Unexpected Outcomes Read online

  “Can you explain why her children are here in town?” Aaron asked.

  “The county took them away, and they’re living with family ‘til Sarah and Larry get their house in order. They came here so they could get a safe car. Stu was supposed to get them a deal on one.

  “When did they arrive?”

  “I just told you they got here yesterday.”

  Mrs. Jacobs had a nasty attitude for someone whose daughter might be missing, or worse, dead, which was what I figured had happened to her considering the dreams.

  “When was the last time you saw your daughter?”

  “Last night. She came by to visit with Ashley.”

  “Is that one of her daughters?”

  “Her oldest. She’s been living with us.” She angled her body toward the man behind her and placed her hand on his shoulder. “My husband Johnny and me, ‘til this whole mess is handled.”

  I glanced back at the man and caught him eying me again, but he cut away and focused on his wife. The hairs on the back of my neck shot to attention.

  “What happened when she came by last night?”

  “Nothing. She came by to visit Ashley. Larry stayed back at the hotel so she could have some alone time with her kid. Also because we don’t want that man here at our house.”

  “Why is that?”

  “He’s not good enough for my kid or her babies.”

  My brain wrestled between her words and the juicy chomping. I wanted to reach into her mouth and yank the clump of gum out like I used to do with my kids, but of course, I couldn’t. I had to force myself to focus on her words, not the chomping.

  She said they’d decided to stay at a hotel somewhere about halfway between her house and Sarah’s cousin, Jenny’s house, where her other daughter, Lizzie stayed. LuAnn explained that Sarah told her they’d planned to see Lizzie the next day.

  “They got that little two-door thing, and those back seats just aren’t big enough for two car seats, and the seatbelts don’t work neither, so they hoped to get a minivan or an SUV. Stu said he knew someone who could give them a good deal.”

  “Is Ashley here with you now?” Aaron asked.

  She nodded, and I noticed her husband’s facial expression shift. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it. “She’s in the kitchen eating pancakes. You wanna see her?” She poked her husband. “Johnny, go fetch Ash for them, will ya?”

  He stood there for a second, his eyes drilling into his wife’s.

  She grimaced. “Please?” She chomped on the gum.

  A minute later, a petite, strawberry blonde-haired girl ambled over to the door, Johnny’s hand squeezing her left shoulder. She kept her eyes glued to the ground, even though I’d raised the tone of my voice several octaves when I said hi. Her skin was so pasty; I assumed she hadn’t seen the sun in months. From the looks of her shallow face and sunken in cheeks, it was unlikely she’d had a good meal in that time either. It made my heart hurt. The good news was she was safe with her grandmother, even though she didn’t appear happy about it.

  “Okay,” Aaron said. “So they stayed at the hotel last night?”

  “Right, and then they were going to her cousin’s to see Lizzie. I just…I just talked to her a bit ago. She was happy. She was excited to possibly be getting to take her babies home with her.”

  “What kind of car were they driving?” Aaron asked.

  “Lemme think about that for a bit.” She chewed on the gum like a cow.

  “Johnny, what kind of car they do they have again?”

  “One of those old Datsuns. A 240Z, I think.”

  “That’s right. A gold one. Larry loves that car. He’s torn up that they have to sell it. Too bad for them. Shouldn’t have bought something like that with the babies.” She rubbed her hands together. “Is my baby okay?”

  “We’re doing our best to find out, ma’am.” Aaron asked for Sarah’s cousin’s contact information, wrote it down, and then closed his notebook. “We’ll be in touch as soon as we have more information. In the meantime though, if you could write any phone numbers you have for Larry and Sarah, as well as their address, I’d appreciate it.” He handed her his notepad and pen. “And if you hear from your daughter or think of something that might help us, please call me right away.”

  She wrote out the information and handed him back his things as he gave her his business card.

