Uncharted Territory (An Angela Panther Mystery Book 3)

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  "Lacrosse mom," Mel hollered behind him. "And it's a crossover, not a car."

  I elbowed her in the side. "Stop it. You're making it worse."

  She pressed her lips together. "It's a fact and he's a cop. He likes facts."

  The spirit chuckled. "That's Scott for ya. Always was a pain in the ass, with no sense of humor, either."

  "It sure would be great if you'd do something to help me out here," I said.

  "Like what?"

  I dropped my head back and gazed up to the sky. "Seriously? Is this what you call help from above?"

  The spirit laughed again. "Oh all right. Hold on." He faded out and then instantly faded back in right next to Price. I'd never seen a fader before and I had to admit, it was pretty cool.

  "What's happening?" Mel asked.

  "Nothing yet. Except that we're probably getting arrested."

  "Nick's gonna sue me for custody, for sure."

  "Shoulda thought about that yesterday before we trespassed."

  "I was trying to help you, so don't get pissy at me. I've got a lot more to lose here and you know it. If you go to the slammer you've got Jake to raise your kids. My kids'll be living with The Cheater and his ho and they'll be calling her mommy." She scratched the back of her neck. "I need to start hanging out with someone who doesn't see the dead."

  "Cool. I'll give you Pam Ryan's number."

  She rolled her eyes at me.

  Price walked back and handed me my license and then flipped over his notepad and held it right up in my face. "You have two outstanding parking tickets on a Harley Davidson 2009 Fat Bob."

  "Okay."

  "The bike's in your name?" Mel asked.

  I nodded. "That way I can sell it if he abuses the privilege."

  "Seriously?"

  "He wasn't thinking with the right head. Harleys do that to men."

  "I guess so."

  "I can take you in for these," Price said, waving the notepad at me.

  "Aw man, he's pulling your leg," Breyer said. "It's a typical scare technique cops use. Don't fall for it."

  "You were supposed to help me, remember?" I said.

  Price thought I was talking to him. "Excuse me?"

  "Not you." I pointed to where Breyer hovered and then realized I was the only one who could see him. "The dead police officer who's laughing his butt off because you have no sense of humor and are trying to scare me into thinking you can arrest me for parking tickets."

  Price stared right through his dead friend. "How do you know about Breyer?"

  "She already told you. She sees dead people," Mel said.

  Breyer lost it. "She's hilarious."

  "Not so much," I said.

  "I'm taking you in," Price said. "You either need to be in jail or a mental institution, I don't know which. But we'll start with jail." He pointed at me again. "You, stay." He barged back to his car.

  Breyer did his nifty disappearing trick and reappeared at the car door. He waved his hand and the door slammed shut. Price stopped dead in his tracks.

  "Did the ghost do that?" Mel asked.

  I nodded.

  Price grabbed the door handle but nothing happened. He pulled it with both hands and it still wouldn't budge. "What the hell?"

  Breyer stopped laughing long enough to talk. "Pigheaded Price ain't strong enough to open the damn door. You tell him I said that. Make sure you call him pigheaded, too."

  Calling a detective pigheaded wasn't going to win me any points. "Detective Price, the door isn't going to open. Please let me talk to you."

  He yanked at the door again and dropped the f-bomb. Mel giggled but I knew a bomb was ready to explode.

  "If you'll just give me a minute, Detective."

  He flicked his head in my direction and the narrow slits where his eyes once were made my skin crawl. He charged and stopped short just inches from me. "What?"

  I went to get my phone from my purse but Price grabbed hold of my arm. "Don't." His other hand rested on the butt of his gun.

  "Get my phone and call Detective Aaron Banner. He's in my contacts. He can explain."

  He released my arm but kept his hand on his gun. "I don't need to call anyone."

  I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm not crazy, Detective. I thought I was at first. I mean, seeing my dead mother's ghost was a little disconcerting, you know? And when other ghosts popped up I thought I should be institutionalized but—"

  "Ang," Mel said.

