Eric’s room is painted a pale shade of blue, and there’s a baseball themed border along the walls near the ceiling. The bed is unmade, which is to be expected since Eric was taken while he was asleep.
No.
That’s not right. He wasn’t asleep. But that means he got out of bed before he was taken. If I don’t know where he was, I don’t know what to read. I rub my forehead with my middle finger and thumb.
“What is it?” Dad asks, and I turn to see Mrs. Danson is gone.
“I don’t think the kidnapper ever came in here.” My eyes scan the room, looking for any sign of a struggle, but there is none. The desk drawers are open, but Mrs. Danson already said they’d searched for clues about where Eric might have gone, so I’m assuming they were left open in that search.
The closet door is also open. It’s a tiny space, and I don’t get the impression that anyone was using it as a hiding place while Eric fell asleep.
“No. I don’t think he was in here.”
“He?” Dad asks. “Why do you say he?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you sensing the kidnapper’s gender, or are you just defaulting to that pronoun?” Dad knows me too well. He knows the right questions to ask and how to lead me to find more clues. But in this particular case, it’s not really helpful. At least not at the moment.
“I’m not sensing anything. Nothing at all.”
Dad’s phone rings again. He huffs, and even though he doesn’t say it, I know he’s wondering what else could possibly have happened to make this case even worse. “Detective Ashwell.”
I move closer to him, hoping to hear the other side of the conversation. Dad notices and puts the call on speaker.
“He’s not being charged since there’s zero evidence against him.”
I recognize the voice as Officer Wallace.
“Tensions are really high down here. I’m almost afraid to release either one of them because they’ll most likely try to kill each other.”
“Jimmy’s father is still at the station?” I ask.
“Hello, Piper. I should have known your father would call you in for this case,” Wallace says. “Jimmy’s dad is still here. I sent his mother home in case the boy turns up there.”
“Michael Danson didn’t take either of the boys,” I say.
“I don’t suppose you can tell me who did.” Wallace is one of the few officers who doesn’t scoff at my abilities. That’s not to say he completely buys into them either.
“Not yet,” I say.
“Thomas, do you want to talk to either of these guys before I release them?” Wallace asks Dad.
“Couldn’t hurt,” I mouth.
“Yeah, be there in fifteen.”
“You got it.” Wallace ends the call.
Mrs. Danson shows up in the doorway. “Was that about Michael?” she asks Dad.
“Yes. I’m going to head to the station when we’re finished here so I can speak with him.”
“Is he in any trouble? Should I call a lawyer?” She’s twisting her wedding band again.
“No. I don’t believe he is.” Dad gives her a comforting smile.
She nods and starts to walk away.
“Mrs. Danson,” I call after her.
She stops and turns back to me.
“Did Eric have trouble sleeping at night? I mean, was he known to get up for a drink of water or anything?”
She inhales a shaky breath. “He has a habit of sleep eating.”
My eyes widen at her. “Sleep eating?”
“It’s what we call it. Eric wakes up because he was eating. I have to keep nightlights all throughout the house because he’ll get out of bed and walk downstairs to the kitchen. He’s not fully awake when he’s doing it. It worries me. One night, I heard him downstairs, and when I got up to check on him, he was standing in front of the refrigerator, eating cold macaroni and cheese right out of a Tupperware container.”
So, it’s possible Eric got out of bed to get something to eat and the kidnapper took him from there.
“Does that help at all?” she asks, looking hopeful.
“It just might.”
She nods and starts back downstairs.
“Want to go check out the kitchen?” Dad asks.
“I do, but let me finish looking around here first. I’d like to read a personal item of Eric’s, and my best shot at finding one is in here.” I walk to the desk by the window. There are a few books, all about baseball. I’ve read books—as in read the energy off them—before, but it’s not personal enough. A signed ball is in a display box. That won’t help either since it’s for display, meaning Eric probably didn’t touch it much.
