Grace McKenna Mystery 03-Never Tell by Anslinger Kate

Author:Anslinger, Kate [Anslinger, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, American Suspense, Police, Murder, Murder Investigation, Detective, Massachusetts, Psychic Powers, Police Procedural
Published: 2020-05-05T22:00:00+00:00

Grace followed Mark down the creaky wooden stairs, into the basement. The old cement floor and walls were a contradiction to the rest of the pristine house. Plastic bins were neatly labeled and stacked alongside one entire wall.

“Remember when you told me about your vision, about Joanne’s face and what she was wearing?”

“Yeah, the turquoise warmup jacket, with all those shapes and patterns.” Grace remembered the image clearly, reciting it back with confidence.

“Like this right here?” Mark pulled down a clear vacuum-sealed bag from the top of one of the Tupperware bins. Heat ran through Grace’s body, as her heart started to race faster.

“Jesus.” She looked at the bag, her mouth agape, trying to speak. “Did you open it?”

“No…the only reason I even saw it was because this bin is labeled dog items.” Mark pointed to the bin beneath the bag. “When I pulled it out to see if there was a bigger bed or blanket, the plastic bag fell to the floor…scared the heck out of me.”

“What do we do?” Grace surveyed the bag in Mark’s hands, opening hers as he passed it to her. She turned it over in her hands. All she could see was the turquoise nylon and polyester material against the front and back. She squeezed it to her chest. “Do you hear that?” Grace held it up to Mark’s face as she squeezed the bag again, this time with both hands in front of her.

“What’s that crunching?”

“I don’t know, but I think we are about to find out.” Grace grabbed a hold of the zipper that was mashed into the outline of the bag, flattened from years of being untouched. She slowly pulled it along the edge, until the bag was completely unzipped. The turquoise jacket lay in its folded position, unmoving. With shaky hands, Grace grabbed the shoulders, as if she were shopping for a new shirt, holding it up and assessing it.

The bright yellow triangles and squares, now faded, bombarded Grace’s memory, conjuring an image of Joanne herself. The curly hair, the brown eyes accented with blue shadow, and the movement of her mouth as she begged for something. Grace had been trying to decipher what the woman was saying, what she was trying to tell whoever it was who did this to her—likely Jack Whitaker. The matching turquoise pants made a whooshing sound as they took flight and fell to the floor. Grace shook out the jacket, releasing what was inside it. Several newspaper articles held together by a binding of staples fell to the floor. All from the Bridgeton Press and all involving Joanne Barrett and Jack Whittaker. All the missing-person articles that Grace had found online about Joanne Barrett, mingling with articles on star hockey player Jack Whittaker.

Grace looked at the grainy images of Mr. Whittaker as a teen. The same proud smile he had today came through in the old newspaper articles, the dates spanning from October 1983 until May 1984. Grace plopped down on a plastic bin that sat in the corner of the basement, holding the articles in her lap.

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