Pet Psychic Mysteries Boxset Books 5-8 (Magic Market Mysteries Book 2) Erin Johnson (good books for 8th graders .txt) 📖

Peter raised a fist to his mouth to cover his chuckle.

“And how can I help you?” The young man blinked at us, then took in Peter’s badge and uniform and plastered on a thin smile.

“I’m Officer Peter Flint, this is my partner, Daisy, and our consultant, Ms. Hartgrave.” He lifted a palm. “I believe my station manager, Edna, called ahead and booked us an appointment for a tour and a meeting with Zane Perez?”

The young man shook a curly blond lock out of his eyes and adjusted his square, hip glasses. “Of course. I’m Damian, and I’ll be happy to show you around.”

Peter nodded. “I appreciate it, thank you.” A manila file folder magically appeared beside him. He opened it and withdrew the photograph of our Jane Doe. “I’m sorry, this might be a bit graphic, but we’re wondering if anyone here recognizes this woman?” He turned the photo around, and Damian cringed.

“Ew. No.”

I frowned. “You’re sure you’ve never seen her before? She’s not a volunteer maybe?”

He shook his head. “I’ve been here two years, and I’ve never seen this woman. She’s not part of WWAAC.”

Daisy wagged her tail and whined. Truth.

I bit the inside of my cheek. Not knowing this lady’s mysterious identity was getting annoying. Her presence in the enclosure really only made sense if she was trying to bust the phoenix out. It’d make sense that Malorie would try to stop her while some of her associates maybe smuggled the bird out. If she wasn’t part of WWAAC, then what was she doing there and who’d helped her?

Peter pulled the photo back. “Would it be alright if we asked around with some of the others, just in case?”

Damian shot him a flat look. “Whatever. But I’m telling you, she’s not one of us.”

Peter nodded. “Thank you.”

He spun on his perfectly white-sneakered heel and led us through the maze of desks. Men and women, mostly in their twenties, but there were some older folks too, wore bright purple shirts sporting the WWAAC logo on the front and Volunteer across the back. They gathered around the desks, speaking on communication devices, folding pamphlets, and engaging in heated discussions.

“This is where the magic happens,” Damian droned in his nasally voice.

Peter’s gaze swept over the dozens of people gathered in the front. “Are most people here volunteers?”

Our guide hugged his clipboard to his chest. “We have over one hundred volunteers, though the number varies at any given time. We also have a full-time paid staff that helps with administration, special projects, and office work, like moi.”

Peter showed the photo to various groups of volunteers. All of them denied knowing her, and according to Daisy, they were all being truthful.

Damian rolled his wrist and continued on. We passed a table of about ten people creating picket signs. One read: Shifters Are People, Too! Another read: Sam Snakeman Is Our Man!

I pointed. “What are these for?”

Damian huffed and then turned around. “Oh. There’s a rally at the palace next week for shifter rights. Sam Snakeman as well as Prince Harry and Princess Imogen will be making speeches.” He tipped his head side to side. “It’s kind of a gray area for us, as we’re really advocating for animal rights, but since shifters are half animal, WWAAC has officially come out in support of more equal treatment for them.”

I quirked my lips to the side, thinking it over. I slid closer to Peter and lowered my voice. “Maybe attitudes toward shifters are really shifting. Get it?”

He rolled his eyes but grinned down at me. “Yeah, I get it.” He grew serious. “And it’s about time. Do you want to go to that?”

I shrugged. “I’ll think about it.” I wasn’t sure how many shifters would actually attend a rally for their own rights. It was dangerous to even be suspected of being a shifter. Current laws allowed anyone to deny you housing, jobs, loans, or anything if they thought you were a shifter.

Then again, as far as I knew, nothing like this had ever happened on the island. It might be a turning point. My stomach clenched, my pessimism kicking back in. It’d take a lot to change the way shifters were viewed and treated, and none of it could happen while Ludolf ruled the shifter underground. With the way he was testing potions on me, who even knew if I’d make it to next week?

“You okay?”

Peter, Daisy, and our guide, Damian, were staring at me. I shook myself and caught up to them. “Yep.”

Daisy growled. Likely story.

Peter’s concerned look lingered on me a moment longer, but I waved it off. “I’m okay. Just… a little pensive.”

He nodded and slid an arm around my shoulders, hugging me to his side for a quick squeeze. I grinned up at him gratefully.

We finished showing the photo of our mystery woman to everyone there, and then Damian showed us back to Zane Perez’s office. He knocked and called through the white door, “The police are here to speak to you.”

“Come in” came the muffled reply.

Damian held the door open for us, and Peter, Daisy, and I filed into the small office. The young man shut the door behind us.

24

Zane Perez

“Zane Perez?”

A guy in probably his midforties with short, salt-and-pepper curly hair rose from behind his desk. “That’s me. Please, sit.”

The office was modest, cramped, and littered with papers, rally signs stacked against the wall, and a ratty couch with a pillow and thin blanket on it. I’d guess Zane often slept at the office after a long night of work,

He settled behind his desk, and Peter and I took the hard wooden chairs across from him. Daisy settled between us, Peter absentmindedly resting his hand on her head and scratching between her ears.

Zane wore olive cargo pants and a khaki button up, the sleeves rolled up to reveal tanned forearms. He looked like he’d just come from a shift working a safari, down to the mud-splattered combat boots.

I pressed my lips together, eyeing Zane