“What about this?” Dad asks, standing by the dresser. He holds up a watch that looks like it belongs to a wealthy business man, not a nine-year-old boy. “Any chance this isn’t Eric’s?”
“Meaning you think the kidnapper somehow left it behind?” I ask, walking over to him. “I doubt that. One, the kidnapper didn’t take Eric from here. Two, the kidnapper wouldn’t put the watch on the dresser as if it belonged there. And three, I’d think Eric’s parents would have noticed it immediately.”
“Okay, then it’s not a calling card the kidnapper left behind.”
No.
“My senses are giving me a hard no on that one. But it is still odd. What nine-year-old has an expensive gold and diamond watch?”
“Let’s find out,” Dad says, starting for the door, the watch still in hand.
I don’t really want to leave the room yet, but if it turns out the watch really does belong to Eric, I can read it after we ask his mother about it. We find Mrs. Danson in the kitchen making a cup of tea.
“Finished already?” she asks. “Would either of you like a cup?”
“No, thank you,” Dad says. “We were wondering if this is Eric’s watch.” He holds it up for her to see.
She scowls. “I know what you’re thinking. We weren’t exactly happy about it either, but his uncle bought it for him for his last birthday. We don’t allow Eric to wear it outside of the house. Especially with…”
“With Jimmy bullying him?” I ask. It makes sense they’d be afraid an older kid would try to steal the watch, maybe even beating up Eric in the process.
“My husband would never…” A sob cuts off her words.
“Like I said, I don’t think your husband did anything.” Other than try to scare the boy tormenting his son.
“Thank you.” She swallows so hard I can see her throat constrict.
I hold my hand out to Dad, asking for the watch. He gestures to the kitchen table. I resist the urge to roll my eyes at his overprotective Dad plea. Instead, I take a seat, force a smile on my face, and extend my palm for the watch.
He places it in my hand and sits next to me.
“Whoa! Are these real diamonds?” Eric asks, holding the watch in both hands.
“That they are.” The man standing next to Eric smiles, clearly pleased by Eric’s excitement.
“Joe, that’s way too expensive a gift,” Mrs. Danson says.
“Oh, come on, Judith. Eric is practically a man now. Besides, he needs something to show those other boys he’s better than they are.”
Judith smacks Joe’s shoulder. “Stop that right now! Don’t you go making this situation any worse than it already is. No one is better than anyone else.” She directs the last sentence and a wag of her finger at Eric.
“Can I keep it? Please, Mom? I won’t even tell those guys I have it.”
Judith gives Joe an admonishing glare. “Fine. But you can only wear it in the house, understood?”
“Yes!” Eric throws his arms around his uncle. “Thanks, Uncle Joe.”
I place the watch on the oak kitchen table. “I take it Joe is your brother.”
“Yes. My very wealthy brother.”
I don’t bother to mention that a lot of people in Weltunkin are wealthy. This house isn’t exactly small by any means.
“Joe i
s always buying things for Eric. He even paid for a really expensive baseball clinic this summer. Eric spent two weeks in London training with the highest paid coaches. Joe went with him.”
“Sounds like someone is vying to be the favorite uncle,” Dad says.
Uncle. That word makes my arms tingle. “Did Joe ever stop by late at night?” I ask.
“Sometimes. He lives right here in Weltunkin. About five minutes away, actually. Why?”
She’s already upset enough that her husband is being detained for questioning. Can I really tell her I’m questioning her brother’s involvement in Eric’s disappearance?
“It’s nice to have family close by in times like this,” I say, not meaning a word of it. I stand up and nod to Dad. “We should get going. We don’t want to keep Mr. Danson waiting at the station.”
Mrs. Danson walks us to the door and places her hand on my arm. I do my best not to cringe away from her touch, playing it off as me turning to face her better, while making sure to pull free from her grasp at the same time.
“You’ll release him, right? I can’t lose him, too. Not with Eric…” Her voice trails off.