  As LuAnn closed the door, her husband pushed it back open and stepped outside. “I was you, I’d be looking at Larry Rochen for doing something he ought not to do.” He spoke as if he’d just had a tooth pulled and his face was still numb, except from the looks of his teeth, it was obvious he hadn’t been to a dentist in years.

  Aaron had already stepped away from the door, but he paused and flipped back around. “Why is that?”

  He pushed back his shoulders. “Marriage was doomed from the start.”

  LuAnn Jacobs opened the door and stepped partially out. “Everything okay out here?”

  Johnny Jacobs’s face morphed into a snarl like one of a dog ready to attack. “Get inside, woman.”

  Her jaw tensed, and I caught her hands form into fists. She noticed me notice them, released them, and did as she was told.

  Back in the car, Aaron called in the make and model of the Rochen’s vehicle and got the tag number. “Set up a BOLO for the vehicle and notify the surrounding counties,” he told his dispatch. He dialed Jenny’s number and put the call on speaker.

  “She’s not here,” Jenny said. “She called and said she had something to do before she came by, and she’d call on her way.” She confirmed Lizzie was still there.

  Aaron asked her to notify him if she heard from her cousin, but didn’t give any details as to why. I assumed he figured the word would get out soon enough.

  “Do you think Larry’s involved?” I asked. “Johnny Jacobs sure threw him under the bus. Actually, LuAnn Jacobs didn’t seem like that big of a fan, either.”

  “We usually look at the spouse first in domestic cases.” He headed south on the highway. “We’ll go back to the department, and I’ll find out what we can about him and his family. I’ll get the DA to ask for a warrant to get their financials. See if there’s been any recent transactions since the call, or shortly before. You get anything from the mother?”

  I exhaled. “I’m pretty sure I’ve explained the difference between psychic and psychic medium before, so…”

  He nodded. “I know the difference, but you’ve got a good—what does Mel call it?”

  “Spidey sense?”

  He snapped his fingers and pointed at me. “Spidey sense. Figured it was worth a shot to ask.”

  “Actually, spidey sense is my term, and I did notice LuAnn didn’t refer to Johnny as Sarah’s father, but other than that, not really. But there’s definitely something off about him.”

  “You don’t have to be psychic to notice that. I’m guessing he’s a stepparent.”

  “Did her chewing grate on your last nerve?”

  He laughed. “The kinds of things I see every day, that’s nothing.”

  “Yeah? Well, someone needs to teach that woman some manners. Five more minutes and my brain would have imploded.”

  “Glad you didn’t leave me with that mess.”

  “You should be. It would have been massive.”

  “I bet.”

  He dropped me off at my car in the department’s parking lot, and I headed home, calling Mel on the way. “Just hung out with your boy toy.”

  “Without me? Rude.”

  “Deadlines, remember?”

  Aaron and Mel had been a couple for some time, and things were serious between them. They were happy, and I was happy they were happy. After Mel’s husband cheated on her with a younger woman—whom he knocked up and married—she definitely deserved happiness. Though the relationship was a bit awkward for me at first, her dating my unofficial boss and all, I understood it wasn’t about me.

  “Did you give him a sloppy kiss for me?” r />
  “Yup. A big , wet, tongue-wrestling one. I think he liked it, too.”

  “Oh goodie, because that’s all he’s getting today. These deadlines are gonna be the death of me.” She heavy-sighed.

  “You’re working a lot lately.”

  “Don’t I know it.”

  “I miss hanging out with you. ”My voice bordered on whiny.

  “Right back atcha, and you can blame the cheating rat bas—“ She cut herself off. “My ex for that. I don’t get to spend a lotta time with my kids either.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It is what it is. I just don’t like it a whole lot.”

  “Neither do I, but you’re providing for your kids and showing them how a single mother steps up, and that’s important.”

  “Can you tell them that, please? All they do is complain about me never having time for them.”

  “They’re young. They’ll understand eventually.” I knew that didn’t matter at the moment, but it was all I could think to say.

  “Well, eventually better come soon because I can only handle so much.”

