“The best, and now he’s gone, leaving me with a stepson who won’t spend five minutes in the same room with me, a little girl pining for her lost brother, and poor Anthony. Sometimes I think if one more thing happens―”
The phone rings. Caroline steps across the room and picks up the receiver. Her face grows pale.
“I understand. We’ll… be right there.”
She hangs up the phone.
“Who was that?” I ask.
“The police,” she whispers. “They want to talk to Jason again.”
e’s been back there for well over an hour.”
Caroline paces our corner of the police station waiting area for what must be the thousandth time. She has yet to wear a groove in the tile, but this end of the room is going to need another coat of wax. The sharp bite of chlorine etches into my consciousness as her anxiety starts to boil over. I have no desire to spend the afternoon in a muggy waiting room, but I was there when she took the call and there was no way I was leaving the poor woman to sit and stew down here by herself.
Like Dad always used to say.
In for a penny, in for a pound.
“It’s a police station, Caroline, not a torture chamber. I’m sure Jason is fine.”
Truth is, I’d trade places with him in a hot second. The skinhead across the room has been eyeing me like a starving cannibal for at least half an hour. Thank God for handcuffs.
“Julianna’s been missing for almost a month,” Caroline says. “In that time, the police have brought both Jason and me in for questioning. They’ve assured me neither of us is a suspect, but here we are going on an hour and a half at the police station. Looks like they had more than just a ‘couple’ of questions.”
“He’s not under arrest.” I take her arm. “That’s something.”
“Not yet, at least. The papers and the news keep turning up the volume. Beautiful girl. Loved by everyone. Missing for weeks. Everyone in this city expects the worst and wonders if their child is going to be next. You better believe the cops are looking for someone to pin this whole thing on.”
“And you think that someone is Jason.”
“I know my son. He’d as soon hit me as lay a finger on Julianna. I know his reputation at school though. Only takes a couple of fights on the football field to label you as hot-tempered. Jason was at home sick with me the night Julianna disappeared, but if the torches and pitchforks come out, God only knows what might happen.”
“I still don’t believe they won’t let you be present for the questioning.”
“He’s eighteen. Not a minor anymore. Not to mention my hothead of a son didn’t want to wait for the lawyer. After this all went down, I got in touch with a local defense attorney, but Jason keeps saying, ‘I’m not a suspect,’ almost like he’s trying to convince himself that’s the truth.” She shoots a glance at the door leading to the rest of the station. “Not even out of high school and they’re probably back there grilling him like he’s a convicted felon.”
“You don’t know that, Caroline. Maybe they just―”
“I appreciate your efforts, Mira, but you know as well as I do why the police bring someone back for questioning. They’re trying to catch Jason in a lie.”
“I’m sorry.” I stare down at my nails, the faint scars at my wrists from another time, anything to avoid Caroline’s frantic gaze. “I’m just trying to help.”
She flops down in the chair next to mine and buries her face in her hands. “I know, I know. I just can’t take this waiting. Things have been rough lately, but Jason’s still my son. Just the thought of him back there…”
My angst over Isabella being wined and dined for a few days by her absent jerk of a father suddenly seems a bit petty. Of Caroline’s kids, one lies in all but a comatose state, another is being interrogated in a murder case, and the third is spending her fourth day in a row with neighbors while her mother tries to piece their shattered life back together. And none of them will ever see their father again, at least not in this world.
Dominic’s face fills my mind’s eye. His devilish smile. His ever-present stubble. The sparkle in his eye when he’s with Isabella.
The way he used to look at me like I was the only other person on the planet.
Then the part that always burns.
I wasn’t even the only other person in the city.
The door at the far end of the room opens. A pair of detectives escort Jason back into the waiting room. He looks none the worse for wear, though his swollen eyes reveal a tender side he likely doesn’t let many people see.
“Jason,” Caroline whispers, trying to keep the insistence out of her voice. “Come here, honey.” She opens her arms, and in what seems an uncharacteristic move, her sullen son pulls his mother into a tight embrace.
