Oracle: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Series (A Diana Hawthorne Supernatural Mystery Book 1), Carissa Andrews [read my book .txt] 📗

suspicions about Brent are spot on. He has a thing for little girls. He wasn’t a bad guy, not at first, but something has snapped. Maybe he’s off meds or something. We’ll need to act quickly, before the trail goes fully cold,” I say.

Lacy’s eyes widen and she clutches the necklace to her chest as she holds back tears.

Ted nods, “He always comes out of the small apartment complex by the park. It’s possible he lives there but the police found nothing when they canvassed.”

“This helps, though. Now we have a name. You need to get to the police department and tell them to find Brent for questioning. I wasn’t able to get a last name. I think he must go by a few different names… It’s too muddy. But it should help them narrow it down when they talk to the landlord. I’ll call my guy at the PD and give him a heads up. Ask for Detective Radovich when you get there and tell him you’ve just been to see me. He’ll know what to do,” I say.

Goosebumps flash up and down my body and the last thing I want to do is follow the line of energy further.

I hate people.

I hate knowing good people turn bad. Bad people pretend to be good.

I hate knowing sometimes there’s nothing I can do to stop bad things from happening.

And if they don’t hurry, bad things are definitely going to get worse.

2

I WISH I COULD SHUT MY MIND the hell up sometimes. Instead, my thoughts refuse to stray far from the couple who came in earlier in the day and the little girl still missing. I gotta know if they’ve raided the apartment building yet. Has the detective been able to ascertain anything useful? Did they find the girl? During the slower moments of my day, I reach out, trying to sense what’s happening, but nothing is certain. I take it as a sign things are more complicated than anyone would like.

In all honesty—if it wasn’t about a child, I couldn’t care less. But as much as I hate to admit it, there are actually some things in this world that can melt this ice-queen’s heart. Even though I’ve never had any of my own, kids hurt or missing happen to top the list.

After a long day of saying most of the same old bullshit over and over—because, let’s face it, most humans aren’t all that complicated—Renaldo finally manages to cut off the stream of those wishing for a word.

“I ordered those chains and whips,” he grins enthusiastically, clicking the deadlock into place. “They’ll be in on Thursday.”

His perfectly plucked eyebrows wiggle in rhythm with his butt.

I shake my head and grin. At least he’s able to be upbeat.

“Whatever you say. I trust your judgement with all this nonsense,” I say, walking back into my reading room. He follows as I grab my previously soaked stocking off the radiator and pull it over my foot. “Thanks for doing it, though. Do you have any plans tonight?”

Renaldo sighs dramatically.

“Oh, I wish. We’ll probably be staying in with a bottle of wine and Netflix on the ready. Again. How about you?” he asks, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

“Absolutely nothing, and it’s going to be glorious,” I say, exhaling.

“Any news on the little one?” Renaldo says, his tone edging on serious, as he scrunches his nose and squints nervously my direction.

I shake my head.

“Nothing yet but give it time. The police are on it,” I say.

“Yeah, ‘cause they’re so great at finding the bad guys these days,” he snickers. “That’s gotta be hard for you—knowing bad things are happening or could get worse—and not being able to personally intervene. At least, not without going all vigilante.”

Images of Batman flash through my mind.

My eyes widen and my lips purse to cut off a snicker. As much as I say I hate the mundane bullshit most days bring, he’s right. I hate knowing when something is really wrong and not being able to step in. Turning it over to the authorities can be one of the most difficult things to do. But then again, I’ve seen what happens the other way around, too.

“Yeah, it pretty much sucks,” I finally admit. Biting my lip, I cast my gaze to the floor.

“Hey, you could become a superhero or something. Can I make a costume? Ooooh, tights. A cape,” he says, clapping.

“M’kay, on that note… See you tomorrow, Ren. On time, this time. Yeah?” I say, quirking a smile.

I catch his gaze, then lower my eyebrows and squint at him, knowing it will make absolutely zero impact.

“You bet, super boss o’ mine,” he tips his chin, grinning sheepishly.

“Thanks for closing up shop,” I say, casting a final wave.

“Oh, wait. That’s my job?” he says in mock surprise, fingertips pressing against his chest.

“Goodnight,” I call out without another glance back.

I slip out the back door of the small cottage I rent as my place of occupation and take in the aroma of dusk. There’s a magic in the air during these twilight hours. This is my favorite time of day. The earth’s scent is sweet, and the cool breeze of evening is starting to settle in. It’s similar during dawn, but there’s something enchanting about the coming of night and the rising of the moon.

The beautiful crescent is already peeking through the clouds, and acknowledging it makes me smile.

“Waxing phase,” I mutter to myself.

Just a week and a half to the full moon.

I like to keep tabs on where the moon phase is. It helps me to orient myself to the cycles of nature. Besides, it’s kind of my job as a psychic, I suppose. There are plenty of people who have expectations of such things, as dorky as it might sound. All it takes is one Wiccan to walk in and ask when the best moon phase is for starting a ritual or some damn thing. Besides, there are instances