Intuition

by Carol Ericson

  Kylie nodded. “She hung out in Coral Cove, stayed with the local kids and they attended the first two days of the concert together.”

  “And then on the third and last day of the concert—” Matt snapped his fingers “—poof, Bree disappeared.”

  “I never read anything more about those friends, did you?” She snatched the check from his hand. “I’ll get this.”

  “Do you have an expense account?”

  “No. Do you?”

  “You’re on a job, right?”

  “Well, yes.”

  “You’re not doing this pro bono, are you?”

  “Of course not. Mrs. Harris is paying me.”

  “But you’re paying your own expenses.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “It’s a business, sweetheart.” He plucked the check from her fingers. “And I have an expense account.”

  “So you’re doing this for the money.” Just when she thought Matt had changed. This talk of money and expense accounts left a bitter taste in her mouth.

  “Look.” He stacked some bills on top of the check and anchored it with a salt shaker. “I want to find out what happened to Bree. I want to give that family some peace and closure. But I also want to get paid.”

  “Then we need to get our hands on that police report.”

  “That’s the first thing on my list.” Matt pushed back from the table. “Do you want to wait here or meet me outside? I have to use the men’s room.”

  “I’ll meet you outside because I need to use the ladies’ room.”

  Kylie slipped into the bathroom, cranked on the water and studied herself in the mirror. So Mr. Harris was paying Matt more money than Mrs. Harris was paying her. Why hadn’t the couple made a decision together?

  She had never talked to Mr. Harris. She’d figured he was handling his grief differently. But since he’d hired Matt to do the same job, maybe Mr. Harris didn’t have any faith in psychics.

  She’d have to prove him wrong.

  Straightening her shoulders, she tossed the paper towel in the trash bin. She poked her head into the crowded dining room of the restaurant where the clink of dishes and silverware set her on edge.

  Matt had to be outside already. As she crossed the room, she dodged waiters and waitresses balancing plates in their hands and up their arms. She pushed out the front door and Matt shrugged off the side of the building.

  “Ready to tackle that police report?”

  “Yep.” Kylie took two steps, and the door of the restaurant swung open behind them.

  “Excuse me?” Their waitress, her foot propping open the door, was holding out a card or piece of paper. Did Matt stiff her on the tip?

  “You left this on the table.”

  Since Kylie was closer to the waitress, she took what she now saw was a photo, from her hand. “We didn’t leave…”

  Kylie’s mouth went dry as she stared at the picture pinched between her shaky fingers. Matt hovered behind her. “What is it?”

  She held up the photo, facing him. “It’s a picture—a picture of Bree. Where did it come from?”

  Kylie swiveled her head toward the door of the restaurant, but the waitress had already gone back to her other customers.

  Matt plucked it from her hand and turned it over. “Just great. This is more than a picture, Kylie.”

  He shoved the photo beneath her nose and Kylie gasped at the block letters on the back of the picture. Another day, another message.

  She’s dead.

  Chapter Five

  Excitement fizzed through Matt’s veins. Someone had made an effort to communicate with them. And that someone might still be in the restaurant.

  He yanked open the door. “Let’s see what the waitress has to say about this…unless you can put the picture to your forehead and get a reading on who left it at our table.”

  “It doesn’t…” She sighed and pushed past him, back into the crowded dining room, buzzing with conversation and activity.

  If he had known it was this much fun to tease Kylie about her special powers, he would’ve tried it years ago.

  “She’s over there.” Kylie pointed toward the kitchen, where their waitress was leaning against a counter, waiting for an order to come up.

  Threading his way through the tables, Matt scanned the room for anyone taking a particular interest in him or Kylie, but everyone seemed more interested in their food and their own companions.

  Matt tapped the waitress on the shoulder. “Excuse me. That wasn’t our picture. Did you see anyone near our table after we left?”

  “Wheat, not sourdough.” She shoved the plate back across the chrome counter and planted her hands on her hips. “What’s that, sweetheart?”

  Kylie shifted beside him, covering her mouth with her hand.

  Matt rolled his eyes at Kylie. “The picture. It’s not ours. Someone else left it there. Did you see anyone around our table?”

  “Just the busboy, Richard.” The waitress narrowed her eyes and surveyed the room. She pointed to a tall, gangly teen clearing a table by the window. “There he is. Slow as molasses, too.”

  Matt placed a hand on the small of Kylie’s back and steered her through the tables toward the window. Richard was sweeping imaginary crumbs from the booth, one earbud from his iPod dangling over his shoulder.

  Kylie whispered, “I can tell already, he’s not going to be any help.”

  “Is that your psychic powers kicking in?”

  Sliding the photo of Bree onto the table in front of Richard, Matt asked, “Did you see who left this picture at the table over in the corner?”

  “Huh?” The teen yanked the other earbud out of his ear and tinny music battled with the noise from the restaurant.

  Matt tapped the photo. “This picture, someone left it on our table.”

  Richard nodded. “With the check. It was under the salt shaker with the check.”

  “Did you see who put it there?”

  “I thought you did.”

