Death Perception Read online

  I clicked the lid closed. I couldn’t tell and I was becoming anxious about getting it right. Flipping the lid back open, I scanned through my list of saved numbers and clicked on one of them.

  ‘‘Detective Johnson,’’ I heard Dutch’s best friend and former partner say.

  ‘‘Milo,’’ I whispered into the phone, my voice cracking with emotion.

  ‘‘Abs?’’ he said. ‘‘Is that you?’’

  I cleared my throat. ‘‘Yes. We need your help,’’ I said. ‘‘It’s Dutch. He’s missing.’’

  ‘‘What do you mean he’s missing?’’ Milo said, his voice immediately filling with tension.

  ‘‘He left last night to go chase down a lead, and he never came back,’’ I said. I then went on to explain all that had happened at the ravine.

  ‘‘Jesus,’’ Milo said. ‘‘And there’s been no sign of him?’’

  Reflexively I glanced at the roses. The smell seemed to fill the room and I blinked a few times, trying hard not to lose it. ‘‘None since last night.’’

  ‘‘Okay, so we need to contact the bureau and get them to put some men on this,’’ he said reasonably.

  ‘‘Too late,’’ I said, and explained how the bureau was already here, and that his boss had apparently taken over the search.

  ‘‘You mean Robillard?’’ Milo asked.

  ‘‘Yes,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Shit,’’ Milo said. ‘‘That’s bad, Abby.’’

  ‘‘So you know about him?’’ I said.

  Milo didn’t answer. Instead he said, ‘‘I can be out on a flight tonight.’’

  ‘‘No,’’ I said. ‘‘Thanks, Milo. I really need you here, but not yet. I need you to run some prints for me.’’

  ‘‘What prints?’’

  ‘‘I sent you a package. It’ll arrive by UPS overnight tomorrow before noon. Inside is a plastic cup with a woman’s fingerprints on it. I need to know who she is.’’

  ‘‘Is this the woman in Dutch’s car?’’ Milo asked.

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  Milo paused, probably calculating just how much trouble he could get into if he butted into an FBI investigation clearly outside of his jurisdiction. ‘‘Okay,’’ he said. ‘‘And as soon as I find out who she is, I’m flying out there.’’

  ‘‘That would be awesome,’’ I said. ‘‘I could really use the help.’’

  ‘‘Hey, Abby?’’ Milo said, and I could tell that he was hesitating before asking his next question.

  ‘‘I don’t know, Milo,’’ I said, guessing about what he wanted to know. ‘‘I can’t tell if he’s alive or not. I’ve been getting conflicting images, and I can’t say for sure.’’

  ‘‘Do you have a photograph?’’ Milo asked.

  ‘‘On my cell, but it’s too grainy and out of focus for me to tell.’’

  ‘‘I’ll bring a picture when I come out there.’’

  ‘‘Cool,’’ I said tiredly.

  ‘‘You get some rest, and I’ll see what I can dig up on my end without tipping our hand.’’

  ‘‘Thanks, buddy. I’ll talk to you later.’’

  After I hung up with Milo, I felt so homesick I wanted to cry, but I’d done more than enough of that lately, so instead I called Dave to check up on the puppies and also to hear his voice. ‘‘How’s it going?’’ he asked when he answered.

  ‘‘Not so good,’’ I said.

  ‘‘Aw, man, that’s rough, Abby. How’s Dutch holding up?’’

  There was a lump in my throat. ‘‘Not so good.’’

  ‘‘Well, if anyone can find his cousin, it’s Dutch,’’ Dave said warmly. ‘‘And I’m taking good care of the pups while you two do your thing out there.’’

  ‘‘How are they?’’

  ‘‘Eggy keeps taking Tuttle’s squeaky toys and hiding them all over the house.’’

  I smiled for the first time in what felt like a long time. ‘‘Eggy always was a troublemaker.’’

  ‘‘Tuttle got him back by taking his favorite pillow. Every time he gets up from his pillow, she moves in and won’t move out.’’

  ‘‘Sounds like home,’’ I said wistfully.

  Just then there was a knock at the door and a muffled voice that said, ‘‘Miss Cooper? It’s the hotel manager. Are you in?’’

  ‘‘Let me call you back, Dave,’’ I said. ‘‘I think the hotel manager wants to give us some more comps for screwing up a package delivery yesterday.’’

