A Grave Prediction (Psychic Eye Mystery) Read Free Page A

way to the exit.
    *   *   *
    M y hubby drove me to the airport at three, which was good because I was still trying to reschedule the last few clients I had on the books for the next two weeks. Dutch’s lunch hour was stretching to half the day, but at least we both had contented smiles on our faces. “You don’t have to go, Edgar,” he said,using his preferred nickname for me (coined after he read a book on famous psychic Edgar Cayce).
    “Yes, I do,” I replied.
    “No,” he insisted. “If you get kicked out of the consulting pool, so what?”
    “It’s not me getting kicked out that I’m worried about.”
    Dutch made a face. “So they kick me out too. Who cares? Milo and I are making enough on the side. With a little planning, we wouldn’t even feel the lost income.”
    Dutch was far more irritated that I’d been pushed into this deal with the L.A. bureau than I was. “Okay, allow me to amend my earlier statement. It’s not me or you getting kicked out that I’m worried about. Brice wouldn’t be Brice without that job. If he got kicked out, he’d stay home and mope, which would drive Candice crazy, which would drive me crazy, which would have serious consequences for a certain stubborn cowboy I happen to love a whole hellofa lot.”
    Dutch pursed his lips. “I see all roads lead back to me.”
    “Don’t they always?”
    “They don’t have to. Only the one that brings you back home.”
    I leaned over to rest my head on his shoulder. “Sometimes you say the most perfect thing.”
    “I’ll work on coming up with a few more for when I pick you up in two weeks,” he said, kissing my forehead.
    I lifted my head and eyed him suspiciously. “You’re banking on the fact that I’ll be willing to get naked with you if you’re supersweet to me, even though you know I’ll be crazy tired when I land, aren’t you?”
    “Nooooo,” Dutch said.
    My inner lie detector hit the red zone. “Oh, really?”
    “What if I also promise to cook you dinner as I ply you with sweet nothings?”
    That piqued my interest. “What’d you have in mind?”
    “Spaghetti alla carbonara,” he said immediately.
    Damn him. He knew I loved all things bacon and pasta. “There you go, exploiting my weaknesses,” I told him.
    Dutch adopted his best Humphrey Bogart and said, “I plan to miss yous, sweethot.”
    “We’ll see,” was all I committed to. The truth was we both knew I’d be naked before the pasta was al dente, but this whole flirtatious banter stuff was part of our ongoing courtship, and I enjoyed making Dutch wonder if he could really coax the clothes off me on my first night home.
    Dutch dropped me at the Delta skycap and I checked the two bags I was bringing, got my boarding pass, and meandered inside. While I was waiting in the security line, my phone beeped and I thought about ignoring it but gave in and answered the call on the last ring before it went to voice mail. “Hey, Brice. I’m about to go through security, so if you’re calling to check up on whether I actually went to the airport, you can rest assured that I’m a woman of my word.”
    “I never doubted it,” Brice said.
    My lids lowered to half-mast. “Really, Brice? Really?”
    “Okay, maybe I put the odds at fifty-fifty, but that’s not why I’m calling.”
    “Not the sole reason at least,” I muttered.
    “Have you seen or heard from my wife?”
    “Candice?” I said. “I sent her a text to let her know that you guys were banning me from my beloved Austin and sending me away for two weeks of purgatory in La-La Land to defend my honor against some FBI boys ready to receive me with pitchforks and torches, but I haven’t heard back from her.”
    “Glad you kept the drama out of it and just stuck to the facts,” Brice said.
    “I’m a colorful and expressive person. You want the facts, just the facts, fire me and hire Joe Friday.”
    “Hire someone less of a pain in my ass than you, Cooper? Why would I ever want to do