“Mom, someone’s at the door.”
Summer looked up from the piece of French toast she’d just flipped on the griddle. Faith was hunched over a textbook at the kitchen table. “Yo, Faith. I can hear the doorbell same as you, but as you can see, I’m a little busy here making sure you have a yummy but decidedly unhealthy breakfast. Any chance you can get the door?”
Faith pointed at her book. “Algebra. It’s what’s for breakfast.”
Nan walked by the kitchen and called out, “I’ll get it.”
“Thanks,” Summer replied. To Faith, she said, “Algebra is not very filling, as I recall. Have some breakfast and then you can get back to it.” She held up a plate and then proceeded to fill it with a stack of French toast. “Syrup’s over there.” She pointed at the counter. “It’s the good kind.”
Faith dragged her body out of her chair and zombie-walked to the counter. “I guess I can eat. Since you have the good syrup.”
Summer laughed and shoved an extra slice onto Faith’s plate, determined to make sure she had food in her belly. She’d noticed Faith had become pickier about food since they’d moved. The parade of casseroles had worn out its welcome, and she’d been distracted by the combination of temp work and trying to find a job, but after noticing Faith was looking skinnier than usual, Summer was determined to refocus her efforts on her daughter and make sure she was set up for success here in Dallas. First step, make her favorite breakfast food complete with the fancy maple syrup Faith loved.
“This is amazing,” Faith said, stuffing another bite into her mouth. “Best you’ve ever made. You should maybe open a French toast food truck.”
Summer pointed a spatula in her direction. “Now there’s an idea. I’ll look into that today as soon as you leave for school.” They both knew she was kidding, but Faith’s grin filled her with warmth. If she could find a job soon, they could get a place of their own. Not that she didn’t appreciate Nan taking them in, but moving to Dallas and into Nan’s house had been a big adjustment. It had been just the two of them for so long that making the adjustment to include another person had thrown them all off balance. She was ready for things to get back to normal, whatever that was.
As if summoned, Nan reappeared in the kitchen. “Summer, there are some people here to see you.” She raised her eyebrows several times in quick succession, widened her eyes, and jerked her thumb, appearing to motion behind her in a way that was only mildly subtle.
“Are you okay?” Summer asked, but as the last word left her mouth, she realized she was the one who wasn’t okay. Owen Lassiter, the drop-dead gorgeous prosecutor from the Jex trial, stood framed in the doorway, towering over Nan. “What are you doing here?”
“Mom, that was rude,” Faith announced. She stood up and stuck a hand out at Owen, apparently finally finding something more interesting than algebra. “Faith Byrne, nice to meet you.”
Summer watched Owen stare at Faith’s hand for a second like it was a coiled snake before she reached out and took it in her own. After they shook, Owen shoved her hand in her pocket as if to signal pleasantries were over, but Faith wasn’t one to let go. She turned to Summer. “Firm grip. I like that in a person.”
Owen looked disconcerted at the assessment but quickly recovered and grinned at Faith. “Right back at you.”
“Are you here to see my mom or Nan?” Faith asked.
“Is your mom Summer Byrne?”
“Yep.”
“That’s who I’m here to see.”
“Who’s your friend?”
Owen looked confused for a second, and then turned back to the woman behind her. Also tall. Also gorgeous. Summer sighed. Was she doomed to garner the attention of all the good-looking women in Dallas, but not in a good way?
“This is Kira Vaughn. I’m a prosecutor and she’s an investigator who works with me.”
Faith nodded as if she understood, and Summer took advantage of the pause in their conversation to step in. “Hey, I’m standing right here, maybe you could talk directly to me instead of my daughter. Again, what are you doing here? Because if you’re still hung up on the jury verdict, I assure you I haven’t changed my mind and I never will. Showing up at my house uninvited and unannounced is out of bounds, and charming my daughter won’t get you anywhere.”
Owen winked at Faith. “Your mom thinks I’m charming.” She turned back to Summer, her expression now serious. “Actually, I would like to talk to you about a call you made yesterday. It’s quite urgent. Is there somewhere we can talk?”
