chapter 2
“One-Night Nick? Was Sadie sober?” Brandee’s bartender-roommate stretched the kinks out of her shoulders after a long shift.
“I think so. I can usually tell when Sadie’s had enough.” Brandee dropped onto the soft sectional in their living room, removed her shoes, and massaged her aching feet.
“Do you think she was dealing from the bottom of the deck?”
“Nope. She was shuffling the cards as she always does.”
It was nice of Angie to attempt to discredit the psychic to make Brandee feel better, but Sadie was never wrong. Never.
“Did she come right out and say it was a prediction?”
“Kinda, sorta, not really.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“Something about having a premonition that I’d be meeting Mr. Right soon. Then she said the next man through the door could be the love of my life…and Nick walked in.”
“She said ‘could.’ That means she could be wrong.”
“Have you ever known Sadie to be wrong? I think she just says ‘could’ because she doesn’t want to imply a person has no free will. Maybe she’s afraid of being wrong if a person is determined to prove her wrong.”
Angie gave her a sympathetic look. “Maybe. Or maybe there really aren’t any guarantees. I know she’s constantly been right before, but there’s always a first time to mess up, right?”
“Let’s hope so. I need my heart broken like a nunnery needs a condom dispenser.” Brandee rested her elbows on her knees and dropped her head in her hands. “I thought maybe the jerk-face who dumped me was my ticket out of Boringsville.”
Angie scrutinized her. “What do you mean?”
“You know. Living above the place I work. Struggling to make ends meet and hopefully save a little money for a rainy day. Hell, I thought I might even be able to afford my dream of owning a gallery if he and I…” She let out a long sigh. “Forget it.”
“You’re kidding. You really expect some guy to swoop in and rescue you from a life you don’t like?”
“No! Oh, my female gigolo…no.” Brandee shook her head emphatically. “It’s just damn hard to make it as an artist and support myself at the same time.”
“Did you think he was Mr. Right?”
She shrugged. “Mr. Possible, maybe.” Time to change the subject. “By the way, as soon as you’re ready for bed, can I commandeer the bathroom for the rest of the night?”
“Oh, crap. Did you forget you’re lactose intolerant again?”
Brandee snorted. “No. Do you hear me burping up a lung? And for your information, I don’t forget my condition. I just forget to take my medication with me sometimes and then can’t resist a special treat.
“I want to set up a temporary darkroom in the bathroom. I have to begin selling my work, not just to get a few dollars ahead, but also to build a name for myself.”
“I get that. So what do you have to do to sell your photographs?”
“Create a look or product no one else has. Make my name synonymous with that product. Capitalize on opportunities for publicity, and make everyone who can afford my work want to collect it.”
“That’s all, huh?” Angie gave her a sympathetic look. “I’ll get you a glass of wine.”
“I’ll get it. You do that all day.”
Angie was already walking toward the kitchen. “It’s how I show I care.”
Brandee chuckled. “It’s how you support yourself. Besides, I know you care. Otherwise I wouldn’t have told you what I’m going through.”
“Yes you would,” Angie called from the next room. The refrigerator door opened and clunked shut. A few moments later she strolled back into the living room, holding two glasses of white wine. “You tell me everything.”
“Do you ever get tired of it?”
“Tired of what? Your train wreck of a life?”
“Not just mine. Lots of people tell you more than you want to hear. It looked as if someone was talking your ear off when I was getting Nick his beer.”
“Nah. That was just a tourist wanting recommendations for cheap hotels. Like fifty bucks a night.”
Angie handed her a glass of Chardonnay, and Brandee took a welcome sip. “Fifty dollars? In this city?”
“Yeah, that’s a hoot, huh? I tried to recommend the hostel I’d heard about, but they weren’t interested.”
Brandee leaned back against the loose pillows. “So, getting back to me…if you were in my knockoff shoes, would you accept a date with Nick Wolfensen?”
“Not unless he changed his policy.”
“That’s what I was thinking. But how do you tell a guy to completely change his lifestyle?”
“Just come right out and say it. Someone needs to.” Angie sipped her wine.
“I guess so. I’ve got nothing to lose if there’s nothing to gain.”
Angie scratched her head. “I think that made sense.”
