“Be careful, Megghie. You know how you are when you get drunk.”
Moira had never gotten excited when she discovered Meghan had been drinking. She got more upset when she thought Meghan couldn’t hold her liquor. Like that was a scandal or something. Any child of Moira’s ought to be able to handle uninhibited alcohol consumption.
Meghan didn’t drink hard liquor. She was more of a red wine by candlelight sort of gal. Beer tasted nasty to her. A glass of wine wasn’t going to get her sloppy drunk. Tonight, she had a bottle of Cabernet chilling. Hell, she might drink more than one glass.
“Don’t worry, Momma. I’ll be celebrating at home. Alone.”
“Girl, you should never drink alone.”
Good God, she couldn’t believe she was having this conversation with her mother.
“Anyway, that’s not why I called.”
It wasn’t? Could have fooled Meghan.
“That cop called.”
Meghan searched her mind. Which cop did Momma mean? Momma had survived more than a few run-ins with law enforcement. Sometimes, she felt like she and her mother were living out a season of Absolutely Fabulous.
She waited for Momma to explain, but Momma had gone mysteriously silent.
“Momma, are you still there?” She insisted on calling her mother Momma, even though Moira insisted she call her by her first name.
Moira sniffed. “Yes, I am.”
She sighed. Moira was going to make her ask. “What cop?”
“That stupid cop that screwed up Caroline’s case.”
Meghan groaned. Nothing good could have come out of such a phone call.
“He called you?”
“No. No. He called Hermione.”
Of course, he would. Hermione was Caroline’s mother, Meghan’s aunt, her father’s sister.
“He said he wanted to return some of Caroline’s things since they don’t need them for evidence. Like they need any evidence. You know, he let that killer get away.”
Well, no, actually he hadn’t. The killer had been shot while he was attempting to kill the cop. Not the same thing.
“So she was asking if the cop could bring them to you since you’re already there.”
Oh, she saw through their nefarious plot. If Meghan held Caroline’s things for Hermione, then she would have to go back home to give them to her aunt because Hermione wasn’t going to come to the city to get them. Neither of them, Hermione or Moira, were very subtle in their manipulation. They were so much alike they could have been sisters instead of in-laws.
How could she refuse her aunt such a request? Hermione had taken Caroline’s death hard. Guilt was a difficult thing to ignore. Refusing was flat out selfish.
“Okay, she can tell him to bring them. But tell him to call first.”
“Good. Good. So has your cousin Melody asked you to be her bride’s maid yet?”
No, she hadn’t. Melody would wait to the last minute before asking just to make Meghan wonder if she would or wouldn’t. Meghan wasn’t going to play the game. If Melody asked, fine. If she didn’t, Meghan would be happy to sit on the pew and smirk at her.
Meghan could hear the guilt-trip coming in momma’s tone of voice. Momma was heading down another guilt-littered path.
“I gotta go, Momma. Love you. Talk later. Bye.” She dropped the receiver onto the hook before Momma could object.
Momma would have plenty to say about her abrupt disconnect when she called her tomorrow.
****
The scene opened up before her as if she were pushing long, draping, panel curtains aside. The dark, empty space coalesced into a 3 D landscape, complete with buildings and streets and cars and trees and sidewalks. The dirty, unwashed smells of the city assaulted her nose. But it was quiet. Very, very quiet. An eerie, unearthly silence.
Meghan skirted a trash barrel and moved to the right side of the walk to pass the couple approaching her. They smirked at her as if they knew what she was about to do. That seemed strange, because she wasn’t aware of what she was doing other than taking a walk down a city street. She placed one foot in front of the other, pushing herself to keep going.
She should know where she was heading, but she didn’t. The street sort of looked familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember where she was.
The edges of her vision blurred. How weird was that?
Her heart rate slowed. Shouldn’t her pulse be racing?
While everything else seemed soft and fluffy, her mind was sharp, painfully sharp.
The scene glitched, and it seemed time had passed without passing.
In the middle of the block, she did a half turn and stared at the view behind her. Then, she saw it. The building’s Kelly green exterior beckoned her to enter through the open front door. The spotless windows reflected the streetlights. Staring up at the facade of the building, she imagined it engulfed in red and orange and yellow, imagined puffs of grayish, blackish white drifting upward into the night sky.
She slapped her palms over her eyes to shut out the sight. Terrifying. Because she knew who had started the fire. Sirens wailed from behind her, the first sounds to disrupt the disturbing silence. She opened her eyes. Strained her muscles, preparing to run. But she couldn’t make herself move, so mesmerized was she by what she saw.
A face stared at her from a window. Flames danced behind the man. She stared back at him, pulling the corners of her mouth into a grim smile. She uncurled her fingers and studied the lighter in her hand.
The guilt she felt scared her more than the lighter.
And so she screamed.
Meghan awoke with the scream still in her throat. She bolted upright, pressing her hand against her chest over her frenetically beating heart. Minutes passed before she calmed enough to assess her surroundings.
She glanced toward the clock on her nightstand. Two in the morning. What had startled her awake? Still shaking, she listened, waiting for a crash or a bang from outside. Nothing. The night was strangely quiet. No far off sirens. No traffic noise. Not even a cricket chirping in its favorite spot outside her bedroom window.
