Fight Fire with Foresight (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 12)

by Kelly Hashway

  “I’m ready to read the second blanket.”

  Mitchell reaches for my arm. “Slow down. There’s no need to rush this. Your voice is still hoarse from the smoke in the vision.”

  I didn’t have to tell him about that part. He knew I’d be subjected to smoke inhalation again. “I’m fine, Mitchell. As far as visions of dead people go, that one was very mild.”

  “You say that now, but you don’t know what experiencing Janet’s death will be like.”

  “I won’t experience her death. That happened before she was wrapped in the blanket,” I say, reaching for the bag with the lavender throw inside it.

  Mitchell places his hand on top of it to stop me. “Humor me. You’re not the one who has to sit back helplessly and watch.”

  “I will be when you go check Janet’s she shed.” Mitchell always thinks I do all the hard work on these cases, but there have been plenty of times when either the victim’s family or my senses have benched me and forced him to do everything.

  “Alright, so neither one of us likes feeling left out.” He smirks. I used to hate how he joked at times like this, but now, I’m thankful for the brief moments of comic relief.

  “You can hold my left hand again,” I tell him.

  He bends down beside my chair just like he did before. “Deal.” He’s made me learn to compromise, which wasn’t an easy feat for me. I’d like to think I’m getting better at it, though.

  Once again, I clear my mind. Seeing what happened to Janet is especially important since I can’t go back to the crime scene. I have to see if anything stands out, so I can tell Mitchell what to look for when he returns. I give Mitchell a small nod to let him know I’m ready, and I close my eyes.

  Smoke fills the killer’s nostrils, but this time, he’s breathing it in on purpose.

  “You deserved this. You broke up two families, you selfish, heartless—” The killer coughs, choking on the smoke.

  “Piper.” Mitchell rips my hand away from the blanket.

  I can barely breathe. My eyelids flutter, and I try to focus on Mitchell’s face, but my vision turns black.

  My throat burns and feels like the airway is inflamed. I rub it, only to realize I’m under covers. I huff out a breath in frustration, which hurts more than I care to admit. I’m at home in bed. I remember passing out in the office after reading Janet’s blanket. Mitchell must have carried me out of there and brought me home.

  “You’re awake,” Mom says, coming into my room.

  I try to sit up, and Mom comes to help me. She places a cup of tea on my nightstand. “Take it easy. I made you some tea, figuring your throat is probably very irritated right now.”

  “What are you doing here, Mom?” I ask as Jez jumps up on the bed.

  “I know Jez is a great therapy dog after you have bad visions, so I wanted to bring her over. I also figured Mitchell needed to keep working the case.”

  “But—”

  Mom holds up her hand. “Your father is covering your office, Mitchell and Officer O’Reilly have the case under control, and Jez and I are going to take care of you. End of story, young lady.”

  I exhale loudly in protest, but if I’m being honest, I’m glad Mom’s here.

  She hands me the tea. “Small sips. I know the effects of your visions are more phantom sensations than real physical effects, but humor me.”

  “Can I talk through the vision with you?” I ask her.

  She sits down on the bed, and I scoot over to give her more room. “Of course.”

  I don’t usually talk about my abilities with Mom because I’m afraid it will remind her too much of her own mother, my grandma Maywood. She’s the one I inherited these psychic abilities from. Grandma Maywood was a very strong empath. So strong she was forced to shut herself off from everyone and anyone, including her own family. For years, Mom worried I’d turn out just like Grandma Maywood. I think that’s why Mom loves Mitchell so much. He helped me realize I can be around other people. I just have to try really hard to tune out my senses when I am. Mom and Mitchell have a lot more in common than Mom realizes since she doesn’t know Mitchell’s mother was psychic. I think if Mitchell ever tells her, they’ll have a lot to talk about and commiserate over.

  “I’ll understand if you don’t want to,” I say.

  “Piper Rose Ashwell, if I didn’t want to talk about it, I would tell you.”

  No, she wouldn’t because she’d never want to disappoint me like that. Plus, she feels guilty for hiding Grandma Maywood’s abilities from me for most of my life.

