“Morning, pumpkin.”
I place the drink caddy and pastry box on my desk. “Morning.” I put one of the coffees and a cinnamon bun on Dad’s desk. “I need you to find out everything you can about Janet Rake. Particularly who her best friend was.”
“You think she told someone about the affair,” Dad says.
“She must have, right?”
Mitchell comes walking in. Alone, much to my surprise. “Morning,” he says.
“Where’s your sidekick?” I ask.
Mitchell smirks. “Feeling feisty this morning?”
“I’ve been up since four, drank a pot of coffee, and am now drinking an extra-large toasted almond that Marcia already refilled for me.”
“Why have you been up since four?” Mitchell asks, stepping toward me.
“I had another dream-vision thing.”
“A premonition?” Dad asks.
“No. I don’t think so. It felt more symbolic than anything else.”
Mitchell sits down and grabs a coffee and cinnamon bun. “Tell us about it,” he says before biting into his breakfast.
I sit. “I was raking leaves and silver jewelry.”
“Silver jewelry?” Dad asks. “Like necklaces and such?”
“Yeah. Necklaces, bracelets, earrings. Weird, right?”
“Unless Janet was wearing a piece of jewelry that Tony Trevino gave her,” Mitchell says.
I hadn’t considered that, but it makes a lot of sense. “You could be right. My senses might be telling me I need to read her jewelry.” Everyone knows how much I love a trip to the morgue to read a dead body.
“Want me to contact Rudy?” Dad asks. He’s friends with the coroner, which has unfortunately come in handy on too many cases.
I already have to read the blanket Tony Trevino’s body was in today. Why not read the jewelry, too? “Yes, please.” As for blankets… “The other part of my dream was even weirder. Underneath the leaves and silver jewelry was a blanket.”
“Like the ones both victims were wrapped in?” Mitchell asks.
I didn’t see the blanket Janet’s body was wrapped up in, but I know the blanket in my dream didn’t match Officer O’Reilly’s description of the one Tony Trevino’s body was found in. “I’m not sure. This one was a pale green color.”
“So, not a picnic blanket?” Mitchell asks.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think so, though.”
“I think we should start with the blanket today, especially after your dream,” Mitchell says. He sips his coffee again before turning to Dad. “If Rudy can get us into the morgue to see Janet’s body, Piper might need access to the victim’s jewelry and the blanket she was wrapped in.”
Dad nods. “I’m on it. And I’ll research Janet Rake for you, Piper. I’ll make a list of her closest friends.”
Mitchell cocks his head at me. “You think she told someone about the affair.”
“She must have, right? I mean even I confide in Marcia.”
Mitchell reaches across the desk and places his hand on top of my left hand. “Everyone needs someone to confide in.”
I might not be considered normal in terms of my social life, but I’m learning. Little by little. Most of the time, I feel like Pinocchio when he wants to be a real boy. Though I’m not sure being what’s perceived as “normal” is all it’s cracked up to be.
“Officer O’Reilly is handling the Rake side of the investigation,” Mitchell says, going back to his cinnamon bun. “She’s already interviewed Nelson Rake. I have the report in my car for you to read on the way to the morgue.”
“Great. Maybe after reading it, I’ll be able to decide what, if anything, I need you to bring me from that she shed.”
Dad looks up from his laptop. “Does either of you think Nelson is opposed to Piper being at his home because he’s afraid she’ll discover he killed his wife and Tony after learning about the affair?”
Eugene Spicer has been on the top of my list, but Dad makes a valid point. “I’m not really removing Eugene, Nathan, or Nelson from my suspect list just yet.”
“They all did have motive,” Mitchell says.
“What about Marissa Trevino?” Dad asks.
“She’s too afraid her son or first husband are to blame,” I say. “I don’t get any feeling that she killed Tony. Besides, she’s been very cooperative.”
“Your mother thinks so, too,” Dad says.
Uh-oh. Busted. “How did you find out?” I ask.
