Uncharted Territory (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 3)

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  I fell to the floor and bawled.

  Mel kneeled next to me and pulled me up by my shoulder. "Come on, we gotta go."

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulder, holding me up as we walked out of the Starks' house. "I failed her."

  "No you didn't. You did everything you could. It was her time."

  "I should have done more. I broke my promise to Tevin. I told him I would help her and now she's dead." I cried the whole way back to the car, deep, heaving sobs filled with grief and pity.

  We didn't speak the entire ride home. Mel drove and I sent Pam Ryan a text telling her I had to cancel our plans. I set my phone to silent and never checked to see if she'd replied.

  When we got to Mel's she asked me to come in but I refused and promised to call her later. She assured me Tiffany's death wasn't my fault but I didn't believe her. I got in my car and headed home without the radio.

  Ma was still with me but neither of us uttered a word.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  MY GRANDMOTHER DIED when I was fifteen. Two months later my father packed his bags and moved back to Indianapolis. Fran, newly employed for the first time in thirty years, struggled with her brothers and sister to care for her father, who insisted his wife was upstairs having a baby. At the same time, she mourned the loss of her mother and her marriage, dealt with my fifteen-year-old girl drama, and the heroin addiction of my third brother, who died years ago.

  Through all of that I never once saw her cry. Not once.

  How was that even possible?

  Lately all I have to do is think about something and I tear up. Sappy commercials get the tears flowing now, too. The abused cat and dog ones are downright torture. Those hit me so hard Jake has had to physically restrain me from going to the Humane Society and adopting another animal.

  I did my best not to cry in front of the kids when my parents died but every now and then a memory would creep into my thoughts and I'd plunge into a depression so intense I couldn't stop the tears. It didn't happen often and I was quick to pull myself out of it but they still saw. Sometimes, when Josh cried for his grandpa the lump in my throat would grow to the size of a tennis ball and the only way to shrink it was to release the tears right along with him. I just wasn't as strong as my mother.

  When I got to the house, both Emily and Josh were there, so I gathered my strength and forced myself to put on my happy face, hoping to God I wouldn't lose it in front of them.

  Josh was spread eagle on the couch, watching cartoons.

  There was no hiding my red, puffy eyes.

  "You okay, Mama?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay. Where's your sister?"

  He shrugged.

  "You hungry?" I hadn't even considered dinner for my kids. Stellar mom move, Angela.

  "Can we order pizza? I'm craving pepperoni."

  "That's fine." I pulled my wallet out of my purse and gave him two twenties. "Go get your sister and tell her to take you to pick it up. You can wait for it there."

  "Where should we go?"

  "I don't care. I'm not hungry, so get it from wherever you want."

  He jumped off the couch, and while running up the stairs said, "Cool, we're goin' to Pizza Hut."

  The Chicagoan in me didn't consider Pizza Hut real pizza, and I never ordered from there, but Josh loved it.

  Before they left, Emily asked if I was okay, too.

  "I'm fine," I told them both. "Just found out someone died, and I'm a little sad, but I'll be okay. Why don't you go ahead and eat there and go see a movie or something afterwards." I grabbed my purse and gave them the rest of the cash in my wallet.

  They left, arguing about what movie to see.

  I showered, threw on my mother's old Eeyore pajamas and dropped onto my bed, physically exhausted and emotionally spent. The tears hadn't returned and my face began to resemble something other than a swollen tomato again. I wasn't sad anymore. If I was following the five stages of grief I'd barreled right past sad and dove head first into a big pool of pissed off. I was mad at myself for not figuring out who and where Tiffany was before she died. Mad at the universe for not letting me figure out who and where she was before she died. A part of me was mad at my mother, too. She had to know what was coming, and rules or no rules, she should have told me. I didn't care about any rules. I might have been able to prevent Tiffany's death if I'd been prepared.