  Jez licks my face before finally settling with her head in my lap. I rest my left hand on her head. I swear the dog was born to be a therapy dog. She calms me instantly.

  “When I read the blanket Janet Rake’s body was wrapped in, it was very different than the vision I experienced when the killer wrapped up Tony Trevino.”

  “How so?” Mom asks.

  “Well, the killer was calm and detached when it came to Tony. I was expecting a lot of rage, but it wasn’t there.”

  “And it was there in the vision with Janet Rake,” Mom says.

  I nod. “I think the killer is connected to her.”

  “But then why would the killer target Tony Trevino first?”

  “That’s what I was hoping you could help me with.” I fill Mom in on the dreamlike vision I had before reading either blanket.

  “Interesting. You said the blanket in the dream was pastel green?” she asks, standing up and starting to pace the floor beside my bed.

  “Yeah, why?” I sit up a little more, and Jez raises her head at the motion.

  Mom turns to face me. “Well, that color is very common for babies. Specifically when the parents don’t know the gender. It’s either yellow or green.”

  I raise one hand. “Hold up. Are you saying you think the blanket I saw in my dream-vision was a baby blanket?”

  Mom nods.

  “The killer was humming ‘Rock-A-Bye Baby’ at Tony Trevino’s crime scene.”

  Mom raises a hand to her mouth. “Piper, does Tony Trevino have a son?”

  “A stepson, but they weren’t close. Tony didn’t come into Nathan’s life until Nathan was nine. They never got along even though they worked on the farm together.”

  “What if it’s not his son then? What if it’s Nathan’s father? The nursery rhyme could be the killer’s way of showing he killed Tony for his son’s sake.”

  It’s not a bad theory at all. Eugene might have sung “Rock-A-Bye Baby” to Nathan before he left him. “So you think Eugene Spicer killed Tony Trevino to make up for leaving Nathan as a baby?” I ask.

  Mom shrugs. “You’ve seen crazier things on these cases, haven’t you?”

  Much crazier. The things that motivate some killers can really be out there and farfetched. At least to sane people.

  “The police are already trying to locate Eugene Spicer. They have no idea if he’s still in town or not.” At least, I haven’t heard an update on that. “I need to call Mitchell.” I search the nightstand for my phone, but it’s not there.

  “Here.” Mom pulls my phone from the back pocket of her jeans. “He’s called to check on you three times.”

  I look at the time on the phone screen. “No wonder. I slept the entire day away.” I dial Mitchell.

  “Hey, how are you?” he answers.

  “Annoyed.”

  “I figured as much. You’re never happy when your visions knock you out. How’s your throat feeling?”

  “Did you ever find out if Eugene Spicer is still in town?”

  “No. His rental car was discovered abandoned at a gas station at the edge of town. We think he might have taken a bus from there. Still no activity on his credit card, though, so we’re purely speculating.” He pauses. “I’m almost to your place now with dinner. We’ll talk more when I get there.”

  “Did you—”

  “Piper, please rest. There’s a reason I had your mom stay with you instead of me. And it’s not so I c
ould keep working on the case.”

  It was to keep me from trying to work on the case. He figured I’d listen better to my mother than him. Jokes on him, though. Mom’s actually helped me puzzle out a few clues. “See you soon,” I say before ending the call.

  “Don’t be angry with him, Piper,” Mom says. “He loves you.”

  Before I can respond, Mom’s phone rings. “It’s your father,” she says when she checks the screen. “Hi, Thomas.” She pauses. “She’s awake now. I’ll let her know.”

  “Know what?” I ask.

  Mom holds up a finger to me. “Mitchell’s on his way now, so I’ll be home soon. Feel free to order in. Love you, too.” She ends the call. “Your father said you asked him to look into Janet Rake. He found the name of her best friend. She lives in town. He’s going to text you her name and address so you can talk to the woman tomorrow. He stressed the word ‘tomorrow.’”

