Khalilah nodded. “It’s no problem. Are you going to find Angie’s mother?”
“Yes.”
“You came here today for her, didn’t you,” Khalilah said. “It wasn’t about your BTSA.”
“Well, I’m still going to write this up for my portfolio,” Veronica said. “I enjoyed watching you work. You have a great way of bringing humor to your lessons that I’d like to emulate.” She sighed. “But it’s true that I can’t seem to focus on anything work-related these days. Lots going on, not just with Angie. But today it is all about what happened to Angie.”
“I hope you can figure out who was with her. If they did abandon her that way, they should have consequences,” Khalilah said. “But, if you don’t mind my asking, why isn’t her mother doing the investigating?”
“She is, on her end,” Veronica said. “I offered to come here because I had an in, with the BTSA stuff. I’ve been a friend of the family for a long time. Angie is like my niece. And I really am worried that this boy is dangerous.”
Khalilah nodded, knitting her eyebrows.
Veronica scribbled her number on the edge of a page of her notebook and tore it off. “Here,” she said, holding it out to Khalilah. “If you hear anything, or think of anything, you can call me.” It reminded her of when Detective Seong gave her his card. Maybe she should have cards made up. Veronica Barry: Psychic Detective. Her stomach did an uneasy little flip. Yeah, no. That wasn’t her. She was just helping out a friend. If she’d realized anything from the Monday fiasco with Sylvia’s viewing and the scene at the police station, it was that she didn’t have a future in solving whodunnits.
Khalilah took the paper and went to her purse, putting it away in an inner pocket. “I will, if anything comes up,” she said.
“Thanks again for letting me into your class.”
“It was no trouble. I hope you find out what you need somehow.”
Chapter 14
An hour later at the dog park, Veronica tossed a ball for Harry. Two yellow labs joyfully joined in chasing it down. Harry made friends easily with other dogs and had no trouble sharing the ball. A German pointer joined in the next time Veronica threw it, although he was already running around with a sock that had been stuffed with something in his jaws. Harry grabbed one end of it, and there ensued a friendly game of tuggy.
“Veronica!” Melanie called as she came through the double gate into the park. Veronica waved.
Harry abandoned the sock toy and ran back over to Veronica.
“Where’s your ball?” she asked him. He looked around. Sure enough, one of the labs had made off with it. She found another slimy one that had been left behind and gave it a hard toss. Harry barreled after it.
Melanie reached her side. “Look at him go,” she said.
“He loves this. Almost as much as running around off leash at Folsom.”
“So, don’t keep me in suspense. You said you got some more information?”
Veronica nodded but didn’t smile. She was frustrated with all these little bits and pieces. She wanted the puzzle to come together already. She knew there was a picture here that she couldn’t see. And she was afraid of what it would reveal about Grant Slecterson. But if she didn’t find out what it was, he might hurt another girl. Or, she argued with herself, he might not. She still had no proof that the whole thing wasn’t just a bad prank gone wrong. She had no way of knowing what the vision of the girl at the river really meant.
“Not enough information,” she said, to Melanie. “But some.”
“Well, come on,” Melanie urged her.
“Okay. I sat through three French classes at Saint Pat’s. Angie’s teacher is very nice, by the way, and she’s a badass—a Ph.D. and she’s National Board certified—you never said anything.”
“Yes, yes, she’s very good, V. Get to the juicy stuff.”
Veronica sighed. “Okay, so I saw a couple of things.” She described how isolated Angie seemed.
Melanie’s face darkened.
“And her teacher seems to think she’s been having some kind of trouble for several weeks now—that whatever it is started long before Valentine’s Day.”
“She hasn’t said anything.”
“I don’t imagine she would say anything. She wouldn’t expect you to understand—you’re her mother, you’re an adult—kids think adults never experienced anything like what they’re experiencing. I can’t tell you how many students give me the big eyes when I tell them I’ve seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show. They’d probably keel over if they knew I used to be an animator.”