“An hour and a half,” Caroline mutters as she glares across Jason’s shoulder at the two detectives. “Unbelievable.”
“Everything’s okay, Mom.” Jason rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “It’s over. They’re not after me.”
“That’s what they say.” Caroline glances in my direction. “That’s what they always say.”
As Caroline comforts her son as only a mother can, the two detectives who questioned him mill about the room trying to appear busy. Both dressed in the perfunctory dark suits of their trade, the pair are otherwise a study in opposites. Tall and gaunt, the one in front appears to be the senior of the two. Falling on one side or the other of fifty, his sparse red hair is trimmed close to his pale scalp. His pockmarked face reminds me of a book on lunar geography I bought for Isabella last Christmas. The lines around his mouth are not those of a man who smiles very often.
While Detective Sea of Tranquility all but leers at the sobbing teenager, his partner steps across the room and examines a bulletin board filled with wanted posters. He’s probably already committed the various photographs to memory, but I respect his effort at giving a mother and son a moment of privacy. Unlike his associate whose bony frame isn’t suited for coat and tie, this man fills out his navy blue suit like an ex-linebacker. I study him in profile as he studies one mug shot after another. Strong chin. Steady gaze.
Knowing smirk.
Shit. Caught looking twice in one week. Time to brush up on the whole subtlety thing.
He smiles at me out of the corner of his eye, his even white teeth set off by his dark skin. He glances in my direction, a rare kindness in his brown eyes. Curious, I open myself up to feel the room and there it is, cutting through the angst, worry, and fear.
A hint of lilac.
He inclines his head and at my subtle nod, heads my way. The smile and the floral bouquet flowing from his thoughts leave me thinking he’s going to ask me out for drinks. Instead, the first words out of his mouth make me wish I already had one or two under my belt.
“Ms. Tejedor, may I speak with you?” His voice a deep bass, a subtle hint of Boston invades an otherwise pleasant Southern accent. He’s not from around here, but he’s been in town a while.
My hand makes its way to my hip. “Do I know you? How do you know my name?”
Then it hits me. Jason.
“Don’t worry.” Again with the smile. “I’m good with faces. Recognized you from all the hullabaloo surrounding that kidnapping case in Virginia last year. Good job, by the way. That girl owes you her life.”
A believer. What do you know?
I follow him to a corner of the room. “Thank you, Detective…?”
“Sterling. Calvin Sterling. Don’t be angry with the kid. I was pretty sure who you were when I first laid eyes on you. After a bit of resistance, Jason confirmed you were, in fact, Mira Tejedor, psychic extraordinaire from Virginia. You might want to be careful. Kid seems to have a bit of a crush.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “If by crush, you mean he hates my guts, possibly. Otherwise, you’ve got me.”
His gaze takes on a slightly more serious set. “You’re in town working with the Faircloth family?”
&nbs
p; “I’m on retainer with the family for the next few days. What about it?”
Footsteps approach from behind us. The high-pitched nasal voice that follows raises the hair on my neck.
“I believe my partner here is hoping you can read some tea leaves and help us catch a murderer.” Unlike Sterling, “Detective Skin and Bones” doesn’t even make an effort at civility. All business, this one. Though a part of me recoils, I do respect the straightforward approach. In a world filled with artifice, even a jerk like this gets a few points for being a straight shooter.
Sterling steps between us, his brow furrowed as if he were trying to figure out how to build a bridge across the Grand Canyon. “Ms. Tejedor, this is my partner, Mitch Bolger.”
I extend a hand and try to keep the ice from my tone. “Pleasure.”
Bolger grips my hand like a vise. “Just a handshake for now, Ms. Tejedor, but if all goes well, maybe I’ll let you read my palm later.” I half expect to hear the crack of knuckles or maybe the snapping of a bone, but I somehow manage to keep the pain from my face.
“Mitch,” Sterling whispers, his winning smile gone as if it were never there. “Break the lady’s hand and they’re going to stick you behind a desk for a month.” So quiet, I barely hear it, Sterling adds, “Again.”