  I lay on my bed, staring at the ceiling as anger simmered inside of me until it bubbled over, oozing like lava from a volcano. I bolted upright, my head throbbing from the blood charging through my veins. "Is there a lesson in this somewhere? Or do you just get a thrill outta watching me fail?" I flung myself off of the bed and paced my room. "You want me to think my gift isn't about me but it is, and you just proved that. That girl died because I couldn't help her." I stabbed my finger into my chest. "She died because of me. This isn't a gift. A gift is something good, something helpful that makes people happy, especially the person who gets it. This is none of that. It's a curse and I'm done. I don't want it."

  "You can't always get what you want," Ma said. She'd appeared near my bathroom door.

  "Whatever. It doesn't matter. I'm done, okay? And if that means I don't see you anymore, then fine." As soon as those words came out, I wanted to suck them right back in and chew them into tiny pieces. That wasn't what I wanted. I wanted my mother with me.

  She flinched, the hurt in her eyes obvious. "Things happened the way they did for a reason. It was her time."

  "That's crap and you know it. And if you were still alive, you'd be thinkin' the same thing. No one should ever have to die like that. Now we'll never know what happened because she went into that stupid light. Who knows if we'll ever see her again. And you knew, didn't you?"

  "I can't change fate, Angela and neither can you. You gotta learn to suck it up and move on or else this is gonna drive you batty the rest of your life."

  "No, it won't because I'm done, remember?"

  She floated close, her face only an inch from mine. She raised her hand to my cheek and the warmth of her energy smoothed over my skin. "It ain't that simple but me and you, we're gonna get through this together, I promise."

  Her eyes softened and she wrapped her arms around me. I couldn't feel her touch but I felt her energy and it was filled with love. And then she was gone.

  I threw myself back onto my bed and cried.

  ***

  I woke up and checked the clock. Two hours had passed since I'd lain down and cried and I hadn't realized I'd fallen asleep. The kids had decided on a movie and texted me a selfie of them in the theater. Seeing them together and smiling tugged at my heart. It was a nice change from them wanting to kill each other.

  Mel sent a text to check on me, and I let her know I was okay and would call her in the morning.

  I'd cried out the anger and replaced it with determination. If I couldn't save Tiffany, I could give her family the closure they deserved. Maybe Tevin would understand that, too. I grabbed a notepad and pen from my nightstand and wrote down the details of my brief conversation with Tiffany. I circled the part about my knowing where she was, the part about being with Caroline, near the angel. What angel?

  Matthew's face flashed in my head. I'm supposed to tell you to listen for signs, he'd said. Listen for signs. Was the angel the sign?

  And then it hit me. My dream. Tiffany and Tevin were near an angel in my dream, an angel in a cemetery. Find that angel and I'd find Tiffany. No problem. Except there were probably over a thousand cemeteries in Georgia alone and triple the amount of angel statues. I sketched a poor rendition of the angel, and wrote down the details of the dream. I chewed on the tip of the pen, debating my next move. I could give contacting the Starks another shot or suck it up and call Aaron but neither option gave me a warm and fuzzy feeling. I went with the lesser of two evils and dialed Aaron's cell.

  "Hey," he said. "What's up?"

  "Tiffany Stark is dead."

  "You sure?"

  "Yup and she's with
Caroline, near an angel in a cemetery."

  "She tell you that?"

  "Yup."

  "Did she happen to tell you what cemetery?"

  "Nope."

  "There's over five thousand cemeteries in the state of Georgia alone."

  "I was thinking more like a thousand."

  "Maybe in just Atlanta."

  "She and Caroline are either related or close friends. If we find out who Caroline is, we'll have a better shot at finding Tiffany."

  "And you think this because?"

  "Because she had a picture frame with their names written on it. I'm pretty sure Caroline's dead, too."

  "Wait, she showed you a picture frame with her name and this Caroline's name on it? Did you get a look at the picture?"

  "Not exactly, no. The frame was empty."

  "She showed you an empty picture frame with their names written on it?"

  Why did cops always need specifics? It was so annoying. "No. She didn't show me the picture frame but yes, it was empty and their names were written on it."

  "Then how'd you see the frame?"

  "You sitting down?"

  He blew into the phone. "Jesus. I don't wanna know, do I?"

  "Probably not."

  "You talked to the Starks, didn't you? Jesus, Angela, I told you not to go there."