  As if I could go track down the woman now. It’s already late in the evening. “Thanks. You can go. I’ll be fine on my own until Mitchell gets here.”

  “It’s not a problem. Your father is ordering dinner. I’m not in a rush.”

  I look down at what’s left of my tea. “Mom, can I tell you something that no one else can know?”

  She sits on the bed again. “Of course, sweetie. You can tell me anything.”

  This isn’t my secret to tell, but I know Mom would never rat me out. “Mitchell’s mother was psychic.”

  Mom inhales sharply. “Oh. He told you that?”

  I shake my head. “I sort of found out through some visions. It was awful. He’s never told anyone, but he knows I know. Please don’t tell Dad. Mitchell is awkward enough around him. I don’t think he could handle Dad knowing this.”

  “What happened to her?” Mom asks, knowing this story doesn’t have a happy ending.

  “She foresaw her own death and did nothing to try to stop it. I learned she thought something awful would happen to Mitchell and his younger brother, Nick, if she didn’t get on that plane. It destroyed Mitchell’s family. He doesn’t speak to his father at all anymore, and he and Nick only talk at holidays.”

  “Poor Mitchell. I know what he’s going through.”

  “I know you do. That’s why I told you.”

  Mom pats my hand. “I knew you two were perfect for each other, and this just solidifies it. He needs our family. One day, I’ll open up to him about your grandmother. Maybe it will make him open up to me in return.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I was hoping you’d say that.”

  The door to my apartment opens, and Mom stands up. It’s amazing how quickly she goes from being on the verge of tears for Mitchell to looking completely composed. Mitchell walks into the room. “I stopped for Italian food. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Perfect,” I say.

  “Good night, sweetheart,” Mom says to me. Then she turns to Mitchell. “Take good care of her.” Mom kisses Mitchell’s cheek before walking out.

  “I don’t think your mom has ever kissed me before,” Mitchell says, walking toward the bed.

  “You’re part of this family now. Get used to it. She’s going to mother you whether you like it or not.”

  He smiles. “I think I can handle that.”

  “She also helped me figure out a few things about my visions, so we should plate up that food and get to work.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mitchell insists I eat before we discuss the case, so the moment I finish my pasta primavera, I dive right into it.

  “A baby blanket?” Mitchell asks. “The only baby in this equation is Nathan Spicer, and he wasn’t even a baby when Tony and Marissa got together.”

  “I know. Mom thinks that actually implicates Eugene Spicer, not Nathan, but what I can’t figure out is if it is Eugene or even Nathan for that matter, why would there be so much rage at Janet’s crime scene and not Tony’s. It should be the other way around.”

  “I agree. That doesn’t make sense. Janet and Nelson don’t have any kids, though. Apparently, Nelson was a professional body builder for a while. He took some very questionable steroids that left him infertile. That’s how he got into pharmaceutical sales.”

  “You spoke with him again today?” I ask.

  Mitchell puts his empty plate on the table and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Yeah. I wanted to see the crime scene again. He insisted on being present, so I questioned him while I searched the shed.”

  “Was Officer O’Reilly there?”

  “She’s been pulled from the case.”

  “What?” I turn toward Mitchell, my legs forming a figure four between us. My outburst makes Jez jump up from her spot beside me. She usually sits by Mitchell or between us, but since she’s in full therapy dog mode, she’s been sticking close to me. I wrap my arm around her to show her I’m okay.

  “I told Chief Johansen what’s been going on.”

  “Did you complain about her?” I can’t mask the reprimanding tone in my voice.

  “No. I told the chief she’s very good at what she does, but that her beliefs conflict with yours. I told him you are better suited to work with Wallace or Gilbert when we need help on these cases. He agreed with me.”

  “Wow. Was Officer O’Reilly upset?”

  “I don’t think so.” He leans back on the arm of the couch. “I think she might have been relieved. She really didn’t know how to handle what you do. I think it was throwing her off her game as much as it was you.”

  I never stopped to consider that I might be having an effect on her. Clearly, my interpersonal skills still need work.

