in the country. No one using his passport has flown out of the U.S.”

  “I take it his name is now on a watch list.”

  “Yes. If he shows up at any airport, he’ll be taken immediately into custody.”

  “How did Brice say it went with APD?”

  “He talked to Vargas, who said he’d rush the fingerprint analysis on the bloody handprint to confirm it on their end, and he thanked Brice for the heads-up about the other clues that point to Dave. He also said he’d keep Brice and Dutch’s connection to all this on the down low until tomorrow morning, which should give Brice enough time to talk to Gaston.”

  Instinctively I reached out with my radar to assess how it would go with Director Gaston. “He’s not going to be pleased,” I said.

  As I spoke, my phone rang and my breath caught when I read the display. “Speak of the devil,” I whispered before
I answered the call. “Director,” I said as smoothly as I could.

  “Abigail,” he replied warmly. Director Gaston is one of the most formally polite men I’ve ever met. He’s also one of the most lethal. It’s a tricky mix of characteristics that he pulls off masterfully, by the way. “I trust you’re well?”

  “As well as can be expected given the circumstances, sir.”

  “I have no doubt that’s true. Which is the reason for my call, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ve spoken to Special Agent in Charge Harrison, and Special Agent Rivers, and they both believe that, contrary to preliminary evidence, Dave McKenzie did not commit these murders. They’re basing their conclusions on the long friendship they’ve had with him, which worries me, especially given the conflict of interest at play here.”

  “I understand, sir,” I said. “You think they’re biased.”

  “I don’t think, Abigail. In this situation, I know them to be biased.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said, because I agreed with him.

  “What I want to know is, what do you think?”

  My brow furrowed. “I’m probably even more biased, sir.”

  “Of course you are. But your intuition isn’t. It speaks the truth, correct?”

  “Typically.”

  “What is it saying about this situation?”

  I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before replying. “It says that Dave is mixed up in this, but nothing is what it seems. There’s much more to this story. How that all shakes out I don’t yet know, sir. I’m sorry, I know that doesn’t give you a straight answer, but I’m still trying to piece it all together myself.”

  Director Gaston was silent for a long time. Candice caught my eye while I waited for him to respond, and I could see the worry etched into her expression.

  At last he said, “Very well, Abigail. Please give my regards to Ms. Fusco, and tell her that I wish the both of you the best of luck with your investigation into this matter.”

  I exhaled a breath of relief. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

  The line went dead and I set my phone on the desk. “What’d Gaston say?” Candice asked.

  “He says he’s not going to rein us in. We can investigate on our own, but I don’t think we can involve Brice or Dutch until we have something solid to take to them.”

  “Great,” she said. “Or it would be if I knew who else to call or where else to look.”

  I shook my head. “I’m out of ideas too.”

  “Feel like eating?” she asked when we both fell into silence.

  “Not really.”

  “Wow. I never thought I’d see the day that you turned down food.”

  I got up and paced in front of her desk. “I’m too anxious and worried to eat.”

  Candice got up too. “Come on,” she said, closing the lid to her laptop and heading toward the exit. “I have just the ticket for that.”

  • • •

  About an hour later, in the basement gym of Candice’s condo, she and I lay flat on the floor, our lungs heaving, our hair, tank tops, and leggings soaked with sweat—the end result of forty-five furious minutes alternating between box jumps, dead lifts, pull-ups, push-ups, and wall balls. The workout had been as horrible as it sounds—painful, exhausting, brutal, and seemingly unending. . . . It was exactly what I’d needed.

  Feebly, I reached out and tapped Candice’s arm. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “I’m hungry now.”

  She chuckled. “I knew that appetite would kick back in.”

  “I may be too tired to lift a fork, though.”

  “I may be too tired to get up off this floor.”

  I rolled onto my side, still breathing hard. “We could order takeout and have them deliver it.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes. Right here. On this floor, which is my new forever home. And if we get pizza, we won’t need forks.”

  “I thought you were off bread?”

  “I am. But I think this is an emergency. I’m, like, hungry, Candice.”

  “Pauline’s Pies has a vegan pizza with a cauliflower crust and soy cheese. I’ve had it and it’s honestly good.”

  “Sold!”

  With a small grunt, Candice pushed herself up to a sitting position. “Hey, Siri!” she called.

  From the corner of the room a computer-enhanced voice said, “Yes, Candice?”

  “Call Pauline’s Pies.”

  “Calling Pauline’s Pies,” Siri dutifully said.

  “I love you,” I said to Candice.

  “I love you too,” Siri told me.

  Candice and I both laughed and laughed.

