“Small decorative items?” Robin asked.
“Art?” Monica appeared confused.
“Stuff!” Val exploded. “We have so much random stuff! People leave phones and purses, and they’re fucking careless with their stuff, okay? It’s annoying as hell. And my boys are pigs lately. Just pigs. I feel like my house exploded.”
“Your boys are always messy.” Monica’s voice was steady. “It’s never bothered you before.”
“Well, it’s getting worse.”
“What on earth is going on with you?” Robin was struggling to figure this out. Her friend had always had a short temper, but being annoyed at purses? That was just… weird.
“I’m telling you,” Val said, “we’re all feeling it. This is a normal reaction to nearly dying. I’m irritable. Robin’s seeing things from the past and thinking they’re something weird. Monica is dreaming disturbing things, but these are all symptoms of—”
“I really don’t think it’s PTSD,” Monica said quietly. “But I do think something is going on with you. Why won’t you tell us?”
Val paused and leaned back on the counter, only to pull her hands away as if she’d been burned.
“That.” Robin pointed at her. “What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Going with a sudden instinct, Robin reached for a pen and tossed it at Val. “Catch.”
Val spread her hands, as if afraid the pen would bite. The pen clattered on the hardwood floor and Val’s eyes went wide.
Robin stood. “Why aren’t you touching anything?”
Monica pointed at her. “Something happens when you touch stuff, doesn’t it?”
“I’m fine.” Val paced back and forth in the small space, keeping her distance from Monica and Robin. “It’s stress. I’ll be fine.”
“You keep saying that, and you’re obviously not,” Robin said. “Stop bullshitting us.”
“What happens when you touch things?” Monica asked.
“I just…” Val bit her lip.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Monica said. “It’s us, Val!”
Both Robin and Val turned to Monica with wide eyes.
“She said fuck,” Robin muttered. “You know how mad she has to be to say that word. You better tell us.”
Val actually looked offended. “You never say fuck.”
“I do when one of my best friends is lying to me. Spill.”
All three of them were standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at each other.
“Josh brought me a blanket in the hospital,” Val blurted out.
Monica wrinkled her nose. “Ew. Why was Josh at the hospital?”
“Did your mom invite him?” Robin asked.
“Yes, of course she did, but that’s not the point. He gave me this blanket. It was actually kind of perfect. It was a Coraline blanket—”
“Oh my gosh!” Monica grinned. “That’s your favorite. I didn’t think he was that smart. That’s actually cool.”
“I thought so too, until I grabbed the blanket and I just had this…” Her hands went to her temples and made exploding motions. “I just had this flash, and I saw him—I saw him—handing that blanket to his little girlfriend, and I could hear them. And she asked him what it was, and he said it was a Coraline blanket, and she said, ‘What’s that?’ And I heard them, you guys. I heard them. It was like I was in the room.”
“Like my dreams,” Monica said.
“Or my imagination.” Val put her hands on her hips. “So I tossed the blanket back at him and said I knew he’d gotten it for Rachel, and his face completely gave it away. He got it for her and gave it to me and I saw it. I saw it when I touched the blanket and…” Val seemed to deflate. “This is bad, you guys. If you’re right and this isn’t some weird thing my brain is doing because of stress, this is so, so bad.”
The gravity of what Val was saying finally sank in. She was seeing things—visions—when she touched things. Pens. Blankets. Counters. Any. Thing.
“Oh shit,” Robin said. That could be a nightmare.
Monica asked, “Does it happen when you touch other stuff?”
Val nodded, crossing her arms like she was trying to hide her hands.
“Like what?”
“Uhhh… keys this morning. I knew a guy at the café was cheating on his girlfriend when I picked up his keys. His side chick handed them to him when he left her house.”
Monica made a face. “Ew.”
“Yeah, tell me about it. I know his girlfriend, and I know the side chick too. They’re both customers. But then, not all keys make me react. Uh… books. Most books do, but I usually just see someone reading them, so it’s not that bad. Purses.” She took a deep breath. “Purses are hit and miss.”
“Phones?”
“Not anything electric,” Val said. “Not so far. I kind of experimented at home a couple of nights ago. I touched Jackson’s phone and I didn’t get anything, and he’s on that thing all the time.”
“What about if you touch people?”
“Nothing.” She let out a breath. “Thank God.”
“But stuff?”
“Some stuff. And not electronics.”
“Is it just people you know?” Monica asked. “Like maybe it’s only people you know in your daily life?”
“I don’t know, Monica.” Val looked lost. “I haven’t asked anyone about this. I kept hoping it was some weird reaction to stress, but what if it’s not? What if it’s permanent? I don’t want this!”
Monica muttered, “I don’t particularly like these dreams either.”
“You think I like seeing ghosts?” Robin asked. “It’s freaky. What if I start seeing more? What if I can’t stop seeing them?”
“Why did this happen?” Val asked. “Why us? What are we supposed to do with… supernatural powers?” She shook her head. “I feel ridiculous even saying that.”
“Why not us?” Monica leaned her chin on her hand. “I mean, if you think about it, we’re at the perfect age. All those shows where teenagers get magic powers are dumb. Remember how stupid we were when we were sixteen? I’m much more capable of being a superhero at this point in my life.”