Brandee thumped her feet onto the coffee table and crossed them at the ankles. “Okay, I’ll confront him.”
“Good. Do it where I can watch.”
“Pervert.”
***
“Nick, I know this is your first case, but we’re desperate. The mayor’s stepdaughter has been kidnapped.”
“Desperate?” That’s hardly a vote of confidence. “If you’re so desperate, why use a brand-new PI? There are plenty of options for a kidnapping case.” Nick wanted the job, but his cop instincts told him something didn’t sound right. Captain Hunter had arranged this meeting fifteen minutes ago. They met at Boston Uncommon but left the bar immediately so they could talk in private.
“There are paranormal circumstances, and we don’t have time for lengthy explanations.”
“I see. What are these ‘circumstances’?”
“She’s a fire mage.”
Nick’s eyebrows shot up. “Shit.” He stopped at a bench and glanced around. No one was within earshot, so he and Hunter sat down. “Do you think the kidnappers know this?”
“Don’t know. No ransom demands have been made. There’s been no contact at all.”
“Any witnesses?”
“A neighbor thought she heard something like a muffled yelp of surprise, but when she looked out her window she didn’t see anything.”
“Where were her parents?”
“The mayor was at City Hall and her mother was in the house. She didn’t think she needed to supervise a twelve-year-old in her own backyard. Now she’s sick with guilt.”
Nick felt for the poor woman. The best way to help her was to find her daughter. “So they may have kidnapped her for her power.” Nick rubbed his chin. “The criminal who’s not looking for money is usually looking for some kind of power.”
“It gets worse. The girl doesn’t know what she can do yet. A female fire mage won’t realize her power until the first solar eclipse after she hits puberty. Her mother kept putting off telling her.”
“Shit. She’s untrained and unprepared. Her parents must be frantic.”
“To put it mildly.” The captain rested his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “This case could make or break your career. I wouldn’t blame you if you decline, but I hope you won’t. I think you’re our only hope.”
How could he refuse? Not only would he feel responsible if anything happened to the girl, but she could burn the city to the ground if the kidnappers couldn’t teach her how to control the power she didn’t even know she had—the power to set fires with no more than a thought.
“I’ll do my best.”
The captain let out a long breath, as if he’d been holding it for a while. “You’d better do better than your best. The next solar eclipse is in nine days.”
***
“Sadie, I need your psychic services.” Nick slid into the booth opposite the woman who was becoming famous for her gift. Anthony’s aunt was certainly good for business. The bar had never been this busy in the afternoon.
“You know the drill,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, yeah. The one-drink minimum.”
He held up his finger to catch Wendy’s eye. He’d have preferred Brandee to wait on him, but he didn’t see her.
Wendy strode right over. “What can I get you?”
“What are you drinking, Sadie?” Nick asked.
“Aren’t you having anything?” Sadie seemed surprised. Maybe she wasn’t all that psychic after all.
“No. I need to be sharp.”
“White Russians are my favorite.”
“One White Russian for the lady and a glass of water for me, please.”
“Sure ’nuff,” Wendy said. She practically skipped away and threaded through the Friday afternoon crowd.
“So, what did you need my services for?” Sadie asked.
“A case.”
“I wonder if congratulations are in order first. Either you’ve been promoted to detective or you have a brand-new job altogether.”
“The latter. I’m a PI now.”
“Wonderful. Police work is dangerous, and you’ll have a family counting on you…someday.”
He chuckled. “You’re not going to hijack this conversation, are you? Because I didn’t come here to ask about my love life. I know that’s your specialty, but…”
“Not at all. Just stating a fact. Besides, you’re better than a beat cop.”
“Thanks, I think. What’s wrong with being a friendly, neighborhood police officer?”
“It’s the uniform. It’s like wearing a target on your chest. As I said, you need to watch out for your safety.”
The word “target” hit him like a shock wave. Is that some kind of prediction? A moment later, he decided, nah, it couldn’t be. After all, she was talking about the uniform. He’d left the force and wasn’t going back.
“Okay. Message delivered. Back to business, then.” Wendy interrupted just long enough to deliver Sadie’s drink, then flitted away. She’d forgotten Nick’s water, but he really didn’t care.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Nick continued. “It’s my first case. What I tell you has to remain confidential. Can you do that?”