“An animator—what…?” Melanie held up a palm and squinted her eyes, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Let’s stay focused on what you found out. Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” Veronica nodded. She watched as Harry wrestled with a boxer who was living up to his breed name and punching Harry in the nose with one of his paws. Harry didn’t seem to mind—he had a few tricks of his own and in a flash he whipped the boxer on his back. “There are these two girls in Angie’s class. Their names are Mary Elizabeth Ow-something—it was a difficult name, Russian or Polish I think. And Antonia Pecore. Do you know them?”
Melanie shook her head. “I’ve never heard Angie talk about either of them.”
Veronica gave her Khalilah’s take on the girls, and how they were mean to Angie. “But I saw Angie in the car with them.”
“When?”
Veronica waved her hands. “No—not ‘saw them’ saw them. I mean I touched Angie’s hand and I had a vision of her in the car with them. On the way to the river. There were a lot of other kids in that car, too. At least four, maybe even five or six. They were sitting on each other’s laps.”
“Wow, you mean you see it like a movie?”
“Sort of—like I’m seeing Angie’s memory.”
“Has it always been like this? You seeing things like this?”
Veronica frowned and kicked at a clod of dirt. “I don’t know. If I saw things before I just dismissed it. You know how something can just pop in your head. And it was never as clear. It’s been getting clearer since I opened myself up to it. Now it’s like for a moment I go away—I leave where I really am and go to whatever the vision is showing me. It’s weird.”
“I bet,” Melanie said. She pursed her lips, gazing out at the dogs. “Okay. So you saw these girls—that Doctor Jadeed told you have a history of picking on Angie—in the car with her on the way to the river.”
“Yes.”
“Do you think they forced her to go with them?”
Veronica took in a deep breath. “I don’t think so. I didn’t have any feeling of being forced, or struggle,” she said as two yellow labs came panting up to them. “One of the girls was sitting on Angie’s lap.”
Melanie nodded and scooped up a stick. She threw it hard and the labs raced after it. “Did you see anything else?”
Veronica shook her head. “There is one more thing, though,” she added, pushing at a tuft of crabgrass with her toe. “But you have to promise me not to do anything with it.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“It’s something Doctor Jadeed said. And she shouldn’t have said anything, Melanie, she could get in a lot of trouble for telling me,” Veronica said, focusing on Melanie’s face.
“What?” Melanie demanded. “Tell me.”
“Promise me you’re not going to go and talk to the principal about this. Not until we have other evidence for you to use. I don’t want to get her in trouble, not when she was trying to help.”
“Yes, Veronica, of course,” Melanie said, raising her eyebrows.
Veronica eyed her. “Okay,” she said, still feeling uncertain. She could just see Melanie barging into the principal’s office at Saint Pat’s and demanding to know why they had a meeting about Grant Slecterson. “You promise?”
Melanie rolled her eyes. “I promise I will not go all psycho-mom and rat out Khalilah Jadeed, okay?”
Veronica smiled. “
Okay, sorry. She said she didn’t know Grant Slecterson personally, but that she knew the name.” Veronica explained about the SI meeting as she watched Harry sniff-greet one of the yellow labs.
Melanie began wringing her hands. “Did she tell you why they had one for him?”
“No, she wouldn’t go that far. She already could lose her job just for telling me they talked about him in one of those meetings, Mel. She went out on a limb, and she doesn’t know me at all.”
Melanie nodded, still wringing her hands. “Yeah, I see. I wish she’d told you what it was about. And I take it you didn’t get anything off her.”
“No. I don’t think she had any really strong memories or associations to Grant Slecterson or any of this mess, honestly. And one thing I have noticed—I don’t seem to get much extra info.”
“You mean all your visions and all that—it’s all related to Angie and what happened to her?”
“That or Sylvia Gomez and what happened to her.”
Melanie nodded. “Anything new there?”