“If my knee wasn’t acting like crap lately, I’d totally be on board with being superheroes,” Robin said. “But as it is, I can barely walk five miles on the treadmill right now.”
“You better not be getting any ideas about spandex suits, Monica,” Val said. “And I don’t think seeing visions when I touch random crap is much of a useful skill. How am I supposed to live that way? Think about having two teenage boys. I’ll basically never be able to enter their room ever again.”
Monica cringed. “They’re definitely going to have to start doing their own laundry.”
“How does it work though?” Robin sat up straight. “Is it everything? You said some keys don’t make you see anything.”
“I don’t know,” Val said.
“I have an idea. Follow me.”
Sandwiches forgotten, they headed toward the door and into the main floor of the antique shop. Robin pointed to the new desk in the corner. “Touch that piece. It’s from an estate sale in Sacramento. See if you get anything.”
Val was wary. “An estate sale? Like, from someone dead?”
“I don’t think anyone died on the desk or anything. You’re not gonna see anything gross.” Probably. “We just moved it in today. Maybe we can figure out how this works.”
“But I touched it too,” Monica said. “And Jake and Brent. And the delivery guy.”
“Exactly.” Robin patted the edge of the desk. “Give it a feel. See if you get any of us, or just the elderly lady it belonged to.”
Val walked over and put her hand flat on top of the desk. She closed her eyes and her shoulders visibly relaxed. “She wrote letters here. She loved writing letters. She looks happy. Nothing bad.”
“You saw that?” Monica asked.
“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Okay, I guess it’s like what you were describing.
Like watching a scene from the outside. Like a movie.”
“Okay.” Robin nodded. “Okay, so you can touch things and know something about their owner.” She pointed to another desk. “Now try that one.”
Val put her hand on the next desk and frowned. “Kind of… a feeling? But nothing specific.”
“It’s from the old high school home ec classroom,” Robin said. “So it didn’t really belong to anyone. It would have belonged to lots of different people, but I doubt any of them were attached to it.”
“Oh,” Monica said. “I see what you’re saying. So Val can feel if a thing belonged to someone, but not if it was kind of a general thing that lots of people used. Or something someone just touched for a minute.”
“If that’s true, then it’s a huge relief,” Val said. “I was worried about the tables in the café because so many people touch them all the time. I have to clear dishes. Handle cash. It’s kind of a nightmare. I’ve been wearing gloves as much as possible.”
“Which is good anyway, because money is disgusting,” Monica said. “I saw a report about it once on the news.”
Robin heard a buzzing from down the hall and realized she’d left her phone on the table. She walked back into the kitchen and saw her phone rioting on the table with two missed calls and a bunch of text messages.
She picked up the phone and answered. “Mark?”
“Is anyone at the shop with you right now?”
“Yeah. Val and Monica came by for—”
“Good. Perfect. Get the girls and go down to the lakeside where the car went in. The sheriff just called. They found something weird in the car.”
Chapter 8
When Robin, Monica, and Val pulled up in Val’s truck, Mark met them at the road. A group of police and a large crane were sitting on the edge of the lake while people milled around behind the equipment. At the lakeside, Robin saw her old Subaru looking remarkably intact. All four doors were open, and water dripped onto the narrow, sandy beach while people in uniform milled around.
Mark walked over to her, took her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “You okay?”
She frowned. He was being… weird. “Yeah. I was just having lunch with Monica and Val. Did they find any of our stuff?” They’d left all their clothes and purses in the car.
“Your purse is in the back and they’ve found a few other things, but that’s not really why the sheriff called.” He kept his voice low. “Robin, was there anyone else in the car with you? Anyone?”
She frowned. “What?”
“Was there anyone—”
Val broke in. “Are you trying to accuse Robin of something? We were in the car alone. Just us. What the hell is this about?” She put her fists on her hips.
Mark kept his voice low. “Just… you do not have to say anything right now, okay? Remember that.”
Robin spotted Sheriff Sullivan Wescott striding over to them. Sully was a few years older than she was, but she remembered him a little from school.
“Hey, Sully. What’s up?”
Sully was an old-fashioned guy. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He had a rifle rack in the back of his truck and a full row of lights on the top. If someone wanted to imagine “small-town mountain sheriff,” they could just look at a picture of Sully.
“Robin.” He tipped his hat. “Monica. Valerie.”
“Just Val,” she muttered. “For the hundredth time.”
Sully ignored her. “Before I get into details, I need to know if there was anyone or anything in the car with you a few weeks ago when you went in.”
Robin frowned. “I mean, we had our clothes and purses. I think there’s some fishing stuff in the trunk. Maybe a camp knife? What are you—?”
“Not worried about a camping knife,” he said gruffly. “Shit, ladies. I know all three of you. This doesn’t make any damn sense, but I have to ask.”
Monica cocked her head and stepped forward. She was small, but she was Gil Velasquez’s widow, which meant every civil servant in town treated her with a degree of deference.
“Sully, what the heck are you talking about?”
He turned and waved at them to follow. “Just… see for yourselves. Don’t touch anything.”
