Kicking It(50)

“PsyLED? How long will that take?” Layla asked, seeming to understand that it would take far too much time. That her mother might not survive long enough for law enforcement to find her.

“We could do a finding,” Cia said with a faint shrug, holding Liz’s gaze, “like we planned.”

“It just won’t be easy.” Liz pointed to the clothes on the floor. “But the left boot is missing. She was likely wearing it when she was taken.”

“We could find the left boot with the right one. Give the cops something to go on.”

“Or figure it out before they even get started on the case.”

The twins turned to Layla as one and said, almost in unison, “It’s up to you.”

“What’s up to me?” she demanded.

“If we take the boot and keep working to find your mom,” Cia said, “or return your money and let the cops take over.”

Layla looked back and forth between them, her breath coming too fast between perfectly parted lips. “I guess my mother stands the best chance of being found with both the police and you working to find her.” On that happy note, the goat raced back down the hallway and skittered to a halt in front of Layla, her hooves dancing.

Her diaper filled the room with goat-poop stink.

Layla gagged softly.

Cia giggled.

—

The sisters couldn’t do the finding inside the house, not without both contaminating any remaining magical energies left over from the blood magic spell and also maybe having their own working skewed or corrupted by the black magic. More magic on the scene would tick off any PsyLED investigator. It might also alert the blood magic witch. To be safe, the twins had to start somewhere else, which meant interviews, phone calls, and computer research. They had seen Jane Yellowrock track down a missing person. They had an idea of basic electronic investigative methodology, if not access to the specialized databases that the security specialist used.

Rather than further contaminate a crime scene, the girls retired to Layla’s exquisite three-bedroom Weirbridge Village apartment. It was one of the luxury corner units, and like Layla herself, the apartment was elegant and refined. Unlike her mother’s place, Layla’s home looked lived in, yet was still spotless. Early training in perfection had paid off in a neat freak.

Though painfully worried about her mother—or maybe to keep occupied—Layla served them colas and pita chips and softened Brie with fresh grapes on the side. And gave them access to her electronic tablets and an older laptop and her phone while her stinky goat raced around the apartment on tap-tapping hooves that had to be driving the people on the floor beneath crazy.

Between talking to Layla, talking to Evelyn’s office assistant (in a phone call placed by Layla when they asked), and doing a bit of Internet research, the Everhart sisters discovered quite a bit. In just ninety minutes, they had a good solid lead on where to cast their working.

The property development firm that Evelyn worked for—Mayhew Developments—specialized in turning mountain properties into ski resorts, hotels, and vacation resorts. According to the county planning board, Evelyn was in the middle of helping her boss to develop some of his family’s property north of Asheville into what was expected to be his signature project—upscale, exclusive, lavish.

According to the assistant, the property had been in the Mayhew family for nearly 120 years, and once actually boasted a town, Mayhew Downs. All that was left of the town today were a few foundation stones and a graveyard. And, most important, the property was the last stop Evelyn had made on her way home the evening she disappeared.

“That has Bingo written all over it,” Cia said.

“So, you’ll go to the property,” Layla said, sounding uncertain.

“Yeah, and you’ll call PsyLED,” Liz said, eating the last grape, “and then the local cops again. Tell PsyLED that you’ve called the cops, and tell the cops that you called PsyLED. Competition will make them more likely to get in there fast.”

“When?” Layla asked. At the twins’ uncomprehending expressions, she said, “When do you go to the property? To do the working?”

“Dusk,” Cia said.

Liz thought about the season and the moon cycle and realized that the moon would be over the horizon at dusk. Cia would be at her strongest then. “Yeah. We need to be on-site an hour before that.” She pulled her cell, checked the time, and said to Cia, “Which means we need to leave now.” To Layla she said, “We’ll call when we know something. It might be just a directional thing or it might be a firm address. Or it might not work at all.”