The detective’s sharp gaze flicked over me, swept the room, and finally fixed on the phone I held.
I handed it to him. He watched the video, brows knit, then looked up at me.
“Where did you get this?”
“The phone was in Brooke’s purse, which she’d hidden at work. You can ask Ozeal Mallory for verification. She was with me when I found it.”
“When?”
I had to think about it—the last week had started to blur.
“It was the same day I was mugged. So, Tuesday, I think.”
“Mugged? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Didn’t Kai tell you?”
“Kai hasn’t had much to say to me lately.”
The doorbell rang before I could ask for an explanation. As Emma breezed by on her way to answer the door, I realized I’d neglected to tell Jake that Kai was coming to look at the video. Nor had I mentioned to Kai my intention to call Jake.
I hadn’t thought it would be a problem.
I was wrong.
As soon as Kai walked into the room, Jake’s expression changed from irritated to downright pugnacious.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I assume I’m here for the same reason you are.”
“This is regarding an open murder case—”
“Hang on, Jake,” I said. “Kai’s just trying to help.”
“Really? He hasn’t been much help so far.”
Kai held Jake’s gaze for a moment, then set a case on the counter.
“I have a program on my laptop that enhances video quality. Do you want to use it or not?”
In less than five minutes we were watching the video on a larger screen.
The image was blurred and unsteady at first, then it zeroed in on the figure of a woman standing in a kitchen. I recognized her and the house. The video had been recorded at night from the Ligners’ backyard looking in.
Brooke’s mother stood leaning against the kitchen counter. She looked dazed. A dark stain of what might have been blood marred the corner of her mouth.
Bob Ligner was pacing back and forth. Finally, shooting his wife a disgusted look, he snatched a pack of cigarettes off the counter and turned toward the back door.
“Shit!”
The curse was a panicked whisper and the image was jostled as Brooke, or whoever was holding the camera, scrambled out of sight. Only darkness and rapid but muted breaths followed until Bob Ligner spoke.
“It’s me. She says she doesn’t have it.”
There was a pause and then the image of Ligner entered the frame. He was pacing and smoking as he talked into a cell phone.
“No,” he said. “She gave it to Brooke as some sort of stupid sweet-sixteen gift.”
He took a long drag then blew out a stream of smoke. “Look, don’t worry about it. I can handle that little slut. What? No. Not like that. I’m not stupid. I know nothing can happen to her until her dad is locked up for good.”
There was another long pause as he paced and smoked.
“I’ll get it, okay?” I thought I heard a trace of fear in his voice. “Listen, you want me to make sure she doesn’t miss it and go running to Daddy, right?” He paused. “Well, I’m going to swap it out or something.” Another pause. “She’s just a stupid kid, she won’t even notice. Yeah, okay.”
Ligner turned off his phone and flicked his cigarette butt in the direction of the camera. There was a gasp and the video cut off. We stood in silence for a moment.
“So,” I said. “Who was Ligner talking to?”
“And what is the ‘it’ he was supposed to get from Brooke?” my sister said.
“And why would whoever he was talking to want whatever ‘it’ is?” I added.
“More importantly,” Kai said, “if Ligner’s murder is connected to this . . . thing, how does it tie in? Does it mean they got it and killed him to shut him up or that he didn’t deliver?”
We all stood silently for a minute.
“Obviously,” I said, “Brooke knew she was the target, which goes along with what Stefan told me. She was planning on running away with this, this . . . whatever it was, until her dad was out of jail.”
“So why not ask for help?” Jake asked.
“From who?” I countered. “Her mother?”
We all knew Anne Ligner was in no position to help Brooke.
“Why not contact Sartori?”
Kai had a good answer to my sister’s question.
“The phones at the prison are monitored. Chances are Brooke knew that. And she couldn’t trust anyone working for her father to get him a message.”
“Hang on. How would she even know Ferretto was betraying her father?”
“Maybe she didn’t. Brooke may not have known who Ligner was talking to, which meant she couldn’t trust anyone.”
“What about Yard Guy? What’s his name?” my sister asked.
“Logan.” I shook my head. “Brooke didn’t know he’d been sent to look after her by her dad. And it’s good that she didn’t go to him. I’m not sure whose side he’s really on.”
“So Brooke knows someone is after her. She doesn’t have anyone to turn to, and she runs off,” Jake said definitively and turned toward the door.
“Where you going?” I asked.
“To ask Anne Ligner what was so important it got her husband killed.”
“Who cares about Bob Ligner? What about Brooke?”
“I’m trying to solve a murder here, Grace.”
“When are the police going to do something to help this girl?” I looked from Jake to Kai.
“The way I see it,” Jake said, “Charles Sartori is scheduled to be released in a couple of days. I got a dollar says she’ll show then.”
“She didn’t run off, Jake.”
Jake shook his head. “Where the hell are you gettin’ that from? You just told me her boyfriend said she was planning on hiding out. We know the mob is still looking for her—which means they haven’t found her. Ergo, she ran off.”
I shook my head. “That was what she was planning, but it didn’t work out that way.”
