6

After being with Jon for so long, I could safely say it was never a good thing when the psychics had “unusual” readings. Nine times out of ten, it meant trouble was heading for us on the northbound express. This made me especially nervous because not only Jon, but also Abby, depended on me for protection.

I was thinking I really needed to hijack my father to help with Abby….

Borrowman had his thinking cap on, as he was already moving to the far end of the room, pulling his phone out as he moved. Everyone did that when around Jon—I recognized its significance. “I’m calling Grant.”

Ooooh, now there’s a good idea.

Abby leaned into my side and asked in an undertone, “Who’s Grant?”

“Grant Walker is one of the best Dreamwalkers in the world,” I explained. “There’s no one he can’t find. His range is insane. I think he can cover most of the US.”

“Pretty much,” Jon confirmed. “He said his range is about two thousand miles.”

Abby jolted, jaw dropping. “T-t-two thousand?”

“Man’s a machine. Thankfully, he’s saved a lot of lives with his ability. Missing Persons adore and worship him. Now, fun fact. He’s actually dating and anchored with my cousin.”

For some reason, Abby looked even more envious. “He got a Havili?”

Uh…I didn’t know how to take her reaction.

Jon laughed like he understood exactly what she meant. “He did, lucky SOB. He’ll become family sooner or later, if their lines are anything to go by.”

I leaned around Abby to study his face. What had he picked up on that I hadn’t? Far as I knew, those two weren’t engaged. They’d barely been dating two weeks.

Seeing my expression, he winked at me, looking smug. Bastard. He did know something and wasn’t sharing. Jon kept maintaining he wasn’t a tattletale, but he could at least tell me .

I tuned back in to Borrowman’s conversation across the room. I could only hear his side, but it sounded positive.

“Yeah? That would be awesome, man. Yup, at Psy. Okay, see you soon.”

“He’s in Nashville?” Grant had to be if he could get here soon.

“We’re in luck. He was standing witness at a trial.” Borrowman put his phone back in its protective EMP case. “He’s wrapping up over there now, said he could swing by. I think I may have accidentally made this a competition by telling him Carol got stonewalled.”

Sounded like Grant. The man did take pride in his work.

For some reason, Borrowman took his phone back out of the case. I wasn’t sure I trusted his expression, either.

“What?” I prompted him.

“I’m calling a judge.”

Carol and Jon whipped around to look at him, both protesting in near unison.

“Surely not—”

“That won’t fly—”

Borrowman did not look at all concerned. “I don’t think you understand just how much weight your word and Grant’s combined has. Any law enforcement officer knows to trust you. If I have three of you saying this woman isn’t dead, and the man sitting in prison is innocent, I bet I can get this case officially reopened.”

You know, he was probably right. Jon’s word alone was enough to convince most judges. His reputation was quite hefty. But if you added in Carol’s—who was infamous for finding evidence and bodies no one else could— and Grant’s? I knew very few judges who wouldn’t take their word for it.

Borrowman looked all cocky while tacking on, “Plus this was Solomon’s case.”

“Man makes a good point.” We all knew to question Solomon’s work. He was a shit detective. Borrowman was right to make the call.

Maybe this would be the case that publicized how bad Solomon was and got him kicked off the force for good. A man could dream, couldn’t he?

Jon sat back, one leg crossed over the other, with a screwy tilt to his mouth. He was wearing one of his favorite outfits—dark wash jeans, baby pink button-down shirt, and white vest. Reminded me of the day we met. He did look very good in it. “Now, the question is, will this impact going to Brandon’s paintball game or not? I give it even odds.”

“Aw shit, I didn’t think of that.” Brandon’s birthday party loomed ever closer, and I still hadn’t gotten the man a present. “Don’t jinx it, babe.”

“Trust me, I have no intention of doing so. Let’s just make sure it doesn’t.”

Truly. Although how we’d prevent it if disaster struck was anyone’s guess.

Carol clapped her hands together. “All right. Since we’re waiting on Grant, and sitting here does nothing, let’s go be productive. Abby, man the whiteboard.”

Abby looked game but also confused. “Okay.”

Jon led her out, heading for the conference-slash-war room. He spoke over his shoulder as he walked. “As we go through all of the files, we’ll be throwing out things we find. Timeline, for instance, and key players. We’ll also be putting up people’s pictures so we can see what everyone looks like. Your handwriting is better than ours—”

He was not kidding, but it was also a really low bar. Sharon ended up writing on the board most of the time because everyone else wrote in hieroglyphics.

“—so it’ll be best if you play scribe.”

Abby looked happy just to have something productive to do. “Sure.”

