"Why would I be?" He lifted those empty blue eyes to mine. "First I had to stop you from going to the Carew house--"
"No, I was coming back on my own. I realized I was doing something stupid--"
"Then you went and had a vision anyway, knowing how I felt about it."
"I was sitting on a bench. The vision came--"
"I do not have time for this, Olivia. You can see the state of my business . . . in addition to the murder charge I now face."
"After weeks of telling me that you're helping because you want to--and because it'll further your career--you've suddenly decided I'm ruining that career?"
"I did not say--"
"Bullshit." I strode over and put my hands on his desk. "You are in a pissy, pissy mood. Lydia says you're stressed. Completely understandable. But do not take it out on me. Yes, maybe I didn't handle last night as well as I should have. I apologize for that."
"I have work to do, Olivia." His eyes were ice-cold. "And if you intend to keep your job, I might suggest you do as well."
The temptation to quit then and there was almost overwhelming. Instead, I straightened, said, "Yes, sir," and walked out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
I pored over Pamela's file for a while longer before deciding to do some legwork. Traffic was good, and in thirty minutes I made it to my destination: the home of Jon Childs, the man Chandler had wanted us to kill.
I hopped out of the car and cut across the lawn, because whoever set up the underground sprinkler system apparently thought the walkway needed water instead. That's when I kicked a sparrow.
A dead bird in your path is a sign to turn your ass around. There are few superstitions surrou
nding sparrows specifically, though, meaning the warning wasn't exactly a red flag. Maybe burnt orange. I decided it meant there was something worth investigating here.
I knocked on Childs's door. There were no flyers in the box now, but the town house was dark and no one answered. I rapped again . . .
"He's out."
The neighbor had a trowel in her hand and wore knee guards.
"He's back from wherever he went," she said. "But he just stepped out."
"Oh. I . . ." I checked my watch.
"He'll probably be home at any moment. Why don't I fix you a coffee while you wait. I could use a break from the war of the weeds."
"And I'd love to take you up on that, but I was just popping by on my way past. Thank you, though."
My cell buzzed with an incoming text. I ignored it, and thanked the woman again before heading back to my car.
"I spoke to him about you," she called after me.
Shit.
"He said his sister has taken a turn for the worse, and she's in care. He appreciated your concern and said if you stopped by, I was to ask for your number again. He's misplaced it."
So Childs knew my story was bullshit. Huh. I scrawled my number on a scrap of notepaper. As I handed it to her, my cell buzzed with another text.
"I really do need to run," I said, "but please give him that and thank you for all your help."
--
When I got to my car, I checked my phone. It was Gabriel. First message: Where are you? Second message: Olivia . . .