“Well . . . did he have a choice? I mean, one of my former tenants was in the Navy. When they say jump—”
“He had a choice about reenlisting. And this is just . . . typical. Sam would have been happy to take him into our business, happier than I’d have been actually, but Daniel was all worked up about how he could do more good as an actual police officer. They were excited to have him—Sam was ranting after you guys left last night about how Daniel was unappreciative and all the strings he pulled to get him bumped to the top of the list, but that’s garbage. Five years of active duty, including investigative experience, meant the police training was a breeze—he was practically pretrained other than learning all of their administrative crap. But now he gets a bug up his ass four months out of training and he’s off again, just as he gets to a place where he might actually be useful to us. Mom’s always given him the benefit of every single doubt, so maybe he’s right. Maybe she does understand, but Taylor sure as hell doesn’t. And I’m pretty sure Mom thought she’d at least have a chance to say good-bye before he . . .”
He stops and gives me a rueful smile. “Sorry. I’m an idiot. You’ve been through enough in the past twenty-four hours without having to listen to me bitch about my inconsiderate jerk of a brother.”
Aaron’s smile is infectious, and despite everything I find myself returning it. “You couldn’t say anything worse than what I was thinking yesterday when he dumped me on the sofa.” I nod toward the stairs. “I don’t suppose there’s anything we can do to . . . help her?”
“Stay out of her way. Keep quiet. And have food around when she takes a break. Viewing makes her hungry.”
“So . . . that’s what this is? Remote viewing, like they talked about in the video I watched last night?”
“Pretty much, although remote viewers usually don’t have an object to read. There are perfectly good blanket terms for what Taylor does—clairvoyance, psychometry. But the military didn’t like the paranormal baggage attached to those. Taylor says she just sits there and meditates, more or less, until something comes to her. Then she picks up the pencil and starts sketching the image she sees in her head. Vague outlines at first, but then she goes back and concentrates until she can fill in the necessary detail.”
“Did she have an object to . . . read . . . when looking for Molly?”
He nods. “One of those BFF necklaces, shaped like half a heart. Molly gave half to Taylor for her thirteenth birthday. Partners in Crime etched on the front if you pressed the two together.” He gives a small chuckle. “Which described those two perfectly. And Molly was wearing the other half when they found the body.”
“But it still took her months.”
“Yeah, but she’s got a quicker start this time. And Molly was in a ravine in the middle of the woods. In the middle of nowhere, the next state over. One stretch of woods looks a lot like another. Deo’s probably in a building somewhere.”
Unless . . .
I shove myself up from the chair and go into the kitchen, as though leaving the room will put distance between me and my thoughts.
It doesn’t, of course.
Unless he’s already dead.
Stop it. You need to stay positive. You can’t sit here and work yourself into a panic. If they want something from you, they’ll keep him alive.
“Then why haven’t they called?” I slam my fists against the kitchen counter. And send a silent apology up to Taylor, hoping I didn’t break her focus.
Aaron sits on one of the bar stools and looks at me across the blue tile counter. “They’ll call, Anna. They’re purposefully waiting, trying to worry you. Get you worked up enough that you’ll be willing to do whatever they say.”
“Yeah, well, if that’s what they wanted, all they had to do was pull back around while I was standing there screaming in the parking lot. Deo doesn’t deserve this. He’s just a little . . . kid.” I realize how dumb that sounds before I even finish the words. I expect Aaron to think it’s stupid, but he doesn’t react. He just watches me, with an expression very similar to the one Kelsey wears when she’s trying to get me to calm down and think things through.
I open a bottle of orange soda that’s in the pantry and pour it over a glass of ice before turning back to face Aaron. It’s low on fizz, probably left behind by Kelsey’s sister or some previous tenant, but I chug half of it anyway.