MIND READER

by Hinze, Vicki

  “Good. You do that. I’ll find out who occupies it, then meet you there in thirty minutes.”

  “That’s pretty quick. Are you forgetting the guys at the station move slower than slugs?”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten. But I don’t need them.” She dropped two bills onto the table, then scooted out of the booth. “Sandy says you’re resourceful.” She treated Parker to a rare smile. “In a pinch, so am I.”

  * * *

  Caron greeted the woman at Meyer’s Properties with an open smile. “Sorry I’m dripping on your rug.”

  “It’s hard not to with all this rain.” The petite brunette’s high heels clicked on the tile at the end of the rug. “I’m Meriam Meyer.”

  “Caron Chalmers.” She stretched out a hand.

  The woman took it. “Are you looking for a house here?”

  “Yes,” Caron said, glad that it wasn’t true. The neighborhood looked tired, as weary as her own. “I’d like some information on the neighborhood.”

  “Have a seat, please. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

  The front door opened, and a chime went off somewhere in the back of the office. Caron felt the cold draft on her back. She didn’t have to turn around to know it was Parker. Right on schedule.

  Meriam’s attention shifted to the door. A spark of interest twinkled in her eye. “Hi.”

  Parker walked forward, toward Meriam’s desk, and gave the realtor one of his knock-you-to-your-knees smiles. “Hi.”

  “Be with you in just a second.” Meriam looked from Parker to Caron, and her eyes lost a bit of their sparkle.

  “Do you have a rest room?”

  “Sure.” Meriam swiveled her chair and stood. “Be right back,” she told Parker.

  The phone rang, and she paused to answer it.

  Caron waited until Meriam was deep in conversation, then turned to Parker and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Distract her, I’ll get the street index.”

  “I’ll handle her,” Parker whispered.

  Caron resisted a frown. He’d handle Meriam, all right—and Caron had no doubts as to how he’d do it. He’d charm the woman right out of her panty hose.

  Meriam hung up the phone. “This way,” she told Caron, then quickly moved down the hall.

  They passed two private offices—both empty—then a cluttered copier room. Caron slowed her step. A fax machine was on a long table near the far wall. A pile of maps was stacked on the other end, and there was a row of books in between. Scanning the titles, Caron saw the street index.

  “Here you are.” Outside the rest room, Meriam paused and waited for Caron to catch up. She nodded toward the front office. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

  “Yeah, gorgeous.” Caron resisted the urge to sigh.

  “I dated a guy like that once.” Meriam sank her teeth into her lower lip. “It was three months of sheer heaven.” On a wistful sigh, she returned to the front office.

  Summarily dismissed and surely forgotten, Caron doubled back to the copier room and grabbed the index. She looked around, saw no one, then tucked the book under her raincoat. Visions of herself being arrested and carted off to jail ran through her mind, and guilt had her face nearly steaming.

  Stealing didn’t sit well on her shoulders; it went hand in hand with dishonesty in her inbred guilty-conscience package. But she needed the information now. A child’s life was at stake. When this was all over, she’d return the book.

  Back in the hallway, she heard Meriam’s desk chair squeak, and heard her offer Parker a seat. Caron peeked around the corner just as he took one—on the corner of Meriam’s desk.

  Caron huffed under her breath. Simms sure didn’t mind using his gifts. He had more slinky moves than a big cat...and more sex appeal than the law should allow.

  Meriam’s husky laughter grated on Caron’s ears.

  She slid a covert glance at Parker, and wasn’t surprised to find him watching Meriam. That was what irked her about him, Caron realized. When Parker Simms looked at a woman, he really looked at her. One hundred percent focus, total concentration. That attention from such a hunk was flattering. And Meriam was working hard at not letting that flattery go to her head—but she was losing.

  Caron shouldn’t be watching this. She had the book; she should just leave. But, curious about him, she didn’t move.

  Parker reached over and brushed at a speck Caron felt certain didn’t exist from Meriam’s cheek. The woman let out a breathless little groan that had Caron gritting her teeth.

  He winked at her. He knew she’d been watching!