“I keep all of my readings confidential.”
“I don’t need a reading, just your vibes or premonitions or something. You’re supposed to be psychic with or without the cards. Right?”
Sadie’s lip curled up on one side, and she began shuffling the cards anyway. “Go on.”
“The mayor’s little girl has been kidnapped. There’s no ransom demand—so it seems as if they have another purpose.”
“I hate to say it, but there are a lot of things they could want with a public figure’s daughter. Blackmail, maybe?”
“I doubt it. The mayor’s afraid to involve the police. He’s worried he’ll never see Katie again if this goes public. He’s still hoping some sort of demand will follow, but none has.”
Mayor Bennett had let his good friend the police chief know about the situation, as well as the delicacy with which it had to be handled. It turned out to be the right call. Chief Stone spoke to Captain Hunter, and Hunter spoke to Nick. But they’d let him know that if he screwed up, they’d never use his services again. Neither would anyone else.
Nick tapped his foot in frustration. How much does Sadie know about the paranormal side of Boston?
“I know there are many paranormal factions in this city,” she said, as if she’d heard his thought clearly. “If neither ransom nor blackmail are involved, I get the feeling this girl might be gifted in some way and her captors want to exploit her gift for their own purposes.”
Nick straightened. “Bingo. That’s what I was thinking. What else can you tell me?”
“What else can you tell me?” she parroted.
Nick shifted uncomfortably. Still, this was important enough to take a chance on Sadie’s discretion. “The little girl is a fire mage. She has no idea what’s about to happen to her. Her mother never told her about their inherited curse, much less taught her how to control it. Now that she’s entered puberty, her power will be triggered on the next solar eclipse—eight days from now.”
Sadie nodded. She spread the cards across the table. “Pick seven.”
Nick huffed. “I don’t think those cards can pinpoint her location.”
“Is that what you wanted?”
“I had hoped you could sense her, but if not…” He started to get up.
Sadie reached over and covered his hand. “Don’t leave. If you have something that belongs to her, I might be able to help you.”
“Okay, good.” Nick got comfortable again and pulled a small plastic bag out of his pocket. “This is her hair. Can you get anything from that?”
Sadie took the bag and opened it.
She didn’t ask how or why he had the girl’s hair. Maybe she already knew. As a wolf, Nick could sniff out any victim. A reminder of her scent would help if he didn’t locate her quickly. There was another reason to have a hair sample…one he didn’t want to think about. So when he’d seen the girl’s hairbrush in her bedroom, he’d snagged a few.
***
Brandee trotted down the stairs from her apartment over the bar to start her shift. As she breezed in, she noticed Nick leaning over the table toward Sadie. They were talking in hushed tones.
That’s weird. Nick never consults Sadie. He doesn’t seem like the type.
But there he was. Sadie had spread the cards out and he was turning over a few of them. Brandee wondered what would change a skeptic’s mind and make him want to… Oh dear. She knew Sadie took an interest in the employees’ love lives, but so far she hadn’t bothered the regular patrons.
On the other hand, Brandee hadn’t seen him in his uniform for quite some time. Today he was wearing a black polo shirt and jeans. I hope he hasn’t been laid off. People who didn’t believe in psychics sometimes got desperate enough to try anything if they were in trouble.
Brandee might not want to date him—correction, she totally wanted to date him, but she didn’t want to be discarded after only one night. She’d been dumped in every possible way, including via text message. There was no reason to encourage a guy whose mantra was “Love ’em and leave ’em.”
Even so, she considered him a friend, like many of the regulars. How could she find out what had happened without putting Sadie in the middle?
No one sat near Sadie’s booth that she could wait on, but—ah-ha—the next booth over needed to be cleaned up. Brandee grabbed an empty tray and a damp cloth, then casually made her way to the empty booth.
Nick’s back was to Brandee as he said, “Is that all you can tell me, Sadie? She’s in the theater district? Nothing more?”
Sadie glanced at Brandee, who quickly went to work wiping the table.
“I’m surprised I could tell you that much. The cards aren’t really designed to pinpoint locations. Is there any other information you can give me that might spark some of my purely psychic senses?”