“Your mother knew a little too much about the case. When I flat-out asked her if she got involved, she told me about the brunch you both had with Marissa Trevino.”
“You guys went to brunch with Marissa Trevino? That’s how you got information out of her?” Mitchell says. “We conveniently never got around to finishing that conversation.”
I wave a hand in the air. “You’re basically up to speed at this point anyway. Marissa is hoping Eugene is the killer—if it’s actually someone connected to her, that is. I’m sure she’s hoping it’s not, but the fear she felt when we discussed it was very real.”
“Then she probably blames herself,” Dad says.
“That’s crazy.” Mitchell furiously shakes his head. “She didn’t have an affair. Tony did. Marissa didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I agree. She’s an innocent bystander.”
“But if someone killed Tony to defend her, she’d most likely still feel some responsibility,” Dad says, being the voice of reason as usual.
“You’re right,” I say.
“You can’t control other people. I disagree with this logic.” Mitchell couldn’t look more upset, and I think I know why. The problem is we can’t talk about his mother in front of Dad.
“We should get going.” I stand up, grabbing my coffee and cinnamon bun, which I haven’t even touched yet. “Dad, can you get in touch with Rudy? We’ll head to the morgue now.”
“Will do.”
Mitchell finally realizes I bought extra coffee and cinnamon buns. “Did you get breakfast for O’Reilly?”
“Well, since she’s going to be at the Rake residence, it’s now extra for me.” I smile and head out.
“It’s big of you to try to be nice to her when she’s not returning the favor,” Mitchell says once we’re in the patrol car.
“I thought you said you can’t control people.”
“I don’t think you’re trying to control O’Reilly’s behavior with bribes.”
No, he was talking about his mother, who got on a plane that she foresaw crashing, all because she thought it was her destiny. I saw that memory of Mitchell’s. I saw him beg his mother not to leave. It still breaks my heart. I reach for him, tears forming in my eyes.
“Hey,” he says. “Why are you crying?”
“You’ve carried around a lot of pain for most of your life. I’m in awe of how you’ve managed that.”
“You feel other people’s pain all the time. I think you already know what it’s like.”
He’s right. Maybe that’s why we understand each other so well.
He clears his throat and starts the engine. “The file is right in the glove compartment.”
I pull it out and read through Officer O’Reilly’s notes from her interview with Nelson Rake. I’m not surprised by her line of questioning. It’s all very much by the book. Nelson works for Global Medicine. He was gone for five days, having returned on the day Janet was killed. They spoke every day he was away, and she said she was busy filling online orders for custom artwork. I flip forward to the description of the crime scene.
“It says Janet’s body was wrapped up in a lavender throw blanket.”
“Is that odd?” Mitchell asks, glancing briefly in my direction.
“Well, in my vision, it was a pale green blanket.”
“So, not the blanket at either crime scene. What does that mean?”
I can only think of two possibilities. “There might be a third victim,” I say.
Yes.
&nbs
p; Oh boy. “Scratch that.”
“Are your senses saying there won’t be another victim?” Mitchell sounds so hopeful I feel awful for having to burst his bubble.
“The opposite. They’re saying there definitely will be a third victim. There’s no might about it.”
“Then this is a serial arsonist. Maybe the affair has nothing to do with why the victims were chosen.”
I know what he’s really thinking. Tony and Janet weren’t having an affair. He thinks Tony was cheating on Marissa, but not necessarily with Janet. He’s just too nice to say that since it means he’s doubting my abilities.
“You’re being unusually quiet. That means you’re either mad at me or your senses are focusing on something.” He parks in front of the morgue entrance.
“Neither really. I don’t blame you for not trusting my senses when there’s really nothing concrete to go off of.”
He cuts the engine and turns to face me. “Hey, when have I ever needed concrete evidence to believe you? If you say Tony Trevino and Janet Rake were involved, then I believe it. I’m just saying we might not have to prove that. There might be some other connection that made the killer target them.”