Summer exchanged looks with Nan, who shrugged. She should’ve known she wouldn’t be able to stay under the radar for long, but in her wildest dreams she wouldn’t have imagined the phone call she’d made to the police department yesterday would spur Owen Lassiter to show up at her door. She wasn’t sure what she would’ve done differently if she had known, but she definitely would’ve liked to have had a heads-up this was a possibility.
Owen sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”
“What?” Summer whirled in the direction of the stove in time to see smoke rising from the griddle and the second batch of French toast well on its way to becoming a set of scouring pads. “Damn.” She shot a look at Faith. “Sorry.”
Faith shrugged. “Guess it’s back to algebra for me.” She scooped up her textbook. “Mom, we have to leave in thirty minutes, or I’ll be late.”
Summer silently thanked her for imposing a deadline on the time she’d have to spend with Owen and her sidekick and willed Nan not to interfere by offering to give Faith a ride to school. When Nan settled into a seat at the kitchen table, Summer realized she was way more interested in what Owen and Kira were doing here and she wasn’t about to leave. Feeling safety in numbers, Summer motioned for Owen and Kira to have a seat.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she offered, immediately wanting to reel back the words. Why was she offering anything that might cause them to stay longer? Because you’re intrigued by Owen and you have been since you first saw her in the hallway at the courthouse. She wanted to push the thought aside, deny its truth, but she couldn’t. She was intrigued by Owen. The vibes she got from Owen told her she was a deep and thoughtful person who was sensitive to other people’s feelings and the brash and pushy prosecutor who’d run roughshod over her after the not guilty verdict was a facade.
Kira shook her head, but Owen said, “I’d love coffee if it’s already made. I mean, judging by the breakfast bonanza that’s going on here, it looks like it might be made.”
Summer narrowed her eyes, looking for a hidden meaning to Owen’s words, but Owen’s eyes blinked innocently with no sign she meant anything untoward by her remarks. Fine. Summer poured a cup of coffee and asked how she took it.
“Black, please. Good coffee shouldn’t be marred with additives. You look like you make good coffee.”
Was Owen flirting with her? Why couldn’t she say for sure? What use was it to be psychic if, when it came to the most basic things in life, her powers steadfastly refused to kick in?
She thrust the mug at Owen. “Here you go.”
Owen sipped from the mug and groaned with pleasure. “Delicious. Thanks.”
Summer watched as Owen took another sip, noting the way her lips caressed the outside of the mug before swallowing deeply and ending with a satisfied sigh. She had to do something to distract herself, to end the show of Owen being a pleasure seeking human. “Back to my original question. What are you doing here?”
If Owen thought the question was rude, she didn’t let on. “We’re investigating a tip received by the Fifth Precinct yesterday. Did you make the call?”
Summer wished the floor would swallow her whole, but no such luck. She’d intended to make her call to the precinct anonymously, but when the duty sergeant had asked her name, the words tumbled out unbidden. She’d written it off as harmless at the time. What were the chances the information would connect to an active case and that they would contact her about it? Apparently, a hundred percent. Her thoughts slammed to a stop. “Wait, you’re here.”
Owen frowned. “Obviously.”
“Which means the tip was good. You wouldn’t be here if you thought there was nothing to it. Yes, I made the call.” Instinctively, she reached across the table and grasped Owen’s forearm. “Did something happen?”
“How about you let us ask the questions?” Kira said, her voice forceful as she looked between them.
“How about you actually ask them instead of barreling into my kitchen acting like you’re here because I’ve done something wrong?” Summer kept her voice calm, but she wasn’t about to be pushed around in her own home, even if it was actually her grandmother’s house. She stared Kira down and, in the process, started picking up bits of unspoken conversation. “Don’t touch her. Why are you acting so familiar with Owen? Crackpot.” The first two piqued her curiosity, but the last one made her mad. “I’m not a crackpot, no matter what you think.”
