Not like other dads, p.22
A Jailbird in the Vision is Worth Two in the Prison (Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I. Book 6), page 22
A Jailbird in the Vision is Worth Two in the Prison
Piper Ashwell Psychic P.I., Book 6
Kelly Hashway
Copyright © 2020 Kelly Hashway
All rights reserved.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual places or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, copied, or recorded without written permission from the author.
* * *
The author acknowledges the trademark status and trademark ownership of all trademarks mentioned in this book. Trademarks are not sponsored or endorsed by the trademark owners.
* * *
Cover design ©Red Umbrella Graphic Designs
To Ayla with love
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Also by USA Today Bestselling Author Kelly Hashway
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Chapter One
The bakery counter at Marcia’s Nook is crowded for a Tuesday morning, so I head to the mystery section of the bookstore and wait for the line to clear. It might seem odd to some people that I choose to spend my free time reading about murders when most days I’m working murder cases alongside the Weltunkin PD, but what can I say? I’m not exactly your typical private investigator. Being psychic and having a special talent for psychometry, the ability to read the energy off objects, means being in physical contact with people is difficult for me. Books, on the other hand, are my source of comfort—along with toasted almond coffee and my sweet golden retriever, Jezebel.
“Haven’t you read all the books in this section by now?”
I turn around at the sound of my partner’s voice. Mitchell Brennan is a detective with the Weltunkin PD. He also happens to be my best friend, even though he pushes my buttons more than anyone else I know. “You do understand how bookstores work, right? They get new shipments of books in all the time.”
“If you actually watched TV like a normal human being, you wouldn’t spend so much of your paycheck in this place.” He reaches around me and plucks a book off the shelf. “Here. You haven’t read this one yet.”
It’s a little disturbing how well he knows me, but he spends more time with me than without considering we work together and he spends most nights at my apartment so we can discuss cases. We’re both married to our jobs. The truly disturbing thing is that my dog is in love with Mitchell, even though I’m the one who rescued her after her former owner was murdered.
I flip the book over and scan the blurb on the back cover. Satisfied I’ll enjoy the story, I head back toward the bakery counter.
“I already placed our order and paid. Marcia should have it ready for us,” Mitchell says.
“Great. I’m starving.”
Mitchell smirks. “I told you you’d be starving this morning after only eating wonton soup for dinner.”
“It’s not my fault someone forgot the egg rolls.”
He holds up his hands in front of him. “I offered to go back and get them. You were the one who said no.”
We stop in front of the bakery counter, where Marcia is shaking her head at us. “What did you do this time, Detective?” she asks.
“He let me starve,” I say.
“You said—”
I hold up my hand to silence Mitchell. “Marcia, if you showed up at my apartment with wonton soup and forgot the egg rolls, what would you do?”
“Go back to get the egg rolls.”
“I offered. She said no,” Mitchell protests.
Marcia cocks her head. “Really, Detective, I’m disappointed you couldn’t figure this one out. She said no, but the right thing for you to do would have been to go anyway.”
“How do you figure? She said no.” He looks back and forth between us.
“It’s not a wonder this one is single.” I hitch my thumb in Mitchell’s direction, and Marcia laughs.
“You two make my mornings. Seriously.” She pushes the bag of pastries and the drink caddy across the counter toward us. “You are going to carry these for Piper, aren’t you, Detective?” she prods.
“Women,” Mitchell mutters as he grabs the food and drinks.
“I hope your day gets better, Detective,” Marcia says as he heads for the door.
I place my book on the counter. “He’s so easy to mess with,” I say, whipping out my phone to pay.
She rings me up and looks over my shoulder. “I’d cut him some slack for the rest of the day. The poor man looks rattled.”
I peer over my shoulder to see Mitchell is awkwardly holding his phone in the same hand as the bag of pastries. Must be someone from the station messaging him about a new case.
I turn back to Marcia. “He’s in luck since it looks like we just got a new case.” I grab the book and give her a small wave.
“Good luck,” she calls after me.
Mitchell’s brow is furrowed as I approach, so I ask, “Something wrong?”
“Maybe. Wallace texted me that you and I need to get to the station as soon as possible.”
“No reason why?”
He shakes his head as he uses his back to open the door. He holds it for me to exit first.
“That’s odd. Doesn’t Wallace usually call you instead of texting?”
“Yeah, that’s what’s throwing me off.”
I nod. “Because it means he doesn’t want to tell you what it’s about over the phone.”
The twenty-three steps to my office pass quickly, and I open the door, which is unlocked, indicating my dad is already here for the day.
“Good morning, pumpkin,” he says as I step inside.
“Morning, Dad.” I place my purse on my desk.
