“So, you’ve got to do your job right, and you will,” Garth replied, his voice steady and reasonable. “But stop discounting your partner. He’s got his part to play as well. And if you make a mistake, that’s what he’s there for—to catch it.”
“I get it,” Laura said, and sighed. In spite of the fact that she wanted to argue, Garth was right. Nate was a good agent. If she didn’t get a lucky break with a vision, that didn’t mean they would never solve the case. He was just as capable at chasing down a lead as she was.
Now, anyway. While he was still here. Laura shuddered, remembering that aura of death that surrounded him and hugging herself tighter.
“You don’t sound convinced, Laura,” Garth said. “Talk to me.”
“I just want a drink,” she said, her voice cracking. “I know there are so many reasons not to. But it’s not…”
“Not logical. I know.” Garth paused, and when he began to speak again, his voice had a cadence that Laura recognized as him settling into one of his Life Lesson Moments. “I’ve been sober for twenty-one years, Laura. Since I was around your age. Do you know what I think, every time something bad happens?”
“No,” Laura said, prompting him impatiently when he didn’t go on.
“I think, I could really do with a drink.” Garth paused to let that sink in. “Twenty-one years. But, see, here’s the thing. You’ve got to build yourself a wall of reasons. Not just one thing, or two things. You need this giant wall of reasons that stands between you and that bottle. So that if any of those reasons get taken away, the wall still stands. Do you understand me?”
“I think so,” Laura said. Her pace had started to slow down. She kicked a loose stone and made herself jump as it skittered away from her, out into the road.
“Right now, you’re trying to get sober for your daughter, and that’s great. It’s amazing.
Kids—they’re one of the best reasons in the world to fight those inner demons.” Garth paused again. Laura rankled at these long pauses of his. If she didn’t appreciate his guidance so much, she would be telling him to hurry the hell up. “But, Laura, one reason won’t keep you sober. It won’t. It can crumble so easily. You mess up by showing up late to a court appointment, you realize you’ve let your little girl down, and there you are—you might as well have a drink and really finish the job off. You know? I know you’ve been there.”
Laura sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. He was right. She had.
“So, you’ve got to work on this. Come to meetings when you’re home. Build yourself up a wall of reasons. And every time you think about having a drink, instead of going out for one, start building up that wall. Think about all of the reasons you can’t have a drink right now.”
Laura nodded, even though Garth couldn’t see her. “Okay,” she said, at length, realizing that he was done and not just leaving one of his long pauses.
“All right.” Garth took a breath. “Now, you go ahead and work on that. You call me again if it’s not working. And, Laura? For goodness’ sake, go to your motel or wherever it is you’re staying. It must be freezing out there.”
Laura half-laughed. “Yeah, it is,” she said, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk. She turned her steps back in the direction she’d come, trying to remember the way back. “All right. Thanks, Garth.”
She ended the call, slipping the phone back into her pocket as she took a deep breath and thought about the walk she had ahead of her. A pang of homesickness hit her: being at home in her own bed would be fabulous right about now. And hearing her daughter’s voice. Maybe tomorrow she could try Marcus again, see if he would let her talk to Lacey. Even for a moment. Even to hear her voice in the background of the call.
She must have pressed a button on the side of her cell phone as she put it away, because it buzzed in her hand.
But then it buzzed a second time—and a third.
Laura grabbed it back out of her pocket, realizing that it was ringing. She checked the caller ID and began to walk back to the motel faster even as she answered. “Nate?”
“Why aren’t you in your motel room?” It was him, all right, and he sounded irritated. Laura didn’t doubt that he had been woken up from what would have been a pretty short nap. “It doesn’t matter. Get back here now. We’ve got another body.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Laura leaned her head, looking out of the car window at the building as they pulled up outside it. There was no need to ask which building they were looking for. The sheriff’s cars and the deputies milling around gave it away, as did the ambulance.
“This is different,” she said, as Nate put the car into park. “A house, not an apartment.”
“Let’s go see what else he’s changed,” Nate said grimly, getting out and walking around to her side as they crossed the sidewalk together. “Third time proves the rules, after all.”
Laura nodded, her head heavy. Nate was right; this was an opportunity to see which elements were truly tells of their killer’s MO, and which were coincidence. But Laura already knew what they were going to see when they went in there—or at least who.
She couldn’t recognize the building from the outside. It looked like any normal family home: a short driveway with enough room for one car, three windows on the front side, one solid-looking door. She didn’t know the bearded man who was standing to the left of the entrance with his arms folded across his chest, a look of faded and strained grief frozen on his face. But she knew that she was going to recognize the victim.
Nate flashed a badge and then followed one of the sheriff’s men into the house, down a hall to the kitchen. This was where the majority of the activity was taking place: a crime scene photographer was flashing images of the body, and white-suited forensics professionals were taking samples from the rest of the room before starting in on the victim herself.
Laura felt no joy at the fact that the woman lying on the floor next to her fridge was the same one from her vision. That feeling of déjà vu lingered, though this time she wasn’t concerned by it: she’d seen this vision twice, after all. This was her third visit to the home. Of course she would feel like she’d seen it all before.
Perhaps she should at least have felt glad. It meant that she was getting closer to the killer: the vision had been much more clear, given her so much more detail. And it had been accurate.