  Caron hiked her chin, positively refusing to feel awkward about getting caught. She should observe the way he worked; they were partners, weren’t they? Reluctant partners, but partners nonetheless.

  She narrowed her eyes. Parker shrugged, and that corner of his mouth tilted up. She was quickly coming to hate that tilt. He knew his effect on women. Who was he trying to kid with that innocent what-did-I-do look?

  Caron slid him a glare that said she knew exactly what he was up to, then sniffed to let him know she thought it was rotten.

  That darn tilt grew to a full-fledged smile.

  It nearly left her breathless. She looked away, out the front window. A dynamite man could do serious damage to a woman’s dignity, and, though she’d have liked to be, Caron wasn’t immune to Parker’s charm. Worse, he knew it.

  Meriam was jotting down some information Parker was feeding her. Caron snickered. Probably his phone number, or the address of someplace they could meet. He dipped his shoulder and whispered something that had Meriam giggling like an idiot. Couldn’t the woman see what he was doing?

  Irritated, Caron looked down at the clutter on the desk. Parker’s throaty chuckle had her working to keep a grimace from her face. What difference did it make to her if Parker was coming on to Meriam? Caron barely knew the man. But she knew he was dishonest. He’d lied to her about why he was getting involved, and right now she was watching him lie to another woman. Different circumstances, but the same actions.

  She’d seen enough. Caron didn’t interrupt the quiet conversation, just crossed the room to the door. She kept a death grip on the book, scared to death it’d fall out from under her raincoat and she’d be caught red-handed in a nasty spot.

  A glance through the glass told her that it was still pouring. She shivered, then wondered if it wasn’t the girl who was cold. “Since you’re busy, I’ll come back later,” Caron said to Meriam.

  “Sure.” She didn’t even bother to look Caron’s way.

  Caron tucked her chin and avoided looking at Parker; he’d follow, if only to gloat. She couldn’t wait to give him a piece of her mind; after watching him operate, though, she needed time to decide how big a piece. What, if anything, should she tell him as the case unfolded?

  He had his reasons for getting involved. And until she knew what they were she didn’t dare risk being completely open with him.

  The warm, intimate sounds of him and Meriam laughing shredded Caron’s raw nerves. She stepped out into the rain, and the door swung shut behind her.

  Once again she was alone with her fears and worries. Isolated. From the dark sidewalk, she glanced longingly back into the illuminated office. Parker would follow, wouldn’t he?

  Minutes later, Parker met Caron outside. “Well, did you get it?”

  “Right here.” She patted her stomach. The spine of the book bumped against her ribs. “We need a phone.”

  “There’s one in my car.” He pointed left. “Over here.”

  Caron slid into the Porsche. The smell of leather lingered in the air. So did Parker’s spicy after-shave. Feeling her stomach flutter, she cracked open the window, then the book.

  By the time he got in beside her, Caron had her notebook out and had found a Butch Decker listed as the occupant of the sagging house. But there was no phone number in the index. Caron copied the name down, then went on to copy the names and phone numbers of his neighbors.

  Parker draped an
arm over the steering wheel. “Well?”

  Backed against the wall, she motioned toward the phone clipped to the dashboard. “Butch Decker.”

  Parker passed her the handset, an odd look in his eyes.

  Caron dialed Sandy. That he answered surprised and pleased her. “Hi, it’s me. Caron.”

  “You okay?”

  Worry. “Sure.” Caron lightened her tone, hoping Parker wouldn’t pick up on it. If he didn’t know that Sandy, too, had doubts about the case, she didn’t want to be the one to tell him. “Can you run a check on a Butch Decker for me?” She gave Sandy Decker’s address.

  “Hang on.”

  Through the phone, Caron heard Sandy’s computer keys clicking. Parker was watching her nonstop, with that same focus he’d used on Meriam. She hated feeling like a specimen under a microscope—especially in a car that seemed to have shrunk the minute he’d gotten into it—but her pride wouldn’t let her ask him to stop staring.

  Sandy came back onto the line. “That’s D-e-c-k-e-r, right?”

  Caron verified the spelling. “Yes.”

