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  Killer Insight

  Psychic Eye Detective Book 4

  Victoria Laurie

  * * *

  Praise for A Vision of Murder

  “Victoria Laurie has crafted a fantastic tale in this latest Psychic Eye Mystery. There are few things in life that upset Abby Cooper, but ghosts and her parents feature high on her list…giving the reader a few real frights and a lot of laughs.”

  —Fresh Fiction

  “A fabulous whodunit…. Fans will highly praise this fine ghostly murder mystery.”

  —The Best Reviews

  Acclaim for the Psychic Eye Mystery Series

  “A great new series…plenty of action.”

  —Midwest Book Review

  “An invigorating entry into the cozy mystery realm…. I cannot wait for the next book.”

  —Roundtable Reviews

  “Well written and unpredictable. Everything about this book is highly original…. A fun protagonist with just enough bravado to keep her going.”

  —Romantic Times

  “The characters are all realistically drawn and the situations go from interesting, to amusing, to laugh-out-loud funny. The best thing a person can do to while away the cold winter is to cuddle up in front of a fire with this wonderful book.”

  —The Best Reviews

  “Victoria Laurie has talent to spare—she’s a writer to watch.”

  —J. A. Konrath, author of Bloody Mary

  Other Psychic Eye Mysteries

  Abby Cooper, Psychic Eye

  Better Read Than Dead

  A Vision of Murder

  KILLER INSIGHT

  A Psychic Eye Mystery

  Victoria Laurie

  A SIGNET BOOK

  SIGNET

  Published by New American Library, a division of

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, USA

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

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  Auckland 1310, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices:

  80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published by Signet, an imprint of New American Library,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  ISBN: 1-4295-1260-1

  Copyright © Victoria Laurie, 2006

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  For Alice Johns (Inga Brault)

  From the bottom of my heart, I thank you

  for a friendship that saved my life.

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Acknowledgments

  This novel was inspired by a childhood friendship. And as I’ve worked to complete this particular Abby Cooper installment, I realize how many friendships have actually gone into the story’s creation. It’s these special relationships that I would like to acknowledge here:

  First and foremost, I would like to thank my childhood friend Alice Johns and her family for taking in a lonely little runt like me and forever modifying my perspective on friendship and family. Thank God I had you—Alice, John, Eric, Nina and Jimmy—to shape and model what a true, loving family can be. Nearly thirty years later, I still hold you all so close to my heart.

  Speaking of family, I would like to acknowledge my brother, Jon, and my sister-in-law, Naoko. Thank you so much for your love and friendship. I treasure the both of you.

  Next is my very dear friend and agent Jim McCarthy, who always brightens my day with his wit, charm, encouragement and support. I know you must be sick of hearing it, mon cher, but I simply adore you! Also, along with Jim, I would like to thank Jane Dystel and the entire staff of Dystel and Goderich, who are like my guardian angels. I feel so secure in your care, and please know that I get how lucky I am to have your representation.

  Thanks also go to my fantabulous editor, Martha Bushko. Martha, I can hardly express to you my gratitude for all that you’ve taught me, and what a diamond in the rough you are. I have grown so much in just two short years under your wise guidance. Thank you for pushing me, thank you for your patience, and most especially, thank you for your friendship and care. I will miss you so much—be good, be well, be prosperous and remember to drop me a line. I always knew you were a rising star—can’t wait to see you shine, girl!

  As Martha says good-bye, I now inherit Molly Boyle. Molly, I’m absolutely thrilled to have landed with you, and look forward to a terrific partnership. Thank you for your assistance thus far, and cheers to the future!

  Of course I can’t leave out the legion of friends who have inspired characters, helped with the research, and religiously read this series while offering their amazing support and encouragement. They are Karen Ditmars, Leanne Tierney, Dell Chase, Silas Hudson, Dave McKenzie, Sandy Upham, Laurie Combs, Rebecca Rosen, Thomas Robinson, Maureen Febo, Alison Alsobrook, Joan Rogers, Debbie Huntley, Nora Brosseau, Kristen Laprade, Patty Healy, Suzanne Parsons, Kate Norton-Edge, Renee Camara, Beverly Ring, Dr. Stephani Amstadter, Dr. Stephen Pap, Jaa Nawtai-song, and the rest of my peeps out there. You guys rock!

