Part 8 (1/2)
”You okay?” she asked him.
”Apart from almost getting blown up? What kind of a psychic am I, if I didn't see that coming!”
This time, she had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from bursting out into a full hysterical giggle.
”Stay down,” she said. ”I think you have a head injury.”
”I don't think so. I'm pretty much always like this,” he said, and rolled to his hands and knees, then up to his feet. ”We'd better get people out of their apartments in case this wreck goes up.”
He was right. She sent him to the left, and she took doors on the right while Alex and Justin went down to the next cl.u.s.ter of doors. By the time they'd evacuated the residents-and pets-the fire trucks were rolling up into the parking lot, sirens blaring and lights blazing. The police were only seconds behind.
”It's going to be a long night,” Stefan said.
If that was a psychic prediction, he wasn't wrong.
Chapter 8.
T wo hours later, crime-scene technicians were allowed to begin sifting through the sodden mess of Sheila Prichard's apartment. Katie left it to them, Alex and Justin, and grabbed Stefan on the way back to the car.
”Where are we going?” he asked.
”We're not going anywhere, you are,” she said. ”This is turning dangerous. I want you out of here. Catch a plane, go back to California. Leave.”
”Whoa, whoa, wait!” Stefan pulled free of her grasp and stopped. ”I don't think that's exactly your choice. Or mine. So long as I'm hooked into Teal with these visions...”
”You haven't had one in the last couple of hours. Maybe she's cut the connection.” Or something worse had happened. ”It doesn't matter. Alex is right. I don't take civilians on investigations. It's not safe.”
”I'm not going to sue.” He sounded offended. They had to dodge out of the way for some pa.s.sing firefighters, carrying hose, who were trudging back to their truck. ”Come on, Agent Rush. Don't shut me out. Not now, when it's really starting to get interesting.”
”Interesting? You call that interesting?”
”Well, it isn't boring.”
”Look, Mr. Blackman-”
”Once you've been blown up together, you're on a first-name basis, don't you think? Call me Stefan.”
Katie gritted her teeth. ”Stefan. Fine. The point is, you are a civilian, and I am an FBI agent, and I can't endanger your life by keeping you involved in this investigation. Clearly, this is going places we never antic.i.p.ated, and while I appreciate the help you've offered, I don't think-”
”It's not your choice!” Stefan gestured helplessly, anger flas.h.i.+ng in his dark eyes like lightning in storm clouds. ”I didn't ask for this, but I'm not turning my back on it, either. I can't. That girl out there, she reached out, and she reached out to me. If I back off now, I let her down. I'm not going to do that, Katie. I'll do whatever it takes. If I can do that with you, fine, but if I can't, then you'd better get used to seeing me in your rearview mirror because I'll be right behind until this is over and those girls are safe!”
She wasn't used to direct challenges, not like this; FBI agents typically commanded more respectful disagreement. But there was something insidiously wonderful about his pa.s.sion, even misplaced as it was; she worked with witnesses every day, and she knew how few of them were capable of that kind of caring. She knew she was stretching the legal definition of witness, but hadn't he been a witness, really? As much of one as Jazz Ryan?
How many men do you know who wouldn't take the opportunity to bail out and leave this in the hands of others?
None who weren't already in law enforcement, she thought. Certainly none who were vagabond street magicians/psychics/television consultants.
He kept surprising her. She couldn't remember the last time someone who hadn't been in handcuffs had done that.
”Katie.” He took a step forward, and they were suddenly close, very close, and she could see the sc.r.a.pe he'd gotten on his forehead when she'd pushed him out of the way of the explosion. ”How did you know?”
”Know?” she echoed. ”Know what?”
”About the bomb.”
”Oh. I just-knew. So did Alex.”
”But not the other guy. Justin.”
She shrugged. ”I guess so. Why?”
”Just curious.” He gave her an odd, considering look. ”Does that happen to you often? Sensing things ahead of others?”
This was going into territory she definitely did not want to cover, especially not with someone who was proving as insightful as Stefan Blackman. ”No,” she said shortly, and reached out to snag the arm of a pa.s.sing patrol officer. ”My friend here needs a ride to the airport. He's going back to California tonight.”
”He's not,” Stefan said flatly. ”It's still a free country, I haven't violated any laws that I know of, and I'm not going home.”
”Fine. Dump him at the nearest motel where they won't knife him for his jacket,” she said. The officer looked as if he was tempted to smile, but too wise to succ.u.mb. He just nodded, stone faced, and turned to look at Stefan.
”Let's go, sir. You heard the lady.” The officer gave the badge hanging around her neck a fast glance. ”The agent.”
”I heard,” Stefan said, unmoving. ”You're sure you want to do this, Katie?”
She felt a funny little kick start every time he said her name. And why had she let it get informal? This was way out of hand, and she had no idea why. She wasn't like this. She never let men walk into her life like this, especially not during cases.
”Yes, I'm sure I want to do this. I want you to go away,” she said and met his eyes. ”Call me if you get more information.” She handed him her card, the one with her cell phone number penciled on the back. ”I'm sorry.”
”Are you?” He put the card in his pocket, glanced at the officer waiting at his side, and shook his head. ”You'll come looking for me.”
”Is that a prediction?” She couldn't keep the sarcasm out of her voice, and she saw it hurt him just a little.
”No,” he said. ”It's not a prediction. I'm not a prognosticator.”
He turned and walked away. Katie watched him go, frowning.
I almost got him killed tonight.
Odd that he didn't seem to mind it much.
She dismissed the strange emptiness his departure left, and flipped open her cell phone to dial the Highway Patrol's Captain Menchaca for an update.
”Not good news,” Alex Forsythe said as Katie dropped down on the gritty curb next to her. She had a bottle of chilled water and pa.s.sed it over. Katie chugged three gulps and gave it back.
”Highway Patrol didn't find the van,” Katie replied. ”After this amount of time, they're not going to. Too many roads, too many variables. We're going to have to wait for another sighting.”
”Wait for a lucky break, you mean,” Alex agreed. ”Where's your special friend? The gypsy prince?”