Chapter 14
The patrol units arrived, and the neighborhood went from dead quiet to lit up in a wash of red and blue. Mia sat on the front porch wrapped in a blanket, and Coco was at her side, keeping watch.
I stood near the front steps with Giovanni while one of the officers moved through the house and another swept the backyard with a flashlight, even though the intruder was long gone.
A few minutes later, Foley’s SUV pulled up behind one of the patrol cars, followed by Whitlock and then Silas in the coroner’s van.
Foley stepped out first, looking irritable, tired, and in no mood for surprises at two o’clock in the morning.
Whitlock walked toward him, tipping his head at me along the way.
Silas approached, glanced at the shattered front window, and then at Giovanni and me. “That’s one way to make a speedy entry.”
Giovanni smiled like he was taking pride in his work. “I agree.”
Foley joined us on the porch, saying, “At this hour, I’m almost too tired to ask how you and Giovanni came to be sitting outside Miss Bennett’s house in the middle of the night.”
“Almost?” I asked.
“Don’t push it.”
“Let’s all take a moment to appreciate the bright side,” Whitlock said, stepping up to join us.
Foley turned toward him. “There’s a bright side?”
“Mia’s alive,” Whitlock said. “That’s something, is it not?”
“You’re right. Mia is alive, and she’s safe. Now then, how did you and Giovanni end up here tonight, Georgiana?”
“I had a bad dream, and it didn’t sit well with me.”
“And this bad dream led you to drive across town in the middle of the night?”
“That’s the short version.”
Foley looked torn between irritation, concern, and the urge to commend me for trusting my instincts. “All right, tell me what happened after you got here.”
I told him about the figure dressed in black moving through the neighborhood and how that person had turned around and taken off just before reaching Mia’s house.
I explained that Giovanni and I had followed in pursuit, only to lose sight of the mystery person.
When we returned, we spotted a shadowy figure through Mia’s front window.
I described Mia’s scream, the frantic barking from Coco, and how I’d pounded on the door before Giovanni shot out the window so we could get inside.
“It’s a good thing we entered the house when we did because Mia had just seen someone standing in her bedroom doorway,” Giovanni added.
“What happened after you went inside?” Foley asked.
“The intruder fled,” I said. “Mia thought they went out the back. We checked. By the time we got outside, no one was there. Giovanni was going to drive around, see if he could find the intruder, but when he got to the car, two of the tires were slashed.”
Whitlock gave a low whistle.
“Walk me through your theory again,” Foley said. “The one about Mia being the intended target.”
I gave him the short version.
The photos on the piano.
The resemblance between the sisters.
The autopsy clue from Silas, and the idea that Wren may have been lifted after the shooting so the killer could get a better look at her face.
The fact that one of the sisters had a birthmark below her ear and the other one didn’t.
When I finished, Foley tugged at his chin the way he always did when he was mulling something over.
“I’ll admit, when she told me earlier, I thought it was one hell of a leap, though there was also some merit to it,” Whitlock said.
“And now?” I asked.
“Now I think someone tried to come back and correct their mistake, if it was one.”
Foley crossed his arms. “If your theory is right, then we’ve been looking at the wrong victim.”
“Not wrong,” I said. “Just not the intended one.”
“Same difference,” he muttered. “If Mia is the target, then the question shifts.”
“Shifts to who wants Mia dead, and why,” I said.
“Which means we need to start digging into Mia’s life.”
“Work, personal history, dating history, neighbors, finances,” I said. “Anyone she’s crossed. Anyone with a grudge.”
“I like where you’re going with it, but for tonight, let’s give it a rest.”
“I agree,” I said. “I can’t imagine Mia’s in the right headspace for questions. I’ll talk to her in the morning after she’s had more time to process everything.”
Whitlock rubbed his hands together. “In the meantime, I’ll have a patrol car circle the area so if the intruder comes back, they’ll know we’re not taking any chances.”
“They were supposed to already be doing that,” Foley said, sounding annoyed. “I want them to do more than circle. I want officers parked in front of the house until I say otherwise. If Mia leaves, they follow.”
One of the officers approached and gave Foley a quiet update about the backyard gate, which he’d noticed had been left open.
They talked for a minute, and when the officer walked away, Foley placed a hand on Giovanni’s shoulder.
“Thank you for getting inside when you did. The two of you saved a woman’s life tonight. ”
Giovanni gave a slight nod. “Any man who knows a woman is in danger should act. It wasn’t a complicated decision.”
