A Sight for Psychic Eyes

by Kelly Hashway

  “They are too. My uncle is loaded.”

  “He is not, you big liar. I’ve seen your uncle. He drives a piece of crap car. It’s rusty and dented all over.”

  Eric jumps up and grabs for the watch, but Jimmy swipes it away from his hand. “That’s my other uncle. My mom’s brother is rich. He’s a surgeon.”

  “Then he can afford to buy you another watch, so I’ll hold on to this one.”

  “Hey!” a voice yells from the stands.

  Jimmy drops the watch and takes off.

  The vision ends. I open my eyes, not sure what I’m supposed to take away from that memory. I already knew Jimmy was bullying Eric. I knew they played on the same baseball team. What was the vision trying to show me?

  I put the watch back down where I found it and continue to look around the room. Earlier, I’d been drawn to Eric’s desk. That has to mean something, so I go back to it now. Only this time, I sit down in the chair, pretending to be Eric. The chair is stiff, and the cushion isn’t broken in at all. There should be indentations from Eric sitting here, but there aren’t, which means he probably doesn’t sit here often. The desk is most likely for storage more than anything else.

  Everything here is related to baseball in some way. The books, the actual baseball, the stickers stuck to the shelf above the desk, even the pencils have baseball designs on them. Why is baseball so important? What am I missing? Getting an idea, I pull my phone from my purse and text Dad.

  Piper: Who is Eric’s baseball coach?

  Dad’s smart, so he won’t read the text and ask the Danson’s immediately. That means I need to keep looking in the meantime.

  I place my phone on top of the desk and open the top drawer, which was open this morning along with the other drawers. Mrs. Danson must have closed them. But that doesn’t seem right at all considering she didn’t want to step foot inside the room when Dad and I were here. Mr. Danson must have done it. He must have returned the watch as well. The top drawer contains a binder full of baseball cards in individual protective pockets. Eric is definitely baseball obsessed, but that’s not uncommon for a boy his age. At least, I don’t think it is. I return the binder and close the drawer, moving on to the next one.

  This drawer contains an old mitt, much too small for a nine-year-old. I guess it was Eric’s glove when he was younger. There’s also a uniform top with the number four on the back. I check the tag to see it’s a size five. I’d think saving stuff like this would be something Eric’s mother would do, not him. But I guess he really does love the sport.

  I move on to the bottom drawer, and I’m not at all surprised when I find a shoebox full of stubs from minor league games. Everywhere I look, it’s baseball, baseball, baseball.

  My phone vibrates on top of Eric’s desk.

  Dad: Coach David Atkins

  David Atkins. I let the name bounce around in my head, hoping to get an initial reaction to it from my senses, but I don’t get anything. I put my phone away and lean back in the desk chair. “What am I missing? Come on, Eric. Give me something to work with so I can find you.”

  “Do you always talk to yourself?”

  My head whips in the direction of the door to see Michael Danson. “Sometimes it helps me think.”

  “My wife told me you’re psychic.”

  Here it comes. I’m not in the mood to listen to him tell me how I’m wasting his time when a real detective could be locating his son. “Look, Mr.—”

  “I looked you up. You saved that Belinda Maxwell girl. You also helped the Weltunkin PD solve a few other missing persons cases.”

  “I did.” I give a curt nod, still not sure if he’s going to say he doesn’t believe everything he reads online.

  “You used a necklace or something to find that girl. If I give you something of Eric’s, will it help you find him?” He looks more hopeful than skeptical.

  I stand up and hold out my arms. “That’s what I’m trying to do here, but so far I’m not having much luck.” I lower my arms. “Other than baseball, what does your son like?”

  “That’s pretty much it.” He walks over to the desk. “The only books he’ll read are about baseball. If he’s not in school, he’s playing baseball or going to games with his uncle.”

  Uncle Joe again.

  “He’s really close with his uncle, huh?”

  “Yeah. He—”

  “Michael!” Judith’s shrill cry pierces the air, making me jump. She appears in the doorway a few seconds later with Dad right behind her.