Mitchell puts the drink caddy and bag down on Dad’s oversized desk. “I’m calling him,” he says, already bringing the phone to his ear.
“Who?” Dad asks, looking at me.
“Officer Wallace texted asking Mitchell and me to come to the station as soon as possible. He didn’t say why.”
Dad nods. “That means the chief probably told him to get you both there.”
Why wouldn’t Chief Johansen call Mitchell himself?
“Wallace, it’s Brennan. What’s going on?” Mitchell’s eyes narrow. “All right. Tell him we’re on our way.” He hangs up and turns to Dad. “You’re right. Chief Johansen wants Piper and me, and he’s not telling anyone at the station why.”
“Well, that can’t be good,” I say.
“Want me to tag along?” Dad asks. Everyone at the station, including the chief, loves Dad. He was the best detective at the Weltunkin PD right up to the day he retired.
“No, I think Piper and I should go on our own. We’ll let you know what it’s about as soon as we can, though.”
Dad reaches inside the pastry bag and removes a chocolate glazed donut. Then he removes one of the coffees from the drink caddy. “All yours,” he says.
Mitchell grabs the rest, and we head out for the station.
I make it a point to avoid the Weltunkin police station unless it’s absolutely necessary to go there. While most of the officers are pretty indifferent to me, there’s one who tries to make my life as miserable as possible. Officer Andrews has no problem using me when it benefits him, like when I found out his wife isn’t planning to leave him despite his history of cheating and visiting strip clubs, but he also hates me for having read him against his will and being privy to his dark secrets. I’m just hoping I won’t have to see him while we’re there.
Officer Wallace is the first to greet us when we arrive. Him I like, and it’s not just because his partner is the very adorable and smart K9, Harry. Officer Wallace is actually impressed by my abilities.
“Hey, Piper. Hey, Mitchell,” Officer Wallace says. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you more on the phone, but I honestly don’t know anything. The chief just told me to get you both down here.”
“No problem,” Mitchell says. “I take it the chief is in his office.”
Officer Wallace nods, and we head for the office in the back of the station, but I can’t help noticing Officer Gilbert, a newbie on the force, is sitting with Officer Andrews.
“Is he still in training?” I whisper to Mitchell, not wanting Officer Andrews to hear me.
“Yeah, and he was officially named Andrews’s partner a few days ago.”
“I guess he drew the unlucky short stick,” I say.
He nods. “But it’s kind of funny considering Gilbert idolizes your father. He spends most of his time bringing up cases your dad worked on, which means Andrews spends most of his time rolling his eyes.”
I smile. “Well, that’s got to be entertaining.”
Mitchell stops in front of the chief s door. The walls to his office are glass, but he has the blinds down. Mitchell raises his hand and knocks.
“Come in,” Chief Johansen says in his deep voice.
Mitchell opens the door, and the fact that he steps into the office first makes me question if he thinks he’ll need to protect me from what the chief is about to say.
“Have a seat,” Chief Johansen says, his face void of emotion. Maybe it’s my nerves, but somehow, he seems even taller than usual today. More so once I sit down. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to dive right in. I got a phone call today from a lawyer whose client is interested in enlisting your help, Ms. Ashwell.”
My help? Then why did the chief call Mitchell in here as well. “I’m sorry, but something isn’t adding up. First, why me? Second, why wouldn’t this client call me himself instead of going through his lawyer and you? And third, why is Mitchell here if this concerns my services and not the Weltunkin PD’s?”
Chief Johansen leans forward in his chair. “I see you’re not the type to sit back and wait for an explanation. You want to get right to the questions on your mind.”
I take it that’s his way of telling me not to interrupt him, so I don’t respond.
“First, this isn’t a typical situation in that the client isn’t able to reach out to you on his own.”
“Why is that?” I blurt out before I can realize I’m interrupting him again.
The chief’s nostrils actually flare. “The man is currently residing in the Weltunkin prison after being convicted of murder.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “I’m sorry, but he’s in prison?”
“That’s correct. And Detective Brennan is present because given the fact that one of our officers put this man behind bars, we want one of our own to handle this case with you every step along the way.”
“This prisoner, I’m assuming he knows what I can do,” I say.
The chief nods.
Mitchell whips out his pad and pen. “What’s his name?”
“Levi O’Neil,” Chief Johansen says, and the look on Mitchell’s face would have clued me in to a few things even if my senses didn’t step in at that particular moment.
“Officer Andrews is the one who put him in jail,” I say, knowing it’s true.
“And that is why he will be nowhere near this investigation.”
Chief Johansen couldn’t have said anything else to make me happier.
“That won’t be an issue,” I say. “So, what does Mr. O’Neil want my help with exactly?”
