I wake up insanely early and call Uber to avoid having to drive to the office with Mitchell. I don’t want to be around him at all right now. I’ve let my guard down with him so much, but instead of giving me credit for it, he continues to push me. He totally disrespected my right to privacy and tricked me into admitting I have feelings for him. My answer even surprised me, because as aware as I am about my feelings, I didn’t think it would result in a relationship with him. I guess I don’t even know myself sometimes.
Instead of going to my office, I knock on the door of Marcia’s Nook. It’s too early to be open, but I know Marcia is there baking. It takes a little while before she sees me. I could have called her, but I’m not exactly thinking clearly.
“You look terrible,” she says, opening the door for me. “What happened?”
“Mitchell.” As much as I don’t want to rehash what happened, I need another perspective on this, and since my mother loves Mitchell, I know what she’ll say. And talking to my dad would be more than awkward.
“Come on. I’ll get you some coffee, and you can tell me all about it while I make muffins.” She pours me a large toasted almond coffee and brings me to the kitchen in the back, where she resumes mixing batter. “Tell me what he did.”
I never told Marcia that Mitchell kissed me on a previous case when I was in the middle of a complete mental breakdown. I decide to lay it all out there.
“So the stupid idiot thought kissing me was the way to stop me from totally losing it.”
Marcia stops pouring the batter and stares at me. “It probably had the complete opposite effect.”
I nod. “Then he asked me to read him after that, and I witnessed a conversation he had with my father. He told him how he feels about me.” I raise a hand to my forehead. “I don’t know if I was more embarrassed my dad knows or if I’m angry that Mitchell would bring him into this.”
“I’m sure it’s both.” She wipes her hands on her apron and walks over to me. “Sweetie, that man is not good with women. We both know that. But I think his heart is in the right place, especially where you’re concerned. I’ve told you for months that all he talks about when he comes in here is you.”
There was a time when I thought Mitchell and Marcia were secretly dating, until she clued me in on the fact that I was the only thing they ever talked about.
“What am I going to do about him? I actually got to a point where I liked being around him.”
She reaches for my left hand and takes it between both of hers. “You can’t fault him for being crazy about you. Yes, he’s acting like an idiot, but he’s a man.” She laughs. “Worse, he’s a man who fell for the one woman who can see every one of his discretions. That can’t be easy for him, yet he still wants to make this work.”
“Tell me what to do.”
She smiles and waves me out of the kitchen. “You go sit down, drink your coffee, and try not to think so much. Sometimes you just have to let life happen.”
We walk back out to the café seating area, and I spy Mitchell standing outside the door. I turn to face Marcia.
“Your call,” she says. “I don’t open for another thirty minutes.”
“You’d leave him standing out there?” I ask.
She bobs one shoulder. “It would give him time to think about what he’s done. Or you could talk to him. I’ll leave it to you. I have muffins to finish making.” She disappears back inside the kitchen.
I sigh as I stare at Mitchell with his hands in his pockets, looking completely lost. That’s not the Mitchell Brennan who flirts mercilessly with countless women. I walk over and unlock the door for him, but I don’t open it. We stand there for a minute, staring at each other through the glass door in silence. Then he reaches for the doorknob and comes inside the store.
“I want to yell at you and apologize all at the same time, and I have no idea how to do that,” he says.
I sip my coffee. “Need some caffeine to jumpstart your brain?” I start toward the bakery counter. I once helped Marcia serve customers when the place was packed, and I don’t think she’d object to me pouring coffee for Mitchell, so I do just that.
He leans on the counter and waves to Marcia in the kitchen.
“Morning, Detective,” she says, placing the tray of muffins into the oven. Even though I suspect she’s finished baking for the time being, she doesn’t leave the kitchen to join us.
“Here you go.” I hand Mitchell the coffee and rest my forearms on the countertop.
“Can we sit and talk?” He motions to a table behind him.
“Sure.” I walk around the counter and sit down across from him at the table.
“I panicked when I woke up and you were gone. Nice job turning off your cell phone so I couldn’t call you.”
I nod and take another sip of coffee.
“You do realize you’re a target in this case. The killer specifically knows about you. He had Hugo Spencer watch you.”
“I get it.” Calling Uber was stupid on my part. I could have wound up in a car with the killer if he was watching me closely enough. “I’ll apologize for that.”
Mitchell takes a deep breath and then a sip of coffee before saying, “I’m sorry for the stunt I pulled. It was probably the stupidest thing I could have done. I’ve worked hard to gain your trust, and I ruined it all in a second.”
I trust Mitchell with my life. I’m just not sure I trust him with my heart. “Look, we have a case we need to solve, so why don’t we table this for now.”
