“I was dozing,” she emphasized. “Partially aware at all times.” There wasn’t a chance on earth that she’d fall asleep in the presence of anyone else. The dreams appeared at random intervals and could be difficult to explain to others. Her ex had known only that she had occasional nightmares, which she could usually attribute to bad take-out. She’d never told Mac Langel about the dreams that haunted her. Doing so had never even occurred to her. Risa was sure that said something rather sad about her three-year marriage. But if her own mother hadn’t understood them, how could she have expected Mac to?
Adam Raiker was the only person on earth she’d entrusted the truth to. And him only because there were no secrets left unburied in the grueling series of employment interviews for Raiker Forensics. She’d fully expected her admission to eliminate her from the running. Been more than a little shocked when it hadn’t. And gratified that he hadn’t treated the news as proof that her worst fears were true: that the visions made her a freak of nature.
“Zeke’s Food Plaza?” She stood in front of the storefront he led her to and looked at it dubiously before casting a considering look at the businesses across from it. Both sides of the busy street were bordered with strip malls. Tucked into the one across from them was a nail parlor, a dog-grooming salon, and a fabric shop. The enormity of their task struck her again.
Zeke’s was surprisingly busy, and it took a few minutes before the harried-looking checker looked their way. “Help you?”
Nate flashed his shield. “Looking for some information on the neighborhood. How long have you worked here?”
“Dunno.” The woman scratched one pockmarked cheek. “Eighteen months?”
“Is there anyone who’s been here longer? Is the owner around?”
In lieu of an answer, she merely bent the stem of the store microphone at her checking station and said, “Zeke. You got people who want to see you on station two.” Obviously thinking she’d done her duty, she began checking out the customer waiting in her aisle.
“Send them back to the meat counter.” The order blared on a speaker across the store. The clerk jerked a thumb toward the rear of the place to indicate the location, and they headed across the store.
Nate unwrapped a stick of gum and placed it in his mouth. He offered her the pack and she shook her head. It was hard for her to imagine a place like this as it must have been decades ago. There had certainly been no strip malls in evidence in the scene from the video.
Zeke, however, would have been in his prime at the time it was shot. Easily pushing seventy, his eyebrows boasted more hair than did his head, and his expression was set in dour lines. He looked like a man who expected the worst out of life and whose expectations were consistently met. They had to wait for a woman to dither over the merits of lamb or beef for her dinner party before he wiped his hands on his stained apron and ambled their way. “You looking for me?” His faint accent pegged him as a displaced New Yorker.
Nate briefly explained their purpose while he waited with barely concealed impatience.
“Been here since ’89. Before that the place was another food mart, but it was mostly produce. I bought the place next door and expanded to this paradise you see before you today.”
“I’m sure there have been a lot of changes over the years,” Risa said conversationally.
The man made a rude sound, sent a quick glance at the two other customers that had come up to the counter and were waiting. “Changes ain’t usually for the good, know what I mean? Strip malls sprouting up all around me. If I hadn’t owned this place free and clear, they’d have put me right out of business when the developers started sniffing around with their fancy ideas. Wanted to buy me out, but I told them, ‘Nope, I’m staying put. Why don’t you find some other neighborhood to ruin?’ Instead they’ve got me penned in with scrapbooking stores and tattoo parlors.”
“I’ll bet a lot of businesses sold out when the developers made them an offer,” Nate observed pleasantly. “You remember the name of the ones across the street when you started here?”
“Sure, there was Juno’s, a great little steakhouse. And a mom and pop dry-goods store. What the hell was it?” His eyes rolled upward, as if consulting