“Anything serious?” I ask.
“Nothing to worry about.” He tips my chin up and drops a light peck on my lips. “I do need to get moving. I’ve got to talk to my parents, then head back to the station.”
I cock my head in question.
“Annette Reed has agreed to allow us to….” His voice trails away. “I just need to discuss it with my parents first.”
“Your dad wants to find out for sure, too. He said he had to make a call or something.”
“My dad?”
“I ran into him down at the shack where Crystal and her friends used to hang out.” I tuck my head on his chest so he can’t see the burning of my cheeks. “I kind of trespassed this morning.”
“So that’s why you’re out here. I’m sure there’s a story there, but it will have to wait til later.”
I release him reluctantly when he pulls away. Hugging the side of the road, we return to our parked cars. He takes my gloved hand in his as we walk. Even through the gloves, tingles run up my arm.
At my car, Lucas inspects the front tire that slid off the road into the snow. “Looks like you might be stuck,” he chuckles.
“Good thing you came along,” I quip back, bumping my shoulder into his.
“I’m glad I came,” he says, suddenly serious.
"Me too," I breathe. The intensity of his look makes me shy and awkward. I let go of his hand and climb into the car, frightened by my reaction and the new feelings he's stirred up.
Gunning the gas, I try to back onto the road. My front tire throws snow into the air. Lucas pushes at the front bumper and the car jumps out of the rut.
I take off a glove and put my arm out the rolled-down window. He removes his own glove and our bare palms touch. The sizzle his skin sends into me has nothing to do with my psychic abilities. I squeeze his hand and meet his eyes. No words are required as he backs away to his cruiser.
In my side-view mirror, I watch him watch me drive away until the reflection is too small to make out.
A feeling of peace I've never known settles over me. I grin like a madwoman the whole drive home, happier than I've been in years.
Chapter 14
Dustin
Sweat drips down my chest as I walk up the steps to the kitchen from my basement gym. My arms ache pleasantly from my early morning work-out. I increased the weights this morning and I'm satisfied with my progress.
I lift the hem of my tank top and wipe the sweat off my face as I wait for a glass of water to fill from the tap. I gulp the water greedily then put the glass in the empty sink. It looks out of place in the kitchen Alexis cleaned before we went to bed.
A quick wash and a towel dry and I put the glass away in the cupboard. Alexis works so hard to keep our house clean, I don't need her to wake up to a dirty dish thoughtlessly left behind. The tiny act fills me with a different kind of satisfaction.
The coffee maker gurgles and drips in the quiet kitchen. Outside, the first faint glow of daybreak dances across the front yard, and my mind turns to the work ahead of me today.
The exhumation of Crystal Hartley.
Mostly what I remember of Crystal is the scrawny, annoying girl who tagged along with Gabby when we were kids. A few times, I'd let them play video games with me. Until their chatter and giggling got on my nerves and I'd send them away. She'd just been that friend of my sister's, not worth my notice or my time. At some point, she'd stopped coming over, and honestly, I'd never thought about her again.
Until later when Lucas and I became partners and friends. It had been a full six months before I realized Lucas' missing sister and my sister had been friends.
The coffee maker grows quiet and I fill a mug. Alexis is still asleep and not here to see, so I add too much sugar and cream. A few drops of vanilla, and it’s almost as good as the froo-froo coffee I secretly prefer. Sipping the sweet elixir, I watch the front yard grow brighter.
Walker cries out from down the hall, cutting my early morning moments of solitude short. His huge smile when I enter his room blows the swirling thoughts of Crystal and murder from my mind. He stands in his crib, his pudgy hands reaching for me.
“Morning, buddy,” I whisper to my son. “Let’s not wake Mommy, okay?” Walker lays his head on my shoulder and grips my wet tank top. I grab a diaper off the changing table and sneak down the hall.
After a quick change into dry pants, I sit on the floor and watch Walker playing with his toys. He loves anything with wheels and pushes his favorite plastic police cruiser into my outstretched legs.
