I’m too stunned to answer at first. I never thought showing the chief a little of my abilities would make him come around in this way. Would he really transfer Officer Andrews because of me?
“Sir, I don’t understand why you’d ask me that.”
He stands up and walks to the window. “Ashwell, I know what people say about me around here. And I know I’ve given them a reason to believe I’m a hard-ass. But the truth is, I can admit when I’m wrong.” He turns around to face me. “I was wrong about you, and that was largely in part of believing what Officer Andrews said told me.”
“Like I said, I did do something to upset him. I was out of line, and he hasn’t forgiven me.” I can’t believe I’m defending Officer Andrews right now, but the man’s job is on the line.
“We aren’t in middle school, Ms. Ashwell. We’re adults. You uncovered two dead bodies today. If not for you, we still wouldn’t know the location of what appears to be Amelia Crane’s remains. And we would have no knowledge of Wilson McDonald. So yes, I admit I misjudged you. I thought by putting you on this case, I’d watch you fail and prove Officer Andrews’s theory that you simply get lucky sometimes. The problem is I don’t believe Officer Andrews is capable of admitting the same.”
“If I’m being honest, I don’t think making him Mitchell’s partner is a good idea. Partners have to have each other’s backs, and those two don’t even like each other.”
He nods. “Point taken. As of this moment, Detective Brennan is free to work with whomever he wishes on future cases, including you, Ms. Ashwell.”
“Thank you, sir.” I’m almost afraid to ask. “What about Officer Andrews?”
“I’d like you to send him back in. You and I are finished here.”
I’m stunned, but I stand up and start for the door.
“Oh, and Ms. Ashwell, to be clear, you are welcome on any and all cases Detective Brennan sees fit to bring to you.”
I feel like I owe him something after his change of heart. “Chief, you should know Mitchell and I aren’t dating. We’re partners and friends.”
“I thought you were both better detectives than that, but I suppose it’s often most difficult to see the things that are directly in front of our faces.” He waves his hand, dismissing me from the office.
I look at the floor until I reach Officer Andrews’s desk. “The chief wants to see you,” I say, and he must mistake my solemn tone for being upset after getting a verbal lashing, because Officer Andrews smiles all the way into the chief’s office.
Since the door is wide open, we can hear everything the chief says.
“What the hell were you trying to pull, Andrews? You fed me purposely misleading information to try to get Ms. Ashwell removed from future cases. You’ve acted in a way that is unbecoming of an officer of this station.”
“But, Chief—”
“Do I sound like I’m finished?” Chief Johansen bellows.
“No, sir,” Officer Andrews says in the most subservient tone possible.
Without realizing it, I take a step toward the chief’s office, but Mitchell holds me back.
“Don’t, Piper. No matter what you do to try to save him, Andrews is never going to accept you. Besides, he’s had this verbal lashing coming for a while. Just let this play out.”
“You are hereby suspended for one month,” Chief Johansen says. “During that time, you will return to the academy and review your training in the hopes that you can rediscover the officer that was hired by this station.”
As much as I’m happy the chief respects what I do, I’m not happy that it’s costing Officer Andrews his badge, even temporarily. I may not like the guy, but I don’t want him getting suspended because of me.
He steps out of the chief’s office, but his head isn’t lowered like I’d think. He looks directly at me. “Happy now? You got what you wanted.”
“I never wanted this.” I hold out my hand. I wish I had enough control over my visions to read him and tell him everything will be okay, but my premonitions are still few and far between.
“Save it, Ashwell. Unlike everyone else here, I’m not buying your crap.”
Chief Johansen steps out of his office. “Andrews, you’re dismissed. Ashwell, both Ashwells actually, I want you and Brennan over at McDonald’s house. Find me some evidence to link McDonald and the killer.”
“You got it, Chief,” Mitchell says, placing his hand on the small of my back.
“I told him the truth,” I tell Mitchell. There’s no reason to fake a relationship now that the chief actually wants me on this case.
“Oh.” He lowers his hand. “Got it.”
