Sky High (A Nicki Valentine Mystery Book 2) Read Free Page A

bouquet into a white trash bag, hopefully to preserve it, but maybe not. I cringed. Maybe Dean’s “uncomfortable” was already here.
    “Where will you go?” a bridesmaid asked quietly.
    “To Bruce’s mom’s. The police will meet us there. I’ll text you if I need anything.”
    Bruce’s mom nodded on the laptop and wiped her eyes with a tissue. “Yes, sweetheart, come here. Bring anyone you’d like.”
    Light, quick footsteps in the hall were followed by Liz rushing in to give Mia a long, tight hug. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”
    If Mia was anything like me, I knew what was next: a downpour. Liz’s caring nature—plus her commitment to confidentiality—helped people let go. Really let go.
    I turned to sneak out, but Mia caught my eye.
    “Stay,” she insisted. I paused mid-step. “I need to talk to you.”
    I wished it was about something simple, like transporting her flower arrangements to the reception in my minivan. But I knew it wasn’t. She didn’t even know I had a minivan. She also didn’t know that the last time I’d found a missing person, I’d had beginner’s luck—plus help from a retired FBI agent with a soft spot for endangered kids. Since then, I’d focused on simple, safe pre-employment screenings from the comfort of my home. My new PI firm, Sky Investigations, had barely gotten off the ground.
    “Please help me find Bruce,” Mia said. “I can’t live without him.” My heart went out to her, but I believed the police were her best resource. Then she added, “And neither can his mom.”
    Aunt Liz gave me a pleading look.
    Oh, dear. I wasn’t confident about giving Mia much more than the laundry sorter I’d picked from her wedding registry, but I’d do what I could. I just hoped no one would regret it.

Two

      
    Dean and I talked Mia into giving the police some time before we potentially stepped on their toes, but we took Bruce’s full name (Bruce James Fallon) and all the information we could gather.
    We also convinced her the reception was the best place for us to help, since the police probably wouldn’t be there, and we could talk with his friends and relatives. I couldn’t picture going to Bruce’s mom’s house yet, although Mia told us something intriguing: Lydia Fallon was a medium. Her “spirit guides,” Mia hoped, would reveal Bruce’s whereabouts, although they tended not to say much about family. For example, they hadn’t predicted his disappearance.
    I’d considered seeing a medium about my late husband, Jason, who died while cheating on me. I wanted to know why he’d been unfaithful, when he’d fallen for his coworker Megan, and what happened the day they were kayaking on the Potomac River and drowned. Even if he wasn’t in love with me, how could he have betrayed me and our children? Like always, I pushed away such questions to maintain my sanity.
    “I hope to see you tonight,” I told Mia, “but if not, let’s talk tomorrow.”
    “I’ll give you Nicki’s number,” Liz said, holding her at arm’s length and looking into her eyes. “One way or another, everything is going to be okay,” she said. “Now let’s get over to Lydia’s with your parents. We’ll go from there.”

      
    There were a few stragglers outside, including a middle-aged couple chatting on the steps and a clean-cut young man squinting at the church from his idling car, probably waiting for a delayed bridesmaid. While sliding into Dean’s nearby Aston Martin, on semi-permanent loan from his successful but relatively unknown actor dad, all I could say was, “Wow.”
    I wasn’t talking about the gorgeous, deep blue car or the way it growled when it took off. Nor was I talking about the way Dean’s muscular hand somehow made shifting gears look erotic. I was talking about the scene we’d just witnessed and what we might have to do about it. Wow.
    I resisted the urge to flip down the visor mirror and see if cosmetics companies lived up to their miraculous claims. I’d