“You can expect your husband back home within the hour,” I say.
Dad eyes me, knowing I have information to share with him once we’re out of the house.
We get in the car, and as soon as Dad backs out of the driveway, I say, “I’m getting a weird feeling about Uncle Joe.”
“Weird enough for me to run him through the system?”
“Weird enough that I think we should go pay him a visit right now.”
Chapter Three
Dad convinces me to stop at the station on the way to Joe’s house. If we don’t talk to Michael Danson, he’ll tell his wife, and then she’ll wonder why we lied to her. But more so, we don’t have a last name for Uncle Joe yet, which means looking him up will take more time than I’m willing to spend. My plan is to get the name and address from Michael and send him on his way.
Like every time I enter the Weltunkin police station, I’m greeted by multiple pairs of eyes gawking at me. Dad is pretty much the only friendly face I see here, but I don’t have time to ponder my lack of popularity. Wallace is sitting at his desk with two men. Why he’d put them side by side when he’s worried they’ll beat the crap out of each other the second he releases them is beyond me.
Dad marches right over to them and dismisses Jimmy’s father, who gets up and storms out without another word. I guess he’s not a big fan of the Weltunkin PD at the moment.
“Michael Danson?” I ask, jumping right into it.
“Who’s asking?” His gaze narrows on me, wondering who the hell I am since I don’t have a uniform or a badge.
“Piper Ashwell. I’m a private investigator helping with your son’s case. This is going to sound strange, but I need you to give me the name and address of your brother-in-law Joe.”
Michael’s eyes widen. “What do you want with Joe?”
I thought I’d made that clear—or as clear as I’m going to. “His name and address, please. Time is of the essence where your son is concerned.” If he doesn’t spit out the information soon, I’m going to be forced to read him, which won’t be pleasant for either of us.
Dad places his hand on my arm, and I take a step back, knowing he’s about to jump in with his good cop routine. “Mr. Danson, we’d like to speak to your brother-in-law since he’s very close to Eric. It’s possible Eric confided in him and mentioned something that could help us find him. So, if you could please give us his name and address, we’ll get you out of here and back home to your wife, who could really use your support right now.”
Michael shrugs one shoulder because Dad’s explanation is completely logical. “Joe Lehman. He lives on Orchard Ave. It’s the big white Victorian on the corner.”
“Thank you.” Dad turns to Officer Wallace. “Mr. Danson is free to go.”
Wallace huffs but motions for Mr. Danson to leave.
We all walk out together, and before we get in Dad’s BMW, Michael asks, “Do you think Jimmy is missing because he did something to Eric?”
I know that’s what he’s thinking, but it’s not at all what I believe to be true. “No. But I do think Eric and Jimmy are together.”
“You think someone kidnapped them both?” He doesn’t look convinced.
“I do. Let’s hope your brother-in-law knows something that can help us find them.” More like, let’s hope I can read the guy and see where he’s keeping the boys. I just wish I knew why Eric’s own uncle would want to kidnap him.
Dad drives to Orchard Avenue. The house on the corner comes into view immediately, considering it’s three towering stories tall. Even the garage is insanely huge, fitting four cars.
“I wonder what good old Joe does for a living to afford this place,” I say as Dad pulls up the long driveway to the house, passing a fountain on the way.
“We’re about to find out everything we need to know.” He cuts the engine, and we walk up to the front door.
Dad rings the bell, but we get no answer. He turns to me, his expression clearly asking what I want to do. Meaning do I want to try to read anything out here.
I look around for something Joe might have touched on numerous occasions. He wouldn’t ring the bell, and he most likely enters the house from the garage, but he’d use the garage door opener in his car, so there’s nothing to help me there either. I doubt he maintains his own yard. “I’ve got nothing,” I say.
“Can you sense him at all from out here?”
