I saw the hound. The big black dog from yesterday, crossing a hall junction ten feet away. It was on a leash, being led by a woman. It turned and fixed its red-brown eyes on mine. I blinked, and when I opened my eyes, I was looking at a black Lab in a harness. I blinked again, to be sure, but it was definitely a Labrador retriever, probably being brought in for prisoner therapy.
I watched the dog and its handler go. Then I paced outside the visitors' room until the door opened. As Gabriel stepped out, I motioned that I'd be another minute. He nodded, and I slipped back into the room as they were taking Pamela away. The guard warned that my time was up.
"I know. Just one last thing I need to tell her."
Pamela gave me a wary look and tried to cover it with a smile. "What is it, baby?"
"I've been seeing a dog. I saw it twice yesterday. The same dog, fifty miles apart. About this big"--I lifted my hand above my waist--"with black fur. I think it's some kind of hound."
As I spoke, Pamela's eyes widened, her face filling with horror and dread. Before I could say a word, that expression vanished, replaced with feigned confusion and concern.
"That's odd," she said, her voice strangled.
"You don't know anything about it?" I asked.
"No, I don't."
I met her gaze. "Don't do this, Pamela. Please. Something's going on and I need--"
"You need to forget it," she said. "You've been through a lot, baby, and the best thing you can do right now is look after yourself."
"That's what I'm trying--"
"No, you're not. Go home. Tur
n off the phone. Take a hot bath. Relax and try to forget all this. That's the best thing you can do. The only thing you can do."
She let the guard lead her away and never looked back.
--
On the drive to my parents' place, I told Gabriel what Pamela had said. As I spoke, his hands tightened on the wheel.
"She knows something," I said.
"That goes without saying. She admitted to teaching you about omens, and there is no doubt you can read them. Therefore a connection exists."
We drove in silence for a few minutes.
"I practically begged," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "No. Forget 'practically.' I did beg. I told her I needed it. And she turned me down. Flat. Made me feel . . ." I settled my hands in my lap. "I'm going to stop seeing her."
He glanced over.
"Until she agrees to talk about the omens," I said. "If she contacts you asking to speak with me, will you tell her that?"
"I will. It is, quite possibly, the one thing that will force her hand. As for getting help elsewhere, you still need to talk to Rose about the hound and the body."
"I know."
"I tried to visit Chandler yesterday. He won't see me. Not surprising, I suppose, given that we put him in there. That will change. He'll eventually decide he can manipulate me to his advantage. In the meantime, I'll visit Anderson."
"His bodyguard." I paused. "Former bodyguard, who may not be any happier with you, considering you blew off half his foot."
"I'm going to offer to defend him."
I glanced over. "Seriously?"
"He will be more forthcoming with his lawyer, and he might be able to tell me whom Chandler would hire to put that body in your car. As for his foot . . ." He shrugged. "It was business. He was acting on his employer's behalf; I was acting on my client's. I'm sure he'll see reason."