“Finding and locking up his accomplice.”
Mitchell sits up straight. “No way. You’d be putting Piper in the middle of a war between two criminals.”
“I’m well aware.” The expression on Chief Johansen’s face is making it clear he doesn’t have a problem with putting my life on the line.
Chapter Two
So many things about this are bothering me right now. If I take this case, I’ll have to reopen yet another of Officer Andrews’s cases, which will only make him hate me more. Of course, I haven’t yet decided if that’s a positive or negative.
“Piper, you can turn this down,” Mitchell says. “You’re under no obligation to take the case. The man is behind bars. He’s been sitting in prison for five years. There’s no way he wouldn’t say something until now if it were true.”
“You don’t believe that,” I say. He’s trying to protect me, but I’m not going to say that out loud in front of the chief. I look at Chief Johansen. “Let me see the case file. I’ll go over it and decide if I want to hear what Mr. O’Neil has to say.”
“Fair enough.” Chief Johansen nods once in my direction, and I get the sense he expected as much from me.
“Piper, can I speak with you in private for a moment?” Mitchell asks, getting to his feet.
Chief Johansen cocks his head at Mitchell, his expression saying so much with no words at all.
“I mean, if we’re dismissed,” Mitchell says.
“You are. Brennan, you can get the case file for Ms. Ashwell once you’ve had your little talk, and I’ll expect to be kept up-to-date on this investigation.”
I stand up, noticing Chief Johansen seems pretty insistent that I take the case. Why would he want me to help a convicted felon of all people? It doesn’t make sense, which means I must be missing something.
Mitchell brings me to his desk and speaks in hushed tones, probably because we have the attention of all the officers in the station, seeing as we just had a private meeting with the chief. “You do not want to get involved in this. The case is closed. The right guy is behind bars. There is absolutely no reason to go to that prison and speak with O’Neil.”
“What does O’Neil want with you?” Officer Andrews asks from behind me.
Mitchell raises his head and glares at him. “This doesn’t concern you, Andrews.”
“If we’re talking about Levi O’Neil, then it does. I put him behind bars. It was my case, not yours, Brennan.” Andrews hates that Mitchell is lead detective on all the really big cases.
“He’s going to hear about this eventually,” I tell Mitchell before turning to face Officer Andrews. “O’Neil asked to speak with me because he’s claiming he didn’t work alone and there’s a killer on the loose.”
Officer Andrews laughs. “And you fell for that? The guy got busted and is facing a life sentence. You can’t possibly believe he’s telling the truth.” Officer Andrews crosses his arms and cocks his head at me. “Your so-called psychic abilities should be cluing you in on the fact that this guy is messing with you because he, like many others, thinks you’re a fraud.”
I stand up and face him. Now a nice person would probably not consider airing Officer Andrews’s dirty laundry in front of a police station full of cops, but one of my issues as a psychic is people’s emotions tend to rub off on me. Since my grandmother was an empath, that’s not uncommon. And right now, I’m channeling Officer Andrews’s dickheadedness. “My so-called psychic abilities are the reason you’re still married even though you’re a lowlife, cheating bastard who can’t stay away from strip clubs.”
A few nearby officers gasp. Not that I don’t believe they didn’t already suspect as much, but like I said, the average person wouldn’t have called out Officer Andrews on this in his place of work.
“You’re a fake, Ashwell. Nothing but a fraud who spews lies about people. If you ask me—”
“No one did,” Mitchell interrupts, also on his feet now.
I raise my hand to Mitchell. I can fight my own battles. “Go on,” I tell Officer Andrews, because I’m interested to see how far he’ll go with this.
“If you ask me, you’re nothing more than a perceptive person who pieces a few clues together and pretends the information came to you in visions. Like that guy from the TV show Psych.”
“Great show,” Officer Gilbert says, coming up alongside Officer Andrews, a WPD coffee mug in hand. “I binge watched all eight seasons.” He’s smiling like he has no clue there’s a verbal war going on three feet in front of him.
A huge part of me is dying to latch onto Officer Andrews’s arm and read him against his will, but with his current mood, I don’t doubt he’ll cuff me for assault. I settle for saying, “Tell your better half—and I’m referring to your wife, not the redhead named Candy at the strip club—I’ll be solving yet another case you couldn’t handle on your own.” I turn and walk out of the police station. Why I still go there is beyond me.
I walk to Mitchell’s patrol car and wait by the passenger door. He doesn’t emerge for a few minutes, which means he has a few choice words for Officer Andrews as well. Mitchell unlocks the patrol car the second he steps out of the station, and I get inside without saying anything.
Mitchell starts the car and says, “Weltunkin prison?”