  Mitchell moves closer to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders. “You didn’t drive her away. You’re just two very different people. No one is to blame for this. In fact, O’Reilly told me to tell you she hopes you’re feeling better.”

  “You told her I passed out?” I rub my forehead. I still have a dull headache from the smoke inhalation.

  “Piper, everyone at the station is used to you by now. She’s going to hear about you. There’s really no need to shelter her from that.”

  “Tomorrow I want to talk to Janet Rake’s best friend. Dad texted me her name and address. She must know something about the affair.”

  “Okay, back to the case it is.” Mitchell sighs, removes his arm from my shoulders, and sits forward. “There was no silver jewelry in the shed. I asked Nelson about it, and he said Janet didn’t like to wear jewelry because it got in the way when she worked on her art. She didn’t wear her wedding band either, but that’s yellow gold.”

  I shake my head. “Why am I seeing silver then? And who is this baby?” I grab the sides of my hair and squeeze.

  “Okay, that’s enough. We’re calling it a night.”

  “I slept for most of the day. I don’t need to go to bed, Mitchell.” I lower my hands and glare at him.

  “Are you really mad at me, or are you channeling the killer’s anger?”

  My gaze drops to my pinky ring, which is a plain silver band. “What if the silver jewelry I’m seeing belongs to the next victim. Maybe it’s to help me identify her before the killer can hurt her?”

  “Are you sure it’s a woman?” Mitchell asks.

  “I don’t know. It’s weird, but I just thought of the third victim as if she were female.” That could mean my senses are cluing me in on that fact, or I could be speculating because I was looking at my own ring.

  “It’s not me, is it?”

  “What?” Mitchell asks, narrowing his eyes at me.

  I didn’t realize I’d said it aloud. “Nothing. It’s stupid. I was just looking at my pinky ring when I thought of the next victim as a woman, so it made me question if it’s me.”

  “That wouldn’t make any sense. You aren’t connected to Tony Trevino or Janet Rake.”

  “Sure I am. I’m investigating their murders.” I’m the one who is sensing the killer. If he wants to silence me and stop me from catching him, killing me would make perfect sense. I’m not about to
spell all that out for Mitchell, though, because his face is about ten shades of red.

  “I’m staying with you until we catch this guy. I don’t want you to be alone for even a second.”

  I level him with a look. “We’ve played this game before, Mitchell. You know how I feel about it.”

  He takes both my hands in his. “Do I need to remind you what you went through when I was abducted? Or how about when your dad was? Don’t put me through this, Piper. Don’t let your ego be the thing that jeopardizes your life and causes me pain.” He couldn’t be more serious about this.

  I never experienced heartache like I did when Mitchell was taken and I thought I’d foreseen his murder. It’s not something I’d wish on my worst enemy. “Okay. You can stay here.”

  He nods. “You should go to bed. I’ll take the couch.” He looks upset, and I’m not sure how to let him know I’m going to be fine.

  “Can we sit here together for a little while longer?” I ask.

  He leans back and holds one arm out so I can lie back against him with my head on his chest. It’s our usual position for cuddling on the couch. “I’d like that.”

  We meet Dad at the office Friday morning. He’s been doing a lot of behind-the-scenes work on this case so far, and since interviewing Janet’s best friend shouldn’t be life-threatening in any way, I figure it’s okay for him to come with us. Safety in numbers, too. Mitchell’s got me a little paranoid after he refused to let go of me last night. We wound up sleeping on the couch. Jezebel took the liberty of sprawling out on my empty bed. I found her there this morning, snoring away on my pillow like a little princess.

  “Good morning, you two,” Dad says. “I took the liberty of getting the coffee and muffins this morning.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” I immediately reach for the largest coffee, knowing that’s my toasted almond. “How’s Marcia today?”

  “She says hello to you both. She’s a hoot, that woman. I can’t figure out why she hasn’t settled down yet.”

  I cock my head at him. “Marriage isn’t for everyone, Dad. Look at both Tony Trevino and Janet Rake. They were so terrible at being faithful to their spouses it got them killed.”