Another connection.
“Seriously?”
Mitchell’s head jerks back. “What did I say?”
“Not you. My senses led me to think Janet and Tony were having an affair, but now they’re saying you’re right and there is another connection. How can it be both?”
“Do you want to play the game?” he suggests.
“No. I don’t know much of anything about Janet Rake yet. Our best bet is for me to read those blankets and the silver jewelry Janet was wearing when she died.” I open the car door, furious with my confusing abilities yet again. Sometimes I understand why nonbelievers look at me like I’m crazy. It’s times like this that what I do seems crazy even to me. But at the same time, I know that every clue I’ve gotten from my senses will make sense in the end, and I’ll blame myself for not figuring it out sooner.
Rudy is waiting for us when Mitchell opens the door for me. “Mitchell, Piper, good to see you.” He waves us over to a wall of drawers. I have the two victims over here.
“Do you have the blankets they were wrapped in?” Mitchell asks.
“Yes, upstairs. We can get them after Piper checks out the bodies.”
The bodies? “What exactly did my father tell you, Rudy?” I ask.
“Well, that’s where the problem lies. First, I think you should see the bodies so I can point out the similarities in injuries.” He opens the first drawer, which contains Tony Trevino’s remains. And I use the word remains loosely. I have to turn away both from the smell of burned flesh and the sight of it. “How do fire fighters deal with this?” I ask, raising my shirt above my nose.
Rudy tips his head from side to side. “The sad thing is you get used to this. I remember when I first started this job. I went home every day for months and cried to my mother.”
“You lived with your mother at the time?” Mitchell asks, and while most people would think he was making fun of Rudy, I know he’s jealous that Rudy still had his mother around and got to spend so much time with her.
“No, I had gotten my own place by then, but I called her every evening after work. Still do, actually.” Rudy smiles, and Mitchell turns away.
I want to console him, but I know that will only upset him more, especially in Rudy’s presence.
Rudy opens the drawer directly next to the one with Tony Trevino’s body. “The cause of death for both victims is blunt force trauma to the back of the head.”
“The back of the head,” I say. “The killer snuck up on them.” I was thinking this was more like a crime of passion, something done face-to-face. But this does make more sense. “So the killer really did lure Tony Trevino out to the barn with the fire. Tony probably tried to put out the fire, and the killer hit him over the head from behind.”
Mitchell wags a finger at me. “Yes, and then Tony fell face-first into the trough with the fire. But does that mean the killer didn’t intend to burn the body?”
“Maybe not. I’m not sure. Although, Janet Rake was also burned post mortem, right, Rudy?” I ask. Her corpse is clearly burned to the same degree as Tony’s, but I want to confirm all the details with the coroner.
“Correct. Whether the killer decided to mirror the first victim’s death is anyone’s guess.”
Mitchell nods. “The killer might not have meant to burn Tony, but once he did, he felt the need to do the same with Janet’s body. He’s establishing a connection between them.” He nods to me. “You were right. Janet has to be the woman Tony was having the affair with.”
It does seem that way. “Thanks, Rudy. This has been really helpful. Any idea what the murder weapon is?”
“We’re still studying the fracture patterns and trying to match them up with a weapon that could create them. Don’t quote me on anything, but if I had to guess, I’d say it was a tire iron.”
“Like we thought earlier,” I say to Mitchell.
“Pointing to Nathan Spicer again.”
I know what I need to do next. “Rudy, can I see the silver jewelry you removed from Janet Rake?”
“That’s where the problem comes in, Piper. Your dad said you wanted to see her jewelry, but she wasn’t wearing any. Not even a wedding band.”
That’s impossible. My vision showed silver jewelry. If it doesn’t belong to Janet, who am I supposed to be looking for?
Chapter Twelve
Mitchell gently squeezes my elbow as Rudy leads us upstairs to collect the blankets the lab has finished testing. “Janet Rake was working on her art when she was killed. Maybe she doesn’t wear jewelry while she works. I can go back to the crime scene and check her shed for any silver jewelry to bring back for you.”
