Mitchell wasn’t wrong when he said this case was a doozy. There’s no evidence whatsoever. No leads. Nothing. Which is why he brought the case to me. When all else fails, call in the psychic PI.
“Run me through it again,” I tell Mitchell.
He adjusts his tie, which isn’t part of his usual attire at all, and leans back in the chair on the opposite side of my desk. Then his green eyes focus on me. “Maggie Burns went missing on Thursday night—”
“So two nights ago,” I interrupt.
Mitchell nods. “She works at Saves-A-Lot—”
“The discount grocery store on Second Street.”
“Do you plan to keep doing that?” Mitchell asks, a hint of annoyance in his voice.
“Careful, Piper, finishing each other’s sentences is a sign of—”
I hold up my hand to stop Dad from finishing his statement. His comments about the way Mitchell and I interact are getting old. My relationship with Detective Mitchell Brennan is strictly professional. When he gets a case he can’t solve on his own, he asks for my help since I can read the energy off objects and find missing persons, whether they’re alive or dead. Mitchell tries to pretend he and I are friends as well as occasional partners in this industry, but I know his desire to work with me stems from the fact that his mother was psychic and despite foreseeing her own death, she did nothing to prevent it. The problem is that makes him try his damnedest to protect me, which couldn’t be more annoying.
“Go on, Mitchell,” I say, ignoring the smirk on Dad’s face.
“Maggie was working late, doing inventory. Her car is still in the parking lot, which indicates something happened to her before she left work.”
“She could’ve gotten a ride from someone she knew. Do you know if she had any car trouble earlier in the day?” I ask.
Mitchell sits up straight in his chair. “Are you asking because you’re sensing she did?”
I hold up my right palm. “Have you given me a personal belonging to read?” He knows how this works. I have nothing but a missing persons report. I can’t read anything off that.
He stands up and huffs. “Then why don’t we head to Saves-A-Lot and check out her employee locker?”
“Now you’re thinking,” I say, tossing my empty coffee cup into the trash can.
When Dad doesn’t get up, I narrow my eyes at him. “Aren’t you coming?”
“Nah. You two go on ahead. I’m going to check out Maggie’s social media accounts and see if anyone was stalking or threatening her online.” He opens his laptop and immediately gets to work.
“Good thinking. We’ll let you know what we find out, and keep us updated on anything you find.” I give a small wave as Mitchell and I head out of the office.
“Will do,” Dad calls after us without looking up from his computer screen.
I’m a little relieved he’s not tagging along. Ever since Dad came out of retirement from the Weltunkin PD to work with me, I’ve been worried about his safety. Our last case, which was our first case together as private investigators, put him in more danger than he’d seen in all his years as a police detective. I can’t help feeling responsible.
Mitchell unlocks his Explorer, and as if he’s reading my mind, he says, “He’ll be fine.”
“I know.” I peer through the office window to see Dad on his laptop, his eyes squinted in concentration. “It’s just that he was abducted from that office less than two weeks ago. It’s still fresh on my mind.”
“I get that, but what are the odds this case will turn out to be as crazy as our last one?”
“Way to jinx us.” I get into the SUV and click my seat belt.
“Do you actually believe in that kind of thing?” he asks as he backs out of the parking spot.
“I have visions, and you’re asking if I believe in the ability to jinx something?”
He laughs. “I guess you probably operate under the assumption that anything is possible, huh?”
“You could say that.”
Traffic is mild, so it only takes us a few minutes to get to Saves-A-Lot. Despite Maggie’s disappearance, the store is open as usual. Mitchell finds a spot near the cart return and parks. He grabs his jacket, shrugging it on before getting out of the car.
“Trying to cover your badge?” I ask as I walk around the front of the car to meet him.
“No need to make people panic.” He zips his jacket, and we walk into the store. “We’re meeting the manager, a guy named Emit Wilkes. He said we should head to the black double doors in the back and ask for him.”
I don’t shop in this grocery store, so I’m not exactly familiar with the layout. Despite Weltunkin being a wealthy town, there are some discount stores located on the outskirts like this. Not that I’m wealthy or a snob, but I don’t really come to this side of town often. I use the grocery store closest to my apartment building for the sheer convenience. Though, thanks to my job, I typically live on takeout food.
Mitchell seems to know where he’s going, so I follow his lead. Near the cases of assorted cuts of meat is a set of double doors. A worker is emerging from them as we approach.
“Excuse me,” Mitchell says. “We’re supposed to be meeting Emit Wilkes. I’m Detective Brennan, and this is Piper Ashwell.” He gestures to me.
The guy, who looks to be in his late teens or early twenties, jerks his thumb over his shoulder. “Yeah, Mr. Wilkes told us all you were coming and to send you on back.”
“Thanks,” Mitchell says, pushing open one of the doors and holding it for me.
We walk past a doorway that leads to the butcher area on the right. To our left is a storage section with shelves of boxes. And straight ahead appears to be either an office or employee room. We head for that, and Mitchell knocks on the door.
I look around, trying to get a sense of Maggie Burns, but since I’ve yet to hold anything that belonged to her, I can’t put my senses on anything in particular.
A short man with thinning brown hair comes to the door. “Detective Brennan?” he asks Mitchell.
“Yes, and this is my partner, Ms. Ashwell.”
“Nice to meet you. Please come inside.” Emit Wilkes holds the door open for us, and we step into the employee room. “We can speak in my office.” Emit motions to the door on our left.
“Actually, I’d love to see where Maggie kept her belongings while she was working,” I say, knowing he’ll have nothing more to offer us than what we’ve already read in the missing persons report.
“Sure. Right this way.” Emit brings us to a row of lockers on the back wall. “This one here is Maggie’s.” He reaches into his pants pocket and produces a set of keys, which he uses to open the locker.
“Thank you,” I say, even though I could have opened the locker myself. As soon as I touched the combination lock, I could have called forth a vision of Maggie opening the locker. I also carry a lockpick kit in my purse, but his way is faster, so I don’t complain. Still, he doesn’t show any signs of leaving us alone, which means I’m going to have to read Maggie’s belongings in his presence, and that doesn’t make me happy at all.
I peer inside the locker. There’s a picture of Maggie and a man in a cheap magnetic frame stuck to the inside of the locker door.
“I take it that’s Maggie’s husband,” Mitchell says.
“Yes. His name is Glen,” Emit says. “Nice guy. He always goes to the employee Christmas party each year with Maggie.”
Nothing about Glen is setting off my radar, so I move on. A jacket is hanging from the hook beneath the top shelf. On the shelf is an insulated lunch bag. I opt to try reading the jacket and reach for it.
“Was anyone else here Thursday night with Maggie?” Mitchell asks, and I’m sure he’s trying to keep Emit distracted so I can have a vision without being stared at like I’m a freak.
“Yeah, the produce manager was—”
Maggie’s standing in front of her locker, her hand reaching for the jacket when her phone rings in her back pocket. She grabs it and stares at the number on the screen. Her brow furrows when she doesn’t recognize the caller.
“Who could this be?” She presses the button to answer the call. “Hello?”
Static.
“Hello?” she says again, moving toward the back door. “Stupid reception. Hang on a second.” She pushes open the door and steps outside. “Hello?” she says again.
A blunt object connects with the back of her head.
Everything goes black.