“Well, it wasn’t a memory. It was different—too vivid and . . . alive. More than alive, actually.”
It was hard to explain what I’d seen. Brooke hadn’t looked like a normal girl. She’d been—more. Her face was beatific. With light eyes that shone with love and a radiant smile.
“I think I was seeing her as Boris does. She was absolutely beautiful.”
“Interesting. What happened?” Kai asked.
“Brooke was there, smiling at us, then she was gone.”
“Did that upset him?”
“Not really. But I got the feeling he was trying to tell me something.”
“About Brooke?”
“Yes. And maybe about the last time he saw her, but all I got from him was the word hide.”
“Hide? Like he was telling her to hide?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve told you before, animals communicate differently—”
“‘According to their intelligence, vocabulary, and ability to express emotions.’” Kai quoted my explanation from over two months ago.
“Um . . . right.” I wasn’t sure how I felt about the fact that Kai had paid such close attention to what I’d said.
“But because Boris was blitzed, you couldn’t get a clear read,” he surmised.
“Sort of. What Boris showed me was clear, it just wasn’t what he meant. None of what I saw knit together. It was like having a bunch of puzzle pieces but they all went to different puzzles.”
“Welcome to Criminology 101.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“There’s something else, too.” I told Kai about my trip to Billy’s Feed and Seed and what Doc Riggins had seen.
“He didn’t know why Brooke was crying?”
“Just that she’d been on the phone. He couldn’t give me the name of the man who was watching her. I was hoping you could call and get the sales records of the people who were there at the same time as Brooke. Maybe get a name off a credit card or something?”
“Maybe. That sort of thing might mean acquiring a warrant, which I can’t ask for.”
“Someone took this girl and no one cares. Not her parents, not the cops, no one. It’s just not right, Kai.”
There was a long pause as he regarded me. “What was the name of the store?”
“Billy’s Feed and Seed.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” he said as he scrawled on a notepad. “By the way,” he continued, “I put in a call to a contact at the Department of Juvenile Justice. She’s supposed to look into Brooke’s case and get back to me. Until then, since you’re so gung ho about it, work on figuring out a timeline.”
“Where do I start?”
“With the last person to see Brooke. Then work backward from there. Make a note of anything significant.”
“Like what?”
“Like arguments or odd behavior. Anything out of the ordinary. The best way to figure out what happened to her is to look at what might have led to it. If we can find out what triggered her disappearance, we’ll be closer to finding her.”
“Arguments?” I told him that Brooke and her mother had argued not long before she went missing.
“Could have just been regular mother-daughter tension,” he said. “But it’s good to know, anyway.”
“Right.” I glanced away, reluctant to tell him about the other argument I’d learned about. He noticed my hesitation and I could almost feel his investigator’s brain zero in on me.
“And?”
“Brooke also had a disagreement with Ozeal.” I explained that she’d caught Brooke in the clinic.
He pinned me with his gaze. “You didn’t want to tell me. Why?”
“I don’t know. It looks bad. Like Brooke was trying to get drugs or something.”
“And you still don’t think I’m taking you seriously.”
“I do. It’s just . . .”
Kai waited for me to continue. Which was bad, because I didn’t know what to say.
After a few moments, he said, “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what you know.”
I nodded.
He leaned back in his chair and gazed at the ceiling. Maybe he was counting to ten or something.
“Kai?”
He finally looked at me, his expression unreadable. “Brooke might have been looking for drugs or she might not have. There are a hundred scenarios. I’m trying not to jump to conclusions and keep an open mind. If you want to find her, you should, too.”
“Do I smell Krispy Kreme?” Jake asked as he ambled into Kai’s office.
Without waiting for an invitation, he opened the box of doughnuts and plucked out a cream-filled with sprinkles.
Detective Jake Nocera’s years in homicide showed in the deep lines of his brow and the rough edge of his humor. I knew he had a soft spot for dogs, and over the last couple of months I’d come to learn he was a softy in other areas, too.
He caught me staring and grunted, “What are you smirking at?”
I lifted a shoulder. “Didn’t figure you for a sprinkles guy, Jake.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me. I’m a man of mystery.”
On the contrary, I’d found Jake to be more of a what-you-see-is-what-you-get man, which was one reason I liked him.
“The only mystery is why you delude yourself into believing Mary won’t find out you’re cheating on your diet. Blood sugar doesn’t lie.”
“It’s one friggin’ doughnut.” He motioned with it.
“Yeah, but the sprinkles put it over the top,” I said, straight-faced.
Like any good cop, he ignored my comment and turned the tables on me by changing the subject. “What’s the word on the playdate?”
“Moss might be a little busy for a few days. He’s babysitting a new kitten for me. If you want, you can drop Jax by the condo. I’ll take him for a run on the beach and wear him out.”
“Wearin’ him out sounds perfect. I’ll bring him by on Wednesday.” He made the declaration around a mouthful of doughnut and hooked a thumb at Kai. “Me and your boy here got a date with a dead guy.”
“A rosy thought,” I said.
“That’s Jake—a ray of sunshine,” Kai commented.