I hope he’s right because I was counting on that jewelry to give me some solid answers in this case. I feel like we’ve hit a major wall. And having Mitchell try to locate an exact piece of jewelry I need won’t be easy. I might have to be on the phone with him and have him describe every piece he finds to me. And then he’ll have to sneak that item out of the shed without Officer O’Reilly or Nelson Rake knowing. The whole thing is going to be one giant, complicated mess.
Rudy brings us to an office. “I had the blankets sent here. After speaking with your father, Piper, I retrieved them and told the lab I’d personally hand them over to Detective Brennan.”
“Thank you, Rudy. I appreciate it.”
“Well, I have to get back to work, but if either of you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.”
Mitchell dips his head at Rudy, which Rudy returns. I force a smile on my face even though I see nothing to be even remotely happy about right now. Once Rudy is gone, Mitchell closes the office door behind him.
“Do you want to do this here or bring the blankets to your apartment?”
He’s worried about what kind of vision this will spark. I’m not as concerned, though. Both victims were already dead when they were wrapped in the blankets, which means I can only see the killer. That’s exactly what we need right now. We have to figure out who he is.
“I don’t want to wait. We need answers immediately.”
“Are you still thinking this guy is going to strike again?” Mitchell asks.
“Not if I can stop him.”
Mitchell smiles. “That’s my girl. Let’s make this guy sorry he ever crossed paths with you.”
That’s the plan. I sit down in the desk chair and reach for the evidence bag with the red and white blanket—the one found at Tony Trevino’s crime scene. I open the bag and take a few deep, calculated breaths before placing my right hand on the blanket.
Smoke. Tons of smoke blurring the killer’s vision.
Sizzling as water extinguishes the flames in the trough.
The blanket is placed on the ground beside the trough, and the killer lifts the body onto it while humming “Rock-A-Bye Baby.”
; I’m coughing when the vision ends.
Mitchell is crouched beside the desk chair, clutching my left hand. I didn’t even notice he’d touched me, but he must have done it while I was having the vision. “Are you okay? Do you need some water?”
“Water would be great,” I manage to croak.
Mitchell stands and goes to a mini refrigerator in the corner of the room below a shelf of medical journals. He opens it and retrieves a bottle of water. Even though he hasn’t asked me what I saw, I can tell he’s dying to know. But to his credit, he uncaps the bottle and hands it to me without a word.
I take a few sips, allowing the cool liquid to soothe my throat, which feels like it’s been exposed to massive amounts of smoke inhalation.
Mitchell zips up the evidence bag while he waits for me.
After drinking about half the bottle of water, I’m ready to talk. “I didn’t see the killer because I was him in the vision.”
“We assumed that would happen.”
It’s rare for me to experience a vision as a complete outsider. I usually see things from the perspective of someone who was there. Unfortunately, more often than not, it’s from the victim’s point of view. Although, if I’m being honest, I might hate being in the killer’s perspective more. The amount of rage that usually comes from them can be debilitating. Yet that wasn’t the case this time. The killer was calm.
“I don’t think the person who killed Tony Trevino did it out of anger.”
“Are you saying it was an accident?” Mitchell turns my swivel chair so I’m facing him, and he leans against the desk to meet my gaze.
“No. I think this was definitely premeditated, but the killer’s motive wasn’t anger. It was justice.”
Mitchell crosses his arms. “You think this guy believes he was exacting justice by killing Tony Trevino?”
I nod. “He was completely calm and humming to himself.” I don’t want to tell Mitchell the song the killer was humming just yet, because I know exactly what it will make him think. He’ll think “Rock-A-Bye Baby” implicates Nathan Spicer. I’m not so sure, though. Nathan was nine when Tony married Marissa. I doubt Tony ever sang a nursery rhyme to Nathan. Nathan was already too old for that.
Fight Fire with Foresight (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 12) Page 10