  Moving on to my crew (yes, just like Abby, I’ve got one too), I would like to acknowledge the support and love I receive from the Other Side. My crew’s guidance has steered me to some amazing opportunities, and—for the most part—kept me out of trouble. Thank you, my guides and angels. I love you so much.

  And last, but certainly not least, I would like to thank every single fan who has e-mailed or written a letter to let me know you’re enjoying this series. You have no idea what all your support has done for me, and how much it thrills me to read your lovely words. I’m inspired by each and every one of you. Thank you for making my day, and especially for passing Abby on to friends and relatives. Due to your efforts, word of mouth is spreading, guys—I’m so grateful for your help and please, keep it up!

  Chapter One

  As I looked down the black barrel of the .38 pointed directly at my chest, and into the familiar eyes of my killer, all I could think was, I’m a friggin’ psychic, for Pete’s sake! Why didn’t I know it was you all along?!

  I never got a chance to ponder that answer, because at that exact moment an explosion shattered all thought as a bullet ripped open my chest and sent me hurtling backward to land faceup looking wide-eyed and panicked at the big blue sky.

  For the record, getting shot is nothing like they show in the movies, which, if you believe the actors, must feel something like a cross between a pinprick and a mosquito bite. The truth is, taking a bullet hurts like a mother.

  Dying is also not all it’s cracked up to be, but more on that in a moment. For now let me tell you that from the second I landed on the ground I knew only the intense, searing heat filling my chest like a vat of molten lava and a pain so intense it stole my breath away. All I could do was beg that big blue sky for mercy. A moment later the sky was blocked out by the face of my killer, who again aimed the gun at me.

  Now, you have to appreciate the agony I was in. Looking up at that barrel, I knew it was both my destruction and salvation. I just couldn’t take t
he pain, so I nodded in acquiescence. Please, just make it stop! my mind screamed. A moment later, with the sound of a second explosion, I got my wish.

  When they tell you that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you die, that is actually true. Well almost. In my case, I was privy to only the last week leading up to my death, but I’ve always been a Reader’s Digest kind of gal, so keeping it short and to the point was fine by me. The fact that my review began on Valentine’s Day, just before a major breakup with my commitment-phobic boyfriend, simply confirms my belief that the Universe, for all its wisdom and glory, really does have one gigantic sense of humor.

  As I trotted off to heaven, a sensation of being in a theater and watching a movie played across my consciousness, and the opening scene began in the middle of a client reading. Yes, I’m not only psychic; I’m a professional. And during this particular session I was having a bit of a translation problem. “Okay, Janet, now they’re showing me a checkbook, and I get the feeling of newness with it. Are you opening up a new checking account?”

  My client, Janet, shook her head no, her face scrunched up in confusion.

  Inwardly I groaned. This had been the pattern of the entire reading. I’d say something; Janet would say no, that didn’t fit; then I’d fish my intuition for more clues and eventually it would click. It was a lot of extra work, and, as we were only twenty minutes into a forty-minute session, I was already tired. “Well, my guides are making me feel like you are opening up a new checking account, and they’re also saying something about travel. So do you know if your bank is offering any kind of travel perks for opening up a new checking account? Like, open an account and get frequent-flier miles or something?”

  Again, a head shake no from Janet. “Abby, I’m really not opening a new checking account. The one I have is fine.”

  I smiled politely and in my head I reached out to my spirit guides, collectively called “the crew,” and said, Hey! Can we please get it together here? Give me something she can recognize! She keeps saying no. Immediately I got the thought, mother… in my head. I shrugged and asked, “Janet, has your mother asked you to open up a checking account? Or would she ask you to open up a joint account? Maybe it’s her bank that’s having the special on travel, because they are pointing to your mom and saying ‘travel’ and ‘account.’”

  “Ohmigod!” Janet squealed as she made the connection. “Abby! I’m so sorry! I am opening up a new account, but it’s an equity line that I’ve already applied for, and the purpose is because I want to send my mother on her dream vacation to Bermuda!”

  I sat back in my chair and let out a sigh. “Yeah, those equity lines usually come with checkbooks,” I said with a smile.

  Janet laughed. “I know; how obvious can you be, huh?”

