I met her gaze. “What am I experiencing?”

She pulled back. “I have no idea. You’ve been under a lot of stress, and—”

“I’m sorry I bothered you with this,” I said, rising stiffly.

She put her hand on mine as the guard cleared her throat in warning. “Don’t be angry, Olivia,” she said. “I know that look. Your grandma used to call it ‘getting your dander up.’ You’d do it every time—”

“Don’t.”

“I’m just saying—”

“I came to talk about this. If you won’t help, I’ll go.”

I could hear the hurt in my voice and I could feel it in the way I hesitated, waiting for her to change her mind. A few seconds passed, seemingly endless, and I realized I had to follow through, had to leave. Then her mouth opened and my heart jumped in relief.

“I’d like to speak to Gabriel,” she said.

Another three seconds of silence before I found my voice, as steady as I could manage. “You want to speak to—?”

“He knows, doesn’t he? You’ve told him about these omens.”

My disappointment burned away in a flare of anger. “Whether I—”

“He knows. I can tell.” She leaned over the table. “I’ve been trying to stay out of this, Olivia, but I need to ask. What exactly is the nature of your relationship with him?”

“I hired him to help me investigate your case.”

“And otherwise?” she asked.

“Otherwise what?”

“There’s something going on between you two, and I’m going to be blunt, because I need to ask. Are you sleeping with him?”

“No.”

“Is there any romantic—?”

“No. Gabriel has never made anything even resembling a pass at me. Whatever you think of his ethics, he knows the grounds for disbarment. Hell, he probably has a laminated list in his wallet.”

“So it’s a simple client–lawyer relationship?” She waved at the door with its small glass pane, blacked out by the wall of Gabriel’s back. “He’s right there. He’s been there since he left, and he only left because you wanted him to go. He jumped to do your bidding. Now he’s hovering there, waiting for any sign that you need him.”

“Gabriel doesn’t jump. Or hover.”

“Nor does he give up his evening to accompany a mere client on a visit to her imprisoned mother. Is he on the clock now, Olivia?”

“You’re right—I’m not just a client. We worked side by side on your case. I wouldn’t presume to call him a friend, but he offered to come with me and I’m happy for the company.” I looked at her. “Is that what you want to talk to him about? Our relationship? Because if it is—”

She shook her head. “I want to talk about the case. My case.”

I nodded brusquely and left.

CHAPTER SIX

As I waited for Gabriel, I fought against disappointment and hurt. Pamela was the only person who could help me understand what I was going through. And she’d refused. Not only refused, but acted as if I was an overimaginative child.

I thought I felt my cell phone vibrate in my back pocket. Which was impossible, because I’d left it in the car to avoid turning it in at security. Still, the sensation startled me enough that I turned and . . .

I saw the hound. The big black dog from yesterday, crossing a hall junction ten feet away. It was on a leash, being led by a woman. It turned and fixed its red-brown eyes on mine. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was looking at a black Lab in a harness. I blinked again, to be sure, but it was definitely a Labrador retriever, probably being brought in for prisoner therapy.

I watched the dog and its handler go. Then I paced outside the visitors’ room until the door opened. As Gabriel stepped out, I motioned that I’d be another minute. He nodded, and I slipped back into the room as they were taking Pamela away. The guard warned that my time was up.

“I know. Just one last thing I need to tell her.”

Pamela gave me a wary look and tried to cover it with a smile. “What is it, baby?”

“I’ve been seeing a dog. I saw it twice yesterday. The same dog, fifty miles apart. About this big”—I lifted my hand above my waist—“with black fur. I think it’s some kind of hound.”

As I spoke, Pamela’s eyes widened, her face filling with horror and dread. Before I could say a word, that expression vanished, replaced with feigned confusion and concern.

“That’s odd,” she said, her voice strangled.

“You don’t know anything about it?” I asked.

“No, I don’t.”

I met her gaze. “Don’t do this, Pamela. Please. Something’s going on and I need—”

“You need to forget it,” she said. “You’ve been through a lot, baby, and the best thing you can do right now is look after yourself.”

“That’s what I’m trying—”

“No, you’re not. Go home. Turn off the phone. Take a hot bath. Relax and try to forget all this. That’s the best thing you can do. The only thing you can do.”

She let the guard lead her away and never looked back.

—

On the drive to my parents’ place, I told Gabriel what Pamela had said. As I spoke, his hands tightened on the wheel.

“She knows something,” I said.

“That goes without saying. She admitted to teaching you about omens, and there is no doubt you can read them. Therefore a connection exists.”

We drove in silence for a few minutes.

“I practically begged,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “No. Forget ‘practically.’ I did beg. I told her I needed it. And she turned me down. Flat. Made me feel . . .” I settled my hands in my lap. “I’m going to stop seeing her.”

He glanced over.

“Until she agrees to talk about the omens,” I said. “If she contacts you asking to speak with me, will you tell her that?”

“I will. It is, quite possibly, the one thing that will force her hand. As for getting help elsewhere, you still need to talk to Rose about the hound and the body.”

“I know.”

“I tried to visit Chandler yesterday. He won’t see me. Not surprising, I suppose, given that we put him in there. That will change. He’ll eventually decide he can manipulate me to his advantage. In the meantime, I’ll visit Anderson.”