Omens (Cainsville 1)

"Okay, so now we call the police."

I took out my cell. He plucked it from my hand.

"Once the body is discovered, it's only a matter of time before Mr. Gray's girlfriend learns of his fate. Given that she was frightened enough to vault over her balcony, I don't think news of his death will loosen her tongue."

I looked down at Gray. Leaving a man dead in an alley was wrong. But that woman was our only hope of finding out what Peter Evans told Gray twenty-two years ago. Besides, did I really want to get pulled into a murder investigation?

"Should we put him in the bin?" I asked.

Gabriel's brows shot over his shades.

"I just meant ... Maybe we could buy some time. He hasn't been dead long. Time of death is a vague science. If he's found now, his girlfriend would ID us and we'd be suspects."

"Good thinking."

"I'm surprised you didn't suggest it first."

"I was going to return after I got you safely to the car. But if you're offering to help, that will make the task easier."

So I helped Gabriel Walsh move a body. What consumed my thoughts was not guilt, but how I'd found the corpse in the first place. I'd led Gabriel to a dead body based on omens and intuition, and he was as unperturbed as if we'd stumbled on Gray during a random shortcut.

I didn't know what to make of that.

I remembered Rose asking me if I ever saw omens that weren't really there. I had the answer now. I had a lot of answers now. I'd had them for a while and had just kept pretending otherwise.

Apparently, I could ... I don't know what exactly. Read the signs? Interpret omens? See portents? Was there a name for such a thing? Where would the ability come from?

I knew the answer to that--from the woman who'd taught me those rhymes and kept a chest of mystical supplies in her bedroom. The woman accused of murdering eight people in occult rituals.

I needed to speak to Pamela again. And I would, in a few hours. For now I had to focus on getting Gray's girlfriend to talk before the cops found his body.

"So how do we do this?" I asked.

"I believe I know a way," Gabriel said. "I'm going to drop you

off in a better neighborhood, where you can find lunch. I'll call when things are in place."

"That's very considerate, but I'm not hungry."

"Perhaps not now, but--"

"That tone in my voice a moment ago? Sarcasm. I know you aren't being considerate. You're trying to dump me so I don't see how you get this woman to talk. I'm not hiding in a sandwich shop."

He looked at me over the roof of his car. "I'd really rather you did."

I opened the door. "As the song says, we can't always get what we want."

----

We drove through about ten miles of farmland before Gabriel pulled into a wooded lane marked Private Property. The rutted drive made him wince with each bump. After a couple of hundred feet, the drive widened. It was lined with motorcycles. Big-ass motorcycles.

"First you buy me a mocha. Then you let me help you hide a body. Now you take me to a biker clubhouse. Best. Day. Ever."

His lips tightened. "You're staying in the car."

"Hell, no. This is a once-in-a-lifetime experience."

I reached for the door handle. He smacked down the automatic locks. "This isn't a game, Olivia."