Page 36 of Jon's Helter Skelter Cold Case

Donovan held the phone up on speaker so I could talk and drive. It wasn’t like we were going anywhere fast in this bumper-to-bumper Nashville traffic. Just easing along. Abby sat in the back seat—we were in the Humvee today—and listened in closely.

The FBI agent answered promptly. “Havili. Tell me something good.”

“Actually, it’s me calling.” I was used to saying this because duh, I couldn’t call people directly unless I was home. “Hey, man. You got a minute?”

“For you, always. Just tell me it’s not an emergency.”

“Not something where I need you on a plane immediately, at least.”

“Praise Jesus. All right, hit me.”

“First, good news. I have with me my apprentice. Say hi, Abby.”

“Hi!” She sounded quite chipper. “I’m Abby, a Reader like Jon, and he’s teaching me.”

I swear to you, even though I couldn’t see him, I think Gonzalez just about pissed himself in joy. “Abby, I am so incredibly glad to know about you. Don’t you want to be a federal agent?”

And that was why he was pissing himself in joy, right there. “Gonzalez, first of all, I already gave you Luka. Must you be so greedy?”

“I must, yes.”

“Secondly, she’s still in high school. How about you do a recruitment pitch after she graduates?”

Abby wasn’t done. “If you can find me a Havili as an anchor, I’ll say yes.”

Donovan started laughing.

“Kid, we all want a Havili. Trust me on this. Unfortunately, there’s not enough of them to go around. But you and I are definitely going to talk more about this later. Including just how close your ability is to Jon’s.”

“Oh, she can do everything I can do except a level three reading.” Fortunately for her. Damn, I hated doing that. Donovan hated it even more than I did, which said a lot. “She doesn’t run quite as hot, either. She can handle electronics somewhat, which is beyond lucky. By the time she hits eighteen, I’m fully confident she’ll be able to handle anything thrown at her.”

Abby leaned her head against my shoulder in a side-backward hug. “Awww. Thanks, Sensei.”

Brat. I snorted. “Anyway, on to the second reason I’m calling. There’s something weird going on over here.”

Gonzalez gave the sigh of all sighs, like he was already regretting answering the call. “Seems to be the week for them. Hit me.”

“Got something of a cold case here. A man’s in prison who’s completely innocent of the crime. Did you hear anything about the psychic who killed his anchor?”

“Oh, yeah, that made headlines for a while. Wait, the guy’s innocent?”

“Completely. Turns out all the evidence used to lock him up is fabricated, too.”

Donovan leaned in to add, “He means that literally. The blood, the murder weapon, the GPS history—all of it was psychically made. None of it is real.”

A low, long whistle from Gonzalez. “Now that’s an interesting plot twist. Also not great for the guy behind bars. You sure about the fabrication?”

“Dead sure. Psychometric Special Agent Archer Lewis confirmed it for me.”

“Damn. Yeah, can’t argue there. He’d know.”

“Gets weirder,” Donovan deadpanned. “We don’t know if the victim in the case is actually dead or not. Carol tried to find her body but couldn’t. Grant Walker tried to track her, and hesaid he could almost connect but couldn’t trace her. Which isn’t possible if she’s dead.”

“The hell?You’re shitting me!”

“Gospel truth. Gets weirder. Dwayne, the psychic, swears their bond is broken. Which, as far as I know, can only happen if someone broke it or someone died. So she might be dead, she might be alive, and we have no idea which is true.”

“Okay, I’m now very invested. I take it you want Marc to try tracing the maker?”

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