  “What is it?” Michael asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

  My mind races with a million thoughts: She received a ransom note. The police found Eric’s body.

  “The hospital just called. Joe never showed up for surgery this morning.”

  Because Uncle Joe couldn’t go to work if he kidnapped Eric and Jimmy.

  Chapter Four

  While Judith worries about her brother’s well-being, I skirt around her in her husband’s arms and whisper to Dad, “We need to find him.”

  Dad nods. “We’re going to look into this in case it’s related to Eric’s disappearance.” His ability to sugarcoat things to soften the blow is admirable. “Don’t worry. We’re going to do everything we can to locate your missing family members.”

  “Miss Ashwell,” Mr. Danson calls after me as I start down the stairs. “If you need me to bring you any personal effects, let me know.”

  “I will.” I give him a small nod before proceeding to Dad’s car. I get in and click my seat belt into place. As soon as Dad’s in the car, I fill him in on my discoveries. “Everything in Eric’s room is related to baseball, and my visions are, too.”

  “I figured as much when you texted me asking about his coach.”

  “I was wrong about that. It’s the uncle. I’m sure of it.”

  Dad pulls onto the road, his eyes meeting mine for a split second. “You’re sure? Did you see something about Uncle Joe?”

  “No, but Eric was talking about him in the vision. I think he loves Eric. Maybe too much. Like he wishes Eric was his kid.”

  “He’s a surgeon, so that doesn’t leave him much time for a family,” Dad says. “But why kidnap Eric when they already have a great relationship?”

  “I don’t know.” I look down at my hands in my lap and twist the ring on my pinky finger, noting that Judith Danson and I have the same go-to move when we’re deep in thought. I count the number of times I spin the ring. Counting is calming. It clears my head when there are too many thoughts bouncing around inside it.

  Dad gets on the phone and tells Wallace about Joe Lehman’s possible disappearance as well. We need every available cop out there looking for him, because I’m sure finding him will result in finding Eric and Jimmy as well.

  “Uncle Joe loves Eric so much he kidnaps him. And I’m guessing he took Jimmy because Jimmy was bullying Eric. Maybe it was a case of wanting to scare Jimmy enough that he’ll never mess with Eric again.”

  Dad gives me another sideways glance. “But if he was planning to take Eric away, why would he bother kidnapping Jimmy?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe he thought Jimmy deserved to suffer for hurting Eric.”

  “Is that the truth or are you speculating?”

  “Both, I think. I’m not sure, though. My thoughts feel so muddled.” I rub my temples and lean my head back against the headrest.

  “Headache?” Dad asks. “There are aspirin in the glove compartment.”

  I lift my head. “You carry aspirin with you now?”

  He bobs one shoulder. “You never know when you’ll need it.”

  “You’re not speaking in generalities. You’re referring to me specifically.”

  Dad just smiles in confirmation.

  “Even so, I can’t take aspirin if I want to use my abilities for the rest of the day.”

  “I think what you really need is some food.” Dad pulls into a pizza place in a strip mall on Ninth Street. “You stay here. I’ll run in and grab
a few slices for us. What can I get you to drink?”

  “Anything but soda.”

  “Lemonade it is.” He gets out and jogs toward the door of the pizzeria. Just as he’s entering, I see Detective Brennan walking out. I sink lower in my seat, hoping he won’t spot me, but Dad gestures over his shoulder to the car. Just wonderful.

  Brennan smiles and heads right for me. I let out a huff when he indicates I should lower the window. I shrug and say, “Sorry, the car’s off.”

  Brennan reaches for the door handle before I have a chance to lock it and pulls the door open. “You look like crap, Piper.”

  “Well thanks, Detective. I’m having a long day.”

  “And it’s only lunchtime,” Brennan says. “Work taking a toll on you?”

  “You could say that.” Though it’s not as draining as having to put up with him.

  “Even so, you’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  I roll my eyes in response, which makes him laugh.

  “Ouch. You could have just returned the compliment. Or a version of it. Am I a sight for psychic eyes?”

