Free Deadly Forecast: A Psychic Eye Mystery by Victoria Laurie Page B

past the front walk andheaded toward the young man standing alone and slightly removed from the rest of the
     crowd. He saw me coming and shifted uncomfortably. I could tell he’d been crying and
     my heart went out to him. He looked away and moved farther down from the crowd.
    “Hey,” I said when I was just a few feet away. “You’re Rita’s son, aren’t you?”
    The poor kid didn’t even acknowledge me. Instead he just stared hard at his front
     lawn, as if he hadn’t heard a word I’d said.
    For several seconds I didn’t quite know what to say. Rita had asked me to look in
     on her son and I could feel his terrible sadness and it broke my heart. But approaching
     him would require delicacy…something I’m not especially known for.
    “What’s your name, honey?” I said to him. His eyes flickered to me, then away.
    “No comment,” he muttered, and I wondered if he’d already been approached by a reporter.
    I could feel Dutch and Candice right behind me, obviously letting me take the lead.
     “Okay,” I told him, “I’ll do the talking, and you can just stand there without saying
     a word. That all right by you?”
    He shrugged. “It’s a free country.”
    I wished I knew his name—it’d go a long way to making this easier—and then something
     weird happened…. I
never
get names…. Okay, well maybe once or twice a year I may get one, but they sure don’t
     come easy to me. Anyway all of a sudden the name Brody clicked into my head and I
     knew it was his. “It’s Brody, right?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers.
    His eyes flickered to me with a hint of surprise, but then his gaze darted right back
     to the lawn. Still, I knew I was on the right track.
    “You’re probably wondering how I knew that,” I said.
    He glared at the grass.
    “I’m not a reporter.”
    He glared harder.
    “I work with the FBI.”
    Not a flicker of interest.
    “But I’m not an agent. I’m a psychic consultant.”
    His eyes came back to me, and this time they held my gaze. “For real?”
    I nodded. “For real.” Doubt clouded his expression. I took my phone out of my pocket
     and tapped at the screen. When I had what I wanted on the display, I showed it to
     him. “See?” I said. “That’s my Web site. I take personal clients along with occasionally
     helping out the FBI.”
    Brody took my phone and I said nothing while he skimmed the text. He then handed me
     back the phone and said, “I get feelings sometimes.”
    I cocked my head. “You mean, intuitive feelings?”
    He nodded sadly and his eyes welled with tears. “This morning I tried to talk my mom
     into taking the day off. But she said she was booked solid and she couldn’t.”
    His lip quivered and his face seemed to crumple in on itself. I handed Candice my
     cane and held my arms open wide, and Brody sort of shuffled into my embrace. I hugged
     him for a long time, trying with all my might to hold in my own tears, but it was
     pointless. His heartbreak was so raw, and so painful, and so guilt-ridden, that it
     just tore me apart. “I’m so, so sorry, honey,” I said to him. I could feel Dutch place
     a hand on my back and Candice hedged in to stand shoulder to shoulder with me.
    At last, Brody stepped back and we both wiped our eyes. “Do you have any place you
     can go?” I asked.
    Brody nodded toward his house, but he was still too overcome to speak.
    “Is anyone going to stay with you?”
    He shook his head.
    I turned and looked at Dutch. We couldn’t let this kid stay in his house by himself
     after what’d happened to his mom. Plus, Homeland Security was currently trashing his
     home. I didn’t think they’d pick up after themselves either.
    “You hungry, son?” Dutch asked gently.
    Brody shook his head, but then I heard his stomach gurgle.
    I took his hand. “Come on, sweetie. You’re coming home with us until we get this all
     settled.”
    Brody wavered and he pointed to the cluster of Homeland Security agents