Page 118 of It Runs in the Family

He grinned. “There’s the Spitfire I know.” He took the drive and opened his laptop.

I thought I was going to be sick while I waited for it to boot up. I held my breath as he accessed, revealing a stack of files, all with names consisting of letters and numbers.

“Do those file names mean anything to you?” I asked.

“No.” He clicked on one, and it opened to a spreadsheet with multiple columns full of numbers. Some were long and contained multiple decimals.

“What is it?” I asked.

His gaze scanned the screen. “I don’t know. Those could be longitude and latitude markers, but…” He slowly shook his head. “I don’t know.”

He proceeded to open more folders, all showing similar spreadsheets.

“What do we do with this?” I asked.

He stared at the current open sheet. “I need to spend more time lookin’ it over.”

“Do you think it has something to do with the cartel?”

“Yeah. I just need to figure out how.”

“Can’t you turn this over to your boss and let them figure it out?”

He heaved a sigh. “Unfortunately, not in this case.”

“So, this doesn’t really help us, does it?”

He turned his head to look at me. “It does. We just don’t know how yet.”

That answer wasn’t good enough. I needed something more concrete.

It was time to force a vision, and who better to see if I’d still be murdered than Boone? Throwing caution to the wind, I grabbed his hand and asked fate, Will I be murdered?

There was a chance this wouldn’t work. Boone might be long gone before my murder.

But my fate must have been sealed in a name-brand gallon zipper bag, because the vision slammed into me hard.

I was looking through Boone’s eyes, running across a field toward a warehouse with a semi-automatic rifle in my hand. There was nothing out here but the warehouse, which meant I was exposed. I lifted a hand to shield my eyes from the sun just starting to rise above the horizon. My heart was pounding, and I was trying to control my panic. I ran up to a door but found it locked, so I moved to the window beside it.

It sounded like mass chaos was unfolding inside, which was terrifying, but I hoped the noise would cover the sound of breaking glass as I busted the window open. I swept most of the jagged glass from the frame with the butt of my rifle. When it was mostly clear, I climbed through, ignoring the immediate stab of pain in my leg.

I found myself in a corridor behind tall storage shelves. There was no one in this area of the warehouse. It sounded like everyone was on the other side. Two different male voices were shouting orders, one of them in Spanish.

I ran behind a line of shelves, trying to reach the end. I needed to see what was happening. One thought kept running through my head.

I have to find Iris.

I spotted her—me—immediately, thirty feet away and lying on the dirty concrete floor. Vision Me was moving so I knew she was alive.

I barely had time to bask in my relief. I studied the room and the fifteen or so men across from her, who were loading large brick-shaped packages of some kind of drug into cargo vans. I was trying to figure out the best way to get to her when Dario Voss appeared around a corner across from me, dragging Selena by the arm and shouting, “This is all your fault.”

Then, without warning, he lifted a handgun. A shot ran out, and Iris slumped to the floor, motionless. My panic hit full force.

Then I was slammed back into the diner.

Boone was searching my eyes when I blurted, “He’s going to kill me.”

Boone vigorously shook his head. “No, Iris. I swear to you, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”