A Grave Prediction (Psychic Eye Mystery) by Victoria Laurie Page B

chuckled. “You want me to come with you to help you find it.”
    “The director said it would be fine to take you if you’d agree to go.”
    “I’m game,” I said, happy to have at least one ally in the office.
    “Perfect,” Hart said. “Oh, and Rivera wanted a moment of your time. You’re set to meet with him first.”
    “Not Whitacre?” I asked.
    “No, he’s headed to Arizona this morning. One of his SAICs had a heart attack last night and Whitacre went to see about her and assess the situation.”
    My radar pinged again and I frowned. “Oh,” I said.
    “What?”
    “I don’t think she’ll pull through. Her situation looks very grave.”
    Hart stared at me in shock. “Sara’s going to die?”
    “You know her personally?”
    “I do, but not well,” she said, still looking stunned. “We met a decade ago at a conference where she gave a speech about the difficulties of being a female agent at the bureau. The ratio back then was eight to one. Today it’s better, about six to one, but still not great. Anyway, I approached Sara—Agent Barlow—after her speech, and we struck up a conversation and even had dinner together at the end of the conference. We kept in touch here and there. I sent her congratulations on her post as the SAIC in Phoenix; she sent me one when I received a commendation. I’d call us friendly acquaintances at best, but I’ve always admired her. I can’t believe she won’t recover. She’s still relatively young.”
    I tapped my chest. “Her heart hasn’t been well for a while,” I said. “The stress of the job and genetics feel like they finally caught up to her.”
    Agent Hart dropped her gaze to the floor, and I felt bad that I’d sprung the dismal prediction on her.
    A moment later the doors opened and, before we got out, I placed a hand on her arm and said, “I’m really sorry. If it helps, I don’t think she’s even aware anymore. She feels very distant from her body right now.”
    Agent Hart nodded and we stepped out. We walked in silence along the same route we’d taken the day before, but as we were approaching the conference room, Agent Kim came up to us, wiggling his phone. “The director sent an update on Barlow’s condition,” he said. “Sorry, Kelsey, it doesn’t look good.”
    “Thanks, Lee,” she said. “I already heard it was bad.” For emphasis, Hart looked at me.
    Kim seemed to register that I’d been the one to tell Hartabout Barlow, because his mouth formed an O and then he backed carefully away, as if he didn’t want to catch my cooties.
    I felt a flame of anger ignite in my chest, but Candice’s sage words from the night before came back to me. In my mind’s eye I saw a painting of myself, wearing a pleasant expression, set next to a mirror, which reflected a fearsome creature similar to an Orc from
The
Lord of the Rings
. Just like that, I felt the fire die away and I said, “Should we head to the conference room?”
    Agent Hart nodded absently. I could tell her mind was still on the special agent in charge in Phoenix. She didn’t say anything further about it, however; instead she led me to the conference room, where I saw that Rivera was already seated and waiting for me. He looked up from his laptop as we entered. “Your warrant just came in, Hart. Gather your team and let me know when you’re ready to go.”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you.” She was kind enough to nod to me before she turned and left the room.
    Rivera made a motion to the chair I’d occupied the day before and I headed for it. As I took my seat, I concentrated on keeping myself calm and unruffled by remembering the image of the portrait and the mirror in my mind’s eye. When I looked up at Rivera, I thought the technique was working because he was eyeing me curiously and said, “You good, Cooper?”
    “I am, sir, thank you.”
    “Glad to hear it,” he said, closing the lid of his laptop to lean forward and rest his elbows on it. “Agent Hart has requested