Lethal Outlook: A Psychic Eye Mystery by Laurie Victoria

Author:Laurie, Victoria [Laurie, Victoria]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781101586952
Publisher: PENGUIN group
Published: 2012-07-03T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

The next morning Dutch and I had an argument. It was one of those fights that starts off being about one thing and turns into a squabble about every little issue that’s been bugging you both for the past four years.

By the end of it, I was storming (aka hobbling with emphasis) out of the house, suggesting he go…er…make love to himself. (Swearing doesn’t count when you’re having a big blowup with your fiancé.)

The moment I slammed the door behind me was the instant I realized my car was still at the office.

“Son of a…!” I growled. Rummaging around in my purse yielded another unpleasant surprise: My phone was missing. I muttered a few more choice expletives (swearing doesn’t count when you’re furious with your fiancé and you can’t find your phone) and puffed out a couple of big breaths, knowing I’d have to go back inside and hunt for my cell. As I mentally went back through the previous evening, trying to find a moment when I could last remember seeing my phone, the memory of Cat waving it triumphantly came back to me.

Had she returned it? I tapped my new cane on the step a few times. No. No, she hadn’t. “Frick, feck, frog!” I groused, turning reluctantly around to go back into the house. Dutch was gathering up a few files before he headed to the office, and I caught him looking up at me when I came back in, but I lifted my chin, averted my eyes from him, and headed straight to the house phone in the kitchen. Picking it up, I was about to dial when I realized I had no idea what Candice’s number was. Whenever I needed to call her I just looked her name up in my iPhone’s contacts list.

“Goddammit!” I growled, slamming the phone back down on the charger. (Swearing doesn’t count when you’re furious, just had a fight with your fiancé, forgot that your car’s not in the driveway, realize your sister’s stolen your phone, and can’t remember your best friend’s number.)

Dutch pretended to ignore me and continued to mess with his files.

I glared hard at him. The last thing I wanted to do was ask him for a favor, but unless I wanted to miss my appointments for the day and irritate five new clients, I’d need his phone to call Candice. You’d think that was a no-brainer, but I still thought about it for a good two minutes before I cleared my throat and said, “Dutch?”

“I’m late for work, Abby,” he replied evenly.

I could feel my brow lower to the danger zone, but I kept my own voice calm and collected. “I need your phone to look up Candice’s number.”

“Where’s your phone?”

I took a deep (deeeeeeeeeeep) cleansing breath and let it out nice and slow (slooooooooow) before answering him. “Cat has it.”

Dutch stopped messing with his files and lifted steely eyes to me. We had ourselves a little staring contest for a few beats before he

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