  “We’ve got nothing on him. Not even a parking ticket.”

  “Thanks. I’ll check in later.” Caron hit the hook button.

  “Nothing on the man, right?”

  Boy, did she wish she could say no. “Don’t look so smug, Parker. It’s early yet.”

  Thoughtful, she studied her list of Decker’s neighbors. Ina Erickson. A good feeling suffused Caron. If the numbers ran as they should, Ina lived directly behind Decker, on Twenty-second Street. Caron dialed the number.

  An older woman answered. “Hello.”

  “Ina Erickson?” Caron sensed the woman’s uneasiness. She didn’t receive many calls after dark. And the storm had her edgy.

  “Who is this?”

  “We haven’t met, Mrs. Erickson. My name is Caron Chalmers.” Caron closed her eyes and saw a crucifix on Ina’s wall. Though the rest of the modest furniture was dusty, the crucifix was polished to a high gloss, not a speck of dust anywhere on it. Ina could be trusted. “My partner and I need to talk with you about something very important. It concerns your neighbor, Butch Decker. I wouldn’t ask like this, Mrs. Erickson, but it’s very important. If possible, my partner, Parker Simms, a private investigator, and I would like to come over right away.”

  “Parker Simms?” Ina asked. “Is he related to Charley Simms, the cop?”

  Caron looked at Parker. “His son.”

  Ina’s tone lifted a notch. “Why, I knew Charley for better than twenty years. ‘Course, I’m retired now, but in my younger days, I worked at a laundry. A young crackerjack robbed me one night, and the police sent Charley over. After that, he dropped by once in a while to check up on me.” She paused to grab a breath. “Pretty much kept his thoughts to himself, but he was a fine man. A body could tell. I was sure sorry to read in the paper that he’d died. Getting shot like that. I sure did hate it.”

  A lump settled in Caron’s throat. Parker had masked his expression. Had Charley been abducted? Was he the reason Parker had gotten involved?

  “You and Parker come on over now, you hear? I’ll put on a pot of coffee. It’s a bad night to be out, what with the storm and all.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Erickson. We’ll be right there.”

  Caron handed Parker the phone. “She knew your father.”

  “A lot of people did.” Parker clipped the phone back to the dash. “He was a cop here for a long time.”

  She knew she shouldn’t ask, but something inside made her do it. “Parker?”

  He didn’t answer. His hand was on his thigh. She covered it with her hand. “Was Charley abducted?”

  “No.” He moved his hand and cranked the ignition, then turned on the radio.

  Parker obviously didn’t want to talk about it. She turned down the volume almost before she realized she’d moved. “If we’re going to work together, you’ve got to stop clamming up every time I touch on a subject that’s not comfortable.”

  No answer.

  “Maybe I should explain.”

  “That would be refreshing.”

  Back to sarcasm. Though sorry to see it, she didn’t let it deter her. Talking about Charley had Parker veering close to the emotional bone, and snapping at her to hide it. “I know someone you care about was abducted. I sensed it when we were talking at the restaurant. When Ina mentioned your father’s death, I thought it might have been him.”

  Still no answer.

  “Okay, you win.” She leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. She couldn’t force the man to confide in her. He didn’t like or trust her, so why should he confide in her? His attitude didn’t bode well for their working relationship, but what more could she do? She’d reached out her hand, and drawn back a stump. The next move was his.

  Ina answered the door wearing a dusk-blue bathrobe and a white shower cap. Raw-boned and wrinkled, she was close to seventy.

  “Hi, Mrs. Erickson. We called a few minutes ago. Caron and Parker.”

  “Do you have any ID?”

  Pleased that the woman was cautious, Caron reached into her purse and pulled out her driver’s license. Parker passed a card and stepped into the light on the porch.

  “My word, you look just like your daddy.”

  Parker gave Ina a smile that warmed Caron’s heart. “Lots of people say I do.”

  “Well, they’re right. You’re a cop, too—like your father.”

