Dreaming Death by Heather Graham

Author:Heather Graham
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: MIRA Books
Published: 2020-07-16T20:08:45+00:00

* * *

There were times when Stacey felt the reality that she was a rookie—and that it was good to be with an experienced agent.

“What do we do if he won’t let us in?” she asked as they neared the congressman’s house.

“Well, if we’re lucky, their housekeeper will open the door. When they do, we gently but persistently make our way in. Then, we’re in before they can get Colin Smith and he can throw us out,” Keenan told her.

“He might yell ‘Who is it?’ and warn them not to let us in.”

“He might.”

“Where do we go from there?”

“We warn him that we’ll be happy to go to a judge and get a subpoena. He’s not going to want that—that will be too close for comfort.”

“Will his wife be there?”

He looked over at her, grinning. “Hey, I talk to the dead. I’m not a mind reader. I’m assuming his wife will be here, but I have no idea. If they’re leaving tomorrow, she may be packing.”

“If she’s going with him.”

“It’s all if until we get there!” He added, “Call Angela. Let’s see if she can find us anything helpful about his address.”

“Just—call Angela?” Stacey asked him, aware her tone was a bit on the skeptical side.

“Yep.”

“She doesn’t mind?”

“She’s incredible. What she can’t get to, she has someone else working on almost instantly. But this is the driving pursuit in our offices right now.”

He was right: Angela answered when Stacey dialed. She quickly identified herself, though she knew her ID would have popped up on Angela’s phone. Stacey told her that she and Keenan were nearly at Congressman Smith’s home and asked if she could give them any info on the house and anyone else who was living there.

Angela informed them Colin Smith and his wife were in a row of historic townhomes that were now condos, with a large unit on the ground floor. The room above was owned by a diplomat who was assigned to the Middle East for the next several months.

“So, they’re alone at the house,” Keenan said thoughtfully.

“What does that mean?” Stacey asked.

“Probably nothing. But it’s good to know going in,” he said and then spoke loudly for the phone. “Angie, do they have live-in help?”

“They do. Anika Hans, from the Netherlands. She’s in the States on a student visa,” Angela told them.

“Here’s hoping she’s not at school,” Keenan said.

He parked, grateful to have found parking on the street. The building that housed the congressman’s DC dwelling was a colonial structure with grand columns. So close to the White House and the Capitol Building, it had received tender care throughout the years. It—and the other houses in the row—had most probably been built in the 1830s, after the War of 1812 and the burning of the area.

“Wonder if Dolly Madison ever came here for tea,” he said, surveying the building as he stepped out of the car.

“Well, we can wander back to Lafayette Square and ask our spectral friends if they know,” Stacey said dryly. “We

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