“Are you sure about this?” Dad asks me at dinner that night.
I didn’t want to mention my latest vision in front of Mr. Castell, on the off chance that I was wrong about him and he is responsible for his daughter’s disappearance. “I’m not sure about much, but this...yes.”
“Do you really think he’d kidnap his own daughter?” Mom asks, placing the pot roast on the table between the garlic mashed potatoes and cooked baby carrots. They have me over for dinner once a week since I hate cooking meals for myself. My dinners usually consist of a bowl of cereal or French fries and a Frosty from the Wendy’s drive-through. Feeding me once a week is Mom’s way of making sure I don’t die of malnutrition.
“You should have told me all this before we left his house. I could have demanded to see the gloves so you could properly ID them.” Dad takes a large gulp of his iced tea.
“We both know me IDing a pair of gloves isn’t going to be enough to pin this on Victor Castell.” I scoop some carrots onto my plate and raise my brow at Dad, who holds his empty plate out to me. I dish some for him and then Mom. “I think I’d know if it was him. I only saw him clearly in one vision, and it was obvious he loves his daughter.”
“I could have at least asked him if he owns a hunting knife. We left too many stones unturned, Piper. This isn’t like you.” Dad takes a heaping forkful of mashed potatoes and puts it in his mouth.
“You saw the way his wife glared at me. What do you think she would have done if I accused her husband of this crime and got him arrested? She’d be telling the world I’m a fraud and demanding my license.” I’m not about to risk my career at the hands of a nonbeliever. I need concrete evidence, and right now, I have none.
“So, what now?” Mom asks, trying to be the voice of reason as always when Dad and I argue over a case.
“I need to see the place where Veronica’s car ‘broke down.’” I make air quotes before picking up my fork and stabbing a piece of pot roast. “I don’t think Veronica was the one driving her car that night.”
“Were any of her friends home from college?” Dad asks as if Mom or I would know.
I shrug. “Would you mind calling the Castells tomorrow to find out?”
“Will do. I’ll get the exact location of the car from the police report, and we’ll head there first thing in the morning.” He points his fork at the mashed potatoes. “You did something different with these,” he says, looking at Mom.
She smiles. “My little secret. Do you like them?”
Dad nods and sticks another forkful in his mouth.
“Can we leave the junior detective home this time?” I ask.
“Mitchell?” Mom narrows her brow at me. “He seems like such a nice boy. Smart, too.”
More like a smartass. “How did you get stuck with him as your partner anyway?” I ask Dad. “You never told me.”
Dad laughs. “He requested it. I think it’s because he wanted to work with you.”
I nearly choke on my iced tea.
“Too much lemon?” Mom asks with a knowing smile.
“Very funny.”
She laughs. “Say what you will, but I’ve always said that man has his eye on you.” She winks at me.
“Please, Mom. I’m trying to eat here.”
“Mitchell—”
“Detective Brennan,” I correct her, “is a pompous ass.”
“Whatever you say, dear.” Mom suppresses a smile and pops a carrot into her mouth.
Dad meets my gaze and shrugs. “I will say he’s fascinated by what you do, Piper.”
“That’s the problem. It’s hard to concentrate when he’s leering at me. He’s not much better than Darla Castell.”
“He’s a good detective, though. You have to give him that.”
“We’ll see tomorrow when we check out the crime scene.”
I opt to meet Dad and Detective Brennan the next morning, driving my Mazda to Keystone Drive, a back road surrounded by nothing but trees on both sides. According to the police report, Veronica’s car was found near a cell tower that was recently erected—the source of the so-called metal object they thought punctured her tire. I pull off the road onto the grass about fifty feet north of the cell tower.
I could wait for Dad and Brennan, but if I’m going to have a vision, I’d rather do it without Brennan eyeing me like I’m a circus act. I step out of my car, looking around on the ground for any debris from the cell tower construction. As I predicted, there is none. Though it could just mean it was cleared by the police to keep anyone else from breaking down.