  “No, I’m not.” Resentment flashed through his eyes, then disappeared. “I’m a private investigator. But I’m helping the police. So is Caron. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Well, come on inside.” Ina stepped back to let them pass. “Don’t look like the rain’s ever gonna quit.” She bustled around them. “Hot coffee’s in the kitchen. Come on back and take off the chill.”

  Soon they were seated at Ina’s kitchen table with hot cups of coffee and large wedges of homemade cinnamon rolls.

  Parker bit into one, gave Ina a dreamy-eyed look, then chewed and swallowed. “Wonderful, Mrs. Erickson.”

  “Thank you. And call me Ina.” Ina preened and refilled Parker’s coffee cup. “Now what can I do for you children?”

  Caron looked at Parker. He motioned, giving her the honor of explaining. “I have a gift, Ina.” Nervous, she let out a little laugh. Opening herself up for ridicule was something she normally avoided like the plague.

  “That’s good. A woman needs grit today. Things were a lot simpler back when I was a girl. Why, I recollect once—”

  Caron touched her hand to Ina’s forearm. “Not grit, Ina. Gift.”

  “Speak up, child. My ears ain’t what they used to be.”

  “I said, I have a gift.”

  Ina stilled her fork. “What kind of gift?”

  Caron took the plunge, left herself vulnerable. “I’m psychic—I see things.”

  “Things?”

  “People,” Caron amended, strumming her fingertip against the coffee cup. “People in trouble. A little girl was abducted, and no one believes me, including my partner.” She glanced at Parker. Not so much as a muscle twitched. “I have to find proof to find her, Ina.”

  “Uh-huh.” The old woman’s voice grew stronger. “All right. What can I do? And what does Decker have to do with this?”

  Caron cocked a brow. “You believe me?”

  Ina nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  Parker groaned, and Ina must have heard it. She gave him a wrinkled frown. “You’re just like your daddy, Parker Simms. Charley wouldn’t believe nothing he didn’t see for himself, either. There’s something you ought to be remembering, boy, that your daddy never did. A body ain’t apt to strut around saying they’re different if they ain’t. People are mean to ’em for it. So them telling they’re different don’t make much sense, now does it?”

  Parker looked properly chastised, but it was as put-on as those tilted smiles of his. Still, Caron appreciated Ina’s support, and there was a mean streak in her that th
oroughly enjoyed seeing Parker Simms on the receiving end of a pointed finger for a change.

  “Thanks, Ina. Honestly, most people miss thinking about that.” Caron swallowed a bite of the roll and shoved a raisin around in her mouth with her tongue.

  “Thanks for what?” The woman looked genuinely surprised. “Darlin’, at my age, it don’t take a genius to figure out there’s more that goes on in this world than I understand.” She laced her fingers on the table. “Now, what’s this all about?”

  “You can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you,” Caron warned the raw-boned woman. “It could hurt the girl.”

  “I know how to clamp my jaws, child.” Impatience wove into Ina’s voice. “I see everything that goes on around here, and I don’t say anything to anyone about it. Can’t abide gossip. Just can’t abide it, and never could.”

  Even with Ina’s assurance, Caron knew the telling was risky. Ina did keep a lot to herself, and Caron could sense that the woman could be trusted, but this was different. Trying to help, she might blab everything Caron told her throughout the neighborhood. Word could get back to Decker. Caron might become his new target—or, worse, he might panic and hurt the child.

  A quick glance confirmed that Parker was still entertaining doubts. Caron hated to see that. Why was he so distrustful? “Swear on the cross, Ina. Total secrecy.”

  “Not until I hear what you’ve got to say. I didn’t crawl out of the swamp yesterday, child. And I don’t swear to my Maker till I know for a fact exactly what it is I’m swearing. If you want my help, you’ll have to trust me.”

  Caron propped her elbows on the table. She’d trusted, and been burned. Instinct told her that Ina was a good woman, that it was safe. But her instincts had been wrong before. She couldn’t—the girl couldn’t—afford for her to be wrong again.

  “Butch Decker—” she heard Parker begin.

  Ina interrupted without hesitating. “Scum. A wart on the backside of humanity by his own choice.”

  Caron frowned, then dared to ask, “Have you seen anything unusual going on with him in the last few days?”