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"She's here," she said. "Adele."
"Where?"
"I have no idea. I just caught a - " She glanced around, making sure no one was listening in. " - a vision."
"Okay, I'm coming around the - "
"I see you."
He was across the store, near the row of cashiers. Robyn was twenty feet away, close enough that he could get to her in a sprint. They held their positions, looking, listening, smelling, sensing.
"No sign," he said.
"Same here."
"Head toward the front doors. I'll cover you. I'll circle around Robyn and see if I can flush Adele out. If she comes your way, let her leave. We want - "
"To get her outside. I know."
Hope stepped from her hiding spot, phone still at her ear as she scouted for Adele. As she cut across to the front doors, she picked up the vibes again, telling her a supernatural was close. Then the vision sparked again, the same flipping of scenes, from her to Karl to Robyn.
She slowed and looked around. To her left, a young Latina pushed a stroller. To her right, a knot of girls whispered about a boy she couldn't see. Just ahead, an elderly man perused the True Crime display. Beside him, another man talked to an employee.
Lots of people. None could pass for Adele Morrissey.
She took another three steps. The vision returned, looping through again, strong as ever.
"Hope?" Karl said.
It took her a moment to respond, having forgotten she was still on the phone.
"Just... sensing," she said.
"I can see you."
"Anyone else?"
"Not Adele, but perhaps that's not who you're sensing. Robyn did say she thought Adele might have a male partner, the one she saw at the undercover officer's house. And the person following us was definitely male, likely supernatural..."
Another clairvoyant? They were one of the rarest races, but clairvoyance was hereditary.
The vibes told her whoever she'd detected was very close. But the only men she could see were the elderly one and the one talking to the clerk. Not to downplay the ability of the elderly, but this guy, despite his interest in crime, was clearly getting his thrills vicariously. He had to be eighty, and leaned on a walker, and while she knew that would make a great disguise, she could pick up mild chaos vibes from chronic pain and depression, and that couldn't be faked.
The guy talking to the store clerk was rapt in his conversation, paying no attention to his surroundings, open to attack. All no-no's in the evil-spy handbook.
But because he was the only apparent possibility for those clairvoyant vibes, Hope took a closer look. He was midthirties, slightly under average height.
He looked like a high school gym teacher. Maybe it was his outfit - jeans, a rugby shirt and ball cap, a team jacket on his arm. Maybe it was his build, his shirt sleeves pushed up to show lean athletic muscular forearms. The clerk seemed to think he was good-looking, ignoring the toe-tapping customer awaiting her turn.
Could he be Adele's partner? Maybe her lover? He was almost twice her age, but Hope knew that didn't mean anything.
"There's a guy here," she whispered into the phone. "Ball cap, dark green shirt..."
"I see him."
"Does he look familiar?"
Karl paused. "No, but I see someone behind him who does."
