“There’s going to be a mugging tonight,” I say, sitting down and opening the email.
“What?” Mitchell asks, walking around my desk to read over my shoulder.
Piper,
I hate that I have to contact you with news of this nature, but I just had a vision of a mugging tonight outside Saves-A-Lot. I saw an elderly woman. The assailant steals her purse and shoves her against a lamppost. She cracks her head open.
I’m sorry, but that’s all I saw. I don’t have a time. All I know is it was dark outside. It felt immediate, so that’s why I’m assuming it happens tonight.
I wish I had more, but it feels like my own head is about to explode. I didn’t see who attacked her. I’m sorry.
Ryker
I sit down, letting the content of the email sink in. An old woman is going to die unless Mitchell and I stop it. But the good news is we can stop it. Thanks to Ryker this woman’s life won’t end tonight.
“Pumpkin,” Dad says, handing me a tissue.
I shake my head, not sure why he’s giving it to me, but a tear falls from my eye and lands on my laptop. I take the tissue and wipe the H key where the tear landed before dabbing my eyes.
“Why are you crying?” Dad asks.
And I suddenly realize why I’m upset. “All those people who lost their lives because I couldn’t get to them soon enough, because my visions are only of the past and present…” My breathing hastens. “If I had Ryker’s ability, they’d all still be here. I could’ve saved them.”
“Hey.” Mitchell places his hand on my arm. He must have been reading the email over my shoulder, but I didn’t even notice. “You can’t know that. I don’t think he can control what he sees any more than you can.”
I shake my head. “No. If I could see the future, I could read it off the personal effects. I would have been able to save them. Every single one of them.” I’m bawling now. Sobbing uncontrollably.
Mitchell starts to say something, but I stand up, shrugging his hand off me in the process.
“Don’t. I don’t want to hear your explanations for why I’m wrong. Just save it. We have until sundown. I’ll meet you at Saves-A-Lot then.”
“Pumpkin, where are you going?” Dad asks as I grab my purse.
“Home. Please just let me be. I don’t want to be around anyone right now.” Anyone other than Jez that is. Neither Dad nor Mitchell tries to stop me as I walk outside to call for a ride back to my apartment.
Jez and I spend the morning on the couch. She couldn’t be happier that I’m home, spending the day with her. We snuggle, and I read my book to her. I burn through two pots of coffee, but by lunchtime I realize I haven’t put anything substantial in my body and the coffee is sitting in my stomach like a pool of acid.
“Are you hungry, Jez? Because Mommy could eat about four tubs of ice cream.” I start for the kitchen, knowing there’s a half gallon of mint chocolate chip in the freezer, but a knock at the door stops me.
I turn to face Jez. “If Mitchell is stupid enough to come here when I told him I wanted to be alone, you might have to bite him in his man parts for me, okay?”
Jez cocks her head like she’s trying to process what I just said.
I open the door to see a kid holding a white paper bag. “Can I help you?”
“Delivery from Matty’s Sub Shop,” he says.
“I didn’t order anything. You must have the wrong apartment.”
The kid looks at the slip of paper in his hand. “No, this is the correct apartment number. Are you Piper Ashwell?”
“Yes, but like I said, I didn’t order anything.”
He consults the slip of paper again. “Someone named Mitchell Brennan placed the order.”
Damn him! I lean my head against the door and sigh.
“It’s all paid for, tip included.” The kid holds the bag out to me. “You might as well take it.”
I grab the bag. “Did he tip you well?”
“Very.” By the look on the kid’s face, I know it was probably the biggest tip he’s ever gotten.
“Thanks, then.”
“Have a nice day,” the kid says before walking away.
I close the door and bring the bag to the coffee table. “Let’s see what Mitchell got us, shall we?” I ask Jez. She jumps up and sits on the cushion next to me. Inside the bag is an Italian hero with extra banana pepper rings, according to the scribble on the wrapper, a bag of potato chips, and a bottle of lemonade.