I pretend the small bump hurts like crazy and make a big fuss. Walker laughs at my antics, pleased for some Daddy time.
"Come here," I say, pulling him onto my lap. He laughs and squirms to be released. I pick him up and hold him over my head. His adorable face beams at me as I fake drop him and he squeals with delight.
“I could wake up to this every morning,” Alexis says behind us.
Hearing his mommy's voice, Walker squeals. I put him down and he skitters across the carpet on hands and knees.
“Sorry if we woke you,” I say, smiling at my family and pushing myself up to the couch.
Alexis expertly scoops up Walker, then sits next to me, dropping a kiss on my cheek. Walker climbs from her lap to mine, then back again. I tickle his ribs and his squeals fill the living room.
"You're up early," Alexis says, noting my sweat-stained tank.
“I didn’t sleep too well,” I say suddenly serious.
“Worried she’ll actually be there or that she won’t?”
"Both. Either way, it's a loss. Either Gabby's wrong and all this is for nothing, or Crystal was actually murdered and hidden in someone else’s grave." Walker senses playtime is over and climbs back on the floor to his toy cruiser.
“I’m surprised you got the court order at all.”
“Lucas’ dad has a friend that’s a judge.”
“How’s Lucas handling all this?” Alexis curls against my shoulder.
“At first he was pretty shook up, but yesterday he seemed in a really good mood, so hard to tell.”
Alexis snuggles closer, her sleep messed hair brushing against my cheek. “At least he has you.”
I allow myself to enjoy the snuggle for another moment. “Speaking of all that I need to get going.”
Used to my quick changes in mood, Alexis lets me go. “And take a shower,” she says, sliding onto the floor to play with Walker. “You’re all sweaty.”
“You didn’t mind last night,” I tease.
She laughs and throws a plastic truck after me. “You’re horrible.”
For once, the unpredictable Indiana weather works to our advantage. All the snow has melted from the cemetery and the sunny day promises to be warmer. I string yellow tape in a perimeter around the area of the grave in question. Far across the cemetery, a couple visits another grave, taking advantage of the break in the weather. Besides them, the only action surrounds me.
A small backhoe sits nearby, the driver waiting impatiently to dig. Two uniformed officers help secure the scene. Lucas ducks under the yellow tape with a nod of greeting to the officers and joins me near the headstone.
“Hey,” I say, not sure what words are appropriate at such an unusual event.
“Hey,” he says back. He stares at the ground in front of the headstone, his back stiff. “My parents are coming if that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I say. “There they are now.”
Gregor Hartley strides with purpose across the cemetery. Deidre walks with her chin held so high it looks unnatural, a tight smile frozen on her face. Gregor nods at me and his son as he takes his place outside the tape.
Deidre's smile never wavers, but never reaches her eyes. She plants her feet solidly on the now mushy ground and fixes her eyes on a point in the distance.
“I’m not late, am I?” Gabby suddenly says behind me.
I turn in surprise. “Late? I didn’t even know you were coming.”
Lucas
holds up the tape for her, and she ducks under. A snap of annoyance courses through me.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Lucas says to her, taking her hand in his, looking pointedly at me for my reaction.
I force my face to hide my surprise. “Whatever you want,” I snap at Gabby. “As usual,” I mutter under my breath, turning away from my partner and my sister holding hands.
The coroner arrives at the scene and I eagerly focus on her. “Ready for this?” Angelica Gomez asks with a hint of irritation. Her intelligent, dark eyes narrow on the bystanders. “Is this the family?”
Gomez barely reaches my chest in height, but she's hard and clever, her entire demeanor commands respect. "Yes, ma'am," I say contritely, hating myself for my reaction.
The tail of Gomez's usual french braid swings in an arc as she turns on Gabby and looks her up and down with sharp eyes. "What are you doing here?"
Gabby blanches under the intense scrutiny and a smile ticks up the corners of my mouth.
“She’s with me,” Lucas says.
