“What?” Mrs. Spencer’s voice is shrill. She’s on the verge of totally cracking. “What are you saying?”
Dad stands up and walks over to me. “Did you see him?”
“No. Hugo was on the phone with him. He called him to tell him I was at the prison. He was supposed to spy on me for the killer, but he refused. He hung up the phone and left the prison.”
“He disobeyed the killer,” Dad says.
“And it got him killed.” Hugo was both trying to protect O’Neil and working for the killer. It’s completely crazy. He got himself smack in the middle of the two men.
“I know what you’re thinking,” Dad says.
Mrs. Spencer jumps to her feet. “Well, I don’t. Someone needs to explain this to me. Now.”
“Mrs. Spencer, I think your husband was trying to help Mr. O’Neil because he believed he was innocent. But he wound up getting caught between him and the real killer. The killer was forcing your husband to spy on O’Neil and me.”
“You’re the reason he was shot,” she says in a small voice.
What? No! How can she say that?
She holds out her hand. “Give me my husband’s watch, and get out of my house.”
She can’t be serious. I stare at her with wide eyes and hand her the watch, which she practically rips from my hand.
“Mrs. Spencer, I understand you’re grieving, but Piper is not the reason your husband is dead.”
“He refused to do what the killer wanted,” I say. “That’s why he was killed.”
“My husband tried to protect you, and look where that got him. Look where that got me! I’m a widow because of you!” She’s screaming now.
“Piper, let’s go,” Dad says, tugging on my arm.
“Mrs. Spencer, I’m very sorry about your husband, and I plan to find the man who did this to him.” I can’t be angry with her. I know she’s lashing out at me because she can’t turn her anger on the real guilty party.
She turns her back to me and sobs uncontrollably. I hate to leave her alone like this, but my presence is only upsetting her more. I walk to the door. Dad hangs back for a moment to talk to her. If anyone can offer her any comfort right now, it’s him. I get in the car and wait, leaning my head against the seat and rubbing my forehead.
My phone chimes with a text, so I grab it from my pocket.
Mitchell: My new partner has managed to insult me six times in the past four minutes. How are you doing?
Piper: Six times? That’s nothing. My record is much higher.
Mitchell: LOL True but at least I know you mean your insults in a nice way.
Piper: Right. Well, that’s the definition of insult, isn’t it?
Mitchell: I miss you.
I don’t know how to respond to that, so I pocket my phone instead.
Dad gets in the car. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I just feel awful I caused her that much pain.”
Dad places his hand on mine. “You didn’t, pumpkin. The killer did. And when we catch him, Mrs. Spencer will assign blame to the real guilty party. You’ll see.”
“Where to now?” I ask him, at a loss for where to go from here.
“I’m thinking the morgue.” He backs out of the driveway. “Unless you’re not up for it.”
“I’m fine. I just want to catch this guy before something happens to O’Neil.” A thought slams into me. “Wait! I need to talk to the security guard stationed at the gate.”
“Of this community?” Dad asks.
“Yes.”
Dad nods. “Because he must have let this guy in.”
“Or the killer knew the keypad access code to get in on his own,” I say.
Dad turns to look at me. “Fact?”
I nod.
“So he might live here,” Dad says.
“Drive around. Maybe I’ll sense him.”
“How, Piper? You only heard his voice in your vision, right? That’s not enough for you to go on.”
I have nothing else. I have to try this. “If I can’t sense him, we’ll head to the morgue, but we can’t leave without trying this first.”
Dad nods. He slows the car, driving at basically a crawl past the houses. I lower my window and reach out with my right hand, as if that will allow me to feel this guy’s energy from inside the car. I know I’m being crazy, but I can’t seem to stop myself either.
“When did he tell you?” Dad asks.
“Who tell me what?” I wiggle my fingers in the air.
“Mitchell. He told you about our conversation.”
“Dad, I told you I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, then can we talk about your grandmother?”
Grandma Maywood eventually pushed her entire family, including my grandfather and my mother, away because Mom witnessed her having a vision and got really scared by it. “If you’re going to tell me to learn from her experience and not let my abilities stand in the way of having a normal life, you can save your breath.”
“Actually, I was going to say you have something she didn’t.”
“And what’s that?”
“A support system. You’ve never had to hide what you do from me, your mother, or Mitchell. We all know. And Mitchell can calm you down after a vision like no one else can.”
“I get it, Dad. He’s good for me. But I also can’t forget the kind of person he was before he met me.” I do believe he’s changed, but my memory of the way he was before becoming my partner is still crystal clear.
“Believe me, I’m not going to forget it either.”
Except he doesn’t really know. He didn’t see what I saw in visions. He doesn’t even know Mitchell’s mother was psychic.
“Whoa!” I wiggle my fingers again. “Stop the car.”