I search the road for tire tracks or anything out of the ordinary. I keep walking north, but nothing catches my eye, so I start back toward my car. I try to remember Veronica’s tire. The rim was bent, meaning she drove on the tire after it was slashed with that knife. That could mean she went further south before stopping. The part that bothered me the most is how she didn’t realize she was driving on a flat tire until she got to this point. A slashed tire doesn’t leak as slowly as one punctured by a nail or something small like that.
I follow the road around a blind corner and nearly have a heart attack when a car speeds down the road behind me, swerving at the last second before hitting me. I jump into the grass, falling over a large divot in the ground. Brake lights come on, and the car pulls off the road. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” I watch Detective Brennan get out of the driver’s seat, his eyes landing on me.
“Are you crazy? What are you doing walking in the road?” he asks like it’s my fault he almost killed me.
“Piper, are you okay?” Dad rushes over to me and offers a hand to help me up.
“Fine.” I wipe the dirt from the back of my jeans. “Speed Racer over here needs to learn to drive.”
“You were in the middle of the road.”
“I was not. There’s no shoulder on the turn.”
“Okay!” Dad holds up his hands to silence us. “That’s enough. If you two can’t work together...” His eyes meet mine, and then he turns to Brennan. “Mitchell, you’re a good kid, but this is my daughter.”
“Right.” Brennan nods and puts his hands on his hips in defiance. “So in other words, I play nice or you request a new partner.”
Dad would do it, too. For me. But I don’t want him getting in trouble for my sake. “No one is going anywhere.” I inhale, counting to eight before releasing. My right hand has a layer of dirt and gravel on it from what I wiped off my jeans. “You’re—”
Brakes squeal as the Lexus jerks to a stop on the side of the road. The driver’s side door opens and gravel crunches under heavy boots. It’s too dark to make out any features, but the figure bends down and plunges the hunting knife into the rear tire. Then he or she moves back to the car and adjusts the front seat, moving it forward.
“I’m what?” Detective Brennan says, his voice laced with anger. “Damn it, Piper! What the—? Oh.” His tone softens as he realizes what just happened.
I rub my temple. This is too strange. “I don’t even think Veronica was in the car when it was left here.”
“Left here?” Dad asks. “You mean when she went to get help?”
That was the theory the police had. That Veronica got a flat and walked to find a gas station or someone to help. But that can’t be what happened. “She’d call for help, not walk.” A girl like Veronica Castell wouldn’t walk three miles to get someone to change her tire.
Dad shakes his head. “The cell tower isn’t fully functional yet. They haven’t finished working on it. Reception is spotty at best. She’d have to start walking if she hoped to get a signal.”
I pull my phone out of my back pocket, noticing the screen protector is shattered from when I fell on my ass earlier. I pull it off so I can actually read the display and pocket it in my jacket to dispose of later. I press Dad’s number and wait. His phone doesn’t ring, so I hold the phone to my ear. “It’s ringing on my end.”
“So you have a connection, but your dad doesn’t?” Detective Brennan asks. He removes his phone and checks the signal. “Nothing for me either.”
I end the call when Dad’s voice mail picks up. “So whether or not you have reception here depends on which cell carrier you use.” Cell service is the one thing I don’t skimp on. I use the best carrier in the area. Dad, on the other hand, insists they’re all the same and doesn’t believe in paying more for one than another. “I’m sure Veronica has the most expensive cell carrier and plan known to man. If I’m getting service, I’m willing to bet she did, too.”
“We’ll check her phone records again, but something would have come up by now if she did make a call.” Dad sighs and looks around. “What happened to you, Veronica?” he calls out.
More importantly, who is the person with the leather gloves and hunting knife? “Why would someone move the driver’s seat after slashing the tire?” I ask, my eyes on Dad, but it’s Brennan who answers.
“If it wasn’t Veronica driving the car, but the person wanted to make it look like it had been, they’d adjust the seat to her size before leaving.”
“That’s true,” I say. “So, maybe my feeling is right. Maybe Veronica wasn’t even in the car when it was abandoned here.”
“Then where was she?” Dad asks.
“I think that’s the real question we need to answer.”