Spirited 1 by Mary Behre Read Free Book Online

like all the others, focused primarily on loose gems. This time, they weren’t just any gems in the store. While before the stolen gems had been a mix of semiprecious stones and diamonds, at Holcomb’s robbery they were all diamonds. At a carat each, they were high quality and easy to fence, with the exception of the red diamond. The value of that gem alone boosted the Holcomb heist to nearly a half-million dollars.
    And now McGivern’s had been robbed. Seth only hoped this time the gang left fingerprints or something more substantial to go on than broken glass. He’d love to walk in there with a little leverage when he met with Aimee-Lynn this afternoon.
     • • • 
    A FTER CALLING HERSELF and receiving only voice mail, Jules winced. She had no choice. She’d have to come clean.
    “Um, April. I, uh, have some bad news.”
    “What’s wrong?” April asked as she pulled into the parking spot at the back of April’s Flowers and cut the engine.
    “Well, it seems I’ve lost my keys to the apartment and, the uh . . .” Jules bit her lip. “Shop.”
    “Juliana, are you sure?” April’s eyes widened. “Wait, the shop key’s missing too?”
    “I’m so sorry.” Jules hurriedly exited from the car and raced to the driver’s side to help April climb out. “I’ll pay to have the locks replaced if I can’t find the key.”
    April gave her a wan smile. “That’s not necessary. I’ll figure something out. I’ll call Ernie. He’ll know what to do about changing the locks.”
    A horn beeped. Jules glanced toward the loading dock to see the delivery van waiting for them. She turned back to April. “Why don’t you head inside and I’ll get the delivery sorted out.”
    “Good idea.” April nodded. “Once you’ve finished with him, there are nine dozen white carnations in the back room that need to be dyed before the store opens. Can you take care of them?”
    “Sure.” Jules nodded, then headed toward the large white van.
    She dealt with the deliveryman quickly, leaving him to put the fresh flowers in the case and the boxes of floral supplies in the back room. She’d need to shelve them but April had wanted the flowers dyed first. Jules closed the loading dock door behind the driver as he left the building, then strode toward the back room.
    Gathering her supplies—a bucket of flowers, floral paint, and her apron—she carried them to the table. She dropped the bucket to the floor and set the cans of paint next to the nine large green plastic vases on the worktable before tying the apron around her body.
    Jules grabbed up a flower, an uncapped can and started spraying. Finishing the first flower, she set it in a vase then plucked another carnation from the bucket and dyed it. The problem with the mundane task was that her mind tended to wander. The last thing she wanted to do as she stood alone working was think about her vision.
    Each time her thoughts drifted to the hum and bump of the wheels of the car from last night’s vision, she moved around the table, as if shifting her position could push away the unwanted memory. Before the last flower was colored, she’d circled the worktable four times and whipped her mind through topics such as how she’d find her sisters, ideas for boosting sales during the holiday season, and even April’s fears of losing the twins as she had the previous two pregnancies.
    Between dropping one dyed flower in the bucket and beginning the next, the hum of the tires sounded in her ears again. At some point she drifted, carried away by the monotonous tonal memory until her nose burned with the stench of sweat, copper, and fear. She found herself sifting through the entire vision.
    With her visions limited to the victim’s perspective, there wasn’t much to go on. Last night’s vision consisted mostly of shadows, blood, and pain, nothing about the victim, the car itself, or the killer. Information wise, the vision bordered on useless but it did bring on a fresh