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“Any questions before we go in there?”
“What kind of person is he?”
Mannis shrugged. “He won’t take you seriously. It’s not personal. He’s got an ego, but he puts in the work. Can’t say I like him, but can’t say I don’t respect him, either.”
“He sounds charming.” She squared her shoulders. “But nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”
Mannis nodded and knocked. When a voice called from inside, he pushed through the door and made room for the other two to step in behind him. Cassie closed the door behind them, giving herself a few seconds before she had to bear the detective’s scrutiny.
The office had no bells and whistles. Davenport’s desk and chairs were standard-issue. The walls had no decorations, and there were no photos of his family anywhere in the room. Stacks of papers and empty coffee mugs littered his desk. Cassie thought she could smell the faintest trace of cigarettes in the air.
Davenport looked up. He was around Mannis’ age, but life had been crueler to him. Wrinkles lined his face; his eyes were dark and cold, and his stubble did not appear to be intentional. The bags under his eyes looked like bruises.
“What can I do for you, gentleman? I’m on a time crunch here.” His drawl was light, like he had maybe grown up elsewhere. He spotted Cassie. “And who’s your friend?”
Mannis took the lead. “This is Cassie Quinn. She’s a consultant for the FBI.”
“Oh yeah? What kind of consultant?” He returned to his paperwork. “Do you study the bugs that come crawling out of people’s mouths? Sorry, but Grayson didn’t have any. We found him too fast. I’m afraid you’ve wasted your trip.” He waved her off without even looking up. “Bug people. I’d rather just put in the legwork.”
“No, I don’t study bugs that come crawling out of people’s mouths.”
“Then what is it you do, Ms. Quinn?” The exasperation in his voice was not well-concealed.
“I’m a psychic.”
Cassie swore the entire room froze. Viotto and Mannis took in a collective breath and held it. Davenport looked up, first at the agents to search their faces for some kind of joke, and then at Cassie, as though he was seeing her for the first time.
“You’re bullshitting me.”
Cassie took a seat with a smirk on her face. It had been worth it just to see his jaw drop like that. Mannis joined her in the other chair while Viotto leaned against the wall. He looked like he was trying to smother his laughter.
Cassie leaned forward. “Don’t you wish I studied bugs now?”
Davenport ignored her. He turned to Mannis. “You believe this horseshit?”
“Doesn’t matter what I believe. The Agency believes it. She’s got a file two inches thick. She does good work.”
“We solved the case.” Davenport shook his head. “We caught the killer. What do we need a psychic for?”
Cassie opened her mouth to respond, but Mannis beat her to it.
“She came to us with doubts about Anthony Lewis’ involvement in the murder.”
“We found the murder weapon with his fingerprints all over it.” Davenport threw up his hands. “We have motive. No alibi. And proof. What more do you want?”
Mannis held up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t have at least some credibility. But this is a career-making case. Solving the murder of a prominent local politician’s kid? We both know you’re headed up the food chain with this. It wouldn’t surprise me if the Senator takes you with him on his way to the White House.”
Cassie was surprised Mannis was laying it on so thick, but it seemed to achieve its intended purpose. Davenport glared at Cassie, but he sat back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. “What are your doubts?”
Viotto stepped forward. “Actually, they’re my doubts. When Ms. Quinn approached me with her own, they made me nervous.”
“Nervous?” Davenport sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Kid, you’re gonna have to take care of that. Can’t be nervous in this line of work.”
“Humor me.” Viotto smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “This is a high-profile case. It needs to be airtight, right? We want it to go to court without a single doubt that they’ll convict this guy.”
“That’s the plan.”
“Great, so we’re on the same page.” Viotto ran a hand through his hair. “My issue is that it all happened so fast. The abandoned car, then the body, then the murder weapon, then the arrest.”
