He had discovered she had an edgy, stylish vibe and that she spent a lot of time in art galleries. Her auburn hair was cut in a sleek wedge. If he had not known she was a private investigator he would have assumed she was an artist or an interior designer. He did not possess an edgy, stylish vibe—to his knowledge he did not possess any particular vibe—and he could not remember the last time he had walked into an art gallery for the sake of the experience. If he happened to be in one it was because he was looking for a picture that involved an oracle.
At the entrance of the restaurant he shrugged into his well-traveled trench coat and retrieved his duffel bag from the seating host. He waited while Olivia slipped on a sleek dark green coat that framed her face with a high, wide collar. He did not offer to assist her. He was pretty sure she would not thank him. And, all right, he was afraid to touch her. He did not need another psychic rush like the one that had made him stop breathing a few minutes ago.
When she was ready he opened the door of the restaurant and ushered her out into the chilly Seattle night. He glanced back at the sign in the window. Closed for a private event.
“Does that speed date concept really work?” he asked.
“Not for me; not yet, at any rate.” Olivia gripped the strap of her handbag very tightly, evidently afraid he would try to steal it. “I’ve been told that I’m sabotaging myself with my first question.”
“The one about walking into hell? Well, I showed up, gave you the right answer, and here we are, leaving together.”
Olivia shot him a withering look. “Not funny.”
“Right.” He adjusted his glasses. “How much are you on the hook for?”
“Too much. I’ve got two more speed date events to go. There’s a no-refund policy.” Olivia studied him intently. “Forget my dating problems. Victor Arganbright said I should expect you at the offices of Lark and LeClair first thing tomorrow morning. Why did you show up here tonight?”
“The Foundation and I are not the only ones looking for Vortex. I think we’re running out of time.”
“I know Victor and Lucas are obsessed with the old Vortex legend. I take it you are, too.”
“ ‘Obsessed’ is a harsh way to put it.”
“But accurate?”
“Yes, unfortunately.” He surveyed the street. “Where did you park?”
“I didn’t drive,” she said. “I used an app to call a car service. I’m not keen on parking in the garage of my apartment building these days.”
“Understandable. Pine filled me in on your role in catching the serial killer who was targeting women who attended speed date events.”
Olivia reached into her handbag and took out her phone. “Did he?”
“I’m surprised you decided to use a speed date agency after working undercover to catch a killer who did his stalking in speed date events.”
“I studied the speed date business while I was working the job. I liked the concept. Straightforward. No games.”
He nodded, thinking about it. “You’re right. It does seem like an efficient strategy. Focused. Targeted. No time wasted.”
“That’s how it struck me, but apparently I need to improve my conversational skills.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She shot him a cool, sidelong look. “I have been advised that my opening question might attract the wrong person. You know, the obsessive type.”
“I don’t think so. It’s a solid question. Cuts through the social noise and gets to the bottom line.”
“ ‘The social noise’?” Olivia repeated, her voice very neutral. “As in, polite conversation?”
“Right.”
“There is such a thing as being too focused, Mr. Rancourt.”
“Really? I’ve never run into that particular issue. Speaking of that undercover job, nice work keeping your name out of the media. The credit for the arrest went to a police task force and a local forensics consulting firm.”
“Both of which deserve the credit. The cops did the hard work of running down all the leads and isolating the solid clues. The consulting agency came up with a psychological profile and asked Lark and LeClair to assist in an undercover operation.”
“What went wrong?”
“The killer got past the team watching my apartment building,” Olivia said.
“The authorities said the perp suffered a seizure. Arganbright and Pine told me they were amazed by the timing of that seizure but they couldn’t come up with any other explanation.”
“It was amazing, all right.”
“And convenient.”
She had been about to tap her phone but she paused, wary now. “I was very lucky.”
“Evidently when the killer woke up he was hallucinating. Claimed he had been attacked by an extraterrestrial who used a ray gun. He confessed to all of the killings because he is convinced he’ll be safer in jail. Seems to think that if he gets out, the visitor from outer space will come after him with the weapon.”
Olivia gave him a steely smile. “What’s the name of your hotel? I’ll need it for the driver. He can drop you off first.”
It occurred to him that in his race to find her he had neglected to book a hotel. Before he could explain the situation, the lilting notes of a musical instrument drifted down the street. It also occurred to him that he had been so focused on Olivia he hadn’t done a proper recon.
“Sounds like a flute,” he said.
“A recorder, I think.” Olivia glanced around. “One of those simple instruments that children learn to play in school.”
He turned to do a quick scan of his surroundings. There was a small group of people approaching from the end of the block. Tech workers leaving the office late and heading out for a beer and some bar food. He glanced in the other direction and saw a couple coming toward where he stood with Olivia. The two people were intent on what was obviously a very private conversation.
“Harlan?” Olivia said, her voice sharp. “What’s wrong?”
He ignored her to continue the sweep. On the other side of the street a man wearing a stocking cap and an ancient coat that was two sizes too big stood next to a rusty grocery cart piled high with a jumble of found objects. An unrolled sleeping bag dangled over one side of the cart.
There was no obvious threat, but Harlan had learned that it was never a good idea to ignore his intuition. It was the primary reason he was still alive.
“Are you all right?” Olivia asked, concern lacing her voice now.