Visions (Cainsville #2)(8)
“I’m not doing anything right now except obtaining dinner.”
I told him about Ciara Conway, and my missing shirt and shoes.
“I didn’t see my shoes on her,” I said. “Hell, I could be mistaken about the shirt. And maybe the dead body only resembled Ciara—”
“Olivia.”
I inhaled. “Stop backpedaling, I know. The body was Ciara Conway’s and she was wearing my shirt, which I know I’d packed. Still, I can’t see how anyone could dress her, stage her in that car, and take her away again.”
“How long were you in the pool?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“And twenty minutes in the house afterward, waiting for me. The yard is private, with both a fence and greenery blocking the road and the neighbors. It’s risky but not impossible. Without a body, there is little we can do, but I want to speak to Chandler.”
“Chandler?”
“If you found a dead body dressed to look like you, that isn’t a portent. It’s a threat. Edgar Chandler made a very clear one against you Sunday. Ergo, I’d like to speak to him. In the meantime, you need to talk to Pamela about omens.”
CHAPTER FIVE
All my life, I’ve had superstitious ditties stuck in my head, popping up on cue. I’d thought I’d picked them up from a nanny or other caregiver. Then I met Pamela Larsen, heard her voice, and knew exactly who’d planted those rhymes. Speaking to her about it had been at the top of my to-do list. Yet while I’d visited Sunday night to tell her we’d proven she and my father hadn’t killed Jan Gunderson and Peter Evans, it definitely hadn’t been the time to say, “Oh, and by the way, I can read omens.”
Gabriel picked me up at six. He wanted to accompany me and drive me to my parents’ afterward, to make damned sure I took that VW. On the way, I told him I wanted to make another prison visit. One that had proved impossible when I’d attempted it myself. Visiting my biological father, Todd Larsen.
I struggled with seeing Todd. My newly risen memories of him were mingled with ones of my adoptive dad, the one I grew up with, perfect memories of a perfect father, and that made it all sorts of complicated. I’d resolved a few days ago to see him. Telling Gabriel was the first step toward making that happen.
Seeing Pamela had been much easier. I’d needed Gabriel’s help the first time, but since then I could visit when I liked, and we had no problem getting in today. When I arrived, she was watching the visiting room door, and as soon as I walked through, her face lit up and she rose, arms going out. We couldn’t hug—that wasn’t allowed—but she still reached out as if we could.
I grew up not knowing I was adopted, with people always telling me how much I looked like my parents. I had Lena Taylor’s ash-blond hair, slender build, and green eyes, and Arthur Jones’s height and features. They hadn’t adopted me until I was almost three, and by then they’d have known I could pass for theirs. Yet after meeting Pamela Larsen, I realized any resemblance between me and my adoptive parents was purely superficial. Though Pamela is dark-haired and dark-eyed, our facial structure is the same. She’s an inch or so shorter than my five-eight and about forty pounds heavier, but there’s little doubt we’re mother and daughter.
As I walked over to her, I smiled, which made her light up all the more. Even the sight of Gabriel didn’t elicit the usual glower. As soon as we sat, though, her gaze went to him.
“If you’re here to convince me to hire you again—”
“I am not. I’m accompanying Olivia.”
Her lips pressed together. “I don’t appreciate you using my daughter to get to me. I haven’t decided who’ll represent me. When I do, I’ll let you know. I’m interviewing other lawyers now.”
“Excellent.”
Her lips compressed again.
I cut in. “As entertaining as it is to watch you two outstare each other, that’s not what I’m here for. Gabriel is your best chance for an appeal, but ultimately it’s your choice.”
“Has he asked you to pay for my defense?” she said.
“I would not,” Gabriel said. “While I have made initial inquiries on your behalf, testing the waters for the appeal, we can discuss those later. For now, Olivia has unrelated questions.”
“I . . .” I took a deep breath. “There’s no way to say this without sounding like I’m nuts, so I’m just going to go for it. I can see omens. See them, read them, interpret them.”
I explained what had been happening. I didn’t get far before her eyes widened. She turned to Gabriel. “I’d like you to leave.” She paused and, though it seemed painful, added, “Please.”
He glanced at me. I nodded. When he was gone, I finished my explanation. Then she sat there, saying nothing.
“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” I said.
“No, I don’t think I do, Olivia.”
I leaned forward, my voice softening. “I know this isn’t easy to talk about, but I have to understand. It’s . . .” I tried for a smile. “It’s freaking me out a little, and I could really use some help.”
It took a lot to admit that. I’d proven my birth parents innocent of two murders, and I wanted to seize on that and declare them innocent of all. But I couldn’t. I didn’t dare, because if I did, I don’t think I could handle finding out I was wrong.