Page 62 of The Psychic

“We need to talk things through. Meet with Duncan. Command performance from the big man himself,” Verbena said. Sloan had nearly missed the call, but picked up and tried to argue his way out of the meeting. “Why don’t you bring me up to speed before we roll in.”

“When?” he said, glancing down at Ronnie, who was sleeping like the dead, hadn’t even woken when his phone had buzzed insistently.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Make it twenty.” He stretched and rolled out of bed, hating the thought of leaving her.

Melissa, Shana and Angel were all dead and she was somehow at the center of it.

The woman seemed to collect homicides. Though Sloan believed Carlton Langdorf was behind Angel’s murder and had tried to kill his aunt as well as Ronnie, it didn’t seem likely he was behind either Shana’s or Mel’s death.

But someone was.

And that someone might be focused on Ronnie.

Why, he didn’t know, but his guts ground at the thought of leaving her alone. Unprotected. He bent over and kissed her cheek and she stirred, but didn’t waken. She’d been through too much recently and was finally catching up on much-needed sleep.

He didn’t want to wake her.

If he did, he was certain one kiss or touch would lead to another and then he’d be late for certain.

He walked through the shower and didn’t bother shaving.

When he stepped back into the bedroom, he noticed she hadn’t stirred, so he threw on yesterday’s clothes, scribbled a note that he left near the coffeepot for her to call him before she went out, then texted the same and locked the door behind him.

As tired as she was, he might be back before she even opened an eye.

Then, with a last glance at her apartment, he climbed into his Bronco and took off. He was just being paranoid, he told himself as he saw his reflection in the rearview mirror. Because he cared. He cared too much.

Ronnie stretched luxuriously in the bed as weak sunlight invaded the room.

Her mind was on Sloan and his lovemaking.

And though he was gone, had already left for work, no doubt, her thoughts lingered on those pleasurable moments of the night before, for the space of about thirty seconds, then her eyes flew open.

She was supposed to go into work today, too.

She was going into work today, she corrected herself.

And part of the reason she was going in was to confront her father. She needed answers.

And part was to just do something. To push aside the worst parts of the last few days. Her heart ached when she thought about Mel and Angel, and her blood boiled when she thought about how Carlton Langdorf had taken Angel’s life.

She threw back the covers and headed for the shower.

Fifteen minutes later she dressed in black slacks, a caramel, ribbed turtleneck sweater and a black jacket, but when it came to shoes, she hesitated.

It wasn’t the most fashionable choice but she had a pair of pure black sneakers.

She had plans to head to Aunt Kat’s as soon as she could and maybe check out the crime scene herself.

She was out of coffee, but saw the note that Sloan had left. It echoed the text he’d sent her, telling her to call him immediately and not leave the apartment until he returned.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen.

He knew she had a job and this morning, of all mornings, she wasn’t going to arrive late. Not when she planned to confront Jonas. As soon as she had it out with her father, then she’d call or text Sloan.

She queued up for the drive-through at Starbucks on the way, ordering black coffee.

She stared at the plastic lid for long seconds, thinking about Shana and what that could possibly mean.

Sloan had brought her up-to-date on what Amy Deggars had said, how Shana had taken her car and brought it back muddy from some unknown destination.

It stood to reason she’d driven to the clearing where Mel had died.

Clint Mercer’s truck wasn’t the only vehicle that had been there.

There had been other tire tracks, so far as she knew, unmatched to any vehicle.

So, it appeared that Shana had taken Ronnie’s coffee cup lid to the site after Mel was killed, but before the police found her.

Either that, or Shana had murdered Melissa herself?

“Shana didn’t kill Mel,” she said aloud. “She showed up to the clearing after Mel had been murdered.” But then she must’ve seen Mel’s body lying there.

She shuddered. Maybe that sighting is what had terrified her so?

Had someone directed her to leave the coffee-cup lid?

Someone who wanted to implicate me and used Shana to do it.

Shana had taken orders from Galen, who worked at the Bernard K. Waters Law Firm.

As she parked her SUV, Ronnie’s mind instantly flew to her image of Galen and the boss’s wife kneeling in front of his desk chair. Was there anything in that? Any connection to Mel’s killer? Galen … ? No. He was a lot of things, but a murderer … ?

Didn’t you think the killer was a woman last night?

Yeah, well … maybe it was … and maybe it wasn’t. The truth was, she had no idea.