  ‘‘Talk to you later, and tell Dutch I said to hang in there.’’

  ‘‘Will do,’’ I said hoarsely, then quickly hung up and hurried to the door. When I pulled it open, I gasped. Standing in the doorway was none other than Raymond Robillard.

  ‘‘Hello, Abigail,’’ he said, holding up a little black phone identical to mine except for the scratches along the cover. ‘‘These little phones come in so handy,’’ he said, his smile reminding me of a crocodile. ‘‘I’m Special Agent Raymond Robillard. Mind if we chat for a few minutes?’’

  Chapter Seven

  Robillard was already moving into the room before I had a chance to register that a murderer was shoving me into a closed room with only one way out. ‘‘This isn’t a good time,’’ I said meekly.

  His smile widened. ‘‘I’m sure it isn’t, what with your boyfriend missing and you skipping out on your hospital bill.’’

  My jaw dropped a fraction. I’d forgotten about giving them my insurance card. ‘‘I have insurance,’’ I said. ‘‘I had planned to take care of that later on today.’’

  Robillard turned and motioned to a man I hadn’t noticed behind him. ‘‘This is Agent Donahue with the Las Vegas bureau. We require that you put whatever more pressing plans you had on your agenda on hold while we talk to you about what happened to Agent Rivers.’’

  Agent Donahue moved into the room as well. He was a skinny man with a weak chin, protruding Adam’s apple, and sunken eyes. He looked far too creepy to be an FBI agent. ‘‘We understand you were somehow assisting Agent Rivers with the investigation into his cousin’s abduction?’’ Agent Donahue said.

  ‘‘Moral support,’’ I said. There was no way I was going to let on that Dutch was relying on my psychic abilities.

  ‘‘Is that so?’’ Agent Robillard said. ‘‘And how much moral support did Agent Rivers need, exactly?’’ He looked me up and down like I was a two-bit whore and he could only guess what part of Dutch’s anatomy I was morally supporting.

  I didn’t take the bait. For once, my thinking cap was on and I was rolling in my temper. ‘‘His cousin had just been kidnapped. If a member of your family had been abducted, wouldn’t you want someone you loved nearby? Assuming, of course, you actually had someone nearby who actually loved you.’’

  Robillard flashed his perfectly white teeth at me and moved into the room, allowing his eyes to wander. Spying the roses on the table, he moved to them and before I had a chance to intercept him, he was reading the card Dutch had left. ‘‘What promise was Agent Rivers referring to?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘Hmm?’’ I said, playing dumb.

  Robillard read me the line from the card. ‘‘ ‘If anything happens to me, you know what to do.’ What would you do?’’

  ‘‘Call in the cavalry,’’ I said, thinking fast. ‘‘You guys.’’

  ‘‘And did you?’’ Robillard said. ‘‘Did you call the bureau?’’

  ‘‘Didn’t have to,’’ I said. ‘‘You guys are already here.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ he said, taking a seat in the chair next to the table and flipping the card with his finger. ‘‘How long have you been seeing Agent Rivers?’’ he asked.

  ‘‘A little over a year.’’

  ‘‘And you two are living together, aren’t you?’’

  ‘‘Yes.’’

  ‘‘How much do you know about your boyfriend’s business practices?’’

  That was an odd question coming from Dutch’s boss. I had a feeling something of a trap was being l
aid and I would need to walk very, very carefully. ‘‘I’m afraid I don’t understand your question,’’ I said. ‘‘I know Dutch works with the FBI, but he’s pretty mum about the particulars.’’

  ‘‘I’m not referring to his job with the bureau,’’ Robillard said. Donahue stepped forward and handed Robillard a manila folder. Flipping it open, Robillard continued. ‘‘What do you know about Rivers Security, Inc.?’’

  My eyebrows knit together. I had no idea what he was talking about. ‘‘Not much,’’ I said honestly, ‘‘other than it’s a small side business Dutch started in college.’’

  ‘‘Really?’’ Robillard said, his tone letting me know he didn’t buy my answer. ‘‘You didn’t know your boyfriend ran a security firm with net revenues last year of nearly one million dollars?’’

  My eyes got wide. ‘‘I had no idea his business was so successful,’’ I said. ‘‘I mean, I believe he was even considering selling it off.’’