  “You didn’t see anyone near our table after we left?”

  “I didn’t notice.” He jerked his thumb at the waitress, taking an order at the same table where they’d just eaten. “Arlene’s always getting on my case for being slow, but I thought you guys were coming back so I let the table sit. The picture was there when I cleared the table.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Matt reached into the deep pocket of his cargo shorts and pulled out one of his new cards, wrapped a five-dollar bill around it, and slipped it to Richard.

  “Thanks, man.” He stuffed the card and the money into the front pocket of his jeans. “I’ll let you know if I see anyone else running around leaving pictures.”

  They shuffled out the front door, and Matt threw a last glance over his shoulder.

  “You want to question everyone in there, don’t you?”

  “That’s not a bad idea.”

  She put a hand on his forearm. “Think about it. If the person who left that picture wants to talk to us but wants to remain anonymous, he or she is not going to be thrilled if we raise a fuss in the restaurant.”

  “You’re right. We want this person to contact us again…unless this is a prank.”

  “It could be, but it seems like a lot of trouble to go through for a prank. And where would someone get a photo like that of Bree?”

  Matt moved into the sun and held the picture close to his face. “It was taken here, at the beach.”

  Kylie leaned in close to study the picture with him. “That beach could be anywhere.”

  “Look at the rock formation behind her.” He traced his finger along the glossy surface of the picture. “Look familiar?”

  “It’s the beach below Columbella House.”

  “Put it in your bag for safekeeping, and let’s go find out from that police report who might have taken a picture of Bree while she was here.”

  Kylie stepped off the curb and Matt caught her hand. “You really need to get out of the habit of jaywalking. Don’t tel
l me you do it in Portland.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “This is Coral Cove, not Portland.”

  “If you’re more worried about your bank account than your safety, you’ll take a hit there—and you don’t even have an expense account. Didn’t I just tell you the police chief likes racking up the revenue through fines?”

  “I know all about Chief Evans. He was here when my mom died.”

  “I just hope he has the report he promised me yesterday.”

  They crossed the street at the crosswalk and Matt pulled open the door of the police station for Kylie. Just like yesterday, the smells of furniture polish and the sounds of the tapping on the keyboard caused the memories to flood back. Some good—like the times Chief Reese hauled him and his buddies in for some harmless, but hilarious prank—and some not so good—like the times Matt had to pick up his old man for being drunk in public.

  Kylie nudged him in the ribs. “Stop reliving the glory days.”

  The cop at the front desk looked up when they stepped up to the counter. “Can I help… Oh, you’re the P.I. from yesterday.”

  “That’s me.” Matt spread his arms. “Do you have the case report I requested?”

  Officer Dickens shifted his gaze to the right and then back to Matt’s face. “Yeah, we have it.”

  “Okay, turn it over.” He rapped on the countertop with his knuckles. He didn’t much like the cop’s demeanor. Either they had the report or they didn’t.

  The cop swiveled his chair toward an overflowing in-basket and pulled out a manila envelope with a black scrawl on it. He slapped the envelope on the counter in front of Matt. “Here you go.”

  “That’s it?” Kylie echoed his own thoughts as he swept the thin envelope off the counter.

  Matt retreated to a plastic chair against the wall and opened the envelope. He shook out the stack of papers and raised his brows at Kylie over the top of the measly stack.

  “Not much of a report.” She hunched forward and pinched the report between two fingers.

  Matt thumbed through the pages and hissed through clenched teeth. “The length is only half the problem. Look at this.”

  He shuffled through the pages, dotted and scarred with black marker.

  Kylie snatched a page from the batch and ran her finger along the lines. “This is useless. All of the important information, such as names of witnesses, has been redacted.”

  Matt shoved up from his chair and strolled back to the counter, smacking the report against his palm. He tossed it onto the countertop. “This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, Officer.”

  Officer Dickens’s gaze shifted again, and then trailed to his computer screen. “That’s the report we have.”

  “All of the vital information has been redacted.”

  “A lot of reports are like that…sensitive information. You should know that.”

  Matt’s fist landed on the counter. “How am I…how are we supposed to investigate this young woman’s disappearance if key information is missing?”

  “Is there a problem out here?” Chief Evans strode into the reception area from the back offices.

  “Yeah, there’s a problem.” Matt scooped up the pages and shook them at Evans. “This so-called report is useless. I need the witness names, the possible suspects, the autopsy report.”

  The chief stuffed his hands in his pockets and lifted his shoulders. “This is an open case. We have to protect the identities of these witnesses.”

  “That’s bull. Social security numbers, sometimes addresses, driver’s license numbers—those are typically redacted but not witness names.”

  Kylie took a step forward and hunched over the counter. “And you’re ensuring the case will remain open if you refuse to give us pertinent information.”

  The chief’s gaze flicked toward Kylie and then back to Matt. “Big-city departments may do things differently, Conner, but here in Coral Cove we strive to protect our residents.”

  Kylie huffed out a breath. “You’re doing a bang-up job—serial killers, bank robbers stalking little boys. Coral Cove ain’t what it used to be.”