“She’s not police.” Gomez says. “Behind the tape.” The braid swings again as Gomez turns back to the job at hand. “Let’s get this started,” she says to the driver waiting on the backhoe.
The machine roars to life and the first scrape of dirt is removed. “Not too much,” Gomez barks at the driver.
As the hole grows deeper and nothing is found but dirt and a few rocks, the tension around the grave mounts.
Lucas stands with Gabby and his parents behind the tape. I scan his face for a hint of the guilt Gabby thought she heard from Crystal. Anxiety is clear, but I don’t sense guilt from him.
Gabby checks Lucas’ face as well, seems relieved then looks back at the hole. Her anxiety seems more based on anticipation than dread.
Gregor Hartley wears an expression so like his son’s it’s unnerving. Deidre Hartley still wears her fake smile and empty eyes. The quivering of her lower lip is the only hint of true emotion.
The backhoe removes another scoop and Gomez turns her assessing eyes on me. "Sure she's in here?" she asks, shooting a meaningful look at Gabby.
“Gabby said she’s here,” I defend my sister.
"There she is!" Gabby suddenly shouts above the sound of the backhoe.
At the bottom of the hole, a bone peaks out of the dirt. The white surface bright against the damp earth.
Gomez shouts at the driver to stop digging and he turns off the machine.
The following silence is shattered by a scream.
Deidre Hartley’s smile fights to remain on her face, but her mouth is open and screaming.
Chapter 15
Gabby
Lucas’ hand in mine centers me as I watch the dirt scrape away from the grave. I hope my hand in his centers him as well. I can’t imagine what emotions must be coursing through him. Gloves or no gloves, I’ve never been able to get a reading from him. That lack allows me to touch him freely, but I wish I could get inside his head right now.
Or maybe I don't. My own head is enough of a mess to deal with. I'm sure Crystal is under the dirt, but as the hole gets deeper a niggle of doubt begins to swirl.
I look at the small crowd watching the digging. All these people are here because of me. The responsibility weighs me down and I squeeze Lucas’ hand harder.
He silently squeezes back.
The spit-fire of a coroner keeps sending me side glances, leaving no doubt as to her opinion of me and my abilities. "You're wasting everyone's time," her eyes tell me.
I lift my chin and ignore the silent jibe.
A moment later, Gomez is proved wrong.
The long white bone appears in the dirt and I flash back to the first bones I was called to touch.
I shake the thought away and screaming fills my ears. For a moment, I think the screaming comes from me.
Deidre Hartley collapses on the ground. “My daughter! My baby!” she wails.
Lucas drops my hand and rushes to his mother. Gregor Hartley cradles his wife. Lucas wraps them both in his arms.
I watch the display of family emotion in stunned silence.
Dustin touches my arm and I brace for harsh words. “Looks like you were right,” he says with uncustomary gentleness. His hand remains on my arm as we watch the Hartleys lost in grief.
“McAllister,” Gomez barks at my brother. “Get these people out of here. We have work to do.”
Dustin's hand flinches, then drops to his side. “He’s going to need you. Can you help get them home?”
I nod. “Can you call me later and tell me what you find out?”
“You already know more than we can find.”
“What about Lucy?”
“Lucy Reed was killed by trauma to her head. Most likely caused by the hoof of her horse.” Gomez interrupts our conversation. “You found her. You should know.” The inflection on “know” mocks me.
“I knew Crystal was here,” I snap at the woman.
Gomez eyes me critically. "You knew somehow," she says cryptically, turning back to her work, effectively dismissing me.
My entire body tenses at the accusation. Deidre’s renewed wailing distracts me from jumping on the coroner and pulling on her long braid.
“Just take them home.” Dustin rubs his hand across the short buzz cut of his hair. “Please.”
“Come on, Mom,” Lucas says to his mom. “We found her. Now, let’s let them work.”
"I'm sorry, man," Dustin says to his friend. Lucas nods and straightens his shoulders.
