Page 35 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

Since we had nothing to do before Archer arrived, we sat there tossing ideas out. Nothing sparked joy, though, and it was honestly a relief when I heard Archer’s and Estrella’s voices from the front reception area.

I popped up and headed their way, waving in greeting. “Hi, welcome.”

Archer looked like his normal self, dark hair tied in a low ponytail, although he was in dark wash jeans and a white polo today instead of his usual suit. He was holding Steve’s harness, letting his dog guide him. With every passing year, his eyesight got that much worse, his reliance on Steve heavier. I understood his psychic sight grew stronger, too, likely to compensate.

Estrella was in a summer dress and white sandals, hair done up in a loose bun, and looking quite pretty. She shot me a brilliant smile. “Hi, Donovan.”

“Come on through.” I waved them in, ushering them into the conference room where all the evidence was still spread out. “Knowing you, Archer, you’ll be done in five minutes flat.”

“One can wish. I’m hungry, I want my sushi.” He turned his head, and I’d swear to you for a second he could see perfectly. “Oh my. You must be the apprentice.”

I half turned to spot Abby right behind me, Jon hovering in his office doorway. Abby stared at Archer with wide eyes, almost like someone had bonked her on the back of the head. Jon had looked at Archer the same way during their first meeting, so I wasn’t too surprised by her reaction.

I put a hand on her shoulder and drew her in closer. “Archer, meet Abby. Abby, these are Special Agents Archer Lewis, Estrella Flores, and Steve. Don’t shake hands with Archer.”

“Please and thank you.” Archer partnered this with a warm smile. “I get far too much information from you if I do. It’sa distinct pleasure, Abby. I’m delighted there will be another Reader like Jon.”

“Nice to meet you.” Abby gave herself a shake, smile turning genuine. “All three of you. Can I pet Steve?”

“Please pet Steve. But let’s get to where the evidence is first so I can get settled.”

“Okay.”

To my knowledge, Archer had never been to Psy before, so I led the way into the conference room. I helped guide him into the right chair, mostly by guiding Steve, with Estrella throwing a blanket over it first, which was par for the course with Archer. He did not like touching other objects directly, so he carried around his own blanket and sleeping bag to ward off psychic imprints.

With him settled—the evidence arrayed around him—we all retreated to the other side of the table to give him room to work. Steve promptly abandoned his master for Abby because scratches were clearly a priority. I watched him roll onto his back for belly rubs, and the second Abby started in, his tongue lolled out of his mouth.

No dignity for this one. None.

Estrella sat at the head of the table, legs crossed, a woman perfectly at ease. “So, Abby, how did you and Jon meet?”

Since Archer and Estrella hadn’t been part of the haunted tree fiasco, they hadn’t gotten more than the basic rundown. Abby was happy to fill them in on the details, with Estrella asking questions here and there. I let those two talk, with Abby also asking what Archer could do and why he had a blanket over the chair.

Honestly, it was good for her to be exposed to all psychic types so she could learn the dos and don’ts. I wasn’t about to interfere.

Archer abruptly lifted his head, a perturbed frown gathering his brows together. “I’ve got another twist in the plot for you.”

Jon’s excitement abruptly switched to resignation. “Nooo, I don’t want more plot twists, I want answers!”

“Too bad. No answers for you. For real, though, this blood is fake.”

I tried to absorb this. Kind of failed. “We talking Hollywood fake, or…?”

“It might as well be. It is blood, that much is for certain, but there’s no sense of a living being attached to it. It was made, somehow.”

What was this, some kind of bad sci-fi drama?

“You need me to be an official witness for this?”

“Yes,” I answered firmly. The more evidence we had to throw the previous case out, the better.

Archer wasn’t done. He pointed to the murder weapon on the table. “For that matter, it has the same psychic signature as the weapon. Both were made by the same person. Jon, what the hell have you gotten into?”

“That is very much the question.” Jon wiped a hand over his face. “My god. I don’t even know what to do with that information even though I half suspected you’d say as much. Tell you what, Archer. Let’s go get sushi. I’ll fill you in as we eat.”

13

I had a flash of inspiration overnight, so on our way to the prison, I had Donovan call Gonzalez. My inspiration might be screwy because asleep me could not be trusted, but it didn’t hurt to ask. Frankly, any clue we could find to unravel this mess was a point for our side.

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