Mark grabbed Robin’s hand as they walked to the car. Val and Monica walked behind them.
“Do you know what he’s talking about?” Robin murmured.
Before Mark could answer, Sully was shooing people from the car and pointing to something in the back.
Monica gasped audibly.
“Holy shit,” Val muttered.
Robin’s jaw dropped.
She didn’t say a word. She couldn’t. It didn’t make sense. None of it did. The car was intact, save for the driver’s window, which was shattered. Broken glass littered the floor and seat. But lying in the back of the car, stretched across the bench seat, was a rotting skeleton, mouth gaping, a loop of rusted metal chain wrapped around its legs.
Val said, “Who the hell is that?”
Sully turned to her. “Yeah, we’re pretty curious about that too.”
* * *
Robin was at the sheriff’s station. She’d never been to the station before, except once when Austin was a baby and she couldn’t figure out how to buckle his car seat into their old Ford Explorer properly. She didn’t want to get a ticket and the highway patrol office was all the way down the hill, but the sheriff’s deputy had shown her. She sipped her coffee and waited for Sully.
He’d been taking statements from Monica and Val before he got to Robin. But before they could talk, Sully and Mark had gotten into a low-key argument when Sully said he needed to question her about the accident.
Mark had drawn him away, and she couldn’t hear anything clearly until Sully growled, “For fuck’s sake, Brannon, I’m not gonna arrest your wife for murder. Calm down.”
Robin’s eyebrows went up. Murder?
Well, that was definitely not boring. Maybe she should have felt more worried, but she was too confused about what had happened.
How on earth did a skeleton get into the car? If it had been in the bottom of the lake, had it drifted through the window? That didn’t make sense. It would have been in the front seat then. The back windows weren’t open.
Sully finally sat across from her. She wasn’t in an interrogation room or anything like you’d see on a TV show. Did Glimmer Lake even have an interrogation room? The sheriff’s office didn’t even look like it had a meeting room. She and Robin and Val were all just sitting at different desks.
Mark was pacing in the hallway. Should she be worried that her husband was worried about her being questioned?
Did Mark secretly think she was capable of murder?
He has seen you when you haven’t eaten all day and after an estate sale day with your mom.
Fair. She couldn’t dispute that.
Sully finally sat across from her at the too-small desk that likely belonged to a woman, judging from the flourishing houseplant and the line of framed pictures.
“Hey, Robin.”
“Hey, Sully.”
He took out a yellow pad of paper. “Okay, first off, I don’t think any of you three are likely to murder anyone unless they were gonna hurt your kids.”
Robin glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know. Mark’s kind of driving me crazy with the pacing.”
Sully cracked a smile. “Eh, he wanted you to get a lawyer before you talked to me.”
“Should I?”
Sully rolled his eyes. “This is not a new crime. I don’t know if you noticed that chain around the guy’s… girl’s…? I don’t know. That’s for the state medical examiner to say. But I know chains and I know locks. That setup was old as hell.”
“How old?”
“Old old. Like, they were selling that before our parents were born.”
“So the bones are old?”
He took a deep breath. “Probably. We’re sending everything to the state medical examiner tomorrow. W
e don’t have any missing people reports in town, so it’s likely whoever it is has been dead for a long time.”
“So weird.”
“Agreed.” He was jotting down notes. “But tell me, for the report, what were you and your friends doing the night your car went into the lake?”
“It was Monica’s birthday. We were headed up to the lodge for drinks and karaoke.” She kept her voice low. “You know, it was her first birthday since Gil—”
“Yeah, Valerie brought that up too.” He glanced across the room. “How’s she doing?”
“Monica?” Robin shrugged. “Good days and bad.”
“That was a fucking tragedy. Excuse my language.”
“Agreed. We wanted to take her out and do something fun. Which didn’t exactly turn out the way we’d planned. I just… it was bad. It was a really bad night, and now I’ve spoiled her birthday too.”
“It wasn’t bad,” Sully muttered. “If you’d died, it would have been bad. But you lived, so now you just have a really cool story to tell.”
Oh, Sully, you have no idea.
He continued, “Tell me about the guy you saw.”
“What guy?”
“The guy in the lake.” He looked at his notes. “The night of the accident, you told the EMTs a guy swam down to the car and smashed the window with a rock to get you guys out. I saw the shattered window. There’re lots of rocks down there. The glass is in the car, not outside it.” He looked up. “So your story checks out. Tell me about the guy.”
Robin blinked. She’d been expecting Sully to say she was hallucinating. “You believe there was a guy?”
“Yeah. The glass was broken from outside, and now there’s a body in the back of the car. Whoever swam down and rescued you might know how it got there. Was he in a suit?”
Robin shook her head. “A swim suit?”
“Diving suit. It’s pretty deep where you went in. And it’s cold.”
“No, nothing like that.”
“What did he look like?”
Robin held out her hand. “Let me see your pen.”
Sully frowned and then shoved pen and paper toward her.
“I’ll draw him. That’s easier than describing him.” Robin sketched out a picture that was closer to what she’d seen in mug shots or on television. Facing forward, neutral expression.
Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One Page 7