business associates most likely. And how the hell had Jones vanished like that? Experts have been working on invisibility spells for decades with no success. Illusion maybe? That sort of thing is difficult, but at least marginally possible for folks with enough talent.
I pondered it all the way through the parking lot as I searched for my vehicle. Kevin had used the spare key to fetch my car from wherever I’d left it parked. I juggled umbrella, duffel, and keys as I walked across the scorching asphalt to a spot in the very last row. There, tucked between two monster trucks, sat my gleaming midnight blue
convertible.
Well, hell.
Yes, the top was up, but the thought that I might not be able to ride around during the day with the top down just pissed me off even more. But I was alive. And I had more important things to think about. I had a lot to do. First thing, I wanted to call Gran. I was supposed to have had dinner with her last night, so by now she’d probably contacted the authorities to make sure I hadn’t been in an accident. Then again, maybe not. I do tend to work weird hours.
Second, I
definitely
needed to chat with the police. Something very weird was going on and I was right in the middle of it. I mean,
no bodies
? I wouldn’t have gone out at night alone. I’d been scheduled for a job. If I/we’d been hit, there would’ve been more casualties than just me. I’m good enough not to go down without a fight. So, why no bodies? Who would move them? And
why
? Getting rid of that kind of evidence takes real work.
I put my duffel in the minuscule trunk. It fit, but there wasn’t a lot of room to spare. I love my little sports car. It is a joy to drive and everything I’ve always wanted. But practical it isn’t. I collapsed the umbrella and let myself into the car, dropping the umbrella onto the floorboard on the passenger side.
The car was an oven. In seconds, sweat started to trickle down my back, between my shoulder blades, and under my breasts. I started the ignition, put the air conditioner on full blast, and set about looking for clues.
The first and most obvious was the file folder sitting on the passenger seat. I knew what that was—my research on Prince Rezza. That it was here in the car instead of in my files at the office said that I’d actually made it as far as going out to the job. More interesting to me by far was the little multi-colored photo envelope peeking out from behind the seat.
I didn’t remember celebrating Vicki’s birthday, but apparently we’d done it. I flipped through the snapshots over and over,
trying
to remember. We’d obviously had a great time. From the expression on her face, she’d loved the mirror and the card. There were pictures of us laughing and hugging. But I didn’t
remember.
I tried, but there was nothing. Not a damned thing. I felt a lump in my throat and a pain in my stomach. Memories lost were just that—lost. Sure, there would be more smiles, but I’d missed these and not even the pictures could give them back. They might as well be photos of two strangers.
I slid the photos back into the envelope and reached over to open the glove compartment. Normally I tuck my cell phone in there when I go out on a job. After all, no calls when you’re on duty.
It wasn’t there. I swore under my breath. If it wasn’t in the glove box, it had probably been in my pocket. Which meant it was gone—along with who knew what all else.
Since I put the file in the car, I must have gone to the job, and I would have been wearing my jacket and carrying my new gadget—both of which were valuable and neither of which I had any longer. Dammit!
I thought about what to do as the car engine did its best to blast cooler air through the vents. I reached back into the glove compartment and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion. SPF 30 would have to do. I could already feel my skin reacting where it was exposed to patches of sunlight. The smell of coconut, aloe, and chemicals
I pondered it all the way through the parking lot as I searched for my vehicle. Kevin had used the spare key to fetch my car from wherever I’d left it parked. I juggled umbrella, duffel, and keys as I walked across the scorching asphalt to a spot in the very last row. There, tucked between two monster trucks, sat my gleaming midnight blue
convertible.
Well, hell.
Yes, the top was up, but the thought that I might not be able to ride around during the day with the top down just pissed me off even more. But I was alive. And I had more important things to think about. I had a lot to do. First thing, I wanted to call Gran. I was supposed to have had dinner with her last night, so by now she’d probably contacted the authorities to make sure I hadn’t been in an accident. Then again, maybe not. I do tend to work weird hours.
Second, I
definitely
needed to chat with the police. Something very weird was going on and I was right in the middle of it. I mean,
no bodies
? I wouldn’t have gone out at night alone. I’d been scheduled for a job. If I/we’d been hit, there would’ve been more casualties than just me. I’m good enough not to go down without a fight. So, why no bodies? Who would move them? And
why
? Getting rid of that kind of evidence takes real work.
I put my duffel in the minuscule trunk. It fit, but there wasn’t a lot of room to spare. I love my little sports car. It is a joy to drive and everything I’ve always wanted. But practical it isn’t. I collapsed the umbrella and let myself into the car, dropping the umbrella onto the floorboard on the passenger side.
The car was an oven. In seconds, sweat started to trickle down my back, between my shoulder blades, and under my breasts. I started the ignition, put the air conditioner on full blast, and set about looking for clues.
The first and most obvious was the file folder sitting on the passenger seat. I knew what that was—my research on Prince Rezza. That it was here in the car instead of in my files at the office said that I’d actually made it as far as going out to the job. More interesting to me by far was the little multi-colored photo envelope peeking out from behind the seat.
I didn’t remember celebrating Vicki’s birthday, but apparently we’d done it. I flipped through the snapshots over and over,
trying
to remember. We’d obviously had a great time. From the expression on her face, she’d loved the mirror and the card. There were pictures of us laughing and hugging. But I didn’t
remember.
I tried, but there was nothing. Not a damned thing. I felt a lump in my throat and a pain in my stomach. Memories lost were just that—lost. Sure, there would be more smiles, but I’d missed these and not even the pictures could give them back. They might as well be photos of two strangers.
I slid the photos back into the envelope and reached over to open the glove compartment. Normally I tuck my cell phone in there when I go out on a job. After all, no calls when you’re on duty.
It wasn’t there. I swore under my breath. If it wasn’t in the glove box, it had probably been in my pocket. Which meant it was gone—along with who knew what all else.
Since I put the file in the car, I must have gone to the job, and I would have been wearing my jacket and carrying my new gadget—both of which were valuable and neither of which I had any longer. Dammit!
I thought about what to do as the car engine did its best to blast cooler air through the vents. I reached back into the glove compartment and grabbed a bottle of suntan lotion. SPF 30 would have to do. I could already feel my skin reacting where it was exposed to patches of sunlight. The smell of coconut, aloe, and chemicals
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