For a moment she shared Brandy’s impatience with her “gift.” Why did she only get part of the picture? Why couldn’t she see more?

“And what about the dog?” she muttered furiously as she headed up in the elevator from the parking lot to the Tormelle & Quick offices.

Why did she hear the dog sometimes and other times not at all?

The dog had gone crazy when she was in the fight with Carlton Langdorf, but that was the last time she’d heard it.

It warns you.

That thought left her bemused as she exited the elevator and spied Dawn at her desk, frantically waving her over.

“What?” asked Ronnie.

“Are you okay? We all heard Carlton Langdorf is in jail for attacking you and drugging his aunt.”

“He killed a friend of mine.”

Dawn sucked in a startled breath. “What? Seriously? Who? Oh, my God! Why?”

“Because he thought I was going to steal Marian’s money from him.”

“Fucking asshole!”

“You got that right,” Ronnie said with feeling. Anytime she thought of Angel she suffered a wave of fresh anger. She hoped Carlton went away to prison for the rest of his life.

The desk phone rang and Dawn reached for the receiver, still looking gobsmacked.

Ronnie pulled herself back from her own anger and asked, “Jonas in?”

“Not yet.” Dawn cleared her throat and then answered, “Tormelle and Quick.”

Normally Ronnie shared everything with Dawn, but today she was almost grateful for the phone’s distraction.

She headed to her office, hanging her overcoat on the hall tree inside her door and glancing out her window to the dual brick buildings next door, dull orange beneath a leaden sky today.

She wanted to call Sloan. Had to force herself not to press the buttons on her phone. Instead, she left her office and rapped on the open doorjamb to Martin Calgheny’s office. “Tuesday still good for the Bentons?” she asked.

He snorted. “One more change. Dolly Benton had been keeping secret her second marriage to some ex-pat living in London, and there’s a possibility of another will. Her kids are out of their minds and it looks like we’re not the law firm involved anymore.”

He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his fringe of gray hair. “Just learned that this morning.”

“That’s … unexpected.”

“Family secrets.” He shrugged and shook his head. “Never turns out well.”

She walked back to her office, her gut churning. She thought about calling Brandy but she was at work till this afternoon.

Where was Jonas? Her impatience was growing with each passing minute. Family secrets …

She sat down at her desk and punched in Aunt Kat’s number on her cell. It rang on and on and she was about to hang up before voice mail kicked in when her aunt finally answered. “Hi. Sorry. I was outside checking the apple trees. The sun’s out, finally! Maybe it will stop hovering around freezing.”

She clearly hadn’t heard anything about what had happened over the past few days since Ronnie had last talked to her.

“Aunt Kat, if I ask you something, will you be completely honest with me?”

“Is this about your gift?”

“It’s about Mom.”

“I told you. You’re not like your mother. I think we established that last time you were—”

“Is Mom alive?”

Her intake of breath sounded like a gasp.

I should have done this in person. I should have my eyes on her.

“What kind of question is that?” Now Aunt Kat sounded almost mad.

“Can I see her death certificate?”

“Who have you been talking to?” she shot back.

It was Ronnie’s turn to gasp. It wasn’t like Aunt Kat to be anything but supportive. She hadn’t truly believed Evan, not completely, but oh, God …

Closing her eyes she had a flash of psychic inspiration, a moment of pure clarity. To Aunt Kat’s question, she answered flatly, “Dad.”

She waited for an answer, but all she could hear was Aunt Kat’s stuttered breathing.

They’d planned this together, she realized. This … deception .

“She’s not well,” Aunt Kat said hurriedly. “She hasn’t been well for years. She’s not even reachable anymore.”

“Where is she?” Ronnie demanded. She was on her feet without being aware she’d risen.

“Veronica, I know you’re upset, but—”

“WHERE IS SHE?” She didn’t care that her scream could probably be heard all the way to reception.

“Seagull Pointe. Outside the town of Deception Bay. On the Oregon Coast. But if you go there, she won’t recognize you.”

“Because I haven’t fucking seen her since I was four!”

“Oh, honey, no. It’s just that … that she was plagued by visions and kept heading to the beach, to the ocean. Driving like a madwoman! We were afraid she would take you with her and drive off the road, killing you both!”

“You should have told me,” Ronnie ground out and felt as if her very soul had been trampled upon. How could they lie to her? Dad? Aunt Kat?

“I wanted to. We both wanted to. It just never felt like it was the right time.”