Whitlock smiled. “One of these days you’ll have to teach me how to be that cool under pressure.”
“All right then,” Foley said. “We know more than we did an hour ago. So, let’s secure the scene, process what we can, keep a couple of officers here, and speak to Mia as soon as she’s feeling up to it.”
As our group huddle broke apart, Whitlock checked in on Mia, asking if he could get her anything. Silas stood near the open window, chatting with a member of his team, and Foley ran a hand over his bald head, lingering for a moment as if deep in thought.
When he looked back at me, his expression had softened. “You’d trusted me once enough to explain that intuition of yours. I don’t know what else to call it. It’s not something I understand, and it’s not something I’ve ever had, but that doesn’t mean I don’t believe you. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“I don’t ever want you to feel like you can’t tell me things like that.
If there was ever a night to trust your instincts, this was it.
I don’t say it enough, but I’m glad I get to work with you on cases like these.
Even if you won’t come back and work at the department, in some ways, it still feels like you’re one of us. ”
It was the highest praise Foley had ever given me, and for once, I was at a loss for words. He seemed to understand, because he nodded, offering a slight smile as he made his way to the front door, calling out an order to one of the officers along the way.
I took a seat next to Mia, and Whitlock excused himself, saying, “I’m going to leave you two to talk.”
For a moment, we just sat, taking it all in.
Then Mia said, “What made you come over tonight?”
Her tone indicated a need to understand more than anything else.
Few people knew about my dreams or just how much they helped me when I worked on homicide cases.
Over time, I’d gotten the odd sense that the dead weren’t as far away as most people believed.
That said, it was easier to keep my dreams to myself than to subject them to potential judgment.
But tonight didn’t feel like the time for secrecy.
“I had a dream about Wren,” I said.
“What kind of dream?”
“The kind that felt like more than just a dream.”
“Will you tell me about it?”
I told her I’d fallen asleep and when I woke in the dream, I was inside her house.
It was the night of the murder, and Wren was dead, but she was also hovering over her own body as if she was in both physical and spiritual form.
I mentioned Wren saying she’d died before her time, that something wasn’t finished, and repeating something about a key.
When I finished, Mia’s fingers tightened around the edge of the blanket. “What were Wren’s exact words?”
I repeated them as best I could remember. “The key waits where it shouldn’t and leaves when it’s found.”
Mia stayed quiet.
I continued.
“She also said something was about to happen, and that I would be part of it. I woke up so shaken I knew I needed to come here and make sure you were all right.”
“Wren always believed there were things in this world that couldn’t be explained, and she thought some people were more receptive than others.”
I studied her face. “What do you think about that?”
“I believe some people have abilities others don’t.”
“That’s a careful answer.”
“It’s an honest one.” She lifted her gaze to meet mine. “I believe Wren was trying to protect me through your dream.”
“I think she was trying to warn me too.”
“I agree.”
“I’m still confused about what she meant about a key being where it shouldn’t be, but maybe she was trying to tell me I’ve been looking in the wrong direction.”
“Or maybe she was talking about a different kind of key.”
“What do you mean?”
Mia shifted beneath the blanket and pointed toward the front yard.
“Every now and then the keypad on the front door jams. Not often, but when it does, I can stand there punching in the code a dozen times, and the lock still won’t catch.
I’ve meant to replace it; I just haven’t gotten around to it.
I guess what I’m saying is, I hide a spare key outside in case I can’t get in. ”
A single question occupied my thoughts: is the spare key still in its hiding place?
“Where did you hide it?” I asked.
Mia pointed toward the tree near the front walk. “Under the garden fairy at the base of the trunk.”
I stood so fast I almost lost my balance, going down the steps and crossing the yard, my pulse loud in my ears. The officers near the front of the house turned to look, but I paid them no mind.
I was on a mission.
The garden fairy was half hidden by low flowers and greenery. I pulled out the mini flashlight I’d been carrying around in my pocket and clicked it on. Then I crouched down, lifted the ceramic fairy, and aimed the beam beneath it, bracing for what I might find.
For one suspended second, I expected to see a small brass key tucked into the dirt.
But nothing was there.
No key.
No glint of metal.
Only disturbed soil.
I remained frozen in place, the fairy still in my hand, the flashlight beam fixed on the empty patch beneath it.
And in that instant, everything about the dream I had made sense.