Deadly Forecast: A Psychic Eye Mystery (17 page)

His answer came without pause. “He says he can see her, but he doesn’t know where
she is. For the moment he thinks she’s alive.”

Dutch staggered backward to lean heavily against the car. “How much time do we have?”
he asked.

M.J. asked, but Chase didn’t know. Dutch then shouted down the hill to someone named
Rodriguez, and he came running up to them. “Who’s monitoring Banes’s phones?” he snapped.

Rodriguez blinked. “At the moment, no one, sir.”

Dutch put his hands on Rodriguez’s lapels. “I need you to find out if a call has come
in to his line, Rodriguez. Do it. Do it right now!”

The poor FBI agent paled, and held up his phone. “Yes, sir. Right away.”

They waited anxiously while Rodriguez talked on his phone with his back to them. At
last he turned around, his expression grave. “A call came in approximately fifty-five
minutes ago, sir. It was from an unlisted number. Sounds like it was another one of
those disposable cells.”

Dutch closed his eyes and M.J. knew he was battling mightily to keep it together so
that he could think. She didn’t know what was going on until Candice said, “That means
we have only one hour to find Abby before the bomb goes off.”

Dutch’s eyes flew open. “How the hell do we find her? Jesus, Candice! How do we get
to her in time?”

Candice was silent, and M.J. knew she was trying to think quickly, but she’d already
been through a lot that afternoon herself.

“This has something to do with the big case Abby wanted me to help you with, right?”
M.J. asked them.

Dutch pulled his gaze away from Candice to focus on M.J. “Yes. So far, three other
women have been abducted, forced to carry a bomb to a public location, and the bombs
were then detonated, either remotely or by the device running out of time. The sick
son of a bitch orchestrating this always puts two hours on the clock. And he always
calls an ex-cop to warn him that the clock has been activated.”

“Then I think the place to start is at the beginning,” M.J. said. “Tell me everything
as quickly as you can. Bring me up to speed and maybe I can use the info to fish out
a clue about where Abby is.”

Candice and Dutch exchanged a look before Candice pointed shakily to the blue Mini
Cooper at the bottom of the drive. “My valise is in the trunk of Abby’s car. I’ve
got copies of everything in it.”

Gilley handed M.J. back her shoes. “You stay,” he said to Candice. “I’ll get it.”

No sooner had Gil taken off to retrieve the files than Dutch began to debrief M.J.
He spoke quickly and efficiently, and midway through his speech when Candice was rifling
through her valise pulling up files and photos, M.J. suddenly had another spirit enter
the picture. Holding up her hand, she said, “Who’s Brody?”

Dutch blinked. “He’s a kid loosely connected to this case.”

M.J. shut her eyes to concentrate. “I don’t know if you guys will know this, but is
there an older female connected to him—someone from the other side—with the first
initial
R
? Like Roseanne, or Reanne?”

“Rita,” Candice said.

M.J. opened her eyes and saw that Candice had pulled up a photo of the deceased woman’s
driver’s license. “And her middle name was Anne!”

M.J. nodded. “I have to talk to Brody,” she said. “Now!”

I
was on the phone with Brody, checking in with him to make sure he was doing okay,
when Candice pulled up to the curb in front of Cat’s office building and parked so
Dutch and I could get out before she headed off to her own appointment. “How’s he
doing?” Candice asked as she put the car into park.

“Hanging in there. I think he’ll have a whole lot of bad days until the sharpness
of his grief fades a little.”

Dutch was still gabbing away on his phone in the backseat.

The whole way over, he’d been filling Brice in on what we’d found—and hadn’t found—at
Michelle’s place. He’d also let Brice know that I’d picked up on a possible abduction,
and about the tampered lock on the sliding glass door.

Hanging up, he said, “Brice is coming over tonight after he wraps up searching the
Padilla residence.”

“Did his team find anything?” I asked.

“Nope. Total bust.” Then turning to Candice, he said, “Care to come over for dinner
with your fiancé?”

