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“I’m a psychic.” Cassie hadn’t meant to say it. Not like that, anyway. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. And it’s important.” The other woman stayed silent, so Cassie rushed on. “I am a consultant with the Savannah PD. A psychic consultant. Like I said, I’ve helped solve dozens of murders. But this one, David’s murder, is different. He hasn’t come to me like others have. And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to solve this.”
“You’re insane,” Melissa whispered, but she said it like she was afraid it wasn’t true.
“I don’t think Bob is dead because I can’t see him. Or feel him. Wherever he is, he’s still alive.”
Melissa’s next words came out in a hiss. “How dare you—”
“Your mother.” Cassie turned back to the portrait. “She died of breast cancer, didn’t she?”
Melissa took a step back. “How did you know?”
Cassie had seen a pink ribbon pinned to the woman’s coat next to the door. But she wasn’t about to tell Melissa that. “You two went on a trip near the end, didn’t you?” The portrait sitting next to the couch. Cassie had recognized the iconic façade of the Duomo. “Florence? She’d always wanted to go there, hadn’t she?”
A strangled sob had escaped Melissa’s mouth. Shuffling over to the couch, she sat down, like her legs could barely hold her weight anymore. “Is she here?”
Cassie closed her eyes. She didn’t want to lie or cause this woman more pain, but she needed answers and she needed to find Bob before something happened. “Yes. She says it was the bes
t time of her life.”
“I miss her so much.” Melissa was sobbing now, her face in her hands. “Every day.”
“She misses you, too. But she’s happy.” Cassie hated herself a little. But it wasn’t a lie. This is what people wanted to hear. Sometimes it didn’t matter if it was true or not. “Your mother is at peace. She doesn’t want you to waste your life missing her. She wants you to keep going. For your husband. For little Georgie.”
Melissa looked up at Cassie. Tears streamed down her face, and she licked them away from her lips. Hope burned brightly in her eyes. “It’s hard.”
Cassie knelt in front of Melissa and put her hand on the woman’s knee. “I know. She knows. But it’s time. You’ve grieved long enough.”
Melissa swallowed back a sob long enough to speak. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Cassie hoped her words comforted the woman. “I can help find your husband. But I need to ask you some questions first.”
Melissa nodded and sat up straighter. Wiping the tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, she asked, “What do you need to know?”
“Rose Sherman.” Cassie didn’t hesitate. They had to find out more about the woman. “Tell me everything.”
24
Harris hoped Cassie was having better luck. Considering Robert’s wife hadn’t barged in on her yet, things seemed to be going well out there. Or maybe Mrs. Sherman had called the cops and Harris was about to get arrested and sent back to Savannah with her tail between her legs.
But she didn’t have time to worry about that right now. She’d found Robert Sherman’s office—a moderately styled room lined with bookshelves and dotted with plush chairs. In its center sat a solid, shiny, dark wooden desk. It looked expensive, but she could barely see it under all the paperwork scattered across its surface. Something told her that when guests came over, this room was off limits.
Harris approached the desk, spotting a closed laptop under a book and a pile of papers. Brushing them to the side, she accidentally knocked the book off the desk in the process. But it didn’t matter. If Robert Sherman was in trouble, he wouldn’t mind her ransacking his desk if it meant saving his ass.
The laptop was password protected. It was up for debate if Robert was smart enough not to write the information down somewhere, but even if he wasn’t, there was no telling where he would’ve kept it. Harris took a deep breath before digging in.
She opened the drawers one at a time, looking for something—anything. Whether it was the password or something more significant didn’t matter. She didn’t know what she was after, but she’d recognize it when she found it.
What she found was a whole lot of nothing. Pens and pencils. Blank computer paper. All the office supplies you’d expect and nothing you wouldn’t. It seemed painfully ordinary, much to her annoyance. Even the hanging files related to his job appeared unimportant. Scanning the names of the accounts on the tabs, nothing stuck out. None matched the companies associated with the sleazy lawyer, Reed. She knew it was all related somehow, otherwise she wouldn’t be here. But it felt like they were attacking the same problem from two different angles and never meeting in the middle.
Harris slammed the last drawer shut and growled in frustration. Time felt like it was slipping through her fingers, no matter how tightly she gripped it. If Cassie were here, she’d make some reference to that Salvador Dalí painting where the clocks hung limply from tree branches, like they were about to drip into oblivion. Every step forward had been a lucky stumble. And she couldn’t guarantee she’d find the answers she was looking for.
She had to wonder if she really wanted the answers after all.
Cassie had tried to warn her. David hadn’t wanted them looking into his death, and Harris had ignored those wishes without a second thought. She didn’t regret her choice. She refused to feel guilty. How could he ask that of her? He was gone, and she was left to pick up the pieces. He didn’t get to decide how she mourned him. How she would put her own life back together.
Then there was the spreadsheet. Seeing that date had triggered an avalanche of memories. Moments she had worked tirelessly to erase from her consciousness. Cassie had seen her surprise, and instead of opening up to her friend, Harris had shut her out. But she had more important problems to solve now.
Like figuring out where the hell Rose Sherman was hiding.
