know how much to tell him. I couldn’t put Mr. Vandenberg or his family in danger. Then again, they were already in danger. Serious danger, from what I could tell. “Okay, what if, hypothetically, I knew about a man who was possibly being held hostage against his will. Along with his entire family.”
His pulse sped up, but just barely. He’d probably seen it all. Probably had amnesiacs filing preposterous reports all the time. “Do you know of such a person?” he asked, his tone taking on a sharp edge.
“What? Pfft. No. Maybe. I don’t think so. No. Absolutely not.” I drew in a deep breath. “I might.”
“Then you need to report it to the police.”
“I know. I really do. It’s just – I’m worried that if I go to the police and they rush over there with sirens blaring, my friend will get hurt. Or even if dispatch sends a uniform to check it out, the hostage takers will get spooked and kill him. Kill his entire family.”
He nodded, beginning to understand what I was getting at. Flooded with relief, I waited as Bobert took out a notepad and pen. Once a detective, always a detective.
Unfortunately, Cookie walked up. “And just what are you two talking about?” she asked as she scooted into the booth beside her husband. She gave him a quick peck.
When I hesitated, it took him a moment to figure out why. “Oh, it’s okay, hon. Cookie helps us with cases all the time.”
“Us?”
“Cases?” Cookie asked, surprised. “We have a case?” Bobert gave her shoulders a squeeze, and they exchanged a pointed glance. A little too pointed. She nodded after a moment. Cleared her throat. Started over. “Yes. Yes, I do help with cases. It’s more of a hobby, really.”
Bobert nodded, too, and added his own “Yes, a hobby.”
I waited for them to elaborate, but they just stared at me, their smiles forced. They did that sometimes.
“And who is ‘us’?”
Cookie raised her brows at her husband. “Well, that’s… It’s —”
“The Albuquerque Police Department,” Bobert cut in, relief flooding him. For a detective, he wasn’t the best liar I’d ever met.
“Cookie helps the Albuquerque Police Department with cases?”
Bobert’s gaze didn’t waver. “Yes. Yes, she does.”
“Yes, I do.” She continued to nod. Patted Bobert’s hand. Glanced out the window. “Yes, indeedy.”
Oddly enough, they weren’t lying. They just weren’t telling me everything. I got the feeling, as I did often from those two, that they were leaving out the best part. I mean, what did Cookie bring to the table? What could she do to help the police?
Then it hit me, and my entire perception of her changed in an instant.
Cookie was psychic!
It was the only explanation. Okay, probably not the only one, but it made perfect sense. And she certainly looked like a psychic. Or how I imagined a psychic might look. She had spiky black hair and sparkly blue eyes. She wore flowing, brightly colored clothes that never quite matched. And she added a little extra vertical lift to the concept of flighty.
Oh, yeah. She was psychic. This rocked so hard.
“Okay, well, if you don’t mind,” I said, pretending I didn’t know the truth. Then again, she was psychic. Would she know that I knew? I told Bobert and Cookie about the hypothetical man and his hypothetical family. She didn’t fall for it. Damn her and her psychic abilities. I’d have to watch what I said around her.
No!
I’d have to watch what I thought around her. Crap, this was going to be hard.
“What makes you think this man is being held hostage?” Bobert asked.
I didn’t know how much to tell him. He was still a cop. Would he go to the police anyway? I couldn’t risk it, not until I knew more.
“I don’t, really. It’s just a hunch,” I said, ashamed I couldn’t elaborate. But I didn’t want to end up in a padded cell when I mentioned how I could feel Mr. V’s pain. His fear. “I don’t have anything concrete. Yet.”
“Do you know where the family is being held?”
That was the million-dollar question and next on my list of things to check out. Cookie and I got off at three. I planned on finding out where Mr. Vandenberg lived and checking out his house. Incognito style, of course. If the family was there, I could go to whomever Bobert suggested and tell them everything I knew. I could tell for certain if it was a hostage situation or not.
“I don’t know that either,” I told him.