  I decided not to tell her about the 911 call and the connection between our dream since she already had enough on her plate. “Anyway, he’s got me helping him with a possible case. Lemme know when you’ve got time to discuss.”

  I made it home just in time for my oldest kid Emily to ignore me. She’d been on a roll as of late, only talking to me when it was an absolute must. She felt she had reason, and to a point she sort of did, but it’d been going on for months, and my patience bucket had reached its limit and teetered on its edge.

  A few months back her boyfriend Mike’s mother was killed in a car accident. He was at our house when I found out, and since the Universe had a wicked sense of humor, that’s when his mother’s spirit decided to make an appearance. As the saying goes, the poop hit the fan.

  Emily didn’t know about my gift. Jake and I had decided to keep it from her because she bordered a bit on ridiculously overly dramatic to the hundredth power, and what she didn’t know wouldn’t make us crazy. With the death of Michelle Stevenson, Mike’s mom, she’d obviously found out. I’d been working to re-establish trust with her ever since, but to no avail. Emily got her stubbornness from me, and sometimes dealing with her was like looking into a magical mirror and glimpsing bits of teenaged Angela and middle-aged Fran and their relationship. It made me want to apologize to my mom.

  Repeatedly.

  I’d chosen to handle Emily’s latest angst with a slow and steady approach. It hadn’t worked, but I refused to give up. It was better than the alternative; losing my cool, which never worked either, and usually just caused more drama. “Hey Em, how’s it hangin’?” Ugh. My attempts at being cool, calm and collected had such an 80s air to them.

  She sat on the couch, I assumed, planning creative ways to ignore me.

  My mother shimmered in beside her. “Ah Madone, this kid ain’t ever gonna forgive you if you don’t try and make her.”

  I’d already told Emily her grandmother was present more often than not, but she couldn’t see her, and that just made her even more angry with me. Knowing her brother Josh also had the gift made it a billion times worse, too.

  “Your grandmother says I should use force to get you to stop being mad at me.”

  “I didn’t say that. I said you oughta make her forgive you.”

  “Okay, I stand corrected. She’s saying I should make you forgive me. Apparently, there’s a difference.”

  Emily scanned the room for her grandmother. When she couldn’t see her, she huffed and stood. “Can you not? It’s really bizarre, you like, talking to Grandma.” She stomped to the stairs and pounded up them to her room where she drove her point home by banging her bedroom door closed.

  “That went well,” I said.

  “You oughta drag her back down here by her ear lobe. Time she stops acting like a two-year-old.”

  Well then, Ma’s patience had plummeted to rock bottom too, but she was right. I initially thought I’d give Emily some time to adjust to the news, to deal with the fact that ghosts actually existed, and that some of them, her grandmother included, showed up at our house. It turned out my gift didn’t impress her, and she already believed in ghosts. She was peeved we’d kept it a secret, but wouldn’t fess up to what bothered her the most, so all I could do was assume it was that Josh shared my ability. And that was somehow my fault because apparently, I could control what the Universe did. “Why is everything always my fault with that kid? It’s impossible to change something I can’t control.”

  “That right there is whatcha call karma. You did the same thing to me when you were her age.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t blame you for everything.”

  “You gotta be kidding me. You blamed me for your wavy hair, those child-bearing hips, and remember that whole 1966 red Mustang thing? That was my fault too.”

  “Well, actually that kinda was. Had you married that guy I could have had it.”

  When I was sixteen, her fiancé Buddy died. She briefly dated a wealthy man who wanted to marry her so badly he told me if I could convince her to, he’d get me a 1966 red Mustang. I gave it my best shot, but couldn’t close the deal, and I never let her forget it.

  “I didn’t love him, and I couldn’t help that. I wanted my Buddy, and no one else compared.”

  I didn’t understand that until I met Jake. If something–God forbid—ever happened to him, I’d spend the rest of my life alone. My stepmother Helen once said something about my father, and it made sense to me. She said, when you’ve had the best, no one else could live up to that, so why bother trying? I realized my mother never dated anyone after Buddy died, and I understood why.