“There’s always going to be a case, Piper.”
“Yeah, and I’m always going to have these abilities that make things harder for me to deal with, and you’re always going to do things that piss me off. What else is new?”
He smirks. “Yet you actually like me. It’s kind of astonishing.” His green eyes almost sparkle in the lighting of the café, and I have to avert my gaze.
“I had a dream last night.”
“About me?” he asks.
I roll my eyes. “About the case. Specifically the bird cages. There were two identical cages and two birds.”
“Right.” He narrows his eyes at me, not sure where I’m going with this.
“The only clue O’Neil gave me was about the birds. Two of them and one dead woman. But so far, all of my visions have been about one man or the other: the killer or O’Neil. Never both, yet I’m sure O’Neil tipped me off about the killer because he wants him to serve time, too.”
“A jailbird in the vision is worth two in the prison,” Mitchell says in a singsong way.
I shake my head and sigh. “How do you do that for every single case we work on?”
“It’s a talent. One of many.” He wags his eyebrows at me.
“Well, it would help if one of those talents was solving this case.”
He puts his coffee on the table, laces his fingers, and turns his palms out to crack each and every knuckle. “All right. We can do this. The two identical cages could be a coincidence. It doesn’t mean Amelia and McDonald knew each other. But we do know the killer knew McDonald.”
“And both the killer and O’Neil knew Amelia.”
“Right. But how?”
I bite my bottom lip as I think it over. “She was an actress, so it’s possible they saw her perform.”
“That would still make her a random target, though.”
“True, but O’Neil couldn’t have known her on a more personal level or she would have called him by name in the vision I had of her talking to her bird. She didn’t know who he was other than he seemed to be following her around.”
Mitchell taps his finger on the tabletop. “Then it’s possible the killer knew Amelia, and O’Neil was hired to abduct her.”
“It would be easier for someone she knew to abduct her.”
“Unless…” Mitchell snaps his fingers. “Okay, maybe this is crazy hypothesizing, but what if O’Neil stalked Amelia so she’d be scared and run right to the actual killer?”
Yes. “Mitchell, that’s it! You figured it out. My senses confirmed it the minute the words left your mouth.” I could kiss him right now. Or not. Definitely not.
He sits back in his seat. “Is this what it feels like?” He raises his gaze to mine. “When things just come to you as truths, I mean.”
I smile. He’s so desperate to have these abilities. “I’d imagine what you’re feeling is very similar. Yes.”
“I don’t know how you’re not elated when this happens.”
“For some reason, I’m finding it a whole lot more impressive when you do it.”
He smiles. “Thanks.” He wraps his fingers around his coffee cup. “Are we sure O’Neil is safe in prison now?”
“Sure? No. The killer knows O’Neil talked to us, but I’m not convinced he’d go anywhere near the prison or even contact anyone else there. He killed Hugo Spencer. If he went anywhere near O’Neil now, he’d be putting himself at great risk of being caught.”
“Even still, I say we leave O’Neil in solitary until we solve this case.”
“Agreed.” It’s one less thing for us to worry about. Although, I don’t think I’d lose too much sleep if the man responsible for aiding in Amelia Crane’s abduction was killed by the man he aided.
“What do you think Amelia’s aunt and uncle have to do with all this?” Mitchell asks.
“Other than happily collecting her money, I’m not sure they’re involved. They were crappy guardians, which is why Amelia left, but I don’t think they hired someone to kill her.”
“How do we proceed from here?”
“Can I see the frying pan used to kill Hugo Spencer?”
Mitchell cocks his head at me. “Are you sure you want to do that? You’d most likely see him being killed. And there’s a really good chance you’d see the vision from the killer’s perspective. We have other items for you to read.”
He knows how being the killer in a vision can affect me. “All right. Let’s save that as a last resort. I think I should try reading the bird cage again. Amelia’s.”
“Are you trying to get me to invite you over?” he asks with a sly smile.
“Yes. I fled your apartment this morning before you woke up because I wanted to trick you into inviting me over to your place.”
His face falls. “I guess that doesn’t make sense.”
“No, not in the least.” I stand up. “Let’s grab some food and go pick up my dad. He should come with us.” As a chaperone so Mitchell behaves himself for once.
Marcia walks out of the kitchen at the same time I approach the bakery counter. “Here you go.” She holds up a bakery box. “I thought you could use some crumb cake fresh out of the oven. I’ll get you a refill on the coffees as well. One for your dad too, right?” She’s rambling, which can only mean she was eavesdropping on our conversation.