Kira’s eyebrows shot up. Satisfied she’d made her point, Summer faced Owen. “If you want to have a civilized conversation, I’m up for that.” She looked at Kira and smiled to soften the sting of their encounter. Kira nodded and she and Owen leaned back in their seats.
Satisfied, Summer asked, “Which one of you wants to tell me what’s going on?” She watched Owen shoot a not so subtle look at Kira and then plunge in.
“The duty sergeant at the Fifth Precinct called me this morning to say that he received a call from you yesterday. The content of your call to him was a bit…unusual and we’d like to follow up on it.”
While Summer digested the paltry bit of information, she decided to ask some questions of her own. “Kira, are you with the Dallas Police Department?”
Kira looked surprised at the question and she glanced at Owen, who nodded for her to answer. “I’m an investigator with the district attorney’s office.”
“Okay.” Summer drummed her fingers on the tabletop while she mentally ran through a list of possibilities about why a prosecutor and her investigator would show up on her doorstep over a fairly vague tip about an assault. Only one way to find out. “You’re here. Which means there was something to the tip I gave and something relevant either to a case you’re working or that you’re definitely planning to prosecute, because prosecutors typically don’t make house calls for random tips unrelated to any pending investigations. Am I right?”
Owen looked skeptical. “Someone thinks she’s a junior detective.”
“It’s not like I think I’m a junior detective or anything,” Summer said, taking a bit of satisfaction at the way Owen shifted in her chair when she heard her thoughts spoken out loud. “Seriously, what brought you to my doorstep?”
Owen cleared her throat, and Summer could tell she was stalling for time, probably to decide whether or not she should be honest about why she’d shown up out of the blue or to engage in subterfuge. She prayed for honesty.
“A man matching the description you gave when you called was assaulted last night.”
And honesty it was. Summer took a second to revel in her satisfaction before her focus shifted to the fact someone had been injured. “Is he okay?” she asked, and then in response to Owen’s startled look. “Are you surprised I would care?”
“No, that’s not it,” Owen said. “To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what I expected. What I really want to know is where you got your information that the assault was going to occur.”
Okay, here it was. Now it was her turn for honesty, and she braced for their reaction. “I saw it.”
“You ‘saw’ it? You mean you witnessed the assault?” Owen shook her head. “You called it in hours before it happened, so that’s impossible.”
Summer heard the hard edge of cynicism and considered abandoning any effort to convince Owen how she’d come by her information. But maybe if she told her the truth, Owen and Kira would go away and leave her alone, writing her off as the crazy lady they surely already thought she was. “It’s not impossible, actually. I’m a psychic medium.” Kira snorted at the words, but Summer pressed on, focusing her attention entirely on Owen. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a vision about something that turns out to be true.”
“Hmm.” Owen crossed and uncrossed her arms, a thoughtful expression on her face. “What am I thinking right now?”
“What?”
“If you can read minds, tell me what I’m thinking right now.”
Summer’s stomach sank and she realized she’d held out some hope Owen would take her at her word, but that hope was dashed now. “It doesn’t work that way. I’m not a magic act or a carnival sideshow, ready to perform on command.”
“Then how does it work?”
“Things come to me. Dreams, visions, strong intuition. If the details are clear enough, I may be compelled to act.”
“So, you got a clear vision of this guy being mugged and you picked up the phone and called the cops?”
“Essentially, yes.”
“And we’re supposed to believe it’s as simple as that?”
“You can believe what you want, but I don’t think you’d be here right now if the information I reported wasn’t accurate.”
“And who’s to say you didn’t know about the assault because you were involved in it?” Kira asked.
Summer stared her down and then turned back to Owen. “I suppose it’s time for you to listen to your own intuition. Does it tell you that I was trying to prevent a crime or that I’m a criminal?” She waited a few beats and when Owen didn’t answer, she stood. “Why don’t you give it some thought. You can think about it somewhere else, though, because I have things to do and I’d like you both to leave, please.”
Kira started to say something, but Owen stood and motioned for her to be quiet. She handed Summer her card. “If you’d like to tell us what really happened, give me a call.”