  The verbal diarrhea wouldn't stop. "Then the universe decided to teach me a lesson and after my father died, I couldn't see them anymore and I—"

  Mel grabbed my arm. "Angela."

  "What?"

  "Stop talking."

  "But I'm trying to—"

  "Stop. Talking."

  "But he's gotta know so we don't—"

  That time Breyer cut me off. "Tell him it wasn't his fault."

  "What wasn't his fault?" I asked.

  Breyer flicked his head toward Price. "Just tell him before he strokes out."

  Price's fists were clenched and his face the color of blood. "Breyer told me to tell you it wasn't your fault."

  "What was I thinking? He's not gonna believe that," Breyer said. "He's so close-minded. That's why we nicknamed him Pigheaded Price in the academy."

  "That's why you wanted me to call him pigheaded? Because he's so close-minded? Great."

  "What'd you say?" Price asked.

  "She does that a lot," Mel said. "Repeats things dead people say."

  I smacked her on the arm. "You're not helping."

  "Helping what? You dig yourself into a deeper hole? At least I'm giving him the 411."

  "I asked you a question," Price said, the words low and raspy.

  That got our attention.

  "I wasn't calling you pigheaded. Breyer was. Detective, I'm a psychic medium."

  "A psychic medium huh?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "So you're saying William Breyer is here, right now?" He pointed to the ground. "And he told you to call me Pigheaded Price?"

  "Actually he's right there." I pointed to Price's right. "But yes, he told me to call you that. He said that's what they called you in the academy because you were so close-minded."

  His mouth twitched, so I took that as a good sign. He inspected the area around him and I knew he was searching for something only I could see. "I think it's time we go to the station."

  Crap.

  The spirit raised his hand. "Tell him to calm the hell down and listen to you. Tell him you're not bullshitting him and wouldn't waste his time with some jacked up excuse of a story if you didn't know what the hell you were talking about. And if he had any brains in that pig head of his, he ought to start using them."

  "I can't say that," I said to Breyer.

  "Say what?" Price asked and then glanced at Mel. "What's your role in this little scam? You the researcher? You look for people in crisis and prey on them with your fake friend here?" He pointed at me. "Or do you two trade duties? One time you're the psychic and the next you're the faithful sidekick?"

  Mel's jaw clenched and her torso stiffened. A serious case of Asian anger, brewed just under the surface and I knew it was about to explode. "Mel."

  Her jaw twitched.

  I pleaded with Breyer. "I could really use some help here."

  Breyer filled me in on his history with Price and I repeated it almost word for word. "Breyer said you two went through the academy together and were partners for five years. He said every morning you had to have an Egg McMuffin and a small coffee or you were a bear for the rest of the day." I raised my hand, palm up. "Bear was my word. His choice wasn't something I feel comfortable saying."

  Price's mouth hung open.

  "You tell that son of a bitch I've been hanging around him for fifteen years now, trying to get through to that pig head of his," Breyer said.

  "He said he's been around for fifteen years, trying to get through to that pig head of yours. He really likes calling you t
hat, too."

  "You're telling me you can see Billy? That he's here? Right now?"

  I nodded and watched Price's face morph from disbelief and anger to something close to belief.

  "Holy shit," he said.

  Mel crossed her arms and nodded. "She gets that a lot."

  "There's more," Breyer said. "He needs to know he's not responsible for my death."

  "He wants me to tell you you're not responsible for his death."

  "She's not lying," Mel said. "She might be a little crazy, but she really does talk to the dead."

  "Thanks for that," I said sarcastically.

  "Any time."

  Breyer continued with their story. "Fifteen years ago, on December 23rd, we responded to a fifty-eight. It wasn't our first. We knew they had the potential to be dangerous but we were seasoned cops. Been partners for five years already and were invincible. We approached with caution and followed procedure like we always did but I messed up."

  "Go on," I said.

  "When we rang the bell and announced ourselves the door opened and three shots hit me right in chest. I wasn't wearing my vest. Just didn't feel like putting it on that morning, so I didn't."

