Free A Grave Prediction (Psychic Eye Mystery) by Victoria Laurie Page A

to the van opened and several agents began bringing in boxes filled with wine bottles and paper sacks marked with evidence tags. Hart helped organize them all in the back of the van, and it wasn’t long after that that we were able to leave Grecco’s residence.
    Hart was on the phone with someone the moment we were under way, and from what I could tell about the conversation, it sounded like she was on the line with local law enforcement. “You’ve got him?” she said at one point. “Great. Put him in a cell and I’ll be there first thing in the morning to interrogate him.”
    After she hung up, I said, “Grecco?”
    She nodded. “Yep. I had LAPD pick him up. They’ll hold him until I can get to him tomorrow. He’ll lawyer up, but it doesn’t really matter. We’ve got enough evidence for a solid win on this one and that means he might be open to a deal.”
    “Ah,” I said knowingly. “You want the name of his accomplices.”
    “I do. I also want the names of his clients.” When I looked at her curiously, she explained, “No way should these rich assholes who bought stolen art from Grecco get a pass.”
    I nodded in appreciation. Kicking the one-percenters’ hornet’snest guaranteed one quite a few WASP stings, and I hoped Hart was up for that. I was about to say as much when Agent Kim turned in his seat to face Hart and he held up his own cell. “Kelsey,” he said to her, “I just got word from Rivera. Agent Barlow didn’t make it.”
    Next to me, Agent Hart paled and her eyes immediately watered. I saw her struggle to keep it together and she managed—barely. “Thanks for letting me know, Lee,” she told him.
    The van was quiet for the rest of the way back to the bureau. Once we were there, everyone chipped in to load the collected evidence onto three double-decker carts, which were then sent down with an equal number of crime lab techs responsible for tagging and booking the items. Hart had a few words with one of them to let him know what she specifically needed for her interrogation of Grecco the next day, and then she waved to me to follow her to the elevator.
    “You okay?” I asked when we were alone in the elevator.
    “I will be,” she said, attempting a smile that didn’t quite get there. “It’s tough to hear something like that, even though you told me how it’d turn out.”
    “I can be wrong sometimes,” I admitted.
    Her gaze slid sideways to me. “Oh, yeah? How often?”
    “Not very,” I said. “But sometimes. It happens.”
    She sighed sadly. “I would’ve believed you had a special talent even if you’d been wrong about Sara,” she said.
    “I’m sorry for your loss,” I told her, mostly because I was and I didn’t know what else to say. “We can skip going out for a meal if you’re not really up for it.”
    “Abby, I think the
only
thing I’m up for right now is a drink with a friend.”
    It made me feel pretty good that Kelsey thought of me as a friend. “Thanks,” I told her. And meant it.
    Over plates of delicious pasta and bread so good I wanted to marry it, Kelsey and I got to know each other a bit better. She impressed me on a number of levels, mostly by the way she was so dedicated to her job—a job that requires a certain hardness in a person, and yet, Kelsey had a really lovely soft side. She was sweet and genuine and earnest and I liked her immensely. In some ways she was a little like Candice, but in other ways not so much.
    Candice can sometimes play fast and loose with the law, and she has close friends who play even faster and looser with it. I highly doubted that Kelsey had ever come close to bending the law, much less sending a yearly holiday card to a mob boss (true story).
    Still, I had the sense that I should introduce these two women to each other. Call it a gut feeling. “My best friend would love this place,” I said casually, intending to steer the conversation in that direction.
    “Your best friend?” Kelsey said. “You mean