I saw Candice’s gaze slide to me. “Who’s cooking?”

I cut her a dirty look. For the record the only thing I know how to cook is an omelet.
But it’s a mean omelet, all the same.

“I thought we’d spring for takeout,” he suggested.

“Perfect. Call me when you guys are done here and I’ll come pick you up.” With that,
Dutch and I got out and headed in even though I was in no mood to deal with my sister.
In fact I was in no mood to deal with any of this wedding stuff, period. “You okay?”
Dutch asked as we loaded into the elevator.

“Fine.”

“Did you know that’s the most commonly told lie there is?”

I looked up at him. He was grinning down at me. “Huh?”

“The most often told lie is ‘I’m fine’ when asked how a person’s doing,” Dutch explained.

I rolled my eyes. “Well, I really am fine.”

“Liar, liar, pants on fire,” Dutch sang, but he reached for my hand and lifted it
to give me a sweet kiss all the same.

I gave in to a smile. He had this wonderful way of making things feel okay even when
they weren’t. “Please don’t ditch me or leave a place you’ve promised me you’ll stay
put at again,” I said to him.

He wrapped an arm around me and squeezed. I felt the bulk of his bulletproof vest
and was glad for it. “Okay, Edgar,” he said. “We’ll work this case together until
the wedding, and then, if it’s not solved, we’re cuttin’ out and going on our honeymoon.
Deal?”

“We could just cut out early and elope,” I said.

Dutch laughed. He thought I was kidding. The doors parted and I lost the opportunity
to convince him, because standing in the hallway was Cat’s assistant, Jenny.

Jenny is a petite little thing, much like my sister, but unlike my sister, Jenny doesn’t
dress to impress. She goes for a more efficient librarian look, with her black, brown,
or gray business
suits, brunette hair pulled back into a tight bun, and oversized round glasses constantly
sliding down her perky nose. Still, she is a very pretty girl, and that’s impossible
to hide, with her high cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and heart-shaped face.

I don’t exactly know what Jenny’s last name is, but I suspect it’s Makeanote. (You’ll
see why in a minute.)

“Welcome, Miss Cooper, Mr. Rivers,” she said, and then she caught herself and blushed
a little. “Sorry,
Agent
Rivers.”

Dutch smiled politely to show her no harm, no foul, and Jenny’s blush deepened.

I hid my own smile. Jenny had a crush on Dutch, and I felt for her, because he is
truly a beautiful mountain of a man that I rather like climbing. I squeezed his hand
and edged closer to him, just to make it clear to Jenny that this cowboy was taken.

Jenny dropped her gaze to the clipboard she held. She’d picked up on my body language.
After clearing her throat, she said, “Miss Cooper, your sister is waiting for you
in the conference room. If you’ll follow me, please.” With that, Jenny turned on her
heel and we followed along obediently.

Cat’s offices are a grand affair, taking up the entire floor of the posh professional
building. The joke is that it’s staffed by a total of nine people, so most of the
individual offices we passed were empty. The place had that somewhat haunted ghost
town feel to it. I knew that in the next several months Cat would be hiring more and
more staff to fill the spaces, but in the meantime I privately thought it a somewhat
depressing place to work.

We arrived at the conference room—a space I was familiar with, having been brought
here against my will just a few weeks earlier—and it was much the same as last time,
with the conference table covered in food, party favors, fabrics, and photos. I got
woozy just looking at it.

“There you are!” my sister exclaimed, untangling herself from several different-colored
fabrics to come hug me fiercely.

“Hey, honey,” I said. “Sorry. We got tied up.”

“It’s fine,” she assured me, letting go to hug Dutch. “I’m just glad you two are here
now.”

I had to hide another smile, because Cat’s embrace had obviously caught Dutch off
guard, and I had observed that he never quite knew how to respond. Cat’s five feet
two in heels, and Dutch is well over six feet, so when they hug, it’s more like she
grabs him around the waist and he tries to hold his groin out of the way, while patting
her awkwardly on the back. It’s a bit like watching a bear hug a bunny.