I twist the cap off the lemonade and take a sip before digging into the sandwich. About two minutes later, my phone chimes with a new message.
Mitchell: Did you get your delivery?
I contemplate ignoring him but decide to have a little fun instead.
Piper: I can’t believe you sent an Italian stripper to my apartment.
Mitchell: Ha-ha, Piper. Did they remember the extra banana pepper rings?
Piper: Yes, apparently, they follow directions much better than you do. What part of I want to be alone are you struggling to understand?
Mitchell: You are alone. Except for Jez. I’m just making sure you aren’t hangry later when we stake out the parking lot of Saves-A-Lot.
When I don’t respond, he sends another text.
Mitchell: Maybe you were right about Ryker. Maybe he would be helpful to have around.
Great. So even Mitchell sees I’m nowhere near as good as Ryker. I toss my phone aside and take the biggest bite of my hero I can manage without choking. Jez places her head in my lap, not to beg for food, but because she can sense I’m upset.
“I’m glad I’m good enough for you, Jez,” I tell her after swallowing. “At least that’s something.”
Mitchell texts me a few more times throughout the day, but I don’t respond. I email Ryker and thank him for the tip, letting him know Mitchell and I will take care of it. He doesn’t reply, which makes me wonder if he’s still feeling the effects of his premonition. Are they worse than the effects of my visions? I guess I’ll never know.
At four o’clock, I’m out the door, having fed Jezebel an early dinner in case this takes a while. Then I head to Saves-A-Lot to meet up with Mitchell so we can stake out the parking lot. I wish Ryker had given us more details so we knew if it was the front or back lot where the mugging happens. But given it’s an elderly woman, she definitely doesn’t work there, so it’s probably the front. Then again, more people would see her being attacked in the front. I know from a previous case that the cameras in the parking lot are for show. They don’t actually work in the sense of recording what takes place. They’re strictly meant to deter people from committing crimes. Though considering this is the second time in a matter of weeks that I’m here for a case, the fake security cameras don’t seem to be deterring anything.
I scan the lot for Mitchell’s loaner car, but I don’t see it. I don’t think he’ll take a police car since that’s not exactly conducive to undercover work. He must be in the back lot. I pull my car around, opting to park in the back row under one of the few lampposts. I cut the headlights and the engine.
My cell rings through the Mazda’s Bluetooth, and the number on the display reveals it’s Mitchell on the other end of the call.
“I’m in the back row,” I say, skipping any sort of greeting. “Where are you?”
“Behind the dumpster. I figured it was best if I was ready to grab the mugger before he has a chance to hurt the woman.”
I look in that direction and see Mitchell’s hand poking out from behind the bin. “Ryker said the attacker pushes her into a lamppost, not a dumpster.” There are only three lampposts in the back lot, but there are only two of us, so we’re still outnumbered. Since the crime hasn’t been committed yet, my abilities are exactly zero help to me right now in determining where Mitchell should be positioned.
“I’m assuming the woman will come from the store, though,” Mitchell says. “Maybe I can stop the mugging before it even begins. Then the lamppost won’t be a factor.”
“When are we ever that lucky?” I ask. I get a new idea and start my car, leaving it to idle with the lights off. My exhaust is facing the trees lining the back of the parking lot, but I’m not convinced the smoke isn’t visible considering how cold it is this evening.
“What’s your plan?” Mitchell asks.
“I was thinking I’d speed out of the spot and right at the guy, shining my headlights in his eyes to blind him while you save the woman and apprehend the attacker.”
“So you’re leaving me to do all the hard work.” The smile in his voice comes through the phone.
“You’re right. We should trade places. I can’t have you screwing this up and letting an old woman pay the price for it.”
“Ha-ha. I’ve got this.” He’s quiet for a moment before saying, “I wish we knew when this is going to happen.”
