Bridget lived in a two story townhouse in Niles off Oakton. It was white paneled with a brick face on the first floor front. Jenna's Mustang was in the driveway. All the shades were drawn when Bridget and I came in.
Bridget flipped on the kitchen light instead of opening the blinds to let in the light of sunrise. It was a pleasant kitchen, one that was little used I guessed. The counter tops were pristine, black and white marble. The floors were white tile. I envied the beautiful new, stainless steel oven and refrigerator. I imagined all the wonderful things I could cook in this kitchen. Nothing showed much use except the food splattered microwave door and the coffee stained coffee pot. There was a black folding card table and four matching chairs that didn't match the beauty of the kitchen.
“Do you have any flour?” Bridget looked at me quizzically. “I must use this kitchen. I want to make pancakes.”
Bridget crossed to the cabinet and pulled out some salt. There wasn't much else. A few boxes of cereal, canned sauce, dry pasta, packets of ramen. It looked like my dorm room pantry.
“If Sean drives us we can make a stop at the store.” She put the salt and the mirror on the folding card table set up against the wall across from the stove. “It's going to take me a while to figure this out. Like I said, I've never really been good at this. Last time I tried it took me two hours to get a fuzzy image of a pear.”
“What were you looking for?”
“My grandma's garden. I think I scried her kitchen instead. Make yourself at home.”
I dropped my duffel bag and bat in the foyer. I was tired, but didn't want to fall asleep just yet. I set about stretching out for a run. The plan was to work some of the tired from my limbs.
“I think I'll just run a little bit.” I pulled my hair into a ponytail, using a tie I always kept in my purse.
“There's a park up the block. It has some decent paths.”
The morning was a little chilly. The morning sky dawned grayish pink. I could see the sun, but I could also see clouds. The day would prove to be overcast. That was fine. It would make for a pleasant run.
I mulled over the plan. I didn't know how I'd convince Sean to give me his keys. I ran along thinking up lies I could feed him. None jumped out at me as good. He'd never believe me if I said I'd forgotten something important, like my purse. I also couldn't say I had an emergency meeting with a client. He knew Balicki and Hill had forbidden me going out to see clients while Jessica was at large.
I picked up my pace. The harder I pushed, the less tired I felt. Maybe we could pick pocket him and steal the Range Rover. I could seduce him, but that felt weird to even think about. Bridget could seduce him, but I didn't think he swung toward witches.
My legs pumped onward even as my breathing became labored. I had to get into the BSB building. If I waited until tomorrow my chances of getting caught were greater. I thought about Simon. He was a bully. A dangerous bully. I didn't want him to hurt Fernando, Bridget, or myself. I didn't even want him to get his hands on Angie. Not after I saw him manhandling Bridget last night.
I stopped my run suddenly. I bent over, hands on my knees. Black spots danced in front of my eyes. My breath fought to get out of my chest, but I had trouble getting any air in my lungs. My legs buckled under me. I crashed to the ground, putting my head between my knees. I'd never had an anxiety attack before. I could safely say I didn't like it.
Early morning sounds were muted in my ears. I heard only my heart pounding. Someone laid on their horn. My head pulled up. The black spots slowly cleared up. I had gone down on the sidewalk a few feet from a driveway. A maroon Grand Am ran in the driveway. A middle aged man was behind the wheel. The woman in the passenger seat hung out the window. They were dressed in church going clothes.
“Are you ok?” The woman called.
I slowly got to my feet, dusting off my butt. “Crippling vertigo. I'm fine now.” I sprinted in front of their car before they could ask any more questions.
I burst through the front door at Bridget's. From the kitchen Bridget leaned into view. On shaky legs I went to join her.
“How's it going?” I said first. I didn't want to explain my panic attack.
“Well, I've got something. I see Fernando, but I'm not sure what I'm looking at.”
She moved aside so I could see what was going on in her mirror. She had a little white candle burning in a pewter candlestick holder. It was the same craftsmanship as the mirror. There was some water in a coffee mug next to the candle. I knew a little about scrying. In order to find Fernando in the mirror the chinchilla would need to be near a reflective surface. If I had to guess I'd say the reflective surface she found was a toaster.
Plywood furniture, drab setting, beat-up leather couch. “I've been there before.” Bridget looked up at me. “That's Jessica's apartment.”
Bridget smiled triumphantly. “Can you call Sean? We've got a rescue mission!”