“No, nothing,” said Veronica. Harry raced around the park in a pack of other dogs. “I feel like it’s this very slippery thing. And it’s slipping farther and farther away.”
Together they walked to a bench and sat down.
“I’m sorry, V.” Melanie said.
“Sorry? Sorry for what?”
“I’m so worried about Angie I can barely think of anything else. And meanwhile, you’re going through something, too. I mean, this is a big deal, this psychic thing.”
Veronica glanced around, but all the people were far away. She looked back at Melanie. “Yeah, it’s hard to sort out.”
Melanie asked, “How do you think it works, this—this information you get?”
Veronica shrugged. “I’m not sure. I think that nightmare that I had—I think I was seeing what Sylvia was seeing.”
“You mean right at that moment?”
Veronica nodded and described the way sometimes she saw memories, too.
“Can you be sure that what you saw in your nightmare happened right that moment?”
Veronica shook her head, smoothing her skirt. “I can’t be sure. I’m not sure about anything. But I think it was different—not a memory. I was convinced that if I could just get there in time I could save her. I don’t think I would have felt that way if it was already over.”
Melanie gazed at her. “What about the sound you heard, of the river? That led you to Angie?”
“Yes! That wasn’t a memory either. That was real time. I think I was hearing what Angie was hearing. You know, that night wasn’t the first time I heard it,” Veronica said, glancing at her.
“It wasn’t?”
“No. Do you remember when we were sitting at the mall, and Angie asked you for permission to go to the dance, and you thought I shook my head?”
“Vaguely.”
“Well, I was shaking my head because I had this noise in my ears,” Veronica said, raising a hand to her ear. She ran her fingers into her hair. “At that moment I thought it was static. It went away as soon as you told her no. And then the night it all happened I heard the static again. Except when I listened I realized it wasn’t static. It was rushing water.”
“Unreal,” Melanie said, patting the head of an English setter who came up to say hello. “It must be so strange.”
Veronica shrugged. “It is and it isn’t. It’s not like this is something that just started out of the blue. It’s like you said. I’ve always had it. I just wouldn’t acknowledge it. I pushed it down, I closed myself off from it. But it was always there. It’s been such a relief not to fight it anymore.”
“Have you thought anymore about why you feel so bad about it?”
Harry tore past within a foot of where they were standing, a horde of dogs in pursuit. He’d stolen a toy, Veronica saw. As the horde stampeded by, she and Melanie had to pull their legs to the side not to get tangled up in their tumult.
“In answer to your question, I have thought about it, and I’ve come up with nothing. I think I’m going to go visit Cybele over spring break and see if she has any answers for me.”
Melanie nodded, then checked her cell for the time. “Okay, hon, I’m out of time. I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
“Oh yeah, I’m fine,” Veronica said.
“Well, it’s going to be time to pick Angie up in a few minutes here. Thank you, Veronica, for going to her school today.”
“I’m just sorry I didn’t get more answers.”
Melanie smiled at her. “You got a lot more than I had. I’m going to see if I can gently pry a few more from my tight-lipped daughter this evening over dinner.”
“Good luck with that,” Veronica said with a laugh.
“I’ll make fried chicken.”
“Ooh, working the favorite dish,” Veronica said. “You are devious.”
“I’ll call you and tell you how it went.”
“Please do. I’d like at least one of my mysteries to get solved.”
Chapter 15
When she led Harry out of her car and up her front walk, Veronica was surprised to see Detective Seong and Detective Felsen coming from her front door. She stopped walking, unsure of how to greet them. They hadn’t seen her yet. For a split second she considered trying to hide behind a car. Yeah, that’s mature, she scolded herself. But with Detective Felsen’s threats still ringing in her ears, and the embarrassment she felt about the scene she’d made at the police station—even if she was right about what she’d said—Veronica thought she’d be happy if she never saw Seong or Felsen again.
She settled for clearing her voice. Seong looked up. Felsen stopped in her tracks.
“Miss Barry,” he said. “I thought we’d missed you.”