  ‘‘As well he should have,’’ Robillard said. ‘‘The bureau frowns on agents who moonlight,’’ he said, looking at me curiously; then he took in our beautiful hotel suite. ‘‘So you didn’t know your boyfriend had a successful side business, hmm?’’ I shook my head no. ‘‘In other words, you believed that a man who earns a little over forty-five thousand dollars a year at the bureau could afford a thousand-dollar-a-night hotel suite at the Wynn?’’

  I was starting to get really pissed off. ‘‘Dutch and I don’t talk money,’’ I snapped. ‘‘He has his checkbook and I have mine. I had no idea what this room cost. I just knew that he booked the room and was taking care of the payment.’’

  ‘‘I see,’’ Robillard said, giving me a look that said I really had to be dumb. He opened the folder back up and began to thumb through some documents. I couldn’t tell for certain what he was looking at, but as the pages flipped by, I had a sneaking suspicion they were tax returns. He paused on one page and a tiny hint of a smile formed at one corner of his mouth. ‘‘What is your occupation, Miss Cooper?’’

  I glared hard at him. ‘‘What the hell does that have to do with finding Dutch?’’ I said. ‘‘Aren’t you people supposed to be looking for him?’’

  Robillard’s smile widened. ‘‘Perhaps, as a psychic, you might help us with that?’’

  I curled my hands into fists. I absolutely hated this man. ‘‘I demand to know what you’re doing to find Dutch,’’ I said.

  Donahue made a snorting sound. He thought that was funny. ‘‘Did you know that Dutch’s cousin worked for Rivers Security?’’ Robillard said.

  I blinked rapidly a few times. ‘‘No,’’ I said. ‘‘I had no idea.’’

  Robillard nodded. ‘‘And what if I told you that your boyfriend had been taking large chunks of time off work recently to fly out here to Vegas and meet with his cousin?’’

  Dutch had been traveling a lot for work lately. Whenever he went out of town, he was pretty mum on details. ‘‘I didn’t know.’’

  ‘‘Mr. Delgado is a very wealthy man. Did you know that, Miss Cooper?’’

  ‘‘I only knew that he owned a large house and a condo here,’’ I said. ‘‘I wasn’t informed about the particulars.’’

  ‘‘I find it curious that an exceptionally wealthy businessman is abducted along with his bodyguard,’’ Robillard said. ‘‘I mean, if I were a kidnapper, I’d just shoot the bodyguard, wouldn’t you, Agent Donahue?’’

  Donahue nodded vigorously. ‘‘That’s what I’d do.’’

  I had a sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach. Something wasn’t right here. ‘‘Is there a question in there for me?’’ I said.

  ‘‘And did you know, Miss Cooper, that Delgado hired Chase Rivers for bodyguard duty through Rivers Security?’’

  Chase worked for Dutch? ‘‘No, I didn’t,’’ I said.

  Robillard looked down his nose at me. He wasn’t a believer. ‘‘You didn’t know that Agent Rivers recently filed paperwork to obtain Mr. Delgado’s tax returns through the bureau?’’

  I was growing impatient. ‘‘What does that have to do with anything?’’

  ‘‘It appears that Agent Rivers was performing a background check on Mr. Delgado prior to his abduction.’’

  ‘‘Dutch is a thorough guy,’’ I defended, even while my mind was reeling. ‘‘I could see him wanting to make sure his cousin wasn’t guarding some crime boss or Mafia type.’’

  Robillard snickered. ‘‘And this woman that was in Agent Rivers’s car. Do you know anything about her?’’

  ‘‘No.’’

  ‘‘The girlfriend is always the last to know,’’ he said, making a tsking sound. My eyes narrowed. I really wanted to pop him one. Just then there was a knock at the door. Robillard and Donahue exchanged a look. ‘‘Expecting company?’’ Robillard asked.

  I ignored him and went to the door. Peeking through the little peephole, I saw Bob Brosseau standing in the hallway. ‘‘Bob!’’ I said when I’d hauled the door open. ‘‘Great to see you. Won’t you come in?’’

  ‘‘Hi, Abby. I just wanted to check and see how you were—’’ He caught himself when he noticed Robillard and Donahue in the room. ‘‘Oh,’’ he said. ‘‘I didn’t realize you were here.’’