Three sets of eyes found me. There was a long moment of silence.
Kai cleared his throat and arched his brows at me expectantly.
“You might as well tell him while you have us here to back you up,” Emma said.
“Back you up how?” When no one answered, Jake turned to Kai. “What the hell are they talking about?”
Kai didn’t answer. Keeping his eyes on mine, he said, “It’s not my secret to tell.”
“Okay.” I sighed. “I guess if you already think I’m capable of murder it won’t bruise my ego much more if you decide I’m crazy, too.”
“Grace, I never thought you were capable of murder.”
“Then why come down so hard on me?”
“Because I knew you weren’t telling me everything. I didn’t know what to think. Kai’s not talking. You’re not talking. And I’m left wondering what the hell’s goin’ on.”
There were several beats of silence.
“I—I’m a . . .” Wow, this wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. “The thing is, I have this ability—with animals, not people—I can . . .”
“She’s a telepath,” Emma said when I trailed off again.
I gaped at her.
“What? We don’t have all day.” She defended herself with a shrug.
“A telepath,” Jake repeated, looking from me to Emma before finally stopping at Kai. “Really?”
Kai nodded, his face serious.
“Do I look like an idiot?” He snorted out a laugh. When no one joined him, he said, “Come on. You’re tellin’ me all that stuff with Jax and LaBryce’s leopard—”
“Jaguar,” I corrected.
“Whatever. You’re sayin’ that you can—what?”
“Talk to animals. Yep.” It felt ridiculous saying it like that. Especially to Jake.
Jake studied me for a long moment. �
��So, you could call your dog without turning around or looking at him?”
“Yes. But Moss is—”
“A pain in the butt,” my sister said.
“He can be difficult. But I’ll give it a try if it will prove I’m telling the truth.”
Moss! Come in here.
Nothing.
Want a treat?
I knew he was on his way before I heard the jingle of his tags. He nudged his way between Kai and Jake and sat looking up at me expectantly.
Treat?
“Em, will you give him a treat?”
Jake’s eyes narrowed at that and I knew he was wondering if Emma had somehow signaled to Moss.
“It’s not a trick,” Kai said.
“What? You psychic now, too?” Jake turned to my sister. “And what about you? What’s your superpower?”
She tossed Moss the treat she’d gotten out of the pantry and flashed a brilliant smile.
“I’m, well . . . me.”
I rolled my eyes and realized why Emma and Moss so often butted heads. They were too much alike.
“Back to the original question,” I said. “The reason I know Brooke was kidnapped is because Boris, the tiger at the rescue facility where she works, saw it happen.”
“So you know who took her,” Jake said.
“It’s not that easy. He didn’t see everything that happened. Or at least he hasn’t shown me everything.”
“I’m not following you.”
I sighed—feeling my head begin to throb. “It’s complicated.”
“Grace can’t simply access an animal’s memories,” Kai explained. “She can understand what they’re thinking and feeling and see a memory if it enters their mind, but she can’t force it. Right?”
I nodded. “Boris told me Brooke was taken. He didn’t show me how it happened exactly.”
“So you don’t really know,” Jake said. “According to you, she was taken, but if that’s the case, why are Ferretto and his guys still looking for her?”
I didn’t have a ready answer to that.
“Maybe she got away,” Kai said. “What if she was kidnapped but managed to escape?”
Which meant Mancini had been following Stefan instead of me.
It made perfect sense.
“We have to find her, Jake,” I said. “We have to find her before they do.”
“We?” Jake snorted. “We don’t have to do anything. You are not a cop.”
“But—”
“No. I’ll handle this.”
“She hasn’t been reported missing.”
“No, but her stepfather was murdered. Now that I know she’s in trouble I can make the call to look for her.” He paused and held my gaze. “You should have told me sooner.”
I felt a stab of guilt. What if something happened to Brooke because I’d been too much of a coward to tell Jake the truth?
“You wouldn’t have believed her,” Kai said. “I didn’t.”
“Maybe not.” He fixed his eyes on Kai. “But I would have believed you. Both of you are on my shit list.”
He turned to leave and I thought I heard him grumble something about Dr. Dolittle as he walked out the door.
“What do we do now?”
“Let Jake handle it.”
I nodded and my phone rang. I picked it up to glance at the screen and recognized the number as the one I’d missed several calls from earlier, so I answered.
“You said you’d be here to check on Scarlett.”
“Hello to you, too, Reedy.”
“I got my files.”
“Find anything?”
“Not yet. You coming out here?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Bring a six-pack of Bud with you.”
“No.”
“Prude,” he said and hung up.
I sighed and turned to Kai and Emma. “Duty calls.”
• • •
True to form, the weather had once again shifted. By the time I parked in Reedy’s drive at a little past three, all trace of the chill from that morning was gone, smothered by a muggy warmth.
Still bleary eyed, it took me a minute to locate my first aid kit, which, like so much of the necessary junk I hauled around with me, was buried in Bluebell’s cargo area.
As expected, the dogs greeted me with a cacophony of barks, and by the time I’d walked to the gate, my headache had returned with a vengeance.