  “Wow. Not only are you full of yourself, but you make terrible puns.” I reach for the door handle and pull it shut, quickly locking it and leaning my head back again. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him walking away. Why every woman on the planet seems to be infatuated with him is beyond me. I can’t imagine his lines working on anyone with a smidgeon of a brain.

  Dad comes back a few minutes later with two lemonades, a stack of napkins, and a box containing four slices of pizza. “Did you play nice with Mitchell?”

  “I treated him exactly how he deserves to be treated.” I grab a slice of pizza and take a big bite, indicating I don’t want to talk about Mitchell Brennan.

  Dad grabs a slice from the box and takes a bite before starting the car. We don’t talk on the way to the hospital. Since we know Joe isn’t at home, we figure it’s the best place to go to start asking questions about him.

  I finish my pizza and take a sip of lemonade before asking, “Think we can get a search warrant for Joe’s house?”

  Dad gives me the “you should know better” look.

  “Right. No real evidence.” My visions are never considered real evidence in these cases. I can’t prove what I know. I have no concrete clues to show anyone at the station. Not that I want to go to the station and have the likes of Brennan and every other officer there laugh at me.

  “Pumpkin, we work in a field where seeing is believing. You know that.”

  “Yeah, I do. The problem is I’m the only one who can see these things.”

  Dad chuckles. “That’s true. The world would be a lot better place if we all had your abilities.”

  No, it wouldn’t. The population count would decrease at an alarming rate, and the human race would probably risk extinction if everyone had my aversion to touching. The only people who don’t make me cringe are Mom and Dad. And dogs. I love dogs, even if, ironically, Mom and Dad’s dog, Max, doesn’t particularly care for me. I don’t bother to correct Dad, though. I’m not in the mood to discuss my feelings. I’d much rather just find Eric and close this case.

  By the time we arrive at the hospital, the pizza and lemonade are long gone. I’m feeling a little better now that I have some food fueling me. Dad flashes his badge to get us through to Joe’s superior, a guy named Dr. Blake Peters.

  He motions us into his office near the surgical wing. “What can I do for you, Detectives?” he asks, taking a seat at his tiny desk. I find it odd that he doesn’t have a big mahogany desk given he probably makes more money in a year than I will see in my lifetime. But I suppose the hospital supplied the desk.

  “When was the last time you saw Joe Lehman?” Dad asks, sitting down across from him.

  I choose to remain standing. I need to see Joe’s office. That’s where I’ll find real answers.

  “He got out of surgery yesterday at six in the evening. After that, I can’t say where he went.”

  “And he never showed up this morning?” Dad continues.

  Dr. Peters laces his fingers on the desktop. “That’s correct. I had to call in another surgeon to work on Mr. Coleman.”

  I tune him out, looking around the room at the diplomas and awards hanging on the walls. “Could we see Dr. Lehman’s office?” I blurt out.

  Dad gives me an admonishing glare.

  “Please?” I add. “We believe Dr. Lehman’s disappearance might be connected to another case we’re working on.”

  “Is Joe in any sort of trouble?” Dr. Peters asks. “We run extensive background checks on our employees. If—”

  “I’m afraid we can’t discuss any details of the case with you, Dr. Peters. I’m sure you understand since you deal with doctor-patient confidentiality,” Dad says.

  “Of course. Well, all our offices are hospital property, so I guess it’s okay if I let you inside. They’re never locked anyway.” He stands up and motions for us to follow him.

  We cross the hallway to a door with no sign on it.

  “You don’t label your offices?” I ask.

  “No. It’s not uncommon to lose our offices when we need more rooms for patients. That’s why they’re so sparsely furnished.” He turns the knob and opens the door. Just like Dr. Peters’s office, Lehman’s contains a desk, three chairs, and a computer. I’m assuming the computer might be my best option for getting a read. Unless, Joe has a metal letter opener in his drawer.

  “We won’t be long,” Dad says.

  Dr. Peters consults his watch. “I have a consultation with a patient, but if you need any help, Josie at the desk should be able to assist you until I’m finished.”