  “I know, but it was a red 1966 Mustang.”

  “But it was a red 1966 Mustang. Madone, and it woulda been a loveless marriage.”

  “I know, and I get that now, but then all I cared about was myself. What you wanted didn’t even cross my mind.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  The irony hit me. I dipped my head back and sighed. “I hate it when you do that.” I poured myself a glass of water and plopped onto a barstool. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “You gotta show her that she’s got a bit of the gift, too.”

  “But she doesn’t.”

  “That don’t matter.”

  “Okay then, how do you propose I do that?”

  “Ya know, give her a few signs, make her recognize them. Like you got mad at me for doing before.”

  Ma had tossed a few pillows, moved a few things on Em’s dressers, and one time she ripped the sheets off her bed after a miracle had happened, and Emily had actually made the thing. Instead of getting the hints, Emily just accused a family member—me—of deliberately messing up her room and of course, snooping. But now that she knows her grandmother is around, if Ma did it again, she might realize it’s not me, but her grandmother, and maybe she’ll think she’s got a little bit of the gift. Maybe being the operative word in that sentence.

  “That’s not a bad idea,” I said. “But it’s probably—”

  Before I could add to that, she interrupted me. “I’m on it.”

  I chuckled, figuring she’d probably headed up to her granddaughter’s room to toss a pillow or two.

  I snatched a Diet Coke—affectionately known as Diet Crack in my house—from the fridge and headed to the deck, my place for contemplation and focus. I wanted to try and connect with Sarah Rochen. If she was dead, and I was pretty sure she was, I might be able to concentrate on her spirit and find her. If I was wrong and she wasn’t, then I was out of luck.

  Summoning spirits wasn’t tops on my list of things to do. I could do it, but I didn’t like it, so I avoided it as much as possible. Mel once asked me what I didn’t like about it, and I couldn’t come up with anything other than it made me feel icky. Feeling icky wasn’t reason enough not to do something except workout, so I centered my mind on the photo LuAnn
Jacobs gave Aaron and gave it a shot.

  “Sarah, can you hear me?” I closed my eyes and thought about the things she’d done since coming to town. “Sarah? Hello? You there?”

  The dream played like a movie in my mind’s eye. Me holding a gun pointed at Mel. Mel on her knees, begging me not to shoot her. The gravel, the trees. Pulling the trigger. The booming sound of the bullet exploding from the gun.

  I flinched, and my eyes burst open. Sarah was definitely dead. I just had to figure out what she was trying to tell me through the dream. Whatever it was, was key to what happened, where we’d find her body, and the answers to the questions running through my mind. And I wouldn’t stop trying to find out until I figured it out.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “LARRY ROCHEN’S PHONE goes straight to voicemail,” Aaron said.

  We sat in the corner chairs of a local coffee shop, Rendezvous Café. “We had the phone company ping it, but it’s either off, or the battery’s dead.”

  “So it’s not a track or burner phone.”

  He shook his head. “Sprint. Found it in his bank records.”

  “That was fast.”

  “All the DA needed was the 911 call. Judge gave the go-ahead without question.”

  “So what did you find out?”

  “Not much. No credit cards for either of them. Not a lot of money in the account either. Last withdrawal was two days ago. Three hundred bucks. Unless Rochen’s got an account under another name, or he’s been stashing cash, he’s not getting anywhere with the seven bucks left after that withdrawal.”

  “So is he still a suspect?”

  He nodded. “Though his family says he’s a stand up guy, wouldn’t harm Sarah. They’ve sent a group of friends and family up here to search for the them.” He sipped his coffee. “We can’t verify if the shots heard on the call were directed at Sarah or someone else, and until we know for sure and can identify that someone else as Larry Rochen, he’ll remain a suspect.”

  I thought back to the dream, the gunshots from the 911 call, and Sarah saying why are you shooting at us, and shook my head. “He’s dead Aaron. They’re both dead.”