“Fizzlesticks! Fizzlesticks, already, jeez.”
They quieted immediately but my head didn’t seem to notice.
I managed to greet the dogs as I walked past them toward the front porch. The door swung open before I could knock.
“Took you long enough.”
“No, I don’t mind supplying your animals with free medical care. But your gratitude is heartwarming.”
His lips quirked up into a half smile and he coughed out a short laugh.
“Spunk,” he said, still grinning.
“Not today, old man,” I muttered as I followed him inside.
“Late night?”
I grunted an affirmative.
“Hope it was worth it.”
“Well, I survived. And believe it or not, that’s saying something.”
As we walked toward the kitchen, I asked, “How’s our patient today?”
“Better. She still seems tired, but she’s eating.”
I was surprised to find the washing machine busily sloshing when I walked into the laundry room. And Scarlett had a fresh, albeit ratty, blanket.
I spoke softly to Scarlett while I checked her sutures, and finding them to be healing well, started slowly removing them. Scarlett was a stellar patient, never so much as flinching even when a couple of the sutures pulled. She even thumped her tail on the blanket as I worked. Typical pit bull—stoic and sweet.
I wished more people understood that.
“There you go. All done.”
I gave the dog a pat on her blocky head.
Better?
Better. She sighed, gave her tail a couple of more thumps to express her gratitude, then settled down for a nap.
“She’s healing well,” I told Reedy as I packed up.
“How are the cats doing?”
“The cats are fine—Josiah was the one who lost it.”
“He’s been getting worse lately. Ever since his mama passed away a month or so ago.”
Something about what he said stirred a thought, but I couldn’t hold on to it long enough for it to solidify.
“Now that she’s gone,” Reedy continued as I followed him into the living room, “I don’t know that he keeps up with his meds like he needs to.”
“Is there someone at his church that can help out?”
He gave me a questioning look. “How did you know he went to church?”
“Josiah started quoting scripture when he got agitated. I assumed he was a member somewhere.”
Reedy nodded. “I’ll make some calls. Mrs. Belleview looked in on him a time or two, but he frightened her off the last time. Said he would only talk to the angels, or some nonsense.”
That surprised me. Though Josiah had been upset when we’d taken the cats, I hadn’t sensed he would become violent.
“What types of medications is he taking?” I asked Reedy.
“Hell, I don’t know. Gets confused if he doesn’t take them, though. Like his mind wants to go back to when his sister was alive.”
“When his . . . Josiah’s sister is dead?”
He nodded. “Abby was killed in the accident.”
“Oh my God.”
The words were barely a whisper but Reedy must have read my expression because he asked, “What is it?”
“I think Josiah kidnapped Brooke.”
“What? Why?”
“I’m not sure, but yesterday he told me his sister was alive. And I think he was the man at Billy’s Feed and Seed who bought the garden soil and the cat litter.”
“What in the Sam Hill are you talking about?”
Understanding flooded me in a rush. “The paint. Cat litter. Josiah was painting the back of your old store.”
“So?”
“You can mix cat litter into paint to make it a solid. He needed the litter to dispose of the old paint.”
“You’re jumping to a lot of conclusions based on cat litter. I’ve known Josiah since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. And I’m telling you, there is no way he’d kidnap a girl.”
“Okay, what about the other things on the list? The man at the feed and seed bought litter, and three bags of soil. Does Josiah have a garden?”
The old man’s lips thinned. “That doesn’t mean anything. A lot of folks around here have gardens.”
“Do a lot of folks around here also have to take medication to keep in touch with reality?”
“No, but I can think of a couple who probably should.” Reedy glowered at me for a moment then said, “I already told you, before his mama passed—”
“His mother . . .” I trailed off as another piece fell into place. “The maintenance worker at Ozeal’s place said he’d had a helper named Joe. But he hadn’t been around since his mother died. Which is why I didn’t follow up on it. I can’t believe it—Joe has to be Josiah.”
“No, he does not!” Reedy said the last word with enough force to send him into a coughing fit so violent he had to sit down.
Reedy didn’t want to believe Josiah was capable of kidnapping, but I needed to look into the possibility—starting with having a look around Josiah’s house.
“Reedy, I’m not saying Josiah’s a bad person. But like you said, he’s confused. Here”—I showed him the photo of Brooke—“she looks a lot like Abby, doesn’t she?”
“Gracious sakes,” he whispered as his rheumy eyes flicked over the picture. “She does.”
“All I want to do is go by his place and look around. That’s it. I’m not calling the police or accusing him of anything.”
“Grace, that boy has been through so much . . .”
“I know. I just want to look around. Okay?”
He nodded then met my gaze. “But I’m going with you.”
• • •
Despite my protests, Reedy managed to climb into Bluebell, oxygen tank in tow, and sat stony faced as we drove north, deeper onto the island.
“There—take a left up ahead,” he said, voice gruff.
The thicket of palmettos was so dense, I couldn’t see much of a left to take until we’d almost passed the drive.
A Tiger's Tale (A Call of the Wilde Mystery) Page 25