The leftovers of her restless sleep cleared, and the memory of the nightmare unfolded and expanded in her mind. Anxiety weighed on her chest. She gasped and focused on her next few breaths. With her hand still pressed over her heart, she crawled out of the bed and stood in the middle of her small bedroom.
The words of the strange, blue-haired woman screamed through her mind. She tried to shake off her escalating panic, but it was no use. Fear clung to her with sticky fingers. Surely, the nightmare had been the product of her subconscious bringing the woman’s strange behavior and even stranger words to the forefront of her psyche.
The dream meant nothing. She wasn’t a fire starter. The woman was nuts.
Meghan stared out the window. The night was still and clear. A big, bright moon hung in the sky. The world outside her window looked normal, oh-so normal. Like her life had become. Peaceful and…normal.
The dream was certainly caused by the leftover creepy feeling the woman had given her. And the wine. She’d been more than a little tipsy when she’d finally gone to bed around midnight.
Her bed was calling her name. Maybe if she cleared her mind, she could get a few more hours of sleep.
It was September, and the weather was still smotheringly hot and humid. She lay awake with the covers thrown off, concentrating on every beat of her heart. Her mind careened between the blue-haired woman’s words and the frightening images of the nightmare. She rolled onto one side and then the other. She shifted positions. Lay on her back. Wiped the sweat from between her boobs. Got up and downed a glass of water. Used the bathroom. Pushed her hair off her face. Snuggled back into bed. And started the process all over again, throwing off her covers.
When her alarm blared at six that morning, she was still wide awake. Her day had to begin, so she stumbled to the bathroom and stared with bleary eyes at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Bags under her eyes. Thank goodnes
s, she didn’t have any meetings scheduled for the day. Her boss would wonder why she was hiding in her office, but he wouldn’t pester her any longer when she implied she was having her lady time.
She stretched, grabbed her laptop from the floor, and plopped back down onto her bed. Her fingers tapped, pulling up all the sites she usually visited during her morning routine. She ended on the website for the local news. Her fingers froze, hovering over her keyboard as she stared in horror at the picture of the house that had caught fire in the middle of the night.
Why did the picture scare her so much? It wasn’t the building from her dream, but she had the unmistakable impression that the house that had burned and the building in her dream were somehow connected.
In the past, whenever Meghan had been blindsided with such an intense impression, her intuition had never been wrong. Her mother had always told her that she had a sixth sense. She hated her supposed ability. She tried to ignore its existence. She pretended she didn’t have those moments when the hidden undercurrents in the world around her were revealed to her.
Acting on her intuition had always gotten her into trouble.
****
Tyler Greene passed the front window as he checked the table setups in the dining room. He did a double take when he noticed the dark-haired woman standing across the street staring at the restaurant with her mouth hanging open.
He stepped through the front door and glanced up and down the street. Nothing seemed unusual for a Friday morning. Except for the woman across the street. When their eyes met, an expression of shock spread across her face. She she jerked and rushed away, eventually disappearing out of sight.
Weird. Why did she look at him like that? He didn’t know her. Did he?
New Orleans was full of strange people. With strange habits. He’d never get used to it. Not for the first time, he considered packing it in and heading back to where he had come from. It wasn’t like the restaurant business was being kind to him.
His new hire stood next to him and stared in the same direction. “Do you know her? Angry ex-girlfriend? She’s not gonna burn the place down, is she?”
A shiver ran up Tyler’s spine. “Never seen that woman before in my life.”
Chuck snorted his amusement. “Just because you don’t remember her…”
No, Tyler would remember her. He wasn’t the kind of guy that would forget a woman he’d been with, but he got the idea that Chuck might not have such a good memory. Or maybe Chuck was the kind of guy who didn’t care if he remembered a woman the next morning or not. Either way, it didn’t speak too well for his new waiter.
He snapped his instruction because he didn’t want to continue the discussion. “Replace the tablecloths on twenty and twenty-six.”
Chuck hesitated.
“You got something you wanna say?”
Chuck shook his head.
“Those tablecloths aren’t going to replace themselves.”
“Okay. I’m on it.”
The waiter turned and headed into the restaurant with a puzzled frown on his face. Maybe he didn’t get why Tyler had snapped at him. Well, tough. He was the guy’s boss. Not his best friend. They didn’t have time to bond and become buddies. He wasn’t going to invite Chuck to stay after hours for a beer. No, he wouldn’t even if they had the time. He didn’t really like Chuck.
Tyler continued with his morning, pre-lunch routine and attempted to forget about the woman. But he couldn’t get her off his mind. All day and all night, her face would flash across his memory. He had the unmistakable feeling that she was supposed to be in his life, but if that were so, why had she flinched and run away when their eyes met.
He’d never see her again. Sure, he’d wake up tomorrow morning and wouldn’t even remember that she’d been there, standing across the street with that shocked expression on her face, as if she’d just seen a ghost.
Table of Contents
Cover
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS
Part I - The Seeing
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Part II – The Knowing
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Part III – Epilogue
Chapter Thirty
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER TITLES BY DENISE MONCRIEF
BONUS MATERIAL
Table of Contents
Cover
ACKNOWLEGEMENTS
Part I - The Seeing
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Part II – The Knowing
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Part III – Epilogue
Chapter Thirty
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
OTHER TITLES BY DENISE MONCRIEF
BONUS MATERIAL
Second Sight (Prescience Series Book 1) Page 29