Back inside the station, Mitchell takes the phone from Officer Matthews and puts it on speaker so I can hear. “This is Detective Brennan. I specialize in missing persons cases. Who am I speaking with?”
“Maryann Gephart. My little girl is gone. I woke up, and she wasn’t here. She’s only four. She wouldn’t wander off in the middle of the night. She’s a sound sleeper.” Sobs prevent Mrs. Gephart from saying more.
Mitchell mouths, “Address?” to Officer Matthews, who rips the top sheet of paper from the pad on his desk and hands it to Mitchell.
“Mrs. Gephart, my partner and I are on our way to you now. Just sit tight.” Mitchell hangs up.
Officer Andrews is staring at me as we rush out of the station.
Maryann Gephart lives right off of Main Street in an apartment above a florist. If I had to guess, I’d say the shop is hers. She didn’t give us her daughter’s name yet, so I can’t email Sam to let him know I’m already on his trail. Although, I’m not sure I need to. He’s probably reading my energy off that book right now and already aware of what I’m doing.
Mitchell parallel parks on the street and throws a quarter into the meter before we head to the apartment upstairs. He knocks on the door, which opens immediately.
“I saw you pull up,” Mrs. Gephart says, a tissue in her right hand. “Please come in.”
We step into the apartment, which is nicely decorated with flowers in vases on every table and countertop. She directs us to her daughter’s bedroom. “This is where Angel sleeps.”
“Angel?” Mitchell asks.
Mrs. Gephart nods. “My husband and I tried and tried to get pregnant. It took years, and then I suffered from three miscarriages. We never thought we’d have a baby of our own. So when I found out I was pregnant and that the baby would make it full term, I knew she was my angel.”
“Where is your husband now?” Mitchell asks, and Mrs. Gephart starts crying.
I put my hand on her to console her.
A casket with red roses lies in an open grave. Maryann clutches her daughter’s hand as the crowd disperses.
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I say. “It was recent, wasn’t it?”
She nods. “Four months ago.”
“Mrs. Gephart, I should introduce myself. I’m Piper Ashwell. I’m a psychic P.I., and I think I can locate your daughter if I could just borrow a personal belonging of hers for a few minutes.”
“Psychic?” she asks.
I offer her a weak smile. “When I just touched your arm, I saw a glimpse of your husband’s funeral. You were wearing a black dress with tiny gray flowers. You and your daughter were standing by the grave site as the other mourners left. Your daughter has ringlet curls and was wearing a gray baby doll dress with black leggings.”
Mrs. Gephart raises her hand to her mouth in disbelief. “You could see all that?”
“Ms. Ashwell is very good at what she does. I can assure you of that. In fact, we already know who took your daughter,” Mitchell says.
Mrs. Gephart’s hand falls to her side. “How?”
“Officer Brennan and I just found a nineteen-year-old girl taken by the same man.” I don’t want to tell her about my deadline in finding her daughter. I don’t think she could handle it, and I couldn’t handle seeing her cry more than she already is.
“Do you know where he has my Angel?” she asks hopefully.
“Not yet. But if I could read a personal belonging of Angel’s, I’ll be able to track her.”
Mrs. Gephart walks over to Angel’s bed. “You’re welcome to take anything you need. Just find my daughter and bring her home to me.” She turns back to me and latches onto my forearms.
I nod, feeling the weight of her despair washing over me. Mitchell must sense my unease because he reaches for Mrs. Gephart. “Ms. Ashwell works best with a little breathing room, so why don’t we have a seat on Angel’s bed while Piper does what she does?”
They both sit, leaving me to get to work. I look around the room. There are stuffed animals on the bed. “Did she have a favorite stuffed animal?” I ask. “Maybe one she liked to carry around or sleep with in particular?”
“Yes.” Mrs. Gephart reaches for the stuffed giraffe near the pillow. “She couldn’t fall asleep unless she was holding Mr. Giraffe.” She hugs him tightly before handing him to me.
I turn toward the window, not wanting to have Mrs. Gephart staring at me while I have a vision. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. I know what Angel looks like from my previous vision, so I focus on her.
She’s asleep in bed, cuddling Mr. Giraffe. Her breathing is steady, and her eyelids flutter slightly.
The vision ends abruptly, and a beeping sound fills my head. I cover my ears and look at Mitchell.
“Smoke detectors,” he says.
“I don’t know why they’d be going off,” Mrs. Gephart says, rushing from the room.
“I smell smoke,” I tell Mitchell. I’ve always had a heightened sense of smell.
He rushes from the room, and I follow, still clutching the giraffe.
“No!” Mrs. Gephart cries out.
I follow her line of sight to the side window in the living room. Smoke wafts straight upward.
“My flower shop!” She rushes out the door, and Mitchell and I follow.
He stops her on the stairs. “Stay here. It’s not safe.” He gives me a look, trying to convey he needs me to stay here with her.
I nod, and he rushes downstairs. The fire can’t be that bad, or we would have smelled smoke sooner. I’m getting the feeling this was meant as a distraction, not as a way to destroy Mrs. Gephart’s flower shop. Sam must have known I was having a vision, and he did what he needed to stop it. That has to mean he’s not far away with Angel. That or he saw me having the vision long before I actually had it, and he had plenty of time to get here and start the fire.
