Living with the Dead

ADELE



Adele closed her eyes as she fingered the silk shirt folded inside her jacket pocket. She caught a vision of Robyn Peltier sitting in a café across the road, as she had been the last two times Adele checked. The first time, Adele had been in a cab, racing toward the nearest police station when she’d seen Robyn at the table. She’d spotted the café name on a napkin, and had realized Robyn was miles away, near a different station.

Now pretending to read, she sat on a bench between the café and the police station where she presumed Robyn would head when she got around to it.

Adele had no idea why Robyn would pick this particular station. She must have known someone there and hoped for special treatment. As for why she’d stopped in a café first, maybe she was waiting for advice from that cop friend. And in the meantime, she might as well kick back and enjoy a coffee and some cheesecake—

Adele stopped. By the gods where had that cheesecake come from? How long did Robyn plan to camp out there? Adele slumped, the book nearly sliding from her fingers.

She closed her eyes and found the vision again. Robyn was digging into the cheesecake as she folded a piece of paper. Adele bet it was a surrender speech. Someone as perfect as Robyn Peltier couldn’t even turn herself in without rehearsing.

Adele released the vision and turned the book page.

The situation wasn’t ideal—a busy street on a weekend afternoon, cop shop within shouting distance—but she had a plan. She’d intercept Robyn and ask to use her cell phone. It hadn’t worked with Portia, but Robyn wouldn’t want to raise a fuss so close to the station because if she brought a cop running, she’d lose any brownie points to be gained by turning herself in.

If anything went wrong, well . . . Adele patted the bulge under her jacket.

Adele glanced at her watch. How much longer was she going to stay in there? Adele touched the shirt again, focused and found Robyn. She was on her feet, finally, at the counter, shoving bills into a mug labeled Tips.

Okay, Robyn, you’ve done your duty. Now move your ass . . .

Robyn returned to the table and, still standing, sliced off a chunk of cheesecake, then lifted it to her mouth.

By the gods! Was she thinking of all those starving kids in Africa who didn’t get enough cheesecake? Pack it up and send it to them!

The vision clouded, and for a moment, Adele saw one of Robyn Peltier in an alley, sprawled on the ground, blood pooling around her. She smiled. Too bad clairvoyance didn’t grant the gift of prophecy, because she’d love to see that image in person—a fitting payback for the crap Robyn had put Adele through.

The café door opened. Out stepped Robyn Peltier. Good. If only she didn’t decide she needed a damned pedicure on the way.

Robyn didn’t seem inclined to stop for anything. She came out that door and strode, purposefully . . . in the opposite direction.

Robyn stopped at the light and waited for the signal, even as jaywalkers jostled past her, taking advantage of the gaps in traffic. When the light changed, she crossed, chin lifted, posture perfect, walking like she was on her way to an important business meeting, elegant and poised even in ill-fitting sweats and a baseball cap.

Adele stopped grating her teeth and pictured Robyn in prison garb instead. Cheered, she got into position behind a trio of teenage boys who looked like they weren’t going anywhere for a while. Robyn drew closer, closer . . .

Adele stepped into her path. Robyn pulled up short, her eyes going to Adele and widening, as if shocked to see someone there.

“Can I borrow your phone, ma’am?” Adele gave a sheepish smile and waved her cell. “Mine’s dead and I really need to tell my dad where to pick me up.”

Robyn kept staring.

“Ma’am?”

Robyn’s lips parted and she said a single word swallowed by a laugh from the teen boys. It sounded like “cell.”

“Right, I need to borrow a cell phone. Can I use yours? I swear it’s not a long-distance call.”

Robyn stared at Adele as if she was a beggar asking for her last buck. Adele glanced down at Robyn’s side. No purse to snatch. Damn, the phone must be in her pocket.

Adele stepped closer. “Please. I really need to call my dad.”

She reached down and pulled her jacket open. Robyn inhaled sharply as she spotted the gun.

“Your cell phone?” Adele met her gaze.

Robyn’s hand slammed into Adele’s chest, knocking her into the boys. She smacked into one and he shoved her back. She stumbled, recovered and wheeled to see Robyn disappearing down the alley.

In that moment, as she tore after her, she saw Robyn’s lips move again, heard that single word and knew what it had been.

Adele.