Foods, Fools and a Dead Psychic by Maria Swan (read a book .TXT) 📗

lied to her. I had an idea. As soon as she hung up I got out of my car and walked over to the Kia. Please, please god, let the car to be unlocked. It must have been a light work day in heaven because Kassandra’s car wasn’t locked. I prayed some more, in case she had some silent alarm or something. Then again, this was Kassandra’s car. No alarm. I rummaged through her console, the glove compartment and then I checked behind her sun visor. Bingo. Although I’d never really handled one of those magnetic cards, something told me that was the one. I got out of the Kia, closed the door quietly and walked over to the front door of the office to Desert Homes.

I heard a click. It worked. The door was now unlocked. My hand on the handle shook. Not a sound came from inside. The shaking spread, from my hands, through my body, to my legs. Must do this. Now. The beat of my heart would awake even Sleeping Beauty  on horse tranquillizers. Must do this. I pushed the door open.

NINETEEN

I CLOSED THE front door slowly, trying to avoid making noises. I couldn’t see or hear a thing. As my eyes became accustomed to the quickly disappearing daylight, I noticed things. Like Kassandra’s desk, without Kassandra. I moved closer. So tense, I worried about stumbling and falling. The first oddity was Kassandra’s chair, sideways on the floor, next to her desk. The sweater she kept draped on the back of the chair still partly hooked on it, but dragging on the floor. That was the only visible proof of Kassandra’s presence.

The purse kept under the desk? Gone.

I tiptoed around, looking for her personal cell: missing. However, the office phone had an orangey light, blinking. I kept tiptoeing toward the back of the room, too frightened to check the kitchen because it only had one way in and out.

Oddly, I remembered some of the cop shows pointing out how you should always have an alternate escape route. Just in case.

I skipped the kitchen.

The whole time I thought, whoever didn’t belong here was probably watching my every move. Maybe I should be brave and call out Kassandra’s name. But being brave didn’t feel like a smart thing to do.

Then I stepped on something that didn’t belong on the floor. Broken glass, and not like a lens from reading glasses. Nope, a sea of shards. I held on tight to my cell phone, as if it would save me should someone jump out of nowhere. I kept moving carefully, but there was no way I could avoid all the broken glass. Where did it come from?

Wait, what if someone called me. On the phone. No, no. Can’t happen. That would certainly give me away. I fumbled to put my cell on vibrate. Not easy with sweaty palms and shaky hands. I crunched glass at every step, bypassed my cubicle, the bullpen, and saw it. Someone had thrown my old chair through the glass door of Sunny’s office. That whole front wall of glass had come tumbling down. The inside of the office looked like a bomb had exploded. Fading light from the large window cast dancing shadows on the papers and files dotting the floor. Even the drawers had been pulled out and dumped in disarray. The only sign of life, just as at the front desk, was the blinking light on Sunny’s desk phone.

I turned to peek outside the only window. It opened onto the parking lot, and I could clearly see my pink Fiat sitting under the street light. Maybe that was my cue. Get the hell out of there and call 911. I quickened my pace. Hey, I was no hero, and for all I knew Kassandra might have left with a friend way before some creep, high on illegal stuff, broke in here. If only we had a security system.

There was one more place I neglected to check. Kay’s office. Only one way in and out, the little voice in my head whispered. True, but no need to go into the closet-size office; all I had to do was open the door and stick my head in. I veered that way. Obviously, whoever the vandal or vandals were, they had also walked this way. More than one of the bullpen computers rested scattered on the floor. I paused. Kay’s door only feet from me. Do the right thing. Why? “You know why,” my grandmother’s voice proclaimed from the grave.

Screw this. Two steps and my right hand reached out in defiance and twisted the doorknob with all my might. And — it came lose, fell out of my hand and hit the floor with a thud that sounded to me like a volcano eruption. Obviously, someone had already made it into Kay’s office.

I turned around and took off running — forget tiptoeing and the silent treatment. I had to get out of there. I felt my cell vibrate in my hand — a call coming in. I slowed for a nanosecond to swipe the screen. I could hear a faint voice calling my name just as a large shadow came rushing at me from the kitchen. It came to a stop, then bolted to intercept my exit. I felt trapped, but kept moving. Now the man, as I had no doubt it was a man, stood squarely between me and the front door. And he looked familiar. In a threateningly familiar way. So much for an alternate escape route.

Bill Smith, J.S.’s estranged father, stood looking at me looking at him. Damn. There we were, both panting, adrenaline rushing. Assessing our chances? Funny Monica, real funny. He moved a little to take command of the whole doorframe. Then the phone on Kassandra’s desk rang and I almost jumped out of my skin. Meanwhile, the monologue on my cell continued. I had no clue who had called me except that the voice was male. I faked a