Page 10 of The Shadowed Oracle (The Bonded Worlds #1)
“Good point.” Ingrid’s insistence flooded back like it’d never left. “Now, how about that sting operation. Can the FBI set it up?”
Dean grunted, letting out a long breath, “No.”
“Why?”
“They don’t do that kind of thing.”
“How do you know?”
“I just do,” he hinted. “It’s not happening. This guy isn’t some rowdy outlaw. He’s a highly intelligent serial murderer. The police would be too liable, too exposed. It’s too risky.”
Ingrid wouldn’t accept that. “Then I’ll do it. It’ll probably work better anyway, without all that other fluff going on.”
“Fluff?” Dean snorted. “You mean tactical police forces and the FBI?”
“Yeah, those guys.” Ingrid saw the humor in it, but couldn’t laugh. “They’d be too obvious about it. This way, the killer will have a harder time locating any suspicious bystanders. Because it’ll just be me.”
“Just you?”
“That’s right,” Ingrid lied. She knew it wouldn’t happen that way.
At the very least, Dean would try to talk to his superiors about it, especially now that she was insisting on doing it alone.
Playing up her rashness, she said, “Just me. And also my gun, of course. The terrible twosome. The dastardly duo.”
Dean nearly choked trying to dissuade her. “No fucking chance. If you do anything like this, we have to orchestrate it with the detectives and the head agent. Or, you know, any kind of professional.”
“We’re going in circles now,” Ingrid huffed. “Which is it? Will the police set this up, or not?”
Another pause. A deep breath. “I’ll ask them tomorrow,” Dean said. “See what I can do.”
Ingrid shifted to her knees, getting more comfortable on the less indented cushion of her small couch. “Oh, so you have that kind of pull, huh?”
“Why do you sound surprised? I told you, I’m a very well-respected member of the force.”
“I bet you are. All those detective shows, they always follow the scientist’s lead.”
Dean hurriedly defended himself. “I’m not just a scientist.”
“That may be. But am I wrong?” Ingrid teased.
“No. You’re not wrong.” It sounded painful for him to say it. “And by the way, has anyone ever told you how lovely your voice comes across on the phone?” Ingrid didn’t answer. “Good. Because it doesn’t sound lovely at all. It’s the opposite, actually. Like you’re about to bite my head off.”
Ingrid resisted the upward pull of her lips. “Well, I am the crazy girl with visions.”
“No, that’s not?—”
“We were both thinking it,” Ingrid cut him off.
“I wasn’t hinting at anything,” Dean said after a moment. “That crystal ball moment was weird, and still on my mind if I’m being honest, but I don’t think you’re crazy.”
“How wonderful,” Ingrid scoffed. “Here I was hoping you’d forgotten that entirely.”
A marbled, amused sound came from the other side of the phone. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that little scene.”
Ingrid’s head dropped, as if it had only just occurred to her that she’d never forget it either.
Not any of this. It was yet another ugly, monstrous memory wiping its feet on the doormat of her mind.
Familiar, but worlds away from anything else she’d endured.
In that empathic crevice of her mind, she felt something far darker broiling underneath the messages, the murders.
It was like her nightmares had broken the barrier and were now running rampant in the real world.
She rotated herself to look out the window, parting the blinds with her finger. Then she made a concerted effort to slow her breathing, which had shortened considerably in just the last minute.
“You still there?” Dean asked.
“I’m here. Just, you know, peeking out the window for murderers.”
“Not as unbothered as you’d like me to think, huh?” Dean asked. “I knew it.”
Ingrid thumbed the blinds a little further down. “Who said anything about caring what you think of me?”
“It might as well have been written on your forehead.” He clicked his tongue. “You didn’t want me to think you were scared. Or that you needed any assistance whatsoever.”
“Maybe I don’t,” she said absentmindedly.
“Yes, you do,” Dean returned quickly, pausing a moment before adding, “It’s why I’m parked outside your apartment complex right now.”
Ingrid felt the slightest chill in the air. “What the fuck?”
Dean was silent for another moment, then burst into laughter. “Sorry. I can see how creepy that sounds. But I swear it’s not creepy. I’m part of the team. Marty, the uniformed guy you met earlier, we’re friends. I told him I was helping him out.”
Ingrid was already scanning up and down the street.
She didn’t know what car he drove, but there weren’t many parked on the street at that time of night.
The residents of her complex all used a community garage and the sweeping schedule made it impossible for any visitors to park on the north side overnight.
Aside from Marty’s police car, there was a red convertible, a black truck, and two silver sedans.
“Let me guess,” Ingrid said. “The flashy red convertible?’
“Oh come on, is that what you think of me?”
“Short answer: yeah.”
“I’m in the black truck.” Dean rolled down the window, stuck his hand out and waved.
He was far off in the distance, but Ingrid could make out the distinctive, cream-colored linen button-down shirt he’d been wearing at her bar.
She could also see his big grin through his very clean, very see-through windows.
Not exactly inconspicuous.
“Aren’t you supposed to be hiding? Isn’t that the main objective of a stakeout? Be stealthy?”
Sudden muffled sounds wafted in her ear, followed by a small clunk .
“Shit, hold on, dropped my phone.” Dean recoiled his arm back inside his vehicle. “It’s my first ever stakeout. Give me a break… no, come on. Don’t laugh like that. I’m a very competent officer of the law, I swear.”