I place the other two packages and a bottle of water on the short table out of sight of the camera and drape a turquoise cloth across the long table. I turn on the camera and mics and state the case number plus today’s date and time while I open the package and lay the items out on the table. The one-page case summation has a picture of the missing person clipped to the back, and the three objects are each encased in a clear plastic bag. I look at the case summation to orient the timeline I’m attempting to read. The missing person is Sarah Lee Henderson from London, Ontario, United States. She was last seen in the early morning leaving a shopping area and has been missing for almost two months. I arrange the objects from the least sentimental to the most, solely based on what I feel coming from the packages. Removing my gloves, I open the package with a shirt inside, it has #1 Grandma printed on the front. I grasp the shirt and begin the reading.
“That’s it, Christmas shopping is complete for the year. All the grandchildren have been taken care of; I just need to get in line to purchase everything. I swear, sometimes it takes longer to check out than it does to shop. Babs keeps telling me I need to shop online, but some things I just need to see in person with my own eyes.
“I finally get to the register and it only takes a few minutes to complete the transaction. After putting the bags in the shopping cart, I head out to my car with the wheels clacking merrily away. The smaller items in the reusable bags go into the back seat and floorboard leaving the hatchback of my Volvo V90 station wagon free for the baked items I regularly transport. I still have the scones, cookies, and muffins I baked early this morning. I tried to deliver them at my usual six a.m., but the coffee shop wasn’t open. I’ll stop by on my way back. Even if there was an issue with Jen, she’ll either be there now or have someone covering her. Psycept speaking, end of the shirt reading.”
I take a sip of water then open the next bag which contains a small package clasp envelope. This object carries more sentiment, but it has an unusual feel, like discordant threads. I think I know why, but I open the package to make sure. Inside the beige envelope is a cameo with a daguerreotype portrait of a lady from the mid-19th century wrapped in tissue paper. I prefer not to read older objects since they link me to multiple memory pools. Attempting to read an object that spans generations takes time and energy for me to focus on one specific person.
“Psycept speaking, I’ll not attempt reading the cameo. As stated in the petition acceptance, items should be sentimental to the person in question and not be second-hand or from a previous generation like an heirloom or antique. If I am unable to provide any actionable information from the last object reading, I’ll ask for another object to be sent for a replacement reading. Thank you for the understanding.”
The final object is bubble wrapped inside its plastic bag. There was a slight rattle as I unwrap it, I realize it’s a type of gourd musical instrument when it’s fully uncovered. It is hand-made, but it does not feel old nor does it have multiple memory signatures as if it were passed down from a relative or friend. I hold the gourd by its handle and close my eyes for the reading. There is a short period of silence as I fight my way through the waves towards the last section of the memory rope. I feel heartened that there is no knot at the end of the rope signifying death of the person. With no need to conserve energy to last through a death memory, I can read for longer as I’m able to start farther from the end.
“Jen’s coffee shop is still closed with the steel shutters deployed in the door and window. I drive around to the back alley which has the kitchen entrance where I normally deliver my baked goods. The door was closed and locked when I arrived this morning, but now her stone doorstop is propping the door slightly ajar. I wonder if she is feeling okay, I check my phone, but no text messages, emails, or missed calls from Jen. She lives in a small apartment above the shop and may have left a small space for her cat to get in and out.
“I grab my keys and phone and head to the kitchen door to check on Jen. As I reach for the handle, the door swings violently open, striking me on my nose, mouth, and jaw. Pain radiates throughout my face and head as I step back, stunned by the blow. As I cover my face, trying to staunch the blood beginning to pour from my nose, I feel a hand grab my shoulder and push me down hard into the ground. Out of the corner of my watering eye, I see a foot drawn back, preparing to kick, then I know no more.
“Psycept here. The rest of the reading will focus on descriptors and less on sequence of events. I believe that Sally is alive, and I want to provide as much concrete information as possible. Therefore, I will be speaking my observations and not Sally’s thoughts or memories. Now continuing with the reading.
“Sally awoke in a room, her hands are handcuffed and bolted to the wall behind her. Her clothes are undisturbed, though her shoes are missing. The missing Jen comes in and feeds Sally some broth, then jerry-rigs an icepack to