  "No I did not talk to the Starks. They weren't home."

  "Then how did you get the picture—Jesus Christ, Angela, you broke into their house, didn't you?" He must have said it through gritted teeth because Jesus Christ sounded like Jesush Christh.

  "Technically speaking, no we didn't break into their house. The backdoor was unlocked."

  "Oh, well good to know. You didn't break in, you just trespassed and then robbed them."

  "I just took an empty photo frame, that's not like real robbery and besides, I did it to help with an investigation. Doesn't that mean something?"

  "An investigation? You mean the Peachtree Crossings investigation? When did you start working with them in an official capacity?"

  "You know what I mean and our intentions were good."

  "Our? Who else was in on this? Oh wait, lemme guess, the supernatural sleuth and your sidekick. That's freaking great, Angela. Just great. Tell me you had the common sense to wear gloves. Even though your fingerprints aren't on file now, you keep doing this kind of crap and they will be."

  We hadn't even thought to wear gloves but that didn't matter since we'd spayed our DNA all over the bathroom. "Probably you don't wanna know about the puke in the bathroom then, do you?"

  "Puke in the bathroom? Tell me it's not yours."

  "It's not all mine."

  Aaron groaned.

  "It wasn't our fault. Their cat's dead and my God, I've never smelled anything like that in my life. It was bloated and nasty. Trust me, you woulda puked, too."

  "I've seen a lot worse than a rotting cat, Angela."

  I hadn't thought about that. "Yeah, you probably have but I haven't. Besides, Mel puked first."

  "Wow. Way to throw your friend under the bus."

  "Well, it's true. I was fine until she upchucked. I guess I have a sensitive gag reflex or something."

  "Tell me you took turns throwing up in the toilet."

  "We took turns throwing up in the toilet."

  "Did you really?"

  "No."

  "Jesus. But you cleaned up, right?"

  "I'm going to prison aren't I?"

  "You're telling me you entered someone's home without their permission, proceeded to upchuck in their bathroom and then left without cleaning it up?" He let out a string of curse words I'd never heard from him before. "What the hell were you thinking?"

  "I was thinking I wanted to figure out who this Caroline is so I could find Tiffany and return her to her parents safe and sound, but I can't do that now because I was too late and she's dead."

  That softened his anger. "You did what you could."

  "But it wasn't enough."

  He was silent long enough that I'd thought we'd lost our connection. "Hello?"

  "I'm here. You know if this wasn't all kinds of illegal it'd be funny."

  "I've never sympathy puked like that before. It wasn't fun."

  "I bet."

  "I want to find out who Caroline is and where she's buried. Can you help me?"

  He didn't respond.

  "Hello?"

  "I'm thinking."

  "I think we need go to the Peachtree Crossings Police Department." The words came so quickly I'd surprised myself. "Or not."

  "We can't just walk into the Peachtree Crossings PD and tell them you're a psychic and you know where Tiffany is. We need solid evidence."

  I hated that he was right. "Then what do we do? Let her remains stay wherever they are and let whoever did this to her get away with it? Let her parents spend the rest of their lives wondering what happened to their daughter?"

  "No." He paused. "Lemme think about it, okay? I'll get back to you."

  ***

  I took my cell phone, paper and pen, added a glass of Diet Coke to the mix and headed out to the deck with Gracie at my feet.

  Tevin shimmered in, in front of me. "I been doin' what you say, followin' Bach. Dude's a thug. He be all up in da hood talkin' smack 'bout me." He bounced and flitted around the deck. His energy so strong, a halo of orange surrounded it.

  "Did my mom go with you?"

  "She met up wit me on da fly. Said you saw dat girl an she be dead but you can't find her body."

  "Yes, Tiffany Stark is dead. I tried Tevin but I couldn't save her. I'm sorry."

  He floated over to me, and the halo surrounding him morphed to a soft pink hue. "You did what you could an you'll find her, an her parents can say a proper goodbye like my momma want wit me."

  "I'm definitely gonna try. I can promise you that."

  "Word up. You need to git da po po on Bach though 'cause they gotta get that nizzle. He be rollin' out quick, ya har me?"