“Hey.” Bolger releases my hand and turns his palms up in an innocent shrug. “Just making nice with the pretty psychic lady, Cal, like you asked.”
Sterling lets out a frustrated sigh. “Please excuse my partner, Ms. Tejedor. He doesn’t have quite as open a mind about these things as some of us.”
I tilt my head to one side, trying to stay focused as the blood flows back into my fingers. “What things?”
He hesitates, apparently taken aback by the question. “I assumed Ms. Faircloth brought you to town to help search for the Wagner girl. I’m sure you’re aware Julianna Wagner was dating Mr. Faircloth until a month or so before her disappearance. We―” At Bolger’s not so subtle cough, Sterling makes a quick course correction. “All right, I was hoping you might be willing to share if you came up with anything. Perhaps even help us out with our investigation.” The peppery scent wafting off Bolger stifles me, made all the worse by the stupid smirk plastered across his face.
“I’d love to help, but I’m not here to find Julianna Wagner.” I motion to Jason and Caroline. “Ms. Faircloth asked me to come here and help her son.”
Bolger lets out a half chuckle. “And why exactly does lover boy there need your kind of help?”
In my heels, I’m eye-to-eye with Bolger, and more than capable of delivering him my most withering glare. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m not here for Jason, either.”
“Then who?” Sterling asks. “Wait, the kid brother?”
Caroline strides over and interposes herself between us. “Detective Sterling, I think you’ve monopolized enough of our time for one day. Ms. Tejedor is here at my request to work with Anthony in matters not related in any way to your case. I’m not sure exactly what you think you’re doing, but I’d appreciate it if you’d let her be.”
Sterling puffs up his chest. “Ms. Tejedor?”
“I don’t know what to tell you guys. I’m sorry, but I wasn’t even aware of the missing persons case until I arrived in town.”
Over a year has passed since I’ve watched the news regularly. Ever since I found Sarah Goode chained to a urine soaked mattress covered in her own feces, I’ve tried to scrub the image from my mind and can’t bear to watch anything that reminds me of that particular time. I pray at some point a day will pass without imagining it had been Isabella instead.
A synapse fires in my mind. “On the other hand, Caroline, even you’ve wondered about the timing of Anthony’s symptoms.”
“Symptoms?” Sterling asks. “Is the boy sick?”
“You could say that.” I turn back to Caroline. “Archer and I were talking. All of the stuff with Anthony started the day after Julianna disappeared. I know it’s a long shot, but maybe working with the police may help shed some light on what’s going on with him.”
God, did I just say that? I swore I wouldn’t do this again, but my every instinct screams this is the way to go.
Sterling bites his lip as he waits for Caroline’s answer. A part of me wonders why he seems so eager to involve me in the case. Suppose I’ll have to tease that one out later.
“Maybe you’re right,” Caroline says eventually. “As long as Anthony remains your top priority, I don’t have any problem with you working with the police.”
“Then that’s the way it’s going to be.”
“As for Jason,” Bolger interrupts, “he’s free to go.”
Sterling steps in. “We appreciate you and your stepson’s continued cooperation. We’ll let you know if we have any other questions.”
“I’m quite certain you will, though any further question and answer sessions and he’s going to have both me and a lawyer present, understand?” Caroline takes Jason by the arm and heads for the door. “And don’t try playing divide and conquer with me, Detective. Jason’s every bit as much my son as Anthony.”
Quite the mother lioness, Caroline. I recognize a bit of myself in her no nonsense stare.
“You’ll help us, Ms. Tejedor?” Sterling asks.
“I’m busy today, but I should be available early tomorrow afternoon.”
“All right,” Sterling says. “What do you need?”
“All the files you have on the case, every scrap of physical evidence, and a quiet room where I can have some privacy.”
“Done. We’ll be looking for you around one?”
“One it is.”
The satisfaction on Sterling’s face is wiped away by a derisive snort from Bolger as he retreats to the bowels of the office. “Don’t forget your crystal ball,” he grunts before disappearing behind the door.