I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. I let Joe Lehman’s name and face fill my mind. His dark hair. His blue eyes. His thin moustache. The smile on his face when he gave Eric the watch. Nothing comes to me. Nothing at all. I open my eyes and shake my head. “Sorry.”
Dad places his hand on my shoulder. “Nothing to apologize for, pumpkin. We wouldn’t even have this lead if not for you.”
“Not true. You found the watch in Eric’s room.” Which makes me wonder why I didn’t sense anything from it. Sure, I’d been by Eric’s desk, not his dresser, but I’m the one who reads energy off objects, not Dad. Something is wrong here. If Joe is our guy, why can’t I get a read off him?
“Maybe we should go back to Eric’s bedroom. I’m missing something.”
“Michael must be home by now. Are you sure you want to go back there?”
“He likes you. You can play nice with Eric’s parents, and I’ll read every damn item in Eric’s bedroom if I have to.” It beats waiting for Joe to come home from wherever he is.
“You know your visions always mean something. If you saw Joe giving Eric the watch, it has to be important.” Dad’s gaze is almost coddling. Too supportive.
“Not necessarily. I read the watch because there was nothing else to read. I didn’t find it on my own. That could mean the memory I read off it has nothing to do with this case.” I should have followed my instincts in Eric’s room. Instead, I’d allowed Dad to lead me to the watch. I should have known better.
“Did I tamper with your abilities?” Dad asks. “I was only trying to help. You asked for something metal.”
“I did. It’s not your fault.” It’s just more proof that I really am meant to live a solitary life. My abilities work best when I’m working on my own. Not that I’d ever tell Dad that. He’s the best partner I could ask for, and I love working with him.
“Want me to keep the Danson’s occupied downstairs while you do your thing in Eric’s room?” Dad asks, making me wonder for the millionth time in my life if he can read my mind.
“Would you mind?”
He puts his arm around my shoulder. “Happy to help.”
“I don’t understand,” Judith says, gripping her husband’s arm as if she can’t support her weight on her own, which is absurd considering she’s almost as thin as I am. I wonder if she has a fast metabolism like I do. “You’ve already searched Eric’s room. What else could you have to look for?”
How about his kidnapper? I restrain my urge to snap at her as Dad tries to nicely and calmly explain how police procedures work. I don’t care much for police procedures. I’m a private investigator, not a cop. Though I do have to follow the rules if I don’t want my license revoked. That’s another reason why I work with Dad. He makes sure I’m not breaking the law when my methods deviate from typical police protocol.
Michael holds up a hand to stop Dad. “I don’t need an explanation. I need my son back home, safe. Go do what you have to do.” He motions up the stairs.
“I’d like to ask you both a few questions while Piper inspects the bedroom, if that’s okay with you.” Dad gestures toward the living room.
Mr. and Mrs. Danson follow him as I head upstairs. The first thing I notice is that the watch is back on the dresser. Part of me wants to read it again in case I missed something about the vision it already gave me. Another part of me thinks it’s only a waste of my time. And considering we don’t know why Eric was taken, we don’t know what kind of time line we’re working with. There’s been no ransom demand, which only supports my theory that Eric knew his abductor. I’d gotten that impression from the start, and I’m not going to ignore it. Of course, that also makes Uncle Joe the most likely suspect at the moment.
“Damn it.” I reach for the watch again, gripping it tightly in my right hand and closing my eyes.
“What’s that you’re wearing?” Jimmy asks, advancing on Eric in the dugout.
Eric’s gaze lowers to his wrist. “Oh no. I forgot to take it off.” He quickly removes it, but before he can stuff it in his duffle bag, Jimmy yanks it from his hand. “Hey! Give that back!”
“Where’d you steal it from?” Jimmy asks, holding it higher than Eric can reach.
“Nowhere. My uncle gave it to me. Now give it back. I’m not supposed to wear it out of the house.”
“There’s no way these are real diamonds,” Jimmy says, squinting at the stones.
A Sight for Psychic Eyes Page 2