I don’t respond. My shortcomings couldn’t be any clearer. If only Ryker were here. It’s possible being here in the place where it’s going to happen would allow him to see more. Maybe narrow down the exact location or the time of the incident. God, I’m acting like Mitchell. Asking too much of an ability I don’t fully comprehend. Ryker’s done his part. It’s time I step up and do mine.
I tap my thumbs against the steering wheel and scan the lot. There are six parked cars other than mine. One has to be Mitchell’s loaner, leaving the other five to most likely belong to employees.
“Piper?” Mitchell says, making me jump because I forgot we were still on the phone.
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“I can’t figure out why this woman would be in the back lot. Maybe one of us should move to the front of the store.”
I’m about to agree when another car enters the back lot. “Let’s see who this is first.”
The car is an old sedan, so it definitely could belong to the woman we’re here to protect. It parks in the spot nearest the back door, which happens to be next to one of the lampposts.
“Employee?” Mitchell asks.
“No. I think it’s her. Maybe she’s related to someone who works here.”
“Are you saying that because it’s coming to you as a truth?”
“Purely hypothesizing.”
“Got it. No one is getting out,” Mitchell says.
“We don’t know how old she is. Give her time.”
Finally, the driver’s side door opens. Just as I suspected, a tiny, old woman steps out, her purse in hand.
“Be ready,” I tell Mitchell, knowing he won’t respond now that the woman can hear him.
The call disconnects, which doesn’t surprise me since Mitchell is going to need two hands to stop the mugger.
The back door of the grocery store opens, and a man steps out. My senses start tingling uncontrollably. The attacker is a worker! Mitchell isn’t moving, probably because it looks like the man is talking and smiling at the woman. Mitchell has no idea that’s the guy we’re here for. He probably thinks the woman is attacked before leaving.
I watch as the woman opens her purse, and the man lunges forward, grabbing the purse from her hands. I throw the car in gear and whip around the parking lot. The old woman scurries around her car instead of trying to fight off the man, which makes her head in the direction of the nearest lamppost. I jump out, but Mitchell already has the guy facedown on the ground.
“Ma’am,” I say, moving toward the woman. “Are you okay?”
She’s in front of her car, near the lamppost. “My word. What is going on?”
“It’s okay.” I step toward her. “That’s Detective Mitchell Brennan. He and I are here to help you. That man was trying to mug you.”
“I don’t know why. I’m a good tipper.”
Tipper? “Can I ask why you’re parked back here? Customers usually enter the store through the front doors.”
“My son orders my groceries online for me. I come here to pick them up.”
I didn’t realize Saves-A-Lot had a pickup service for groceries. “Would you like me to help you get your groceries?”
“Please. I think I need to sit down after all this excitement.”
I look back at Mitchell, who has the guy cuffed and on his feet. “You okay to bring him to the station?” I ask.
“Officer Wallace is on his way in a patrol car.”
Smart. Mitchell’s loaner doesn’t offer the same protection without the divider a police vehicle possesses.
“I’m going to help…” I turn back to the woman.
“Mrs. Dolores Berkshire,” she says.
“I’m going to help Mrs. Berkshire get her grocery pickup.”
Mitchell nods. “Tell your parents I might be late to Ashwell family dinner tonight.”
I shake my head as I pick up the purse on the ground by the car and offer Mrs. Berkshire my arm.
She smiles at me. “That’s a very handsome man you have there.”
“Oh, he’s not my man. He’s my partner.”
“What’s the difference?”
“We’re just…friends.”
She cocks her head at me. “Does he know that?”
“Of course,” I say, my voice squeaking slightly, which I cover with a cough.
“Well, I think you two would have beautiful babies together.” She pats my arm as I hold open the door for her.
“No babies in my future, Mrs. Berkshire. My line of work is too crazy and dangerous for that.”
Her face falls. “What a shame, but you never can predict the future.”
No. I unfortunately can’t.