  Chief Evans narrowed his eyes. “Really? I guess I wasn’t here in the good old days when Coral Cove had crazy gypsy ladies telling fortunes and the town drunk passing out on park benches.”

  Kylie gasped and a muscle ticked in Matt’s jaw. He tightened his fist around the sheaf of papers clenched in his hand. He really wanted to punch that smug face swimming before him.

  Matt shoved the papers back into the manila envelope and took Kylie’s arm. “We don’t need his help, Kylie. He’s afraid we’ll solve what he couldn’t, and maybe that big-city police department he’s heading out to manage will have second thoughts about hiring him.”

  He practically had to drag Kylie from the police station. Her fury had her rooted to the floor. When he got her outside, he grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Take a few deep breaths.”

  She closed her eyes and although anger still colored her cheeks, her breathing had returned to normal. “That jerk. We’re going to have to rely more on my ability to get a reading on Bree than good old-fashioned investigating.”

  He pinched her chin and her lashes flew open. “Don’t worry. The full police report, and a lot more, exists somewhere, and we’re going to get all of it.”

  “Oh, really?” Her chest rose and fell again rapidly, but Matt wanted to believe it was his proximity to her that was causing it this time, not her anger.

  “Really.”

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  “We’re going to steal it.”

  * * *

  KYLIE STUDIED MATT’S FACE, his dark eyes alight with amusement. He’s kidding.

  She laughed. “Not that Chief Evans wouldn’t deserve it.”

  “I’m not kidding. I’m going to steal the report…all of it.”

  “Matt Conner, you haven’t changed a bit.”

  He held up his hands. “Hey, I never stole anything that didn’t belong to me…or should’ve belonged to me.”

  “Yeah, like someone else’s girlfriend.” She covered her big mouth with her hand.

  “You can’t steal people. They either come willingly…or not.” He winked. “Now let’s take a look at this report and see what we can glean from it. Maybe it will be enough for you to start your mumbo jumbo stuff.”

  “If you keep calling it mumbo jumbo, I’m not going to use it to help you. And what about your theft of the Coral Cove P.D.?”

  “I have a few ideas. Don’t worry. None of them involves you.”

  “That’s good. At least one of us can stay out of jail to work on this case.”

  He held up the report. “My room, your room or our room?”

  “Our room?”

  “I asked the hotel about moving into the room next to yours. Luckily, it’s being vacated today. We can throw open the door between the two rooms and set up a regular command center.”

  She checked her watch. “It’s just after eleven o’clock. I doubt if the room will be ready.”

  “Your room then.”

  Matt stopped by the front desk when they hit the lobby and shook his head at her as she waited by the elevator. Guess Matt couldn’t get everything he wanted. But she hoped he could get his hands on the complete and unaltered police report.

  And her? Did he want her?

  He loped toward her with his long stride and easy grin. “You were right. The room next to yours isn’t ready yet.”

  Kylie hit the button for the elevator. “You can’t always get what you want.”

  “Are you referring to that police report, or…”

  She bumped his shoulder on her way into the elevator. Just like the first time they’d run into each other. She should’ve seen that as a premonition. “The police report. I don’t know how you plan to steal it.”

  “Shh.” Putting his finger to his lips, he looked both ways. “You don’t need to know.”

  When they got to her room, Kyl
ie hesitated on the threshold. What would she find this time?

  Matt nudged her to the side. “Let me take a look first.”

  She held her breath as he walked into the room, fearless and almost challenging. Great guy to have on your side. If the cops had handed her that police report, she probably would’ve swallowed it and moved onto plan B.

  Matt did a sweep of the room and called over his shoulder. “All clear.”

  Sighing, she let the hotel door slam behind her, and she hung her purse over the back of a chair. “You know what was weird about that message?”

  “The fact that it was misspelled?”

  “No. The message basically admitted that Bree Harris was dead by threatening that I would be next.”

  “The message on Bree’s picture said the same thing…not that I ever thought otherwise.” Matt dropped the file on the table by the window. “Did you?”

  “Not really. Her scarf…”

  “Did you already try some mumbo…to get a reading on the scarf?”

  “Not yet. My supposition about Bree came from common sense. Where would a college girl like that go?”

  “True, but she could’ve died from an accident, not murder.”

  “Not according to that message on my mirror.”

  “Maybe someone was with her at the time of the accident, someone who didn’t bother to get help or report it.”

  “Or someone who was too drunk or high to help her.”

  “Either way—” Matt tapped the manila envelope “—we’re here to find out and give some peace to Mr. and Mrs. Harris.”

  “And to make some money.”

  “There’s always that.” He yanked a chair out from the table and patted the seat. “Come over here and let’s have a look at this police report together.”

  “I have some water in my mini fridge. Do you want some?”

  “Sure.”

  Matt waited until she brought two bottles of water to the table and took her seat before he dropped into the chair across from her. He opened the file and shook the contents out onto the table.

  Shuffling through the pages, Kylie said, “Pathetic. This isn’t like any report I’ve ever seen when I’ve worked with P.D.s. I get the whole thing.”