At last she released him, but snuck a wink at me, and I knew she was in on the joke.
I had to press my lips firmly together to keep from chuckling. “Shall we get started?”
she said, moving over to the table, where three people were already seated. I didn’t
recognize a single one of them. Before introducing them, Cat said, “Jenny, make a
note to call the florist and ask if the centerpiece sample I requested can be sent
over by tomorrow. I want to make a final decision no later than then.”

I’d never heard my sister mention Jenny’s name without adding a “Make a note….” (Hence
why I always mentally referred to her as Jenny Makeanote.)

Next my sister turned to the people already seated. “Alfie, this is my sister and
her fiancé. Abby, Dutch, this is your photographer, Alfie Lockwood.”

We nodded to the lanky dark-haired man, wearing a crisp white shirt and a lazy smile.

Cat was already introducing the other two in attendance. “This is Esperanza Alvarez,
your caterer, and Bridget Monroe, your cake baker.”

I nodded to each of them in turn and Dutch and I took our
seats. “Now,” Cat said, her eyes bright with enthusiasm, “first, a few odds and ends
to tidy up, and then we’ll make our final decisions with Alfie, Esperanza, and Bridget.”

I stifled a sigh. This was likely going to take a while.

“First, we’ve received one hundred and sixty RSVPs to make our wedding-guest tally
three hundred and eight so far.”

I blinked. Three hundred and eight? I looked at Dutch, and he looked at me. We wore
identical expressions of confusion and shock. “Hold on,” I said. “
How
many people did you invite to this wedding, Cat?”

It was her turn to blink. “Well, I sent out well over two hundred invitations, Abby,
and all the invites are for plus ones, which is where the numbers really add up.”

My mouth fell open. Did Dutch and I even
know
two hundred people? I mean, I could count my close friends on my fingers…of one hand.

Cat waved dismissively at our shocked expressions. “Don’t worry; Dutch and I talked
about it and I’m taking care of most of the wedding expenses as my gift to you two.”

I felt my brow break out in a cold sweat and I turned narrowed eyes on Dutch, who
was making a point not to look at me. “I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

But I was completely flustered. I hadn’t wanted a big wedding. In fact, I’d specifically
told Cat that I’d wanted to keep this thing small. My sister had the invitations piled
up to the side of her. The stack was crazy high. Who the hell was coming to this thing
anyway? (Swearing doesn’t count when you’ve just discovered your sister has invited
the entire state of Texas to your very private affair.)

“The cutoff date to receive the RSVPs is tomorrow,” she continued, “so I think we’ll
be safe by planning on about three hundred and twenty, to three hundred and forty
guests.”

I saw the caterer, baker, and photographer make a note. The sweat on my brow began
to slide down my temples, and I felt a bit dizzy.

“Next,” said Cat, “we’ll need to finalize a few other details about the actual ceremony.
Now, at precisely three o’clock Abby will emerge from her horse-drawn carriage—”

“My horse-drawn…what?”

Cat didn’t even look up from her day planner. “Your carriage. We talked about this.”
(For the record, we had so
not
talked about it.) “You’re arriving in a carriage pulled by six white stallions…or
maybe geldings. From what I hear stallions tend to get a bit unruly when they’re all
tethered together. Jenny Makeanote, we’ll want geldings, not stallions.”

“But, Ms. Cooper-Masters,” Jenny said, “the stable only had two white geldings available,
remember? We’ll have to go with at least four stallions if you want all the horses
to be male.”

“Oh, that’s right. Well, stallions make such a romantic statement, don’t you think?”
Jenny nodded. Dutch and I both shook our heads vehemently, but Cat wasn’t looking
at us. “Right, we’ll go with two geldings and four stallions and keep our fingers
crossed that the horses behave. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, so once the carriage
arrives, Abby will step out with the aid of the best man, Milo, who will then walk
her past the swan pools—”

“Swans? There are swans?” I asked. Was it getting really hot in here?