“RROW!”
I shrieked, nearly firing off a shot as a black cat scurried past my knees with an indignant meow. The animal gave me a curious look with its golden eyes. She had a red collar with the name “Bast” on it in white lettering. Only Michael would name his cat after an Egyptian goddess. I let out a relieved sigh before shoving the door the rest of the way open with my foot.
“You’re lucky you didn’t get shot, furball,” I muttered, flipping on the light to the bedroom. Nothing in here, either. The bed was a queen-size with rumpled blue sheets and a black comforter. A bookshelf that sagged under the weight of its books had been shoved against the far wall. Pocketing the flashlight, I checked underneath the bed, but there was nothing under it but unwashed socks and lint. Why had the door been unlocked? Nothing appeared out of place like he’d been robbed. My gut told me something was up.
I checked the bathroom and closet before heading out of the room only to find Michael crouching in front of the cat.
“Jordan, you’re not gonna believe this—the cat can totally see me.”
I put the gun away. “No way.”
“Yes way.” He held his hand outstretched and moved it from side to side. The cat’s head moved from side to side as well.
I knelt, rubbing the cat under her chin. “You guys really are half in and half out, huh?”
“What?”
“Nothing. C’mon, it’s time to start looking for clues to who you are.” I stood and brushed off my knees, sliding the gun back in my pocket. We split up. I went around the den to search for his wallet in case it was here instead of with his body and Michael disappeared into his bedroom. The television sat on top of a small cart with DVDs packed into it, everything from Citizen Kane to Independence Day. From the looks of it, Michael was nothing more than your average American guy. Across from the coffee table, I discovered a one-drawer file cabinet and opened it, hoping to find something interesting. The bulk of the files inside was sheet music, but the very last folder held something interesting: hospital bills and a page with a diagnosis on it.
“Michael, get out here!” I called.
He reappeared, jogging over to me. “Found something?”
“I’ll say. According to this, you were badly injured in some sort of fight. You had a skull fracture and they treated you here in town. They say you suffered from retrograde post-traumatic amnesia.”
Michael’s eyes widened. “What? I thought amnesia wasn’t even real?”
“As far as I know, it’s possible. It’s just extremely unlikely. The way I hear it you have to be both injured and have witnessed something emotionally traumatizing. The records say this happened a couple years ago.” I frowned, trying to mull the new facts over in my head.
“So I was severely injured two years before I died? There’s no way that’s just a coincidence,” he said, damn near reading my thoughts.
“Agreed. Did you find anything in your bedroom?”
“Nothing but clothes, books, and old pizza boxes. The room, though…it feels familiar. I knew where stuff was almost unconsciously. It was weird as hell.”
“Good. You’re making progress.”
“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” he said, pointing back to the file. “What else have they got on me in here?”
“You’re twenty-four years old, your blood type is AB negative, and…damn.”
“What?”
“Your parents aren’t listed. Not sure if I can find your next of kin without reporting you missing, which we can’t do since your body’s not here.” I let out a sigh. “I swear, I am just going to drop this case.”
Michael laughed. “Wow, thanks.”
“Oh, cut me some slack. I’m not a detective. I’m a damn waitress. Some of this stuff is beyond my resources.”
“Hey, you’re a pretty smart waitress. I doubt the average person could have figured out half as much stuff as you did.”
I resisted the urge to frown. Again, compliments. Not used to them.
I flipped the folder closed and folded it enough to fit in one of my pockets. “Just…help me search for receipts. If we can figure out what places you frequent, maybe we can find out where your body is.”
I sifted through the piles of sheet music and magazines on the coffee table, locating a handful of receipts in the process. Michael went into the kitchen to search there as well. I sat on the couch to go through them. The black cat hopped up next to me, pushing her head underneath my hand. I scratched the spot between her ears as I read them aloud.
“A few from McDonalds, Starbucks, Guitar Center…nothing too special. It’s all stuff around this area. At the very least, we can take your picture around and ask if anybody’s seen you recently.”
“Sounds like a plan. Shouldn’t we stop by Devil’s Paradise tonight too?”