Page 149 of It Runs in the Family

“I forced a vision of Garrett this morning before he left, and he was identifying my body in the warehouse.” Now that I thought about it, something about the vision bothered me. Something hadn’t seemed right. But this didn’t seem like the time to figure it out.

“I had a vision of you today. Two of them. I wanted to see if I was still murdered. The vision made it pretty clear that I would be, so I asked if I’d be murdered if I quit investigating. But I had the same vision.”

“You had a vision of yourself being murdered?”

I swallowed. “In my vision, you tried to get to me, but you were about five seconds too late. You saw Voss shoot me.”

He stared at me a moment longer, then turned to look out the windshield. “You know this is hard to believe.”

“I know.”

“What am I supposed to do with this, Iris?”

He hadn’t rejected me yet. Maybe I could still convince him. “Let me have another vision.”

His eyes widened as he jerked his head to face me. “What?”

“I forced the two before, but it goes against my moral code. I don’t like having visions of people without their permission, yet I did it to you this morning. So, I’m asking permission now.”

“You asked Dario Voss if you could have a vision of him in the convenience store?” he asked, incredulous.

“No, that was spontaneous. And so was the one of Selena. But most of the time, I have to ask a question or think of a possible situation, and I see what happens. Or, if there’s no answer, I don’t see anything.”

“So, you’re gonna be murdered by Voss?” he asked, his voice tight.

“I keep hopin’ we change something,” I said with a forced smile. “I planned to have another vision of you in the motel room, but then you got the call from the repair guy.”

“You were gonna have a vision of me without asking permission?” he asked.

I cringed. “Yeah. I’m sorry. But I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“I see,” he said in a flat tone.

“Do you?”

He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “This is insane, Iris.” His eyes opened. “I deal in facts. Evidence.”

This was the reaction I’d expected. “Would you feel better if I prove it to you?”

“By waiting to see if you turn up dead?”

I cringed. “I guess that’s one way. But it can be something else. Something mundane. Then if it happens, you’ll know it’s possible I’m telling the truth.”

“Won’t you negate proving it if you tell me beforehand? I could purposely make another choice.”

“Let me try. I’ll write down what I see, and I’ll tell you when you can look at the paper.” When he didn’t respond, I said, “Will you please let me try?”

The look on his face suggested he was about to tell me no, but he pushed out a breath then said, “Sure. Why not? What do you need me to do?”

“Nothing. Just let me touch you.”

He stayed still and I reached out and slowly placed my hand on his arm. I closed my eyes and asked what Boone would be doing tonight. It was a vague enough question that it took a moment for something hazy to appear. I gave it a second before I decided to be more specific.

Does Boone figure out the spreadsheet tonight?

The haziness cleared, and I was staring at Boone’s laptop computer screen in his motel room, groaning in frustration.

“This is pointless,” I said in Boone’s voice, but then I pick up the photo of Rebecca that Boone had taken from the fridge. I pulled it a little closer and said, “Oh my God. That’s it!”