Clairvoyant and Present Danger

by Lena Gregory

  Luke was currently working days, and though she had no doubt he’d wake up to talk to her, she didn’t really want to worry him with a middle-of-the-night phone call. Who knew what hours Tank was working lately? And if he’d managed to get home and get a few hours of sleep or spend some time with Stephanie, she didn’t want to interrupt. With the need to do something normal weighing on her, Cass picked up the phone and dialed Bee’s number. Her need to hear another voice—another live, human voice—was worth the risk of earning Bee’s wrath.

  He answered on the first ring. “How dare you interrupt my genius?”

  Cass forced a laugh. “Come on, Bee. We both know if you were lost in the zone, you’d never have answered the phone.”

  “Ahh . . . Touché. Now what can I do for you, beautiful?”

  Even over the phone, the strong tenor of Bee’s voice brought comfort. “What are you doing right now?”

  “Actually, nothing. I’ve been working on some new designs, but nothing seems to be coming to me. Maybe I’m just not feeling creative. Why? What’s up?”

  “Maybe some physical labor will stir the creative juices.”

  Bee’s warm laughter embraced her. “Okay, sweetie, just spit it out. What sort of physical labor do you have in mind that can’t wait until morning?”

  “The kind I need your help for, and you won’t be up in the morning.”

  “Oh, fine. I’m not getting anything done here anyway.” An unusual note of frustration tinged Bee’s tone.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I think I’m just exhausted. I’ll be fine after I get some sleep.”

  “If you’d rather go home and go to bed, I can—”

  “Nah. I’m fine. If I go to bed too early, it screws up my schedule. So let me guess, you want the tables moved upstairs for Saturday’s reading.”

  She grinned. No one knew her like Bee did. “I want to make sure I can have the reading upstairs, and if I’m busy all week, we won’t get to it.”

  “Fine. Let me clean up here, and I’ll stop at 7-Eleven for coffee and meet you at the shop in about half an hour, but afterward, you’re buying me breakfast at the diner.”

  “You got it. I’ll see you there.” She disconnected the call, already feeling better. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Bee didn’t ask what she was doing up. He’d have known what was on her mind, of course, but he’d let her talk about it in her own time—if she wanted to. Which, right now, she didn’t.

  In no hurry to return to the bedroom, she ran into the laundry room off the kitchen, stripped off her sweat-soaked tank top, replaced it with a sports bra, then grabbed an oversize T-shirt from the drying rack and pulled it over the yoga pants she’d worn to bed. She could always stop back with Bee when they were done and change before heading out to breakfast. She hefted her large leather bag over her shoulder, grabbed the keys from the hook beside the door, then remembered her cell phone was charging on the nightstand. She thought briefly about going without it, but with Beast at the vet, she had to be reachable. Ugh . . . she was going to have to go back in there for it.

  Keeping her focus firmly in front of her, she ran into the bedroom, grabbed the phone, and yanked it from the charger. Relief coursed through her as she spun back toward the door . . . and froze in her tracks.

  The woman hovered a couple of feet in front of her, smack in the middle of the doorway. There was not a chance in the world she was walking through the specter, which she’d have to do if she wanted to get out of the room. Instead, she opted for the window.

  • • •

  Cass opened the door to Mystical Musings and turned on the light. A prickle at the back of her neck held her frozen for an instant, then she shook off her fear. This wasn’t the first time she’d worked into the wee hours of the morning, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. If whatever was haunting her showed up this time, it’d just have to wait until Cass was finished.

  She locked the door behind her, crossed the room, and dropped her bag on the table. She kept several round tables, as well as a bunch of folding tables and chairs, in the storeroom on the side of the shop. She’d have to pick up more tablecloths, though. Oh, and more foam coffee cups.

  As tired as she was, she’d never remember everything if she didn’t write it down. She grabbed a sheet of paper and a colored pencil from a basket on the shelf behind the table. She leaned over the counter to start a list, but the red pencil in her hand gave her pause. A random choice of color? Or a warning of danger?

  Cass had made a living—first at her psychiatric practice, and then again at Mystical Musings—by following her instincts. Of course, in the end, her instincts had failed her, and one of her patients had committed suicide soon after leaving her office. And they’d failed her again when she hadn’t realized her husband and her best friend had more than just friendship between them.

  An image of the brick that had been thrown through her window brought beads of sweat to her forehead. Ghosts were one thing; she was getting used to those. Sort of. But an apparition couldn’t throw a brick. Though the ghost did manage to leave a mark on her hand at the beach. And then there’d been the incident with the Ouija board. She still couldn’t explain the welt that had appeared on her arm after she’d used one.

  Okay, now I’m just spooking myself.

  If she was going to accomplish anything at all, she’d have to stop standing there. Bee would arrive any moment with coffee. Surely company and caffeine would dampen the lingering effects of her recent . . . visits.

  Ignoring her exhaustion and the increasing sense of foreboding, she grabbed the edge of the curtain that separated the main area from the storeroom, then hesitated.