Dad immediately applies the brakes. “What did you feel?”
“I’m not sure, but my senses are tingling.” I stare at the brick house. It’s not one of the largest homes in the development, but it’s pristine. The lawn is perfectly manicured. The bushes are expertly trimmed.
“Can you sense if anyone is home?” Dad asks, ducking his head to better see the house out my window.
“No, I can’t.” Walking up to the front door and having the killer answer is suicide. He knows who I am. He’d shoot me on the spot. “Wait. It’s not a male I’m sensing. It’s a female.”
“A female? Who?”
I open my door and step out of the car.
“Piper, wait.” Dad hurries out of the car to join me. “Neither of us is armed. We should call Mitchell.”
“No, he’ll have to bring Officer Andrews, and I don’t trust him not to botch this up.”
“If the killer is here, we’re both as good as dead if we go any closer to the house.”
I take a deep breath. “Mrs. Spencer wasn’t completely wrong. Hugo put his life on the line for me. I owe him this much.”
Dad grabs my arm. “You know Mitchell wouldn’t let you go up to that front door.”
“Are you kidding me? Mitchell would be storming the house right beside me.”
“I’m calling him,” Dad says, his phone already in hand.
“Fine.” I walk to the mailbox, hoping it will have a last name on it, but it doesn’t. A green sign on the front lawn reads 245. I check the street sign. Booker Drive. Committing the address to my memory, I move to the side of the house. The backyard is fenced in, so I can’t see anything. I move closer, and Dad comes with me, finished with his call.
The fence is about six feet tall. “Give me a boost. I need to see what’s back there,” I tell Dad.
“We don’t have a warrant. Right now, we are trespassing.”
“Stirrup hands.” I demonstrate by lacing my fingers together.
“We are waiting for Mitchell,” Dad asserts.
I huff and look around the yard for something to give me a boost. There’s a bucket by the hose on the side of the house, so I walk over, grab it, and place it upside down on the ground in front of the fence. I step up onto it and peer over the fence. The backyard, while mowed, isn’t as well maintained as the front yard. And one place in particular is greener than the rest of the grass. The grass is also slightly longer there.
I turn back to Dad. “They replanted the grass in one spot, and I think I know why.”
“Recently replanted?
No. “Not recently, but it’s newer than the rest.”
“How new?” Dad asks.
Five years. “He buried Amelia Crane in the backyard,” I say.
Dad has his phone to his ear again. “We have probable cause to search the property,” he says, and I know he’s talking to Mitchell. The problem is Mitchell isn’t alone, and his new partner won’t see my psychic abilities as evidence to give us probable cause. He’s going to stop Mitchell from forcing entry into this gated community.
I have an idea, though. One that will hopefully piss off Officer Andrews enough that he’ll break a few rules. “We need Harry,” I tell Dad. “Call Officer Wallace.”
“I’m calling for Wallace and Harry now,” Dad says into the phone.
“Tell Mitchell I said they aren’t needed.”
Dad picks up on what I’m doing and smirks as he says, “Piper said you and Officer Andrews aren’t needed.”
I can hear yelling on the other end, and even though I can’t make out what’s being said, I know it’s Officer Andrews who is doing all the screaming. I’m sure he’s slinging choice words at me.
Dad hangs up and calls Officer Wallace. “Wallace, it’s Ashwell. We need you and Harry at 245 Booker Drive as soon as possible. We have a possible dead body buried in the backyard.”
I know Officer Wallace won’t question me, so I direct my attention to the house. I haven’t heard any sounds come from inside, and if anyone is home, they’d definitely hear Dad and me. I’m almost positive the house is empty.
Besides, this guy isn’t stupid. After he killed Hugo Spencer right here in this community, he probably left. He wouldn’t stick around where he could possibly get caught. And that means he won’t leave O’Neil alive for much longer either.
“We need to make sure someone at the prison is looking out for O’Neil,” I tell Dad as I step off the bucket. “He’s in more danger now than ever.”
Dad takes a deep breath. “That means we’re in danger, too. O’Neil is a loose end, and we know about him. If this guy killed Spencer because Spencer wouldn’t spy on you, then he knows you know O’Neil is innocent. You’re no safer. Actually, you’re in more danger since you don’t have a prison full of guards protecting you.”
I can’t think about that right now. All I care about is digging up Amelia Crane’s body and finally putting her case to rest. She deserves that much.
Despite Dad telling Mitchell we don’t need him and Officer Andrews, Mitchell’s patrol car pulls up out front, and Officer Andrews comes storming over to us, gun in hand.
“We haven’t knocked on the door,” I tell Mitchell, intent on ignoring Officer Andrews as much as possible.
Mitchell steps up on the bucket I was using. “Good eye, Piper. The grass is definitely being fertilized more in that one spot.”
