“Easy’s right,” Gilly added. “Bad people do bad things. If this guy wasn’t targeting your ability, he’d be targeting something else.” She put her arm around my waist. “He’s made a huge mistake, though. Big!” she said, mimicking a line from Pretty Woman.
“Oh, yeah? And what’s that?” I asked her.
“He picked the wrong girl to mess with.” She kissed my cheek. “You’ll catch him, Nora. You always do.”
I hoped she was right, but for the first time, I had doubts. It was easier to catch criminals when they were unaware of my ability. Finding one who was using it against me was a whole different game.
“Van’s clear,” Broyles shouted. “No IEDs or explosives of any kind.”
“You sure?” Ezra asked.
Broyles held up a handheld device that looked like a radiation detector, and added, “I ran the sniffer over every inch and wiped it down with some trace paper. No explosive residue anywhere. If there was anything in or around this vehicle, I would’ve found it.”
Ezra waved his acknowledgment.
“Sniffer?” I asked him. “What’s that?”
“It’s a portable explosive trace detector,” he explained. “It detects explosives and explosive residue, and the trace paper will color when it comes in contact with any residue.”
“Like at airport security when they run those paper disks over your luggage.”
“Just the same.” He nodded. “Van’s clear. You want to try again for another vision?”
I stared at the van for a moment, then nodded. “I think I have to.” Now wasn’t the time for caution. Lives were at stake. “We’re running out of time.”
ChapterSeven
Ezra put Reese in charge of tracking down Abby Salinger. After, he cleared the area around the van of police officers. Brady hadn’t been exaggerating the intensity of the scent. This many Starflight lilies together in an enclosed space was pungently overwhelming.
“You okay?” Ezra asked.
“As okay as I can be,” I replied, sitting on the floor amongst the bouquets.
“Take your time.”
I quirked a smile. “But not too much.”
“Exactly,” he said.
I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply.
I’m back in the white room amongst the flowers. The figure in white takes a phone from his hoodie’s pocket and runs a finger over the screen. In Morgan Freeman’s voice, he says a word that was more at home in Samuel Jackson’s mouth. He shoves his hand under his shirt, and I can’t see what he’s up to until the glove lands on his lap.
My pulse jumps as I realize he can’t open the phone screen with the glove on. I see a bit of skin on the back of a hand before he gets it tucked all the way under the hoodie again. Our culprit is white. That’s information I didn’t have before.
In the voice of Sir Ian McKellen as Gandalf the Gray, he says, “Gather quickly where secrets are told, and past sins run hot and cold. Where friends gather, strong but few, find the bomb before it strikes true. Twelve rules to rule them all. Seek them out before they fall. Tolkiens of victory in their palm won’t protect them against my bomb.”
The white-masked creep starts laughing, and I hate that I’ll never see “Lord of the Rings” in the same way again.
When I came out of the memory, my stomach roiled as the taco I’d eaten earlier threatened to reappear in my lap. I scrambled from the van, gulping for fresh air.
Ezra had his hand on my back as I retched and dry heaved.
“How bad is it?” he asked when the heaving stopped.
My throat was sore and scratchy as I rasped. “I think Gilly might be right. Is there anyone at the library tonight?”
He snapped his fingers, and Officer Treece jogged over. “Call the library,” he said to her. “See if they have any events on tonight.”