Jake brushed his thick fingers together to dust off any incriminating sprinkles. “Not all of us get to play with puppies and kitties all day.”
He knew my job was never that easy, but it had become a joke between us.
“Actually, I’m headed to the mall,” I informed him with a lighthearted sigh.
“Hell, in that case, I feel sorry for you,” he grunted as we filed out of Kai’s office. “I’d take a dead guy over the mall any day.”
I glanced at Kai and grinned.
“Ray of sunshine,” he said.
“With sprinkles.”
“I got your sprinkles,” Jake muttered.
• • •
By a little after one o’clock, I’d made it back to the condo. Moss had moved Voodoo from my bed to his spot on the couch and was busily fleabiting the kitten’s head.
“Aw, man. Do you have fleas, little girl?” I sat on the couch next to Moss and ran my hand from the kitten’s tail to her head, ruffling her fur. “It’s hard to tell with all this black fluff.”
If Emma saw a flea . . . Armageddon.
I called my friend Sonja Brown, who worked as an animal behaviorist at the ASPCA. I knew it was her day off, but I wanted to set up a time to take Voodoo to the clinic.
Sonja wasn’t a vet, but I knew she’d babysit Voodoo until Dr. Patrick or one of the other veterinarians could fit her in.
“You can bring her in whenever,” Sonja said. “If you bring my handsome guy with you.”
“Don’t worry, Moss will not be separated from his kitten. He’s been carrying Voodoo around and giving her baths.”
“Aw! That’s so cute.”
“You won’t think so when you see her. She’s covered in Moss slobber.”
Sonja chuckled; the soun
d was rich and warm and reminded me of melted caramel.
“What are you doing the rest of the afternoon?” she asked.
“Actually, I was thinking about going to the mall.”
There was a long pause.
“Sonja?”
“You’re going shopping?” I wasn’t sure how I felt about her incredulous tone.
“Not exactly.”
“Good enough for me.” I could hear her smile through the phone. “I’ll see you there.”
Before reaching the food court where Sonja had suggested we meet, my phone began playing “Hot Blooded.”
Apparently Emma had, once again, hijacked my phone and programmed a new ring tone for someone. A glance at the screen told me who.
I answered, silently vowing to figure out how to delete every ring tone except one that sounded like an actual phone.
“Hey, Kai. What’s up?” I asked, stopping before the noisy food court made it impossible to hear.
“I heard back from my contact at the DJJ. Brooke was on probation for stealing and drugs.”
Not what I wanted to hear. “Okay.”
“The good news is, it looks like she’s not so much a real user as a victim of bad timing and poor taste in boyfriends.”
“You mean Stefan?”
“AKA Butter. Last name’s Nebb. Seventeen. And he’s not a wangster. He’s a dealer. Nothing hard-core, yet, but he seems to be going that way. He’s been in a lot more trouble than Brooke.”
I glanced around. “What kind of trouble?”
“Mostly drugs, but he’s been involved in altercations with some other baby thugs.”
“So he could have something to do with Brooke’s disappearance.”
“Anything’s possible.” He paused. “I’ve got to run; I just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks.”
I hung up wondering if going on a hunt for Stefan was really the best plan. Then I reminded myself the mall was crowded, I wasn’t a cop, and all I wanted to do was talk to him.
A few minutes later, I’d found my preferred vantage point and was scanning groups of teens as they filtered past.
I spotted Sonja easily in the busy food court. Tall and striking, she had a flair for color. Sonja knew how to play up the warm tones of her dark skin with bold hues and chunky, gold jewelry.
Seeing my eyes were scanning people and not much else, Sonja sidled up next to me and asked, “So, who are we spying on?”
“No one. Yet. I’m looking for a kid who looks like the bad boy from Pretty Little Liars.”
“Caleb.”
I glanced at her, surprised. “You know who I’m talking about?”
“My niece is obsessed with that show.” Sonja joined me in my search and after a few moments asked, “Why are we looking for him?”
I sighed. Sonja was one of the few people who knew about my ability, so I explained the situation as briefly as I could.
“And you think Brooke’s boyfriend, the Caleb look-alike, might have done something to her?”
“I don’t know. Someone took her. Kai said I should come up with a timeline. I’ve got most of her day at work figured out. And I know she had a fight with her mom the day before. I’m not sure what happened in between.”
“Maybe Brooke contacted her boyfriend. What’s his name?”
“Stefan.”
“Maybe she called Stefan after the fight with her mother.”
“That’s what I was thinking. Also, according to Kai’s contact, Stefan is bad news. So it’s possible he could have done something to her.”
“What kind of bad news?”
“Drugs, mostly. And he’s been in some fights.”
“But why hurt Brooke?”
“I don’t know—when we find him, I’ll ask.”
We didn’t find him.
After almost an hour, Sonja finally insisted we take a break and actually shop. It was more fun than I thought it would be. Sonja wasn’t as bent on forcing me to try on impractical outfits as Emma, who was usually my shopping partner. Though partner wasn’t really the right word.
Dictator was probably more accurate.