  "Oh wow."

  "I dropped like a bear shot in the woods," he said. "But Price here, he fired his weapon and took the shooter down. He knew what to do and he did it. I knew what to do too but I was lazy and it cost me my life."

  "Is that what you want me to tell him?"

  He nodded. "He thinks it's his fault. That if he'd drawn his weapon sooner or if he'd been the one to ring the bell he would have been shot and he would have lived because he had on his vest. But it was supposed to happen the way it did. He's the better cop than me. He needs to know that. He needs to know it wasn't his fault and I don't blame him."

  "Okay." Maybe Price wasn't such a jerk after all. He'd carried that guilt for fifteen years it was my job to make him understand it wasn't his fault. "Detective, your partner just told me what happened. First, I'm so sorry for your loss. I can only imagine how that must have been, standing there and seeing your partner, your friend, get shot like that." I summarized Breyer's message. "He doesn't want you to feel responsible. You couldn't have known he wasn't wearing his vest."

  Price's eyes searched for Breyer.

  "Do you have anything you want to say to him?" I asked.

  He squeezed the top of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "Jesus Christ."

  "Nope," the spirit said. "William Breyer. Tell him to get that shit right."

  I did and I giggled about it, too.

  His eyes went to Mel. "You say she's for real?"

  "There's not a doubt in my mind that what she's telling you right now is the truth."

  "Jesus."

  "Tell him to get over it already so I can move on. That light is so damn bright it's hurting my eyes and I got family up there," Breyer said. His energy vibrated and I knew he was itching to leave.

  "He said he wants you to get over it already because he wants to go be with family."

  Price's eyes widened. "I, uh…I…"

  "I know. It's a lot to take in. I get that but if you want to say anything to him now's the time because he's not going to stick around much longer."

  "It should have been me," Price said. "I always took first position but that day I told him to and it cost him his life. He was the better cop. He would have been my boss someday."

  "Things happened the way they did for a reason," Breyer said.

  I relayed the message.

  Price shook his head. "What I do? Who I am now? I owe it to you," he said. "I do this to honor your memory. I'm not the cop you would have been, the cop you were but I work hard and I get the job done. Because of you. For you."

  "I know," Breyer said. "Now let this woman help you. She's right. The girl is dead and she can find her."

  I mouthed thank you and gave Price the rest of his friend's message with a big grin plastered on my face.

  I repeated the message to the detective, with a big ol' grin plastered on my face. When the spirit went to the light, we all felt the energy around us change.

  "Well?" I asked.

  He flipped open his notepad again. "So tell me what you know about Tiffany Stark."

  I plucked my notepad from my purse and laid it all out for him. I detailed Tiffany's visits, filled him in on my dream and the angel. He listened intently, taking notes as I spoke. I told him my theory. "Caroline is the key," I said. "We find her, we find Tiffany."

  "Let's finish this at the station," Price said.

  "Wait, are we under arrest?" Mel asked.

  "Not yet," Price said, but he was smiling and I knew he'd definitely become a believer.

  ***

  "That was close," Mel said as we waited for Price in the interrogation room of the Peachtree Crossings Police Department.

  "Too close for comfort," I said.

  "You think he really believes you?"

  I stood with my face smashed into the mirrored window on the back wall. "Think there's anyone watching us?"

  "That depends on the answer to my last question."

  "What question?"

  "Do you think he believes you?"

  I tapped on the window. "Hello? Anyone there? I'm kind of thirsty? Think I can have a Diet Coke?"

  "Maybe it's a trap," Mel said.

  I flipped around and leaned against the window. "What's a trap?"

  "This. Being here. Maybe he didn't believe you and just wants us to think he did so he could get us to the station and arrest us."

  "Probably he would have just arrested us and brought us in if he didn't believe me."

  "Yeah but what if he's sneaky?"

  I pulled out a chair next to Mel and sat. "He believed me. Breyer wouldn't have left if he didn't."