Summer reached for the card, and in the few seconds that she and Owen both held on, the hum of energy was substantial. Owen knew she was telling the truth, but something held her back from admitting it, perhaps even to herself. Summer wanted to talk to her about it, but not in front of Kira who, she was certain, had labeled her a crackpot.
Shortly after they’d left, Summer heard a loud bang of the door. A moment later, Nan poked her head in the kitchen, her eyebrows raised in a question. “Come on in. They’re gone. I’m making a fresh batch of French toast because I deserve it after being interrogated. You want some?”
“Is ‘no’ ever a proper response to that question?” Nan asked with a grin. “Tell me everything.”
“There’s not much to tell. They were stingy with intel, but my dream was spot-on.”
“That tall one is pretty dreamy, if you ask me. What was her name? Owen? Unusual, but interesting. I bet it’s a family name. It suits her. And speaking of suits, she knows how to dress, that one does.” “You should invite her back for dinner.”
Summer felt the warmth of a blush creep up her neck and she waved a spatula at Nan. “Stop it. Stop it right now. That was not a social call. Owen is working on some case that involves the guy who was mugged. Plus, she was the prosecutor when I had jury duty last week. The one who thought I wrecked the jury and robbed her of the right verdict.”
“Too many coincidences there. She’s in your life for a reason.”
Summer focused on the routine of dipping the bread in the batter and placing it on the hot griddle to keep from dwelling on the fact she was having the very same thoughts. Every encounter with Owen felt both new and familiar, and the intrigue was exciting and frightening at the same time. “I know you think you’re in the business of dispensing wisdom by virtue of your status as the older woman in the house, but sometimes a coincidence is simply that and has no deep-seated meaning.”
“You know better than that, but I suppose you have to come to the correct conclusion on your own in order to embrace it as real.”
“Whatever.” Summer knew she was right. The way all of her synapses had lit up when she came into contact with Owen told her there was more to their connection than simple happenstance. What she didn’t know was whether their connection was related only to this case or to something more personal. The real question was, did she want to find out?
✥ ✥ ✥
“Do you think it was a good idea to let her off the hook so easily?” Kira asked as they pulled away from Summer’s house.
“What did you want me to do, hold a gun to her head?” Owen stared back at the house, wishing she’d visited on her own, without Kira, and wondering if she should go back and give talking to Summer another go. She didn’t believe for a moment that Summer had psychic abilities, but her gut told her Summer wasn’t being dishonest, and Owen wasn’t sure how to reconcile the two opposing views. Plus, she’d felt something during their conversation—the kind of thing she often felt in the courtroom when she knew exactly what to ask a witness or when to call some testimony into question based on pure instinct. Her instinct was telling her now that Summer knew more about her case than she was letting on. The major question was why Summer had chosen to keep her knowledge to herself.
Owen wrested her gaze from the house. Her imagination was running wild, another distraction to keep her from focusing on Fuentes as the sole suspect in Mrs. Adams’s murder. The police had arrested him, the grand jury had indicted him, and his case was set for trial in less than two weeks. She hadn’t prepped the case from the beginning, but it was hers now and her only job was to give the citizens of Dallas the justice they deserved for the death of Commissioner Adams’s wife. “This was a waste of time,” she muttered.
“What’s that?”
Owen shook her head. “Nothing. Will you drop me at the office? Rivera wants a full report, and I want you to check on Joule.”
Kira held up her phone. “Franco texted about ten minutes ago. All is well.”
“I’d appreciate it if you would check. Personally.” Owen injected extra force into her words to convey the subject was closed.
Kira’s jaw hardened and her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Fine. I get it.”
Owen hoped she meant it. She should confront Kira more directly about the blurred boundaries between them, but despite her reputation as a badass at the courthouse, she didn’t want to hurt Kira’s feelings. Instead she resolved to ensure their interactions remained professional—no more happy hour flings and no more having Kira pick her up at home out of convenience.