We’d made our way into a hip store with thrumming music and dim lighting. But despite my reservations and the fact that the staff seemed to be an average age of seventeen, I found a pair of ladies’ cargo pants that were both stylish and had enough pockets to house the menagerie of animal-related stuff I had a tendency to carry. While I was in the dressing room tugging off the pants, Sonja tossed a sweater over the door.
“Here—try on this sweaterdress. It will look amazing with your eyes.”
The sweater was a deep royal blue. The color did look good on me. The only problem was it did not qualify as a dress.
“Um . . . it’s a little short.”
“You’re supposed to wear it with jeggings.”
“Jeggings?”
“You know, jean leggings.”
“Uh—no.”
She sighed. “Hang on.”
I waited. After a few minutes, it seemed like she’d been on a quest for jeggings for longer than necessary.
“Sonja?”
The store was arranged so that the dressing rooms were located in the back along the side wall and close to the cash registers.
I poked my head out of the dressing room. I had a clear view of most of the store, but didn’t see my friend.
Just as I was about to retreat to continue my wait, I saw something that made me pause. A teenage boy with long hair stood flipping through a stack of jeans.
No way.
“Stefan?”
He turned and met my gaze. Without thinking, I stepped out of the dressing room.
Stefan’s eyes widened and he began to back away.
“No, wait. I just want to talk to you.”
As I moved toward him, he turned and bolted, still clutching a pair of jeans. As soon as he crossed the threshold into the mall, the security alarm began to wail. I chased after him, realizing after only a few steps I was still wearing the sweater . . . and not much else.
“Crap!”
I spun in a circle, simultaneously wanting to go after Stefan and dive for cover. I compromised by grabbing the hem of the sweater and yanking it down. Not the greatest improvement but it was better than subjecting my fellow mall-goers to an unsolicited view of my . . . assets.
Shopping with a Streaker—the new mall experience.
“Grace?” Sonja appeared with an armful of jeggings and looked me over with eyes as wide and bulging as a gecko’s. “Girl, where are your pants?”
“It’s him, Sonja.” I had to shout to be heard over the blaring alarm. “I saw Stefan. Go after him!”
“Do what?”
“Stefan.” I had to let go of the hem to point, and the sweater sprang up.
I grabbed the article of clothing closest to me, which happened to be a pair of men’s jeans, and started to put them on, still trying to keep my eye on Stefan.
By then, people had stopped to watch and I decided it would be better to wrap the jeans around my waist like a sarong rather than bend over to step into them.
“What’s going on?” a male voice asked.
I turned and nearly bumped into the belly of a security guard who was almost as round as he was tall.
“That kid stole my jeans!”
I don’t know what possessed me to say it. The words popped out of my mouth like a startled armadillo.
The security guard turned and we both looked in the direction I’d gestured.
Stefan was nowhere in sight.
• • •
Once the commotion died down, Sonja and I had scoured the mall in search of Stefan. After what seemed like hours, Sonja had given in and wished me luck before heading home.
I decided to do the same.
Moss had a problem with howling anytime I left the condo for an extended period, and our neighbor Mr. Cavanaugh—a circa-1925 fuddy-duddy—let us know by pasting nasty sticky notes on the door.
His running tally of complaints, some warranted, most not, kept the condo association busy.
So far, Moss had been too consumed with his new kitten to lament my absence—but I didn’t want to push it.
“That is just . . . gross,” I heard Emma say as I stepped through the front door.
I walked into the kitchen and saw the cause of her disgust. Moss sat looking up at my sister with a slobber-covered kitten hanging out of his mouth. His tail swished back and forth on the floor when he saw me.
“Your dog is revolt—” Emma paused, narrowing her eyes when she saw the shopping bag in my hand. “You went to the mall without me?”
“It was a reconnaissance mission.” I filled her in on my search and near apprehension of Stefan. Once she was able to breathe again after her fit of hysteria, she asked, “So you chased him with no pants on?” Emma’s expression was a mix of horror and glee.
“I had on underwear.”
“Oh, well, in that case . . .”
“Whatever. He got away.” I decided to change the subject. “What’s for dinner?”
“Your turn to make dinner,” Emma said, still wiping tears from her eyes. “Penance for going shopping without me,” she added before turning and heading toward her bedroom.
I walked to the pantry to peruse the shelves. Moss followed, the kitten dangling from his mouth like an old dog toy.
“Put her down, she can walk.”
Moss plopped the kitten on the tile floor, gave her a lick, and looked up at me with a hopeful wag of his tail.
Treat?
I glanced at his bowl. Full.
“Not till you eat your dinner.”
I opened the fridge and stood staring at the contents. Although I knew the packages and containers held food, for some reason I was unable to come up with a cohesive meal plan.
Cheese, Moss suggested, helpfully.
I glanced down at him. His nose twitched and he let out a hopeful grunt.
“How about a panini?”
Emma had scored a real sandwich press from a caterer and we’d paninied every possible food item we could layer onto Italian bread.
I grabbed a tomato, some nifty basil spread Emma had concocted, and cheese.
Moss sat and watched, rapt, as I constructed the sandwich. If the smallest crumb hit the floor, he’d take care of it.
Voodoo mewed and pawed at Moss’s tail.
A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) Page 9