“I was at the dog park,” Veronica answered, indicating Harry, who strained his leash to reach Seong and give his knees a hello sniff. Seong stepped closer and crouched, scratching Harry behind the ears and receiving a puppy kiss for his efforts. Harry certainly liked him. Veronica noticed again how good-looking he was. She could make out how lean his waist was despite the jacket he wore, and she liked the angular shape of his face.
“Good dog,” he said to Harry. He straightened up.
Harry leaned forward to approach Felsen, and the hair on his rump stood on end. Felsen seemed to return the sentiment. She kept her distance.
Veronica wondered why they had come by. Seong wasn’t acting angry, so maybe he wasn’t there to tell her off. “Would you like to come in?” she offered.
“I wouldn’t mind,” he said.
Veronica walked by Felsen, pulling Harry along so he couldn’t sniff her. He barked at her as they passed. Well, Veronica thought, if I had my doubts about you before, lady, they are all confirmed now. Seong followed behind her, and Felsen trailed last in line.
When Veronica opened the door Binky and Blossom were peeking out of the bedroom. One look at Detective Seong and they zipped back in. Veronica took Harry to the back yard, unhooked his harness and then shut the door. She glanced around her duplex and wished she’d picked up the place that morning before going to Saint Patrick’s. She grabbed some used dishes from the coffee table and took them into the kitchen, leaving Seong and Felsen standing in the living room. “Would anyone like a cup of tea? I’m going to have one,” she called.
There was a pause. “Sure,” Seong answered.
“Peppermint, ginger, or black?”
“What kind of black?”
She leaned out of the doorway to see what they were doing. Felsen stood just inside of the door. Seong gazed at her painting. She cringed. She hated for people to see a painting before it was done. “Um, it’s just breakfast tea,” she said. He turned to her.
“Okay, I’ll have a cup of that.”
She heated water in a two-cup porcelain teapot in the microwave. Then she brought out the mugs and set them on her table. She put a tea bag in each: black for Seong, peppermint for her. When the microwave beeped she used a pot holder
to carry the teapot to the table—its biggest flaw was how hot the microwave made it. She poured the water into the mugs and sat down to wait for her tea to steep, trying to pretend that Seong wasn’t staring at her painting, and Felsen wasn’t hovering over her like some red-haired vulture.
“The tea’ll be ready in a minute or two,” she said.
“Hm,” he responded. Then he glanced over at her. “It’s very nice,” he said, nodding toward her painting.
“Thanks,” she said. “It’s for a friend. A co-worker, actually. She commissioned it.”
“Well, well. You’re a professional artist.” This from Felsen.
“I guess so. It’s the first time I’ve done one for money.”
“Your friend likes angels?” Seong asked.
Veronica shook her head. “No, that’s all me. I always paint angels. Well, that angel.”
“Why?”
Veronica grimaced. “I’m not sure. You’re not the first person to ask me that. I just… I don’t know, I guess my creativity is just limited…to angels.”
“That particular angel,” Seong said. He gazed at the painting. “She’s very beautiful, your angel.” Felsen snorted and crossed her arms.
“Uh, thank you,” Veronica said, casting a glance at the woman.
“Do you… see her in your mind?” Seong asked.
“What?” Veronica said, looking back at him. “Um, I guess so. You know, I imagine her, so I can paint her.”
“But you don’t talk to her,” he said, cocking his head to the side as he looked at the canvas.
“What? No,” Veronica said. This conversation was getting too weird.
“You know, she kind of looks like you.”
“What! No way,” Veronica exclaimed.
“She does—the curve of her eyebrow. The color of her eyes. The shape of her nose, too, I think. Somewhat.”
Veronica fiddled with the tea bag’s tag. “Okay, um. Detective Seong, was there some reason you came here today?” She made a point of addressing him, since he seemed to be the one interested in talking. And because she didn’t want to give Felsen any reason to open her mouth.
The River and the Roses (Veronica Barry Book 1) Page 12