I pull out my phone and email him.
I’m going to find you, and when I do, you’re going to spend the rest of your sorry existence in a jail cell.
Annoyingly, his response comes almost immediately.
You have such a great sense of humor, Piper. I hate to break it to you, but I see no jail cell in my future.
If I can keep him talking to me, he can’t have visions. But since I just thought that, it means he might have already had a vision of my future and knows about my plan. He’d be ready for it before I even have a chance to get my plan in motion. And even if I could get the jump on him, communicating with him constantly means I can’t have any visions to locate Angel.
I could scream. Firetruck sirens fill the air. Mrs. Gephart is crying uncontrollably beside me in the stairwell. “It’s going to be okay,” I tell her. “The firemen are here. They’ll save your shop, and then Detective Brennan and I will bring Angel home.”
“Did you see that?” she asks me.
I don’t like lying to people, but if Sam sees me tell her I had a vision about this, maybe it will throw him off enough for him to mess up. “Yes, I did,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster.
About fifteen minutes later, Mitchell returns. “The fire department is cleaning up the area. The fire wasn’t big. It was set in a garbage can placed deliberately underneath a fire alarm.”
Just what I thought. Sam wanted to trigger the alarms to disrupt my vision.
“The sprinkler system went on. Since it was near the window and the window was open, we saw the smoke waft upstairs. There’s not much damage, though.”
Mrs. Gephart grabs my arm. “Go find my daughter. Please. You know where she is, right?”
I clutch the bear in my left hand. “Is it okay if I hold on to this until I bring Angel home?”
She nods frantically.
“Thank you. We’ll see you soon, Mrs. Gephart.” I head downstairs with Mitchell on my heels. I know he’s dying to find out if I really did locate Angel. If I tell him the truth, Sam could see it. But lying to Mitchel means slowing down this case.
“Where are we going?” he asks me.
I wish I had a clue. If it’s not even remotely in the area where Sam is holding Angel, I’ll give myself away. I should have played poker at some point in my life so I could bluff better than this.
“I don’t want to say in case Sam is having a vision to see what I’m up to.” I hope that sounds convincing to Sam, and maybe even Mitchell.
We get in the patrol car. “How do I know where to go?” he asks me.
It’s illegal for me to drive his patrol car, so I say. “I’ll point the way. I have a plan to sneak up on Sam.” I’m not sure I’m convincing either one of them right now, but I don’t know what else to do.
Mitchell starts the car and pulls out of the parking spot. He looks to me to see which direction to turn down Main Street. If I choose incorrectly, my entire plan could go up in flames. But then again, I said I was planning to sneak up on Sam, so maybe Sam will think I’m purposely heading in the wrong direction for that reason. I take a chance and point to the right.
Every time there’s an option to turn, Mitchell looks at me. It doesn’t take long for him to realize I have no idea where we are going. Without consulting me, he turns. I don’t say anything because I don’t want to alert Sam that anything is wrong, and I quickly realize Mitchell is bringing me to my apartment. I’m assuming he thinks I need to be comfortable and free of distractions if I’m going to get a good read on Angel’s whereabouts. It’s not a bad plan, and it’s possible Sam might think I’m getting something before I come after him. I hope, at least.
Mitchell parks, and without a word between us, we get out and head upstairs. Jezebel greets us with tail wags and slobbery kisses. Mitchell grabs her leash from the hook behind the door and takes her out, leaving me to have a vision in peace.
I sit down on the couch and clutch the giraffe in my hands. I need to see Angel right now. I need to find her before it gets any later. It’s already late morning. Time is cruelly ticking by. Steadying my breathing, I close my eyes and transfer the giraffe to my left hand.
Angel cries out for her mommy. She’s in a dark space. Dark and cold. She shivers, and tears shake her body at the same time. Her footed pajamas drag across the floor as she pulls her legs closer to her, huddling for warmth.
Jez curls up on my lap, pulling me from the vision.
“Sorry,” Mitchell says. “I tried to stop her, but you were shaking and she insisted on going to you.”
“I wasn’t shaking. Angel was. She’s freezing cold.”
“Is she outdoors?” He sits next to me on the couch.
“No. She’s sitting somewhere cold, but it’s not outside. I think it’s a basement.” I rub my arms, still feeling the chill of the vision. “Do you know how many basements there are in Weltunkin? She could be anywhere.” Forget about trying to keep the truth from Sam. He’s definitely aware that I have nothing. I don’t know where Angel is. “Sam’s probably laughing hysterically at how pathetic I am. I’m not going to find her in time. I’m not.” My body goes from shivering to full on shaking like I’m having convulsions. I’m losing it. “She’s four.” I’m rocking uncontrollably now.
Mitchell grabs my arms and peers into my eyes. “Piper, you have to calm down. You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”
“What else do you expect me to do? I can’t sit here and do nothing when I’m the only shot that little girl has. I… I…”
Mitchell releases my arms, and his hands cup my face. He moves so quickly I don’t have time to process what he’s doing before his lips meet mine.