Page 38 of Entranced
“Yeah.” With that sudden flash of power banked again, he nodded. “You just feel it.”
“It has nothing to do with being psychic.” She thought she understood just where he was leading her. She wasn’t ready to give him quite that much rope. “I don’t go in for visions or second sight or whatever you call it.”
He lifted his glass in toast. “But you’re here, aren’t you?”
Her eyes remained level. If he expected her to squirm, he’d be disappointed. “Yeah, I’m here, Donovan. I’m here because I won’t risk not following up any lead—no matter how slim, or how weird.”
He continued smiling. “And?”
“And because maybe I’m willing to consider that you might have seen or felt something. Or maybe you just had a good gut hunch. I believe in hunches.”
“So do I, Mel.” The plane bumped down on the runway. “So do I.”
***
It was always difficult to turn over the reins to another. Mel didn’t mind cooperating with local authorities or the FBI, but she preferred doing it on her own terms. For David’s sake, she had to bite her tongue a dozen times during the interview with Federal Agent Thomas A. Devereaux.
“I have reports on you, Mr. Donovan. Several, in fact, from associates of mine who consider you not only trustworthy but something of a wonder.”
Mel thought Sebastian sat in the small, beige-toned office like a king at his court. He responded to Devereaux’s statement with a slight nod.
“I’ve been involved in a few federal investigations.”
“Most recently in Chicago,” Devereaux said, flipping through a file. “A bad mess up there. A pity we couldn’t stop it sooner.”
“Yes.” It was all Sebastian would say. Not all of those images had faded.
“And you, Ms. Sutherland.” Devereaux rubbed his round, bald head, then poked a finger at the nosepiece of his glasses. “The local authorities in California seem to find you competent enough.”
“I can sleep easy now.” She ignored Sebastian’s warning glance and leaned forward. “Can we bypass the introductions, Agent Devereaux? I have friends back in California who are desperate. David Merrick’s only a few miles away—”
“That’s yet to be determined.” Devereaux set one file aside and picked up another. “We had all pertinent information faxed in after your call. A federal investigator has already interviewed your witness at the … Dunes Motel in Utah.” He pushed his glasses up again. “He positively identified David Merrick’s picture. We’re working on IDing the woman.”
“Then why are we sitting here?”
Devereaux peered over the rims of his glasses, which had already slid down his nose again. “Do you expect us to knock on every door in Forest Park and ask if they’ve recently stolen a baby?” Anticipating her, he held upa pudgy finger. “We have data coming in right now on male children between the ages of six and nine months. Adoption records, birth certificates. We’re looking into who has moved into the area, with a child, within the last three months. I have no doubt that by morning we’ll have narrowed it down to a manageable few.”
“Morning? Listen, Devereaux, we’ve just spent the best part of twenty-four hours getting here. Now you’re going to tell us to wait until morning?”
Devereaux leveled a look at Mel. “Yes. If you give us the name of your hotel, we’ll contact you with any further developments.”
Mel popped out of her chair. “I know David. I can identify him. If I did a sweep of the area, set up some surveillance—”
Devereaux cut her off. “This is a federal case. We may very well want you to identify the boy. However, we have copies of his prints to substantiate.” While Mel bit her tongue, Devereaux shifted his gaze from her to Sebastian. “I’m moving on this under the advice of Special Agent Tucker in Chicago—who I’ve known for more than twenty years. Because he puts some stock in this psychic business, and because I have a grandson about David’s age, I’m not going to advise the two of you to go back to California and leave this alone.”
“We appreciate your help, Agent Devereaux.” Sebastian rose and took Mel by the elbow, squeezing hard before she could hurl whatever insult was in her mind. “I’ve made reservations at the Doubletree. We’ll wait for your call.”
Satisfied, Devereaux stood and offered a hand.
“I should have spit in it,” Mel grumbled a few moments later when they walked out into the torrid Atlanta evening. “The Feebies always treat PIs like mongrel dogs.”
“He’ll do his job.”
“Right.” She was distracted enough to let him open the door of the car they’d rented at the airport. “Because some pal of his took a shine to you in Chicago. What did you do up there, anyway?”
“Not enough.” Sebastian shut her door and rounded the hood. “I don’t suppose you feel like a quiet drink in the hotel bar and a leisurely dinner.”
“Not on your life.” She snapped her seat belt into place. “I need a pair of binoculars. Must be a sporting goods store around here someplace.”