  ‘‘We were just catching up with Miss Cooper, Bob,’’ Robillard said lazily. I could tell by Bob’s stiff stature that he didn’t much care for the assistant special agent in charge. Turning back to me, Robillard leaned forward with his elbows on the table and placed his hands in a steeple. ‘‘Here’s what I think happened,’’ he said softly, his tone suggesting he had it all figured out. ‘‘I think that Delgado contacted our boy Dutch and signed a contract for protection. Rivers enlists the help of his trusty cousin to watch over Delgado while he does a background check into the Delgado family assets. When that report suggests that Delgado’s worth a mint, Rivers and his cousin concoct a plan to kidnap Delgado and hold him for ransom.

  ‘‘Naturally Rivers doesn’t want either himself or his cousin implicated, so he lies to me on the phone at the airport, suggesting that he’s taking his girlfriend to Lake Tahoe for the week while conducting a little fake investigation of his own out here in Vegas, where it appears his cousin has been abducted along with Delgado, and works to throw the investigating local PD off the track. But when things get sticky—that is, when the Las Vegas bureau finally gets called in—Agent Rivers knows he’s in trouble and he leaves his wallet and his cell phone in his rental car along with the keys, hoping someone will come along and steal it, and maybe he cuts the brake lines too, ensuring that whoever nabs the car will end up crashing it. Maybe it will take a while to identify the body, and by that time, Rivers and his cousin will be long gone with Delgado’s money.’’

  I was aware that my jaw had dropped about midway through Robillard’s absurd accounting of what might have happened to Dutch. ‘‘That is ridiculous!’’ I shouted, and turned to Bob to back me up, only his look suggested that he wasn’t about to do that.

  Instead he shrugged his shoulders. ‘‘Abby, I talked to Dutch while you were in with Nora the other night. I told him that I thought we should bring in the Feds. He talked me out of it; in fact he insisted that I not call them unless it was absolutely necessary.’’

  I took a deep breath, but I felt dizzy from lack of sleep and all that had happened in such a short period of time. ‘‘There is no way Dutch had anything to do with Delgado’s kidnapping!’’ I said. ‘‘He came out here one hundred percent convinced that Delgado and Chase had been abducted by unknown kidnappers. He’s one of the good guys, Agent Robillard. Which I suppose someone like you wouldn’t recognize. I guess I’m just wasting my time trying to talk you out of your illusions.’’

  Robillard’s eyebrow arched. ‘‘Someone like me wouldn’t recognize one of the good guys? Why is that exactly?’’

  I glared hard at him. I was seething at his absurd implications about Dutch. ‘‘No reason,’’ I said lightly, rubbing my arms as if I were cold. ‘‘Is anyone
else here feeling a bit of a frost?’’ I was pinning Robillard with my eyes and still rubbing my arms. ‘‘It’s murderously frosty in here, wouldn’t you say, Agent Robillard? It’s especially frosty around my neck.’’

  Robillard’s eyebrow lowered and joined its twin in an evil glare. ‘‘What did you say?’’

  ‘‘You heard me,’’ I said quietly, my eyes never leaving his. Donahue and Brosseau were looking at us, probably fully aware that something had happened below their radar, but unable to figure out what.

  ‘‘I’m not cold,’’ Brosseau said into the very still silence that followed.

  Robillard got up from the table, his eyes never leaving mine. He got my meaning, and then some. ‘‘Don’t leave town, Miss Cooper,’’ he said with an icy coldness.

  ‘‘My boyfriend is missing,’’ I snapped. ‘‘Until I find out what happened to him, I’m not going anywhere, but I do have some people that I could complain to about it being frosty in here. I mean, some people who could actually do something about it.’’

  ‘‘Call the front desk,’’ Brosseau said. ‘‘They can send up someone if you’re uncomfortable.’’

  Robillard smiled wickedly, but there was no mirth in his eyes. ‘‘I doubt that, Miss Cooper. I doubt that very much.’’

  ‘‘Yes, but do you really want to take that chance, Agent Robillard? I mean, I’m not as naive and trusting as, say, some of your former coworkers at the CIA.’’

  Donahue turned to Robillard. ‘‘Am I missing something here, Ray?’’

  Robillard picked my cell phone up off the table, which was still connected to the charger in the wall. Flipping open the phone, he began clicking through the menu items. ‘‘She’s made two phone calls since this morning,’’ he said, pulling the charger out of the wall and handing all of it over to Donahue. ‘‘Find out what they talked about.’’