  The feeling that she wasn’t alone nagged at her, and she glanced over her shoulder. The empty shop did nothing to alleviate the portent of impending danger. A premonition, or just middle-of-the-night jitters?

  Something clattered against the floor upstairs, followed by a hushed curse.

  Her gaze shot to the spiral staircase a few feet away. She crept toward it. Maybe Emmett had returned to finish off the room for Saturday. He’d said he’d do it one night that week. Or Bee could have arrived early and started moving more stuff upstairs. She refrained from calling out. Just in case.

  She leaned over the railing and peered up into pitch darkness. Deafening silence surrounded her. If it were Emmett or Bee, there’s no way they’d be working in the dark.

  Okay, that’s enough. I’m outta here.

  She took a step back and turned to run, her breathing so loud she was sure whoever was up there had to know she’d realized something was wrong.

  Footsteps pounded against the iron stairs at her back.

  She spun toward the sound, scanning the shop for anything she could use as a weapon.

  A black figure catapulted itself from the second step and barreled into her, knocking her down. The back of her head smacked the hardwood floor. The weight of the figure on top of her threatened to crush her, but then it scrambled up and off her and headed toward the back of the shop.

  She tried to sit up, to follow it, but whomever—or whatever—it was bolted out the back door before she could even roll over.

  Nausea threatened, and bile crept up the back of her throat. A dark eddy intruded on her peripheral vision. She laid her cheek against the cool floor as blackness overwhelmed her.

  17

  She floated in darkness. An overpowering sense of peace embraced her. Her limbs felt so light, as if she were drifting on a cloud.

  “Cass?”

  Pain tore through her head, ripping her forcefully from the sense of bliss enveloping her.

  “Cass!” Bee’s voice was more insistent this time.

  Ugh . . . she was going to have to answer, but the pounding in her head wouldn’t even allow her to form words.

  Bee’s shaky voice moved
away. “No. I mean, yes. She’s breathing, but she’s not answering. You have to hurry.”

  Was he crying?

  She rolled onto her side and tamped down the roiling in her stomach. Hadn’t she been on her side? The last thing she remembered was the cool feel of the wood pressed against the side of her face.

  “Cass?” Bee grabbed her arms. “Are you okay? What happened? Did you fall?”

  If he didn’t stop battering her with questions, she was going to vomit. She reached up and touched the back of her head. Her hand came away wet. Tentatively slitting open one eye, she brought her fingers in front of her face. Blood.

  How hard had she fallen?

  “Oh, dear. Wait here.”

  Where would I go?

  The sound of Bee’s platform shoes running on the wood floor beat a steady rhythm through her entire body, culminating in a crescendo in her head.

  She closed her eyes again and tried to lift her head. She had to get it off the floor before he returned from wherever he’d gone. She put her hand down in a wet, sticky puddle.

  Ah jeez. How badly was she bleeding?

  Bee returned with all the grace of a stampeding elephant. “Here, honey. Put this on your head.” He pressed something cold and hard against the back of her head. “Are you all right? What happened?”

  “Stop.” She held up a hand. “Please.” She felt bad. He was so concerned and trying so hard to help her, and she appreciated him so much, but she had to get her bearings. She couldn’t even think straight. The overwhelming scent of coffee almost made her hurl.

  A low moan echoed through the shop.

  Oh, wait. That was me.

  Bee crouched down in front of her and stared into her eyes. “Cass?”

  His stare gave her something to focus on, and she held his gaze.

  He blinked, and tears dripped from his puffy, bloodshot eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

  Ah, Bee. She lifted a hand to wipe his tears. Pain radiated from the back of her head, straight through to her eye sockets. She winced, but quickly gained control. “I’m okay, Bee.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She started to nod, but thought better of moving her head. “Yeah. Just a bit of a headache.”

  “What happened? Did you fall?”

  “How bad am I bleeding?”

  Bee moved the compress aside, gently parted some of her hair, and studied her head wound. “Not that bad. Head wounds bleed a lot.”

  What was he talking about? There was blood all over the floor. Careful not to jolt her head, she scanned the floor around her. “What on earth?”

  “I’m sorry. I’ll get it cleaned up as soon as you’re okay.” His cheeks flushed a deep red. “When I came in and saw you on the floor, I dropped the coffees.”

  Coffee? She’d had visions of a river of blood covering the wood floors. Cass stared into his somber expression, and a laugh bubbled up.

  He frowned.

  “I’m sorry, Bee, I thought—” She hiccupped and almost choked as she started to laugh harder. Sucking in a deep, steadying breath, she struggled for some semblance of control.

  Bee huffed, looking insulted.

  “I’m sorry. I-I thought it was blood.” She gestured toward the puddle.

  Bee’s mouth fell open.

  She laughed harder, pressing a hand to the stitch in her side.

  Bee simply stared at her as if she were some kind of lunatic and pressed the compress back against her head.

  Ouch!

  “Calm down, honey. The ambulance is almost here.”

  “What!”

  The volume of sirens she hadn’t noticed in the background increased as they came closer.