“Sorry about Mitch,” Sterling says. “He’s like that on days that end in ‘y’.”
“No problem. I’ve heard worse.” I cast Bolger’s taunt from my mind and slide into my best long-suffering smile. “Now that I think about it, it might help if I could interview the Wagner family as well. Do you think they’d be willing to meet with me?”
His eyes slide shut as he considers my request. The musty smell of old books fills the space. Here’s where the rubber meets the road.
“I’ll see what I can do,” he says.
“Thanks.” I head for the exit where Jason holds the door for us. “See you both at Dr. Archer’s office?”
“He fit us in at four.” Caroline checks her watch. “We’ll have to hurry.”
“Ms. Tejedor,” Sterling catches me before I walk out the door. “One last thing. What if I need to get in touch with you?”
“Just think pleasant thoughts.” I place my card on a table by the door. “I’ll come running.”
y efforts to focus as I prepare to enter Anthony Faircloth’s mind a third time break like ocean waves against black rock as my conversation with Isabella from last night replays in my mind.
“Mami,” she asks, “when are you coming home?” Her words leave a dull ache in my chest.
“Like I told you, sweetheart. When I’m done.”
“Are you still helping the boy?”
“I’m trying, honey. I’m trying.” Bracing myself, I ask the question she’s waiting for. “Did you see your father today?”
Her quiet squeal speaks volumes. “We went for ice cream and then to the aquarium. I got to see all the fish. We fed the starfish and sea urchins. I even petted a baby shark.”
“That’s great, honey.” Through clenched teeth, I somehow maintain a pleasant lilt to my voice. “I’m glad you had a good time.”
“If you get home before Daddy leaves, maybe we can all go together. They even have a whole tank full of Nemo fish, just like the movie.”
“Maybe, sweetheart. We’ll have to see.”
As the memory of my daughter’s not so subtle plea begins to cycle again, I ta
ke a deep cleansing breath, open my eyes, and meet Caroline’s gaze across her son’s subtly rocking body.
“All right, Caroline.” I rest my fingertips at Anthony’s temples. “I’m ready to begin.”
“This should be good,” Jason mutters loud enough to make sure I hear. He insisted on joining us in the room today, reportedly to look out for Anthony, but like Archer on his first time, he’s likely just curious. I catch Archer’s gaze and take comfort in the fact the dismissal I once found there has been replaced in part with expectation, excitement, and perhaps even a hint of admiration, though there’s little hope he’d ever admit the last.
“Don’t forget,” Archer says, “If you get stuck or feel you’re in danger, just say the magic word.”
I offer a quick salute. “Worked like a charm last time.”
“I’m serious. Everything I’ve read about dreams, which is as close to what’s happening here as I can venture to guess, states a dream cannot kill you. Like I’ve told you, though, this is light-years beyond anything I’ve encountered before.”
“Like I’m not making this up as I go. Just watch my back and make sure I keep breathing.” I shift my attention to Jason. “Thanks for coming today. I know you have trouble believing what we’re doing is anything more than a bunch of smoke and mirrors. Please understand I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think I could help Anthony.”
“Can you all just get on with it? It’s almost Anthony’s dinner time.” Resentment flows off him, the aroma one of my least favorites―burned popcorn.
Caroline swats Jason’s leg. “Have you already forgotten our chat from yesterday? Mira is here to help your brother, and as of an hour ago, she’s working on your case as well. Now, show her some respect.”
“Great.” Jason’s nails dig into the upholstery. “Bad enough she’s got you all snowed. Now she’ll be wasting the police’s time, too.”
Caroline’s brow furrows, but she appears more concerned than angry. “I’d think you of all people would be glad she was helping, for your brother’s sake if nothing else.”
“She’s been here for days and Anthony isn’t a lick better. You said so yourself. Now you want me to pretend she can find Julianna when the cops have already tried just so you can feel like you’re doing something?”
The Mussorgsky Riddle Page 9