With Gregor on one side and Lucas on the other, they lead Deidre toward the parking area. I walk with the family, feeling like an interloper. They don't need me right now, but Dustin needs me gone. Crystal's remains must be removed and examined.
I’ve done all I can for her.
“I’m going to go with them,” Lucas says as the men settle Deidre into Gregor’s car.
“That’s good.” I touch his shoulder, offering what small comfort I can. “I’ll catch up with you later?” I meant it as a statement, and hate the needy note of question that seeped out.
He takes my hand from his shoulder and squeezes it. “Of course.”
After they drive away, I watch the yellow crime tape shimmering in the sun. The ugly tape is an abomination to the serenity of the cemetery.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper to Crystal.
I have two clients to fill my day and am happy about the distractions. With one eye on my phone, hoping Lucas will call and another on the clock wishing it would tick faster, I make it through the day. The clients were simple readings on old items. Not a crime or cheating spouse in sight.
Deidre’s pitiful cries echo in my memory. The mother’s pain haunting. Another mother, Annette Reed is mourning the loss of a child today. The sad thoughts make me miss my own mother.
But Emily McAllister is in prison a few hundred miles away, out of reach until my next visit. What I really want is Grandma Dot to rub my back and tell me it will all be fine. I may have told Dustin I didn't need to run crying to Grandma all the time, but that was a lie.
I check the clock again. I want Grandma, not all her clients. The beauty shop will close soon and I can have her to myself.
Spinning the dial on the safe under the front counter, I shove the pile of cash my two clients paid today inside.
The gold coin I found at the shack catches my eye. Revealing my true feelings for Lucas and dealing with Crystal’s exhumation had forced the coin from my mind.
I pluck the coin out of the safe and flip it in my gloved palm. The cross and coat of arms stamped on it are smudged and worn from the hundreds of years of its existence. Or are made to look old, and the coin's a fake.
That would make more sense. How could an authentic Spanish gold coin wind up under a dirty mattress in a shack in Indiana?
I pull off my left glove, then bow my head and say my usual prayer. “God, let me see what needs to be seen.”
The gold warms as I close my hand around it
and close my eyes.
Anger, pain, greed, hope.
Vague impressions that mean nothing. Spanish coins like this were made from gold stolen from the natives. Stacks of coins were loaded onto ships to return to greedy lords in Spain. Some were lost on shipwrecks. Some remained here and used as currency. The exact history of this coin could be sordid and bloody or simply a piece of everyday life.
Even as sketchy as the vision appears, the layers of time are evident.
The coin is real.
I cling to the coin and open my mind again, desperate for a clue. With my eyes scrunched closed, I dig into the vision, sift through the flitting impressions.
Anger, pain, greed, hope.
Below that, fear and betrayal.
Irritated at the lack of answers, I toss the coin onto the counter with a clatter. It rocks on its edges then settles into silence. I stare at it, hoping inspiration will jump from the gold into my mind.
The coin just lays there.
Angry, I pull my glove on and shove the coin in my pocket. I slam the door of the safe and spin the dial to make sure it locks. Grandma’s probably finishing up at the beauty shop.
I don't care if it makes me look like a child, I need my Grandma.
A woman with beautifully styled hair opens the driver’s door of the last car in Grandma’s parking area. The last client of the afternoon.
I let myself into the kitchen door and the familiar smells of home wash over me. My shoulders soften and my body relaxes instantly. “Grandma, it’s Gabby,” I shout towards the sliding doors leading to the beauty shop.
Jet pushes his nose through a crack in the door, slides it open and scrambles across the floor. I scoop him into my arms and rub my cheek against his ear. “I missed you, too, buddy.”
“Just finishing up,” Grandma Dot calls from the shop.
I pour myself a tall glass of iced tea and play with Jet while I wait. I don’t have to wait long.
Grandma Dot inspects me in her usual way. “Something’s different about you.”
“They found Crystal in the grave this morning.”
Grandma touches my face, runs a finger over the scar in my eyebrow. “I heard. It’s not that.”
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