  "I hope so. I asked Nick to keep the kids for the night just in case. Maybe when we're finished here we can see if Detective Price wants to go for a beer or something?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "You know, cops like to have a beer after a hard day, so I figured we'd tag along."

  I raised my eyebrows and shook my head.

  "What? He's kinda cute."

  "Good grief."

  "I have a thing for men in uniforms, I can't help it."

  "He's wearing jeans and a collared shirt."

  "Yeah, the standard detective uniform."

  "I'm probably going to regret saying this but you really need to get laid."

  "Ya think?"

  "Lord help the first man that happens with."

  "Trust me, the Lord won't wanna be anywhere near that."

  I stuck my finger down my throat and made gagging sounds.

  She smacked my arm. "Rude."

  I snorted.

  Detective Price walked back into the room with a file about five inches thick and two cans of Diet Coke. He handed us each a soda, opened the file, and pushed it to us. "Caroline Saunders."

  Mel squeezed my arm. "Oh my God, we're so gonna solve this case."

  Price chuckled and Mel batted her eyelashes at him and I wanted to gag for real.

  I studied the photo. "I'm not sure. I've never seen her."

  "It wasn't a question. Caroline Saunders was Tiffany's maternal first cousin. Died in a car accident four years ago. Her father, Tom Saunders, Tiffany's biological uncle, was driving. He was convicted of vehicular homicide, second degree. Punishment of time served, six months, and a five hundred dollar fine."

  "Five hundred dollars? That's it? For killing his daughter?" Mel asked.

  The detective gave Mel a one-sided smile. "The fact that his daughter died because of him is punishment enough, don't you think?"

  Mel sunk in her chair. "I'm sure."

  "The whole thing went down about a year before Tiffany went missing. The Stark family got hit hard twice in a short time."

  Price said he was the lead detective on Tiffany's case. So when a neighbor called about suspicious people at the Starks' house, he'd got the call. Wh
en he showed up there yesterday, we were already gone. He'd come back again on a hunch. Mel tapped my knee with hers and I knew that was her way of saying, thank God we didn't get busted yesterday. We'd yet to tell Price about the bathroom issue.

  "The reason the Starks haven't been home is because Saunders committed suicide last week. They're in Tennessee with Sheri's mom."

  "Hold on," I said, and then stood and paced the room. "Tiffany told me whoever had taken her hadn't been back in a while." I flung my hands in the air. "It was Saunders." I grabbed my purse from the table. "Where's Caroline buried? That's where Saunders has Tiffany."

  Mel jumped from her seat and grabbed her purse, too. We both raced to the door but Price blocked our exit. "Whoa, hold on, ladies. Before you go running out that door I've got a few more questions." He pointed to the table. "Sit, please."

  I dug my heels into the floor. "I told you, Tiffany made it very clear she's with Caroline."

  "And I heard you, Mrs. Panther but you can't just charge outta here hell bent on finding the girl. We might want to find out where Caroline Saunders is buried first."

  "Oh. Can you do that?"

  He extended his arm out toward the table. "Please, have a seat and I'll see what I can find out."

  Mel tossed her purse back onto the table. It skidded to the other side and tumbled to the floor, the contents, including Vinnie the Vibrator, spilling out.

  Price's eyes popped and his upper lip twitched. Mel saw his expression and followed his eyes to Vinnie. It took a second to register but when it did, she flung herself across the table, legs dangling and arms flailing. She landed on the floor with a splat, scooped up Vinnie and stuffed him back into her purse. She stood and scraped her hands down her waist. "Sorry for the mess." Her face was a deep shade of red.

  I wanted to tell her to not sweat it, that Price probably didn't realize what Vinnie was but all that came out was, oh my God, and incessant laughter.

  Price tried not to smirk but failed. "I'll be right back," he said, and left the room.

  I flung my head back and cracked up. "Oh my God. What the hell is Vinnie doing in your purse?"

  Mel sat and pounded her head on the table. "I stuffed him in there so the kids wouldn't see him. I guess I forgot to take him out."