“Sit down,” Rafe said.
She stopped walking, but she didn’t sit. “He set the original meeting for two; it’s nearly three. We have less than three hours. Hardly enough time to put this together!”
“Calm. Down.”
She sat. “I have a bad feeling.”
“Is that your nerves or a true premonition?”
She stood. “I don’t have premonitions!”
Rafe wondered but didn’t comment. Moira wasn’t receptive to considering that she might have psychic abilities. She even made excuses for her visions, blaming them on her past. And while it was possible that her upbringing had initiated her visions, it was equally possible they were God-given. Why Moira couldn’t see that, Rafe didn’t understand-but he was beginning to.
She tried calling Grant again, but hung up in frustration.
“We should go to Velocity,” she said.
“He said he’d be an hour late.”
Rafe watched outside as a familiar sedan drove into the roundabout, driven by a broad-shouldered black guy. Why was Detective Johnston here? A police car pulled up behind him, but the officer didn’t get out.
“Go to the bathroom,” he told Moira.
“What?” she asked, but she’d already started walking, glancing over her shoulder. “Shit,” she mumbled and walked nonchalantly around the corner. Rafe discreetly observed where she went. She was hiding just out of sight, but within earshot.
Rafe kept his eyes on Johnston as the detective spoke briefly to the cop outside before entering the lobby.
“Mr. Cooper,” he said as he approached, his eyes scanning the area.
“Detective. I thought Nelson was meeting us.”
“He’s on his way, had a stop to make down the street.”
Down the street. Velocity?
“Why is he going to the club?”
“Police business,” Johnston said, not realizing that Rafe was making a guess. “Where’s your girlfriend?”
“Upstairs. I’ll tell her you’re here.”
“I can go up with you,” Johnston said.
“I’ll text her.”
“That’s not necessary.”
Rafe sent the message to Moira.
“Already done,” he said, pocketing his phone. “What’s with the police officer?”
“Nothing.” Johnston glanced around again, rocked almost imperceptibly on his heels. Rafe thought cops would make better liars.
Rafe glanced around. He could have sworn he’d heard a distant female voice. No one was paying him much attention. There were few people in this part of the lobby.
Julie? Where? He stepped back to get a better view of the hall, but didn’t see the woman.
Johnston eyed him suspiciously. “Is something the matter, Mr. Cooper? You seem distracted.”
“No, just tired.” Rafe couldn’t come up with a better excuse. The voice whispered again. It sounded like she was speaking directly in his ear.
Moira?
“Wait here,” Rafe told the cop. “I’ll check on Moira.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Rafe whirled around, every muscle tight and ready to fight-or run. “What is it? What do you want with Moira?”
Johnston raised an eyebrow. “Do you know that her visa expired?”
Rafe grew more suspicious. “That’s it?”
“No, that’s just the beginning. How long have you known Ms. O’Donnell?”
Rafe’s stomach sank. What did they have on Moira? What kind of record did she have? Some of St. Michael’s men had to stay in hiding, take new identities, or remain at the sanctuary because they were tied to an alleged crime. With Moira’s drive, Rafe wasn’t surprised that something might have popped up in the criminal database.
“I’ve known her two weeks,” Rafe said. But it was much longer, in his heart. He wasn’t going to let this cop take her in for questioning.
He didn’t know what Julie’s game was, but she knew something about Moira. He strained to listen, thinking of the YouTube video of Nadine Anson’s death. The split-second image of Julie Schroeder near the bus. Moira had said her image was astral projection. But when your spirit left a living body, few people could see it except other spirits. How could he hear her but not see her?
“What do you want?” he said out loud.
Johnston stared at Rafe, his jacket parted to reveal his sidearm. “Are you talking to me?”
Rafe said, “I need to take a call.” He put his phone to his ear and focused on Julie’s voice.
“Okay, tell me what’s going on.” He stepped away from Johnston, acutely aware that the cop was scrutinizing him. He turned away and spoke softly to Julie. “Why’s Moira in trouble?”
“Where are you now?”
Rafe couldn’t feel anything. He glanced at the hall mirror in front of him and saw only his worried expression-and Detective Johnston’s sharp stare behind him.
“You know where he is?”
A trap at Velocity? Moira was walking right into it!
“Moira first.” He kept his eyes on Johnston, who was inching closer to listen to Rafe’s hushed conversation. The uniformed officer who was waiting outside had entered the lobby and was going up the stairs. Dammit, he needed to get rid of Grant Nelson’s partner, get to Moira before Wendy did, and find Nelson before the demon.
So was Moira. And without her, their plan to save Julie’s boyfriend wouldn’t work.
“Mr. Cooper,” Johnston said, “we need to talk now. Your girlfriend is in serious trouble, and I don’t want to have to bring you in as well.”
The detective didn’t know the meaning of the word trouble. Rafe held up his finger to buy time and said to Julie, “What is Wendy’s plan for Moira?”
“Cooper,” Johnston warned.
Rafe hesitated. If Julie’s physical body died, she wouldn’t give up his body without a fight. Yet he didn’t want her to die. Moira thought Julie had betrayed them and she didn’t believe the witch, but maybe she’d been telling mostly the truth. He would know for certain if he allowed her spirit to share his body.
Moira would be furious if he let Julie’s spirit inside. So would Anthony and Rico and everyone else at St.
