Jesus, what if he went all Rambo and tried to capture the kidnappers on his own? He probably had a handgun. He seemed like the NRA type who might have illusions that he was some kind of action hero with a well-oiled 9mm hidden in his desk. Maybe he thought he was Liam Neeson.
I swallowed hard. Guns would be bad. Real bad. This was supposed to happen without any trouble. My heart raced, and I refused to let myself consider all the ways it could go south. Imagining disaster wasn’t going to help. The Bonnets had the money to pay. The ransom was stupid low just so it would be easy for them to come up with the money. I had the sense that the walls were creeping in. The smell of lemon Pledge furniture polish mixed with Ms. Bonnet’s perfume was giving me a headache.
Ms. Bonnet hugged me when we stood to leave. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Talking to you made me feel better.” She wiped her eye with a linen handkerchief. “Closer to Paige. Even for just a second.” She squeezed my hand.
Guilt poured over my heart like a layer of thick, sticky tar. “She’ll be home soon,” I said. The only problem was I wasn’t sure if I was trying to make her feel better or myself.
Fourteen
The detectives drove me back to the station from the Bonnets’. I cringed when I saw my mom in the waiting area. She hadn’t been invited to the house, but it didn’t stop her from getting as close as she could. After being with Ms. Bonnet, I was struck by the contrast between them. My mom’s clothes were pilled and baggy. One wash, and they were already giving up the battle to stay together. It was like the atoms in her clothing were less cohesive than Ms. Bonnet’s. Ms. Bonnet had done her makeup so she didn’t look like she was wearing any. My mom’s makeup was too heavy, and you could see where her hair color was growing out. I was torn between wanting to defend her and wishing I could walk past her like I didn’t know her. The fact that she embarrassed me made me hate myself.
My mom smiled when she saw us and came over. “How did it go?”
“Fine.”
“Were you able to tell them anything?” She glanced at the officers. “If you want me to try too, just let me know. Skye’s new at this. I’ve done readings for years.”
“Mom, it’s time to go.” I took her elbow and tried to direct her to the door, but her feet were glued to the floor.
She drew out a business card. There was block print on the front: PSYCHIC SOLUTIONS and our phone number. My face flushed red-hot. They were made out of cheap paper too, from a copy center. You could see the tiny perforations where they had been punched out from a larger sheet. They would fall apart in your pocket or wallet in no time.
Mom passed cards to each of the detectives. “You can call us for anything. There might be other cases where we can help.”
“You guys are in business?” Detective Jay’s eyebrows went up.
I shook my head no when my mom answered, “Yes, but we’d give the police a discounted rate. We want to be helpful.”
“We’ll keep this close by.” Detective Chan tucked the card into his jacket pocket. “You never know when you might need some extra help,” he said with a tight smile.
“Exactly.” Mom finally let me drag her out into the parking lot. Once outside, she practically skipped back toward our car. “I had the cards made up this afternoon,” she said. “I got a couple hundred. You can have some too.” She was like a kid at Christmas.
The smell of hot asphalt and exhaust filled my head. I thought I might get sick. “We’re not going into business together.” I spoke slowly in case the spring heat had melted her brain.
Mom pouted. “I knew you’d have a bad attitude. You hate to be wrong.”
“About what?”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “You always made fun of psychic abilities, but it’s not a joke now, is it? You had a real prediction about that girl, and if you had one, you could have another.”
“This was a one-off thing,” I said.
I turned and started walking the rest of the way to our car. I should have known she would glom on to this. It was dramatic, and there was nothing my mom loved better than some excitement. She was like a moth—?when there was a bright light, she would bolt toward it without stopping to figure out if it was moonlight or a bug zapper.
“The people I spoke to today were interested,” she said.
My heart seized into a tight fist in the center of my chest. I turned slowly around. “Who did you talk to?” I sent a mental prayer to the universe that I could wind time backwards and take back whatever stupid thing she’d done. A headache built up behind my eyes like a troupe of Kodo drummers.
She stuck her chin in the air. “I called a few radio stations and some newspaper reporters.”
My blood turned to ice water. I did my best to remain calm. “What did you tell them?”
“About our family’s abilities.”
“Just that?” I wanted to feel relieved, but I knew there was no way I was getting off that easy. My head pounded harder, the vise around my brain tightening, squeezing out rational thought.
“And about the predictions you made that led to the police finding Paige’s car.”
The impact of what she’d done exploded in my mind. Oh shit. “Why would you do that? The police didn’t want any of this to be public. They told us to keep it quiet.”
She sniffed. “So they get all the glory.”
I threw my hands in the air. “What glory, Mom? There’s no glory. Just a girl who’s missing.”
“What do you want me to do? People want answers.”
I kicked a chunk of loose pavement and sent it spinning across the parking lot. “So you’re trying to make an opportunity for you out of someone else’s tragedy?”
She rolled her eyes. “First off, I’m making an opportunity for us. Secondly, the tragedy isn’t our fault. It’s not like we took her.”
My stomach threatened to hurl its contents onto the ground. She had no idea how wrong she was. And now she was dragging the media into the situation. They were going to dig. Look for a story. And if they found anything—?I was dead.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had to think. My phone buzzed. I pulled it out, already dreading what it would say.
WTF? U had a vision of Paige being abducted?!
That hadn’t taken long. The news was out. I texted Drew back and asked her to pick me up. The last thing I wanted was to spend one more minute with my mom. Then I tried to think of what lies I was going to tell Drew. Pretty soon I was going to need my own spreadsheet to keep everything straight.
Fifteen
Drew’s bedroom was straight out of a teen movie. She had a queen-size bed from Restoration Hardware with huge plump pillows and a puffy duvet, like the Princess and the Pea. There was a single trundle mattress that rolled out from underneath her bed when I stayed the night. One wall was covered in cork so she could hang stuff without leaving holes, and the other walls were painted a frosty pale pink and decorated with silver-framed black-and-white photos of Paris lined up like at a gallery. I sat on her bed, stacking the various throw pillows around me like a fortress.
Drew faced me. It felt more intense than being across from the two detectives. I’d put her off on the drive here, but there wasn’t any avoiding it.