“Yes, please.” I let it slide since I know she’s only looking out for me and was probably trying to be prepared if Mitchell did something that required her to intervene on my behalf.
Mitchell and I place our coffee cups on the counter, and she refills them after pouring Dad’s. Mitchell has his wallet out, but I hold up my hand to stop him since he bought the pizza last night. I use my phone to pay. Mitchell places a ten-dollar bill in the tip jar, which makes Marcia scowl.
“At least he stopped tipping with twenties and fifties,” I tell her. “There might be some hope for him yet.”
She shakes her head as we walk out.
Jezebel greets us when we get to Mom and Dad’s house. “I’ve never seen her whine like this in my life,” I tell Mom.
“Well, she certainly missed you. I think she was worried you weren’t coming back.”
I hug her to my chest. “You poor baby. I’m so sorry.” After her former owner never returned home, I can’t blame Jez for thinking the same would happen to me. I pull back and hold her face in my hands. “I’m never going to leave you for good, you hear me?”
Mitchell bends down beside me and scratches her head. “You’re stuck with me, too.”
Jez licks him straight up the center of his face, making us all laugh.
Mitchell stands up. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go wash my face.”
Mom watches him walk away before turning to me. “How is pretend dating going?”
“That’s over,” I say, standing up. “The chief is fully on my side now, so I told him the truth.”
“Uh-huh.” Mom’s tone isn’t lost on me.
“Is Dad ready yet?” I ask, changing the subject.
“That I am,” he says, buttoning his shirt sleeve as he walks down the stairs.
“Good. I need to have a vision and get this case solved already.”
“The funeral for Hugo Spencer is tomorrow,” Mom says. “Are you three going?”
I hadn’t thought about it, but it might not be a bad idea. We’d get more of a sense of who knew him, and that might lead us to the killer. “Yeah,” I say. “I think it could help the case.”
Dad opens the front door and kisses Mom goodbye, but his gaze is focused on me. Once we’re outside, after reassuring Jez I would come back, Dad says, “You think the killer will show up at the funeral.”
“Maybe not in the crowd,” I say, opening the car door. “But I have a feeling he’ll be lurking nearby.”
“Does that mean we’re lurking as well?” Mitchell asks as he starts the car.
“No. We’ll be in full view with the mourners. Listening in on every conversation to see what we can find out.”
We’re all silent until we get to Mitchell’s. Dad’s been to Mitchell’s condo before, but he looks around as if it’s the first time he’s seeing it, and it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. “Oh my God,” I whisper to him when Mitchell goes into the kitchen to get plates for Marcia’s crumb cake. “You’re trying to figure out if…” I can’t even say it. “Mitchell sleeps on the couch, Dad.”
Dad holds up his hands. “I’m just making sure he’s being a gentleman. That’s a father’s job.”
I huff as I walk over to the bird cage. “Good morning, Jeffrey. T.G.I.F.”
The bird whistles in response.
“He does like to whistle,” Mitchell says, returning with the plates and a knife. “I got up to use the bathroom in the middle of the night, and he whistled at me. Let me tell you, it’s a little startling when you’re half asleep.”
“That’s what you get for forgetting to cover his cage,” I say. Something about my own words makes my senses tingle. I raise my hand and touch the cage.
Amelia’s phone is pressed to her ear. “He was here again. Outside my apartment. I think I should go to the police.” Amelia twists a lock of hair around her finger and stares at Jeffrey’s cage. “I’m scared. I don’t want to be another statistic.”
She reaches one hand toward the cage and touches the top of Jeffrey’s head. “I think I’ll leave Jeffrey’s cage uncovered tonight. At least if anyone tries to get in, he’ll whistle at them.” She gives a nervous laugh. “His whistle is so loud it’s ear-piercing. It will scare the guy and wake me up.”
She leans toward the cage. “Isn’t that right, Jeffrey?”
Jeffrey whistles in response and then turns his head for a better scratch.
“I’ll be there right after rehearsal, barring no incidents with my stalker. But seriously, if he doesn’t stop soon, I’m going to call the police.”
The vision ends, and I lower my hand.
“What did you see, pumpkin?” Dad asks.
I turn to face Mitchell. “You were right. She knew the killer. I’m pretty sure I just witnessed her talking to him on the phone.”
“What makes you say that? Did you hear him?” Dad asks.
“No. It’s just a feeling I have. Plus, she was telling the person on the other end of the call that her stalker was scaring her so much she wanted to go to the police, and the person on the other end seemed to be trying to talk her out of it.”
I take a deep breath before saying the next part. “I think the vision was from the night she died. She had plans to meet up with the killer.”