  "Tevin, my version of English, please."

  He nodded. "He's been telling people that he pushed me off that bridge and he's planning to git outta town. You feel me?"

  "He admitted to pushing you?"

  "Yeah. Said I dissed him when I ganked his dime."

  "Ganked his dime?"

  "I disrespected him by stealing his girl."

  "Did you?"

  "Don't know. Can't remember."

  "Do you think Bach is going to run tonight?"

  He shrugged.

  "Hold on." I picked up my cell phone and dialed Aaron again. "I'm calling the po po."

  Aaron answered on the first ring. "Forget to tell me about another crime you committed?"

  "Hello to you, too and no, this time I'm calling about a case of yours, so don't be a tool."

  He chuckled. "Yes, ma'am."

  "Tevin's here. Says Bach's been talking smack and dissin' him for gankin' his dime. Said the nizzle is claiming he pushed Tevin off the bridge, and he's planning to roll soon, maybe tonight."

  "Wow, that was impressive."

  "I'm learning."

  "Uh huh."

  "Fine. I had to have him translate it."

  "That's what I figured. I'll get my guys on Bach, make sure he doesn't roll."

  "That's why I called."

  "Did he say anything solid about Bach pushing him?"

  "What do you mean by solid?"

  "Anything we can verify?"

  "That's your job. You're the po po."

  "Okay. I’ll get a team on him." Before he disconnected he said, "Do not leave your house tonight, you hear me?"

  "Yes sir." I clicked to end the call. "The po po is gonna keep tabs on Bach, and I've been instructed to stay put but that doesn't mean you can't keep tabs on him still. You feel me?"

  He nodded.

  "Okay, if he rolls before the po po show up, let me know and I'll tell them." I nailed the gang slang.

  "I'm down wit dat. Nizzle be lunchin' prolly from ice or some shit. He gone
end up dead from someone poppin' a cap in his ass."

  I tilted my head and tried to figure out what he'd said. "Yeah, I got nothin'."

  "I got this. Okay if I bust outta here now?"

  I flicked my hand at him. "Yes. Go. Report back if necessary."

  I leaned my head back and searched the sky for shooting stars. They reminded me of my dad and I desperately wanted a sign from him, his assurance that things would work out, that what I'd been doing wasn't in vain. "I really wish you'd make an appearance, Dad." Stars twinkled but none took flight and I didn't feel my father near.

  "Why'd you keep those ugly pajamas?" Ma asked, shimmering in near the fire pit. "I got them from Sue when I lived in assisted livin' 'cause you didn't want me at your house but I never wore them so they're ain't special or nothin'."

  Kudos to my mother for the little dig.

  "You didn't live in assisted living because I didn't want you at my house and you know it. You needed to be around people your own age, not sitting in front of my TV watching reruns of Walker, Texas Ranger." I picked at the pajama bottoms. "And I kinda like Eeyore."

  "Glad someone does, 'cause I sure don't."

  I changed the subject. "Aaron's gonna get the po po on Bach so he doesn't roll." I giggled. "I'm gettin' it down, aren't I?"

  "You be gettin' it, but you ain't phat, so you ain't no homie yet."

  "So you think I'm thin?"

  "Not f-a-t. P-h-a-t."

  "What's that mean?"

  "How should I know? I just repeat what I hear. But next thing ya know, I'll be hangin' wit da homies like Shoe Pack. She pointed to the sky. "The ones up there."

  "Shoe Pack?"

  "Yeah, that rapper that died a while ago. Tevin says he's gonna find him and hang out with him like I do with Johnny."

  "Never heard of him."

  "Sure you have. Tevin says he's the greatest rapper of all time and got capped early in his life so he's a legend now."

  I grabbed my phone and Googled Shoe Pack, the greatest wrapper of all time, and then I realized my mistake and deleted the w in wrapper. Up popped links to Tupac Shakur and I snorted. "Shoe Pack. That's hilarious."

  "What?"

  "It's Tupac Ma, not Shoe Pack. Tupac Shakur."

  She flicked her hand. "Too Pack, Shoe Pack. Same difference."