“Not for a while.”
“Oh. I need you to talk to my brother.”
Her brother, David Taft, was an APD officer I liked to occasionally harass. “Yeah? Dating skanks again?”
She shook her head. “He fell, and now I can’t see him anymore.”
I froze. “Strawberry, what do you mean, he fell?”
“I don’t know. I just saw him fall, and now I can’t find him. I need you to look.”
Okay, if there was one thing the departed excelled at, it was the cryptic message. Strawberry was no different, but if she couldn’t see him …
Alarm slipped up my spine. Had he really fallen? Had he died? Had he crossed?
“Okay. I’ll look into it, hon.”
She nodded and force-fed her doll another bite. “You’ve been gone forever. I was looking for you, too. I thought you left.”
I reached over and smoothed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m sorry.” I didn’t have the heart to tell her she’d just seen me a few days prior. The departed didn’t always have the best sense of time. Maybe it was the same with her brother.
She lifted a tiny shoulder. “It’s okay.”
“Want to ride with me a while? I’m going to visit a woman accused of murder.”
After a yawn, she shrugged again. “I guess.”
Kids these days. So hard to keep entertained.
I started Misery, dragged my phone out of my pocket, and called Uncle Bob.
“What are you doing?” he said in lieu of a greeting.
“I’m not driving, if that’s what you mean. I was calling about Officer Taft. Is he okay?”
After a moment of silence, he asked, “David Taft?”
“That’s the one. His sister can’t find him.”
“He has a sister?”
“Departed.”
“Oh. Oh, right. I guess I didn’t realize you knew him that well. David Taft is on leave.”
“On leave? Since when?”
“Since about four months ago. It was really strange, though. He came in one day, talked to the captain, then cleaned out his desk and left. We haven’t seen him since.”
“Are you sure he didn’t get transferred?”
“Not according to our records.”
If Taft had just left his job, taken some time off, why couldn’t Strawberry see him? Not that she was the more reliable source, but still …
“Okay what’s your theory?” I asked.
“Theory?”
“Come on, Ubie. What are you thinking?”
“I don’t know, pumpkin. He got burned out. It happens all the time.”
Not to the David Taft I knew and almost respected. He loved his job and he’d only been on the force a year or two. And, last I’d checked, he was training to be a sniper. He’d had hopes. Aspirations. And probably an STD from all the skanks he’d dated, according to Strawberry.
“That just doesn’t sound like something he’d do.”
“I don’t know, pumpkin. This life isn’t for everyone.”
I heard that. “Okay, thanks, Uncle Bob. Can you keep me updated on this?”
“Absolutely. Are you at home?”
I blinked. “Yes.”
“Good. Stay put. I’ll be home in about an hour.”
“Oh-kay.”
I hung up and was just about to ask Strawberry, a.k.a. Rebecca Taft, if she’d been to her brother’s house lately, when she turned to me and said, “I’ll be back.”
Damn. Her attention span was even shorter than mine. So much for using her as an investigator. Maybe I could call— “I’m back!”
I jumped at her unexpected appearance.
“I needed a different brush.” She held up what looked like a used toothpick. She turned it over in her fingers then rolled her eyes and said, “Ugh.” And she was gone again.
The David Taft sabbatical really bothered me. Why would he just leave like that? And why couldn’t Strawberry find him?
Another side effect of law enforcement was the high rate of suicide. What if he really had gotten burned out? What if he’d done something or seen something he shouldn’t have? What if he was gone?
I waited until I got to a red light, bowed my head. “David Taft,” I said, summoning him. If he had passed and was still on this plane, he should appear beside me or in my lap or on my hood. I’d take any scenario. But he didn’t appear.
Sadly, that didn’t mean he hadn’t passed. He could have crossed to heaven moments after he died, and I couldn’t summon anyone back from heaven. Not that I knew of. Though Angel always swore I could, I’d never tried it.
Cookie called when I was only a couple of blocks away from the office.
I answered with a simple but elegant, “Hey, Cook.”
“Hey, hon. So, she’s been bonded out and is staying at her parents’ house.”
“Good for her. That seems like a good place. Help her unwind and figure things out. Who are we talking about?”
She chuckled. “Veronica Isom. The girl accused of killing her—”
“Right. Sorry.” The Taft conundrum had rattled my brain.
“They live in a mobile home park called Green Valley.”
“Oh, perfect. Shoot me the address, and I’ll head over.”
“Will do. So, why does Robert think you’re at home?”