Page 9 of It takes a Psychic

“FBPI. Nobody move.”

Energy shifted in the hall outside the pantry. A familiar figure appeared in the doorway. She remembered the old saying about criminals returning to the scenes of their crimes. Panic electrified her senses.

“What are you doing here?” she whispered.

“What the hell?” Oliver looked at the body. “Is she dead?”

The shot of panic receded. Her intuition told her that Oliver had not murdered the woman. For one thing, there was no blood on his clothes. Whoever had butchered the waiter would almost certainly have been splattered with some of the evidence. There was another factor that reassured her as well. If Oliver had killed the waiter, he would have done it in a much neater, more efficient way.

“Yes. I was going to slip out through the emergency exit. But I found her. I have to tell security. Or the police. Someone. What is happening out there?”

“A raid. The planning has been in the works for months. Let’s go. We need to get out of here.”

“We can’t leave her here. We have to tell someone.”

“Trust me, the agents will find her very soon, and if they also findyou standing over the body, your hands covered in blood, guess who’s going to get arrested?”

“But I didn’t kill her.”

“I believe you, but the situation out in the ballroom is complicated.”

The pandemonium was escalating. A small muffled explosion reverberated from some distant quarter of the mansion. A series of shots quickly followed.

No question about it, the situation had descended into chaos.

“Follow me,” Oliver said.

He turned to go down another hallway. That was when she saw the pack slung over his left shoulder. She wondered which artifact he had helped himself to on his private tour of the gallery.

She glanced at the alarmed door. “We can use the emergency exit.”

He glanced back over his shoulder. “Too risky. There are agents and cops stationed outside the house, watching for anyone who comes through the emergency doors. There’s another way out.”

She hoisted her skirts, realizing belatedly that the lower portion of her gown was soaked with blood and her hands were smeared with the stuff. A wave of lightheadedness came over her.If I had left the ballroom a few minutes earlier, I might have been able to save the waiter…

For a beat she was afraid she might faint. She never fainted.

And then a firm hand closed around her arm, steadying her.

“Breathe,” Oliver said.

“If I had come down that hallway a few minutes earlier, I might have been able to save her…”

“I saidbreathe.” This time it was an order.

Instinctively, she obeyed. Her head cleared, but now she felt nauseous.So much blood. She looked at the sign on a nearby door.Restroom.

“I’ll be right back,” she managed to whisper.

“We don’t have time.”

“I understand. Go without me. I can take care of myself.”

She pushed open the swinging door and dashed to the first in a long row of sinks. She rinsed her hands as quickly as she could, yanked some paper towels out of the dispenser, and rushed back out into the hallway. She was shocked to see that Oliver was still there.

“You waited,” she said in disbelief.

“Not like I had anything better to do.” He turned away and started down the hall. “Let’s move.”

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