The courthouse was still buzzing with the business of the morning docket, but Owen flashed her badge and cut in front of the long line of people waiting to get in the front door. She used to feel bad about jumping the line, but it had only taken a few weeks of waiting behind people who didn’t understand the concept of how to empty their pockets and what might set off a metal detector to convince her to take advantage of the convenience her badge afforded her. She rode the escalator to the fourth floor and then slipped into the stairwell to climb the remaining three flights to her boss’s office.
The suite of offices afforded to the elected DA and her first assistant took up a large portion of the eleventh floor. Owen knew they needed extra space for meetings with staff and important public officials, but she wondered how hard it was to stay in touch with what was going on in the rest of the office when you were shelved in quiet seclusion, away from the seedy side of criminal prosecution. She had absolutely no interest in working her way into this cocoon. Teaching younger prosecutors was a duty she’d learned to embrace, and she actually enjoyed it, but that was as far removed from litigation as she ever wanted to be.
DA Mia Rivera’s secretary, Henry, was sitting outside her door when Owen approached. “I’ve been summoned,” she said with a smile she didn’t feel. “Is she in?”
“She is, but you’re early.”
“I was told to show up immediately, so you could argue I’m right on time.”
Henry nodded. “Gunning for a promotion.” He wagged a finger at Owen. “I know the look. Crisp suit, first one at the office, last one to leave. She’ll be impressed for sure.”
Owen didn’t bother denying the assumption. She was already the youngest attorney to be promoted to a chief position and she appreciated Mia’s confidence in her work, but she hadn’t been prepared for how much she would miss time spent in the courtroom, lost to all the administrative work that went with supervising a bunch of misdemeanor prosecutors.
“She’s ready for you now.”
Owen stood and smoothed the lines in her suit. Mia Rivera had been her mentor when she’d started this job and she was ever conscious about impressing her, especially now that she was in this new position. When she walked in, Mia was on the phone and held up a finger to signal she’d be just a minute. While she waited, Owen took a moment to glance around the room that had been occupied by so many men before Mia had won the last election, becoming the first female DA in Dallas. Framed pictures illustrated the diverse support Mia had received from every corner of Dallas, bringing together a coalition of voters that were more interested in finding a new approach to law and order than doing things the same old way, and Owen was proud to be a part of the changes Mia was making as part of her mandate. They were no longer prosecuting everything that came through the door, instead focusing on alternative justice programs that included special programs for first time offenders, drug counseling, and other rehabilitative programs. The result was the prosecutors weren’t mired down with petty crimes, but instead able to focus on taking dangerous criminals off the streets.
“Thanks for all the info,” Mia said into the phone. “Much appreciated.” She hung up and turned her attention to Owen. “Sit. Please. Do you want some coffee? I hear you were out late and up early.”
Owen slid into the chair across from Mia’s desk. “I’m good, thanks. Kira just sent me a text that Joule is in good condition, but I have a feeling you already knew that.”
Mia smiled. “How well you know me. I got here early too and have been doing some investigating of my own. What was your impression of Summer Byrne?”
Owen fixed her face into a neutral expression. She should’ve anticipated Mia would already know about Summer’s tip—it was very much like her to be hands-on when it came to big cases. She wanted to blurt out that Summer had mucked up her jury trial last week and dashed her perfect record, but she knew Mia valued moving on as opposed to dwelling on the past, so she needed to tread carefully here. “Kira and I met with her this morning. Frankly, I’m not sure what to think. Her information was certainly credible, but her explanation of how she came by it, is more incredible than anything else.”
“She’s a psychic medium.”
“That’s her claim anyway.”
“No, she really is.” Mia turned her computer screen so Owen could see. “Her name rang a bell and I did some checking around. She has quite the reputation on the West Coast. I was on the phone with the elected DA in Santa Cruz, Bruce Janney. I heard him speak at a law enforcement conference last year about unorthodox crime solving techniques and he mentioned Summer. He said she was invaluable in helping them solve cases for several years and the law enforcement agencies out there would back him up on that. She even got a mention on an episode of Dateline.”
