Kelley Armstrong - Omens

He looked up. Met my gaze. Blinked some more. Still confused and sleepy. Good. Pounce before he got his guard up.

“The police report,” I said. “The one where Josh said Peter told him a secret just before he died. Do you actually have it? Or did your friend just tell you about it?”

He rubbed his face. “The…? Yes. Sorry. The police report. I have it. Those particular pages, that is. Copies.”

“Could I see them?”

“Do you think I missed something?” He sat. “I doubt it, but, yes, you should take a look. It’s at my office. Do you want that now or…?” He looked around, still trying to orient himself.

“When we head into the city.”

“Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair and snarled a yawn.

“Long night. You were dead asleep. That’s why I had to poke you. A mistake I will never repeat.”

“Sorry.”

“Or maybe I should wake you up more often. I bet you haven’t apologized that much in the last decade.” I turned. “I’ll get coffee. Caffeine will help.”

“Thanks.” He started rising, then looked at the sheet around his legs.

“Don’t worry, you’re wearing pants,” I said.

“Right.”

He located his shirt and leaned over to grab it as I headed for the kitchen.

I was measuring grinds into my new coffeemaker when I heard Gabriel. I turned to see him standing in the doorway, watching me. I was—I will point out—perfectly decent, dressed in an oversized T-shirt that hung to midthigh. That was, admittedly though, pretty much all I was wearing.

Gabriel yanked his gaze away.

“Should I get dressed?” I said.

“No, of course—” He stopped. “Perhaps. If you’d be more comfortable.”

I turned the coffee making over to him. As I passed, I noticed him watching me again. He looked away fast.

“Oh, and there is a reason I woke you up before six,” I said. “Dr. Evans called.”

Genuine confusion, then he swore. “Chandler contacted him.”

“Which you expected, right?”

“That depends.” He paused, and I could see him pulling himself back together. When he spoke again, he sounded more like his usual self. “If it required an early morning call, that means he’s alarmed by our visit. Perhaps we can use that. What did he say?”

“I’ll tell you after I’m dressed.”

His hand lifted, as if to tell me not to bother. Then his gaze slipped to my bare legs.

“Yes. You do that. I’ll prepare the coffee.”

So what did I tell Gabriel? That Evans had called out of concern that we’d joined forces again.

Gabriel sighed. “I should be flattered that he finds me so intimidating, but it’s becoming irritating. What does he want?”

“Me to come over right away. He says he has information on you that I need to see.”

Gabriel shook his head. No surprise. No consternation. Just that head shake. “I’m sure he does. Some rumor he’s dug up and believes himself the first one to do so, which he is not, such being the nature of rumors. All right, then.” He paused. “I’m presuming he said to come alone?”

“That’s the idea.”

“Immediately?”

“Yep.”

Now Gabriel did look concerned.

“Yes, I know,” I said. “It screams setup.”

“It certainly does. However, if that were the case, it would make more sense to invite both of us, since we are clearly both a threat.”

“Unless he figures I’ll bring you anyway. Or he might really just want to talk. He’s seventy years old. I don’t think he’s going to jump me at the door to silence me.”

“Anyone can use a gun, as someone did to silence Joshua Gray.”

“You think Evans did it?”

“I have no idea.” He paused. “Perhaps he’s simply nervous about the pharmacological connection and believes you’re the more sympathetic ear. I’ll still insist on coming along, though I’ll stay outside.”

“Not going to argue.”

“All right, then. Ms. Mosley’s lead can wait. We’ll pursue this first.”

“Anita has a lead for us?”

“She left a message on my voice mail. Another potential contact, someone she needed to confer with before passing along his name. He was a subject in one of Chandler’s experiments. One that Evans participated in. He’d very much like to speak to us, apparently.”

I set my coffee cup on the counter. “Shouldn’t we do that first? If he can add to the picture, it would help to have that before I visit Evans.”

“Perhaps. Evans is waiting, though.”

“And it might not hurt to keep him waiting. Let him stew a little. I’ll text and say I can’t make it right away, but I’ll be there by noon.” I stood and dumped the rest of my coffee. “Let’s go speak to this subject.”

He stood. “All right, then. My office is on the way. We’ll pick up that police report.”

I waited on the front stoop while Gabriel brought the car. If he’d left the Jag in front of my apartment overnight, by morning everyone in Cainsville would know he’d stayed over, and that was just awkward.

As I waited, a figure crossed Rowan down at Main Street. He paused, shielding his eyes against the rising sun and then headed in my direction.

It was Patrick, laptop bag slung over his shoulder. I walked to meet him.

“Getting an early start?” I said, waving at his bag.

“The muse is a fickle bitch. Woke me at five. You’re up early yourself. I hope that means you’re taking Susie’s shift. I’ve been meaning to talk to you. I dug up a few things you might find useful.”

As I was saying that I wasn’t working today, Gabriel’s car rounded the corner.

“Ah, so you are working,” he said. “Just not at the diner. And you’re back with Gabriel. The old folks will be happy to hear it. They were terribly worried, you know.”

I was saved from a reply by the purr of the Jag sliding to the corner. I bent to tap the passenger window, but the driver’s door was already opening, Gabriel getting out.

“Gabriel,” Patrick said. “Good to see you.”

Gabriel dipped his chin as he said hello, his shades off. A respectful greeting, like the ones he’d give the town elders.

“Patrick was just telling me he had some research notes,” I said. “And I was just going to ask if he has a second to talk about them now.”

“Yes, of course.” Gabriel waved to my building. “We’ll go inside.”

“Mmm, better not,” Patrick said. “Grace … isn’t exactly a fan. How about Rose’s place?”

“It’s a bit early for my aunt.” Gabriel’s tone was oddly apologetic, as if torn between waking his aunt and offending Patrick. I guess I wasn’t the only one who caught those odd vibes from the young writer, the ones that warned to tread carefully around him.

“Oh, I think it’ll be fine today,” Patrick said. “In fact, I think you’re about two seconds from being summoned.”

We turned to see Rose in her open doorway. She was wearing a robe and slippers, watching us, as if waiting for a moment to interrupt.

As we walked over, Gabriel said, “You’re up early. Do you mind if we come in? Patrick wanted to speak to us, and the curb doesn’t quite seem the place to do it.”

Rose nodded. Something was bothering her—I didn’t need an omen to see that—but Gabriel only apologized for the intrusion as he held the door. Patrick waved me in. Then he paused, hand on the door frame.

“May I?” he asked Rose. “It is very early.”

“Yes, of course,” she said, her tone distracted. “You’re always welcome, Patrick. You know that.”

He smiled and crossed the threshold.

Rose murmured that she’d make tea. I said that wasn’t necessary, but she insisted and asked Gabriel to help her. They left as Patrick and I headed into Rose’s parlor.