  “Thank you,” Dad says. “I’m sure we’ll be fine.”

  Dr. Peters nods and walks off, probably assuming we won’t be able to get into any confidential files on our own.

  I head right for Joe’s desk chair and sit down. Instantly, I’m weighed down by an overwhelming air of stress. I place my hand to my chest.

  “Piper, are you okay?” Dad asks.

  “Yeah, it’s just I can feel how overworked and stressed out he is. He’s under so much pressure.” I know what I’m feeling isn’t real, but it’s not always easy to convince my body of that fact. I reach for the keyboard, bringing the computer out of sleep mode.

  “Password protected,” Dad says, looking over my shoulder. “Child’s play for you.”

  I close my eyes and envision Joe sitting where I am. My fingers move across the keys without me even computing what I’m typing. The desktop comes into view, but it’s not the folders or icons I’m drawn to. It’s the wallpaper. A picture of Eric in his baseball uniform. A sense of calm washes over me. Or rather over Joe.

  “Eric is what keeps him sane. He has so much pressure in his life, and Eric calms him.”

  “Do you think he took Eric to escape from that pressure?”

  “Maybe.” I know he was hoping for a definitive answer, but I don’t have one.

  “Piper, is Joe a good surgeon?”

  “Yes,” I answer right away.

  “Does he love his nephew?”

  “Yes.” I know what Dad’s doing, and I close my eyes and clear my mind, allowing me to answer the questions honestly and truthfully.

  “Would he ever hurt him?”

  “No.”

  “Did he kidnap Eric?”

  “No.”

  “Then where is Joe?”

  “Looking for Eric.”

  My eyes snap open at my comment. When we play the question game, I never know what’s going to come out of my mouth. What I do know is it will be the truth. “Joe didn’t take Eric. He disappeared because he’s trying to find him.”

  “Does that mean he has an idea of where Eric is?”

  I’m no longer in my meditative state, so I can’t say for sure. “It would seem so.”

  Dad frowns. “Can you read anything else in here?”

  I open the top drawer, looking for a good object to read. T
here’s no letter opener, but there is a metal pen with Joe’s name engraved on it. I pick it up with my left hand first and meet Dad’s gaze. “Here goes nothing.”

  I transfer the pen to my right hand, and my eyes close.

  Eric walks into the office and sits down in the chair across from Joe. “I can’t wait for the game this weekend.”

  “Me too, buddy. Me too.” Joe’s forcing a smile on his face.

  “What’s wrong?” Eric asks.

  “Nothing. Just a busy day.”

  “You’re not telling me something. I always know when you’re trying to hide something from me because your forehead wrinkles.”

  “It does that because I’m getting old.”

  Eric shakes his head. “Forty isn’t that old, Uncle Joe.”

  Joe lets out a long breath. “I should know I can’t fool you, Eric.” He leans forward, resting his arms on the desk in front of him. “The truth is, I was scheduled for surgery tomorrow. I’m going to have to take a raincheck on our plans.”

  Eric’s eyes widen, and then his face falls. “Oh. I understand. Saving someone’s life is more important than a baseball game.”

  “It’s not about the game, Eric. You’re my favorite person in the whole world. You know that, right?”

  Eric nods.

  “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”

  “It’s okay. There will be other games.”

  “There will. I promise. And I have a surprise for you.”

  Eric’s face brightens. “You do?”

  Joe nods and opens the top drawer on the left side of his desk. “I was going to wait until your birthday to give this to you, but I think now is as good a time as any.” He pulls out the signed baseball in the display box.

  Eric jumps to his feet. “You got it? You really got it?”

  Joe walks around the desk and hands the ball to Eric. “I told you I would.”

  Eric throws his arms around Joe. “You’re the best! This is way better than going to the game.”

  “Make sure you put this somewhere safe, okay? And don’t tell that Jimmy Schumacher about it, either.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be really careful with it. Thank you, Uncle Joe.”

  “Is Jimmy still giving you trouble?” Joe asks, pushing Eric back just far enough to look him in the eyes.