That’s an awful way to put it, but he’s right.
“I’m knocking on the door,” Officer Andrews says.
Mitchell, Dad, and I follow him. He knocks on the door and yells, “WPD, open up!”
I roll my eyes because I’m pretty sure no killer in history ever willingly opened their door after an announcement like that.
As I predicted, no one comes to the door. I move back around to the side of the house at the same time Officer Wallace arrives with Harry. I don’t dare greet Harry because he’s working and fully in the zone. I point to the gate, not wanting to break Harry’s concentration.
Mitchell tries the lock on the gate, but it doesn’t budge. The one day I don’t carry my purse, which always contains a lock pick kit. He looks at Officer Andrews. “Do we agree we have probable cause?”
Dad’s on his phone. “This house belongs to Wilson McDonald.”
I’m not surprised he was busy researching. Dad has to always be doing something to keep a case moving forward.
Officer Andrews calls the station and asks for a background check on McDonald. Is he seriously going to stop us from checking this backyard?
I need something concrete. Some evidence that there’s a body buried in that yard. I look at Harry. “Officer Wallace, can Harry sniff out a dead body from this far away?”
“No, sorry, Piper, but he’d need to be closer.”
I don’t have anything that belonged to Amelia, so there isn’t even any scent of hers to sniff out. I’m stuck. All thanks to Officer Andrews. I never should have let Dad call Mitchell. It was a huge mistake.
Mitchell meets my gaze and stands beside me. “Can you sense Amelia?”
“No. But you saw the ground. It makes sense. I’m not even going off of my abilities here, yet Officer Andrews is going to dismiss anything I say.”
Mitchell turns and glares at his partner, who is still on the phone. I squint at Officer Andrews and realize who he’s talking to at the station.
“Bastard,” I mumble, walking over and yanking the phone from his hand. “Chief Johansen,” I say, moving away from Officer Andrews. Mitchell intercedes by blocking Andrews’s path to me.
“Ashwell, you are off this case. What the hell are you doing there?” Chief Johansen yells into the phone.
“I was hired by Mrs. Spencer to find her husband’s killer. I have every right to be here.”
“You can’t search that property. You’re trespassing.”
“Detective Brennan shares my opinion about the grass in the backyard. If you let this body continue to rot there and I uncover it, you will be making the WPD look stupid. That will be on you. I’m just giving you a friendly warning.” Without another word, I hand the phone back to Officer Andrews. “Your ego is what’s making you look bad. Your success rate would be so much better if you’d listen to me for once.”
Officer Andrews puts the phone to his ear and walks away from me.
“Piper, making him angry isn’t helping,” Dad says.
“Screw this,” Mitchell says. “I’m the lead detective on this case. Wallace, get Harry in there.”
“What about the chief?” I ask him.
“He didn’t tell me no because I never talked to him. Andrews did.” He winks at me.
“Want me to cut off that lock?” Officer Wallace asks Mitchell.
Mitchell nods. “And do it quickly.” He’s glaring at the back of Officer Andrews’s head.
While Officer Wallace gets to work, Mitchell leans toward me, pressing his arm against mine. “If I get fired, I can come work with you and your dad, right?”
“I’m not letting you get fired,” I say. “We’re going to find Amelia’s body, and both Chief Johansen and Officer Andrews won’t have a thing to say.”
Officer Andrews storms over to us once the lock on the gate is cut off, but Harry immediately starts sniffing the ground. He goes directly to the patch of grass that drew my attention and barks.
I meet Officer Andrews’s gaze. “You’re welcome,” I say. “Maybe one of these days, we can skip the song and dance to get to this point.”
“That day might come sooner than you think. Chief Johansen wants to see you in his office right now.”
“I don’t answer to Chief Johansen, so I’m going to have to decline that invitation. Feel free to relay the message.” I cross my arms, turn on my heel, and meet up with Mitchell, Dad, and Officer Wallace as they dig up the ground. Harry is patiently sitting beside the hole, watching.
Mitchell notices me and takes a break to talk. He wipes sweat from his brow before saying, “What did Andrews say to you?”
“Just that the chief wants to talk to me. I told him I’m not going to the station.”
Mitchell looks over my shoulder at Officer Andrews. “He’s on the phone again. You know he’s going to try to pin something on you. Some bogus charge to force you back to the station.”
“Like trespassing?” I ask, looking up at the house. For the first time, I get an eerie feeling coming from inside.
“What is it?” Mitchell asks.
The curtain is closed, so I can’t see in through the sliding glass door on the back deck, but my senses have no trouble getting past them. “Is it still considered trespassing when the homeowner isn’t alive?”
“What?” Mitchell’s eyes widen.
“Wilson McDonald is dead. His body is inside the house.”