“She’s twelve.”
Twelve? Dear Lord, I hope Sadie isn’t talking about his future wife.
Nick continued talking. “And as you could see already, her distinguishing characteristic is white hair.”
“White? I thought it was platinum blond.”
“No. She was born with no pigment in her hair at all. The pieces you saw were broken off. It’s long. Halfway down her back.”
Brandee couldn’t believe what she was hearing. He was describing her little cousin Katie. The daughter of Boston’s new mayor and Brandee’s new step-uncle. But why?
“How long has it been since her kidnapping?” Sadie asked.
Brandee snapped upright. “She’s been kidnapped?”
Nick craned his neck to look behind him. “How much did you hear?”
Brandee rounded on him. “Enough to know you’re describing my cousin Katie. What’s happened to her?”
“I’m not at liberty—”
She tossed the rag on the other table and crossed her arms. “I’m not going anywhere until you answer my question.”
Nick patted the seat. “You’d better sit down.”
Brandee slid in beside him. He smelled good. A faint hint of spice tantalized her.
“I’m working as a private investigator now, Brandee. I’ve been hired to find a missing girl. What’s your cousin’s last name?”
“St. George.”
“Whew. Wrong kid. Your cousin’s in the clear.”
“Wait. She was adopted by her stepdad. I forgot about that. Her name was probably changed to his—Bennett?”
Nick blew out a slow breath. “I’m sorry. Kate Bennett is the little girl I’m looking for.”
Brandee’s jaw dropped and she couldn’t speak for a moment. Nick placed his big hand on her shoulder and massaged it. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m…I’m just a little shocked. How can I help?”
“What can you tell me about her?”
“Probably nothing more than her parents could. We’re not that close. I mean, the family gets together at my grandparents’ home every Christmas Eve, but she’s so much younger than I am. I mostly say ‘Hi, Katie. How’s school?’ She says, ‘Fine,’ and then I go off to talk to the adults.”
Guilt washed over her. What a horrible person I am. If Nick brings her home safely, I’ll play with her, braid her hair, take her places. All the things I should have been doing before this.
Nick didn’t look as if he judged her for it. He just waited, maybe hoping she’d recall something that could help.
“She’s in seventh grade at Cambridge Academy, and she plays soccer.”
“Yes, I’ve talked to most of the teachers, her coach, the parents who drive her to and from practices, and her teammates.”
“Then you probably know more about her than I do.” Brandee dropped her gaze to her lap. “I wish there was more I could tell you.”
He placed a gentle hand on her thigh. A warm tingle rushed through her.
“Me too. But don’t worry. I’ll do everything in my power to find her.”
His determined gaze spoke as strongly as his voice did. Brandee was sure he wouldn’t leave a stone unturned.
“Please let me help. There must be something I can do.”
He offered her a sympathetic smile. “If you think of anything else…” He pulled a card out of his pocket and handed it to her.
The card read, Wolfensen Investigations, Licensed Private Investigators, and then the address of an office and a telephone number. Nowhere did it mention he was a cop.
“Is this what you’re doing now—full time?”
“Yup.”
She was hoping he’d explain his career change, but he didn’t offer any more information than that.
“You know, I’m a photographer by training, and I just waitress to pay the bills. I could help you take pictures…”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. Evidence?”
He chuckled. “I think I’d be better off taking my own pictures right away rather than calling you to come and do it if I find something.”
Duh. “Then let me come with you. I can’t just sit back and do nothing.”
“Yes, you can. An investigation like this could be dangerous.”
“So it’s okay for you to risk your safety when you don’t even know her, but not for me? She’s my cousin.”
“Yes, and you’re my waitress. Who’ll get me a beer if something happens to you?” He flashed his charming smile.
She knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t work. She felt impotent and angry. Impotent because there was nothing she could do and angry because of her impotence. But then the major emotion surfaced: fear. Katie was a sweet kid who wouldn’t put up a struggle. Brandee had to hope that temperament would keep her cousin alive long enough for Nick to find her. She didn’t want to think about any other possibility.
“Find her, Nick. I don’t care what you have to do. Just find her.”
“I intend to, sweetheart.”