  “You called an ambulance?” Panic gripped her throat, threatening to cut off her airway. “Cancel it.”

  “What?”

  “I said cancel it. I’m not going to the hospital, and I certainly am not going by ambulance.” She tried to stand, but a wave of dizziness sent her right back to the floor.

  “Mmm . . . hmm.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “Just sit still. Let them check you out, and then you can decide what to do.”

  “Fine.” She shrugged, more annoyed with the situation than with Bee. If he would just give her a minute, she’d be able to get up. Probably. “Whatever.”

  “Here. Hold this.” Bee guided her hand to the cloth on the back of her head, then sat on the floor in front of her and crossed his legs, his expression serious. “Now, what happened?”

  Thinking hurt her brain. Still, she tried to recall what she’d been doing before she ended up sprawled on the floor. After a moment, the memory of what had happened rushed back full force. “Oh. Oh no.”

  “What?”

  “There was someone upstairs when I got here. Whoever it was barreled down the stairs and plowed me over, then I smacked my head on the floor.”

  Bee’s eyes widened, and he fished his cell phone from his pocket.

  Cass narrowed her eyes—carefully. “Who do you think you’re calling?”

  Ignoring her, he dialed, pressed the phone to his ear, and held his finger up in a one minute gesture. “Tank?”

  “Ah jeez.” She started to roll her eyes, caught herself mid-roll, and halted the gesture, but not before another bout of dizziness hit, bringing with it a wave of nausea. She settled, instead, for sticking her tongue out at him.

  The rat turned his back on her.

  Commotion at the doorway pulled her attention from the tattletale on the phone.

  “Are you okay, Cass?” Rick’s knees cracked as he squatted down in front of her and looked into her eyes. Not only did Rick own the deli, he was also a volunteer EMT. Many of the business owners on Bay Island offered their services to the all-volunteer Bay Island Fire Department and Ambulance Company.

  “I’m fine. I just needed a minute to sit.”

  Rick stood and leaned over her, then lifted the cloth from her head and set it aside. “That’s quite a knock on the head. You’re going to need a few stitches.”

  Great. “Can you just do them here?”

  He laughed, so she figured that meant no.

  “Well, do I have to go in the ambulance? Can’t I just drive myself?”

  “Sure, honey. Right after you stand up and walk in a straight line. Come on.” He held out a hand.

  She accepted his hand and stood, then swayed and grabbed the stair railing.

  “Uh-huh.” Rick shook his head and smiled. “Still want to drive?”

  “Maybe Bee could drive me,” she said softly, though she already knew she’d lost the argument. No way was he letting her go.

  • • •

  Tank strode through the emergency room doors and straight to Cass’s cubicle. He pulled the curtain closed behind him, tossed a newspaper onto the counter, and focused his full attention on her. “You okay?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, then hesitated. Nope, no dizziness. The nausea had passed, too. Since they’d numbed her head to stitch it up, even that injury didn’t hurt. But she had a whopping headache. She turned and let her legs dangle over the stretcher. She’d try to get up in a minute.

  Tank pulled her into a tight embrace and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Then he stepped back and studied her. “Tell me what happened.”

  She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. I’m sure it’s too late to catch anyone now.”

  “I’ve already spoken to Bee, and he told me what happened. We already have people searching the beach, but so far we haven’t found anything. There was no sign of a break-in, and Bee swears he locked up before he left earlier. But I’d like to hear from you about what happened.”

  She ran through the events of the night, leaving out the early morning visit from her phantom. “How could there be no sign of a break-in? How d
id he get in?”

  “We don’t know. Is Bee usually good about locking up? Maybe he forgot to lock the back?”

  Cass was already shaking her head. “Bee is completely OCD about locking up his own shop and mine, or I never would have given him a key. There’s no way he forgot.”

  “Which door did you enter through tonight?”

  “The front.”

  “Did you unlock the back at any point?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Was she? “Yes. Positive. I had no reason to open it.”

  “But the attacker fled out the back door?”

  “Yes.” She frowned. “At least, I think so.” She tried to remember which direction he was headed. “He plowed me over, and it seemed like he was headed toward the back of the shop, but I can’t be sure.”

  “All right. The doctor said you can go home. Do you feel up to going back to the shop and checking to see if anything is missing?”

  The pounding at her temples begged her to go home. “Will it matter if I do it tomorrow?”

  “No. Bee’s going to drive you home and stay with you for the rest of the night . . . well, morning, I guess. When you’re ready to go into the shop, give me a call, and I’ll pick you up and go in with you. Bee looked around, but he didn’t notice anything missing. You would know better if anything was taken.” Tank helped her to her feet and stood with her for a moment to make sure she was steady.

  “Do you think this has anything to do with the bones I found on the beach?”

  He ran a hand over his crew cut. “I honestly don’t know. I don’t think that press conference fiasco you pulled yesterday afternoon helped matters, but I can’t say it had anything to do with the break-in.”

  “Did you figure out if the second set of bones belongs to Artie Becker’s daughter?”

  He shook his head.

  “That skeleton wasn’t old, was it?”