Dad hangs back to have a word with the chief, and Mitchell and I head to the patrol car. “Let’s take Dad’s car,” I say. “I do not want to ride in the back seat of a police car. It makes me feel like a criminal.”
Mitchell smirks. “I bet Andrews would get a kick out of seeing you back there.”
I look across the parking lot to Officer Andrews. He’s on the phone, most likely calling for a ride since he can’t use the patrol car while he’s suspended. “I hate this. It’s only going to make things worse between us.”
“It was never going to get better, Piper. Not with a guy like Andrews. You could have helped him solve every case and let him take all the credit, and he’d still treat you the way he does. He’s jealous of you because you can do what he can’t. Plain and simple.”
I stare across the roof of the car at Mitchell. If anyone has a reason to be jealous of what I do, it’s Mitchell, yet he’s never held it against me. “Why don’t you hate me?”
He laughs. “Really, Piper, I thought you’d figured me out by now.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever have you figured out.” Mitchell isn’t like anyone else I’ve ever met. He’s kind of a walking contradiction. More so, he’s changed so much in the short time I’ve known him.
Dad emerges from the station and heads toward Mitchell’s patrol car instead of his own. “Ready?”
I decide to throw Officer Andrews a bone and let him see me in the back of the patrol car instead of insisting Dad drives. I do my best to put on a look of despair as we drive by him. Mitchell, being Mitchell, honks his horn and waves.
“Don’t,” I tell him. “The guy is being punished enough.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Mitchell says. “How can you stand up for him after all he’s put you through?”
“Actually, I agree with Piper,” Dad says. “That’s what I was talking to the chief about. Andrews has an ego, and yes, that’s a problem, but this isn’t the solution. I think he had a better idea when he forced the three of you to work together.”
“We’d kill each other,” Mitchell and I both say, earning us a look from Dad.
“You’d have a common goal to focus on, and since you’re all professionals, you wouldn’t let personal business interfere with solving a case.”
Sure, if Mitchell, Andrews, and I were as mature and reasonable as Dad. We’re clearly not. “What did the chief say?” I ask, hoping he didn’t agree with Dad.
“He’s going to let Andrews analyze some cold cases while he’s suspended. Basically, just using his insight on possible leads. That way he’s still technically working but he’s not out in the field.”
Chief Johansen does have a softer side. “Thanks, Dad,” I say.
Mitchell just shakes his head. “So, what do you think we’ll find at McDonald’s place?”
“Well, the killer had to have access to the property in order to bury Amelia without McDonald knowing.” It was something I didn’t want to voice to the chief. “I think he might have been part of the original landscaping crew.” It would explain why I had that particular vision of McDonald.
“That would be the perfect disguise,” Dad says. “It gives him access to the property while McDonald isn’t home.”
“Exactly. But I think he quit shortly after that, if not right away. He wouldn’t want to stick around.”
“But that means someone at the landscaping company would know the killer’s name and what he looks like,” Mitchell says.
“Fake name and disguise,” I say, knowing it’s true.
“Easy enough to pull off,” Dad says.
“That means anything you see in a vision would show the killer in disguise and under a fake name,” Mitchell continues. “How do we find him then?”
“Has anyone checked in at the prison to make sure O’Neil is still being supervised at all times?” I ask, suddenly worried about his safety again.
“This morning, I called a contact I have there,” Dad says. “O’Neil is still in solitary, and he has a guard assigned specifically to him.”
“What’s the guard’s name? We need to check him out to make sure he’s not connected to our killer in any way.”
Mitchell eyes me in the rearview mirror. “And how exactly do we do that when we have no idea who the killer is?”
“You always have to ask the difficult questions, don’t you?” I lean back against the seat.
“The guard watching him is Lucy Romero,” Dad says. “She’s tough, and she’s been there for about twenty years now.”
I run the name through my mind, hoping to get something about Romero, but I come back with a big fat nothing.
McDonald’s house looks like your typical crime scene. Mitchell opens my door for me, which makes me feel like a hardened criminal. But I immediately pick up on something when I step out of the car. This time, we’re parked in the driveway instead of the street. I’ve already been inside the garage, so what is it I’m sensing? It can’t be anything in there.