“Wow, that’s interesting.” Owen hoped her voice conveyed more enthusiasm than she felt. She had no interest in stories about special powers when she had real facts to find and factor in the preparation of her case.
“I want to bring her in. Set up a meeting and see if she’d be willing to work with you on the Adams case. Based on what I’ve learned, she could be invaluable all the way from jury selection to assessing the witnesses during trial. We have some extra funds from the seizure of all those eight-liner machines last month. We can’t offer her a ton, but we can do a decent stipend.”
“What?” Owen wasn’t entirely sure she’d heard Mia correctly. “You want to hire her to work on the Adams case? But that case is already solved, remember?”
“Yes, I want her to work with you on the Adams case. And it may be solved, but you still have to convince a jury. In fact, that’s the perfect cover. You can tell people she’s on board as a jury consultant. Assuming she’ll agree to work with us. I’m sure you can be persuasive.”
Owen bit her bottom lip while she contemplated responses other than “hell no,” which was the only one that readily came to mind. Mia was clearly excited about her discovery, but Owen’s skepticism was firmly entrenched. Deciding that attacking the whole psychic medium angle might not be the best way to get her doubt across, she tried another tack. “She was the foreperson in the case I tried with Ben Green last week. The one where the jury went rogue.”
“Rogue?” Mia raised her eyebrows. “Look, Owen, I know you’ve never lost before, but juries are famous for making decisions based on the most random factors. Judge DeWhitt said you made your best case, but it doesn’t always pan out.”
“She was clearly biased for the defense.”
“Judge Dewitt?”
Owen tempered her tone. “No, Summer Byrne. And don’t you think it’s odd that not a week after being on jury duty, she just happens to have critical information about an assault on the star witness in a headliner case? You said she was on TV. Maybe she’s gunning for media attention.”
Even as she spoke the words, Owen knew they didn’t jibe with the woman she’d met that morning, making French toast while helping her kid do algebra. Summer had seemed extremely matter-of-fact, completely at odds with the picture Owen had in her head of a dramatic fortune teller presiding over a seance. Still, she didn’t buy that Summer channeled information from the great beyond or had visions that foretold the future. That kind of fortune-teller shit had no place in the fact-finding world she occupied.
“If she were looking for attention, don’t you think she would’ve called the press and not the police? Besides, I said she was mentioned on an episode of Dateline. She wasn’t on the show. Bruce told me that despite the fact she worked on some high-profile cases, she never appeared on TV—something about keeping her life as private as possible. She has a young daughter. Does that sound like a publicity hound to you?”
Mia had a point, but Owen wasn’t ready to concede defeat. “I met her this morning. Kira and I went by her house to see what she could tell us. Not much other than what she described when she called it in, but she didn’t strike me as particularly helpful.”
“She might respond more amicably if you didn’t show up on her doorstep unannounced. And we’re willing to pay her for her assistance. Your job is to convince her to come on board.”
“I’m thinking an overture from you would have a better chance of being well-received. I don’t think she likes me very much.”
“Is that your extrasensory powers at work?”
“Evidence based on empirical data.”
“I’ve seen you charm dozens of guilty verdicts out of juries.” Mia stood to signal the meeting was over and made a shooing motion. “You’re going to have to work closely with her for the duration of the trial, so it should be you. She’s got to learn you aren’t a total disbeliever. Go forth and be the persuasive advocate that you are.”
Owen wanted to protest, wanted to tell Mia she wouldn’t do it, that she’d never believe in the mumbo jumbo Summer was selling, but she’d known Mia long enough to recognize when her mind was made up. Plus, she knew that Mia was placing a lot of confidence in her by asking her to step in and handle the Adams case, but as much as Mia liked her, she wouldn’t hesitate to rip it away if she felt it wasn’t getting prosecuted the way she wanted. Owen sighed. She didn’t really have a choice, and a part of her was glad about it. Now she just had to figure out how to get Summer to like her enough to agree to help, and the prospect was both challenging and exciting.