Carol was a genius. It was a good way of keeping Abby actively in the loop while also teaching her how we analyzed case files. Plus we might actually be able to read the whiteboard this time. It was a win-win-win.

I poked my head into Sho’s office as we went, and Tyson’s, calling them in. Tyson had only just gotten in, his coffee cup glued to his hand, but he tiredly gave a nod and waved me on. He’d join us presently.

He might have had a point on the coffee thing. Mountains of boxes awaited me, after all.

I helped move some boxes off the table so we had room to spread things out, then sat at the very end near the whiteboard. Mostly so I could help Abby if she needed it. Jon sat next to me. He always chose to do so unless I had electronics in my hands.

Abby picked up a marker and then seemed uncertain on what to do next. For her sake, I offered suggestions.

“Abby, here’s how we normally lay things out. We know there’s going to be a timeline, right? See that yardstick? It’s there to help draw a straight line.”

Grateful for the direction, she grabbed the yardstick. “What else?”

“We always have a section for people, mostly the key players, and any key evidence we have on hand.”

Tyson chose to join us, spotted Abby at the whiteboard, and nodded approvingly. Tyson was the type to be a mentor, and I knew he approved of Jon taking Abby on as an apprentice. “Abby, if you could keep a section free for the questions, too, that’d be great. We always have questions while going through evidence, and sometimes we get lucky enough to find the answers.”

I snorted, as that sounded about right.

Abby paused in her drawing of the line to look at him. “So on TV when they have everything wrapped up in a court case?”

“Fantasy. Pure fantasy. Half the time, we don’t even know the motive.”

“Oh. Sounds tough.”

“Welcome to the real world, kid.” Tyson looked at the boxes and sipped his coffee. “Starting to wish this was an Irish coffee. Is this for the Evans case?”

“That’s the one.” Jon encouraged Tyson to sit next to him. “Want to help me compile an interview list?”

“Sure. I have enough brain power for that.”

Abby took all our suggestions to heart and not only drew a timeline, but she also blocked off sections and labeled them. She managed to draw straight lines on the first try while juggling a yardstick. Kid had mad skills.

“Hello, hello!” I heard from the doorway.

Grant waved as he came in. He looked better than I’d ever seen him, but I knew why, too. It wasn’t just the dark blue suit he wore for court, or the way he’d tamed those curls of his into a loose sweep. It was the lack of dark circles under his brown eyes. Used to be that if you put Grant into a white shirt, he could pass for any panda in a zoo. But now, with Alan as his anchor, he slept solid. Well, when he wasn’t getting pulled out for emergencies.

Speak of the devil, there was my cousin. Alan used to be a professor, and he still dressed the part in his cardigans and slacks.

Grant paused just inside the doorway, looking everything over. “I’m told you’ve got a cold case of sorts and you can’t find the body?”

“That’s about the size of it.” Borrowman snagged some of the victim’s clothes and rounded the table, heading for Grant. “Carol did her best, but she was thwarted. I’m starting to think this girl isn’t dead.”

“Ooh, love me a good plot twist. Okay, where can I nap?”

“We have the nap room,” Jon reminded him.

Grant put a hand to his heart and mock-reeled. “I get an actual bed? No way.”

Considering the many, many weird places he’d been forced to take a nap during his career? Yeah, beds were probably few and far between.

Borrowman and I went with him, mostly to witness it, and I handled camera. There wasn’t a camera in the nap room for many obvious reasons.

Grant promptly took the shirt out of the bag, plopped down on the bed, and scooted around to get comfy. Alan took up position nearby, as any anchor would do, casually leaning against the wall. He hardly needed to stand guard here, but I knew anchor instincts at play when I saw them.

Borrowman and Grant did the date, license numbers, etcetera spiel. Then Grant sucked in a breath and closed his eyes, settling in for a quick nap.

“Always amazes me how fast he can fall asleep,” I observed to Alan in a hushed whisper.

“I know, me too. Was that girl Abby?”

“Ah, I forgot, you haven’t met her yet. Yeah, that’s her.”

“I’d love a proper introduction after this.”

“Sure.”

I was going to say something else, but Grant abruptly opened his eyes and sat up. Uh. Surely that hadn’t been long enough. He’d only been down thirty seconds.

“The game’s afoot, as Sherlock would put it.” Grant’s expression waffled between intrigue and irritation at being thwarted. “First of all, this girl isn’t dead.”

Borrowman pumped a fist in the air, vindicated at being right. “Could you get a lock on her?”

“No,” Grant admitted. Ahh…the reason he was irritated. “But the fact I was able to get on the dream plane and search means she has to be alive. That would be impossible if she were dead.”

A plot twist for sure. I was relieved to hear she was probably alive, but at the same time, what could keep both Grant and Carol from finding her?