I take a few steps toward the house.
“What are you sensing?” Mitchell asks me.
“I’m not sure yet.”
“Just follow it, pumpkin. Let it lead you,” Dad says, and I know he’s not just saying this for my benefit. He’s trying to tell Mitchell not to interfere or interrupt with questions.
I move toward the garage and stop. I place my hand on the door, but I immediately sense that’s not right. I step to the side so the right side of the house is in view. There’s an access door to a crawl space. Going to it, I bend down and inspect the latch. It’s not locked, which means anyone could have opened it. I give Dad and Mitchell a brief look before placing my right hand on the handle and closing my eyes.
It’s dark, but the sounds of a lawnmower and a weedwhacker fill the air. The sunlight coming through the small crevice where the door closes is just enough to illuminate a watch on a thin wrist. 2:14.
I open my eyes. “He was here. As in down there.” I pull open the door to reveal a four-foot tall space that appears to run about half the length of the house.
“Back away, Piper,” Mitchell says, gun drawn. “I’m going in there first.”
“He’s not here anymore,” I assert, already stepping down into the space.
“Do you ever listen?” he asks, following me inside the crawl space.
“I thought you knew me by now,” I say, using his own words against him.
“Very funny.”
The crawl space appears to be an access to the grinder pump. Luckily, it’s functioning properly because there’s no odor down here. The rest of the space is completely empty, making it a good hiding spot for the killer while he waited out the landscapers.
“I was wrong. He didn’t work with the landscapers. He was using them to cover up for burying the body.”
“How though?” Mitchell asks. “He’d still have to dig up the backyard.”
“Not if the landscapers already intended to do so,” Dad says, joining us in the crawl space. “I did some digging of my own just now.”
I smirk at Dad. “You called pretending to be McDonald,” I say.
Dad feigns being appalled. “I’d never impersonate a dead man. I said I was his brother and I was taking care of closing Wilson’s accounts. I asked for an explanation of services rendered so far under the guise of needing to know for the resale of the home.”
“Smart,” Mitchell says.
“A French drain was installed in the backyard to prevent a flooding issue caused by an underground stream. The yard was already dug up for that.”
“Let me guess,” I say. “They replaced the grass with sod, which the killer just had to lift and then dig far enough to bury the body.”
“And then he recovered the spot with the sod,” Mitchell says.
“Bingo.” Dad wipes his palms together in the gesture that means something is finished.
“Okay, so we know how he did it. But how then, did he know McDonald to find out he was having this work done?” That’s what we need to figure out. Right now, we have no connection between anyone involved.
“Let’s go inside and look around,” Mitchell says. “I think we’ve gotten all we can from this space.”
Dad and I both give him a look at the word “we.”
“You know what I mean,” he says, waving us out of the crawl space.
“We’re teasing, Mitchell. We all came up with ideas down there.” I brush the dirt off my pants as I step back onto the grass. “Is the back door still open?” I ask.
“To my knowledge,” Mitchell says, and we start around back.
I know this search is most likely going to be me reading everything and anything to find a connection between McDonald and the killer. McDonald was chosen by this guy, but how would the killer know McDonald was having yardwork done if they didn’t know each other? That doesn’t make sense. The connection exists. I just have to find it.
I walk through the kitchen, noticing the frying pan is gone. It’s evidence in the murder investigation. Evidence I’ll read later. I allow my senses to lead me. Dad and Mitchell know better than to interfere with my process. I go to the living room just off the kitchen. Something in the corner makes me stop dead in my tracks. Not because it’s covered by a sheet and almost looks like the form of a human is hiding underneath it. But because I know exactly what it is. My senses are tingling, sending goose bumps popping up along my arms and legs.
“Piper,” Mitchell stops beside me, his gaze glued to the exact object that has all of my attention. “Is that what I think it is?”
I nod, take a deep breath, and move toward the object. I’m not being completely honest with Mitchell because he doesn’t know the extent to which this object connects McDonald to Amelia Crane. I stop just before it and then yank off the sheet.
“That’s the exact same bird cage Amelia Crane had,” Mitchell says.