  • • •

  Brice and Dutch found us upstairs in Candice’s condo shortly after the pizza was delivered. “Hey,” I said when they walked in the door.

  “That smells great,” Dutch said. (I knew he was talking about the pizza, because I definitely didn’t smell great.)

  Wrapping a protective arm around the pizza box while using my other hand to hold closer the slice I was currently devouring, I said, “Get your own, cowboy. This here pie’s spoken for.”

  Candice pulled her pizza closer too. She hadn’t ordered the vegan pie. She’d ordered something straight off their regular menu. It was crazy rare for my bestie to indulge in anything that didn’t come directly out of the ground, so I fully understood her also being territorial with her very unhealthy meat lover’s special with extra cheese. I mean, it’d been a long time since I’d tasted anything as good as that kind of pie, and for Candice, it’d been probably three times longer.

  Brice looked at us with barely veiled annoyance and turned to Dutch. “We can have something sent up from downstairs.”

  “They got pizza?”

  “No, but there’s a chicken pasta that’s good.”

  Dutch’s face fell. I grinned at Candice and she grinned back. “Hey, Siri!” she said to the phone on the coffee table in front of her.

  “Yes, Candice?”

  “We’re gonna need you to call Pauline’s Pies again. . . .”

  • • •

  I came out of Candice’s bathroom just as the boys’ pizza was delivered. Rubbing my wet hair with a towel, I sat on the leather sofa next to Candice and sighed. “You have the best shower in the world.”

  She put a hand on her stomach and groaned. “I shouldn’t have eaten that.”

  “Lightweight,” I told her. I’d polished off the whole pie, while Candice had left almost half of hers.

  Meanwhile Dutch and Brice had eagerly tossed open the lid of their extra-large Sicilian and weren’t even bothering with plates. The smell of their dinner was amazing, and God help me, but I could’ve gone for a slice of that pie.

  “That looks really good,” I said, all hinty-like.

  “It is,” Dutch said, shoveling a bite into his mouth. He and Brice groaned with pleasure. Pauline knows her way around pizza. Word has it she’s got a husband and a boyfriend on the side, and she’s had that setup for ages. Word also has it that both know about the other. I think they tolerate the situation because Pauline knows that the ultimate love language is a perfectly prepared pizza. Her dough is just a little fluffier, a little lighter, a little chewier than her competitors’. And her toppings . . . don’t even get me started! It’s like shoveling a piece of heaven into your mouth.

  “You guys gonna eat all of that?” I asked, licking my lips.

  “It’s not gluten free,” Dutch said.

  “I could probably handle one slice,” I said.

  Dutch and Brice exchanged a look, and after Brice shrugged, Dutch pulled a piece off and handed it to me. After taking a big ol’ bite, I caught Candice staring at me like she thought I was weird. “What?”


  “I can’t believe you’re able to eat that after demolishing a whole pizza.”

  I grinned and tapped my stomach. “Mad skills, baby.”

  Candice rolled her eyes and turned her attention to her husband. “How’d it go with Gaston?”

  Brice swallowed and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin before speaking. “Better than expected.”

  “What was expected?” I asked.

  “Suspension,” Dutch said.

  “Suspension? For what? You guys didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “It’s about how things look, sweethot,” Dutch said, throwing in a little Humphrey Bogart slur. “Right now, Dave looks guilty. He’s our business partner, which makes this whole thing very sticky by association. We’ll be lucky if Internal Affairs stays out of it.”

  “Yes, I know, but I still insist that you haven’t done anything wrong,” I said.

  “Again, Cooper, it’s about perception,” Brice said. “But I’ll have to admit that Gaston surprised me on this one.”

  “By not suspending you?” Candice asked.

  “Yes, and because he told us to quietly continue to look into Dave’s disappearance.”

  “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” Candice asked.

  “It is and it isn’t,” Brice said. “Andy Roswell’s name was once linked to a Chinese espionage case.”

  Candice’s eyes widened. “He was a spy for the Chinese?”

  “No, but his company was named as a valuable target by the Chinese on a list we managed to obtain through counterintelligence.”

  “How long ago was this?” Candice asked.

  “About three years ago. Someone from the Dallas branch met with Andy, briefed him on the threat, and the case was eventually closed. There’s been no further action on it.”

  “So, how is that relevant?” I asked.

  Dutch answered me. “It’s relevant because we don’t know if Andy was perhaps the target of an act of espionage gone bad, or if this had nothing to do with that.”

  “It had nothing to do with that,” I said bluntly. Nowhere in the ether was there even a hint of a Chinese influence.

  Dutch waved his slice of pizza at me. “The fact that we can’t yet prove it didn’t is how Brice and I are still able to look into the case, Edgar.”