  “Mmmm,” I said noncommittally, and leaned in again, focusing on a new topic. “All right, now they’re talking about where you work, and they’re saying there’s something about a fracture. They’re showing me two halves with a line down the middle, and saying that there’s some frustration here, or problems between the two halves. So, I think they’re saying that your company may have a division of power and the two halves might not be getting along. Do you know what I’m talking about?”

  Again, Janet scrunched her features up, giving me the confused face.

  I dug a little deeper and said, “They keep insisting there’s a split, and it’s something about a division within your company. I have group A over here and group B over there, and I feel like the two halves aren’t talking to each other, like there’s confusion communicating or something….” I looked up to see if this was registering with Janet, but her brows only lowered and the frown deepened. “Not ringing any bells, huh?”

  “No. I don’t know about any problems with leadership within the company I work for. We’ve had the same president and CEO for years, and all the VPs seem to interact well with him and with each other. And I’m sure we would have heard if there’d been some sort of division.”

  I rubbed my forehead with my palm, mentally asking my crew to help me out here. They replied by showing me a building, then splitting the building in half and moving each side of the building to the right and left alternatively. I wasn’t wrong. There was a split within this company. “Janet, they’re not backing off of this message. My crew is insisting that there’s been some kind of a change or split or move within your company recently.”

  “Oh! Like a real move?” she asked me, the scrunchy face lightening up.

  “Yes, that fits,” I said, coaxing her to make the connection.

  “In that case there has been a division. We just moved the IT, marketing and accounting departments across the street to another building because we were starting to run out of room.”

  I resisted the urge to get up and slap Janet. “And is this causing some problems in communication?” I asked, feeling rather exasperated.

  “Now that I know we’re talking about a literal move, the phone system doesn’t seem to be working between the two buildings. We also had a virus within our company’s network on Friday which took down the whole e-mail system, so no one was really doing much communicating at all,” she said with a laugh.

  I smiled and reminded myself for the billionth time that while the planet Mercury was in a retrograde pattern I could expect a few more readings to go exactly like this one. “So as I was saying, about this division, did it cause a small shift in power? Did your boss perhaps go over to the other building and you guys are on your own for the moment?”

  Scrunchy face again. “No…” Janet said.

  I took a deep, calming breath and asked, “So who’s head of the IT, marketing and accounting departments?”

  “That would be our VP, Jim Delouche. He’s my boss’s boss.”

  “And did he stay in your building?”

  “No, he moved over to the new site.”

  “Janet?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Any chance you could put your thinking cap on here and help me out?”

  She smiled sheepishly and said, “I’m taking you too literally, aren’t I?”

  “Just a tad.”

  Our session ended ten minutes later with only three more scrunchy faces and one zinger of a headache over my right eye. I saw Janet out the door and headed into my office, just off the room I use to read clients. My office had been trashed by a wacko about three weeks earlier, and I was still trying to put the pieces back together. The most arduous task—of going through all the files from my filing cabinet that’d been tossed around like confetti—I’d saved for last. However, since I needed to get my paperwork in order for my accountant, I’d slowly started going through the mess in between sessions and on my lunch break.

  Today I had a good hour before my next client, so I grabbed my PB and J sandwich out of the small fridge in my office, took a stack of files and paperwork, sat down akimbo on the floor and began to sort them into little piles. About fifteen minutes later I heard the front door of my suite open and a deep baritone call out, “Abby? You in here?”

  “Back here, Dutch!” I said loudly, a small grin already forming at the corners of my mouth. Dutch Rivers used to be a detective with the Royal Oak, Michigan, police, before joining the FBI. He was currently stationed out of the local Troy Bureau office, and over the past few months Dutch and I’d had a few opportunities to work together—my natural talent meshing nicely with his detective skills. He appeared in the doorway, and, despite the fact that we’d been dating for a while now, my breath caught at the sight of him.

  “Hey, there, sweethot,” he said, doing his best Humphrey Bogart.

  I would have whistled if my mouth weren’t so dry. Dutch is six feet, three inches of gorgeousness with light blond hair, square features, a nice straight nose, midnight-blue eyes, and a body like Adonis. Today he was dressed in black Dockers, a crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and a black leather jacket. He looked good enough to eat. “Hey, yourself,” I said, giving him a quick hair toss and what I hoped was a seductive smile. “We still on for tonight?”