Page 11 of The Psychic

Cooper walked through Tormelle & Quick’s covered parking area to his Explorer, looking toward the main outside lot which was currently being doused by almost biblical rain.

Sheets of it poured down, row after row in wind-driven sweeps, like a rushing army.

The kind of rain that sloughed away banks of the East Glen River in a muddy torrent.

Made him think of the houses perched precariously on cliffs above the river.

Hopefully most were constructed on granite.

So much for the light drizzle that had drifted down earlier today.

He drew a breath and exhaled slowly. His lawyer had come to the same conclusion he had: There was nothing in the paperwork he and Jamie had signed with Mary Jo Kirshner that precluded her from being gone for unspecified periods of time.

At this late date, she needed to keep in contact with Cooper and Jamie, but it wasn’t dictated exactly how often.

Still … he might have the power to sic the law on her.

Tricky stuff in a court of law, but he was past caring about the future fallout. He wanted Mary Jo back now.

But it wasn’t going to happen. She was on her own time frame, though that time was ticking away fast until her due date.

The idea that Mary Jo had maybe joined a would-be cult again scared him shitless.

The legal wrangle could take years and there was a baby’s health— their baby’s health—in the balance.

Plucking out his cell, Cooper started to call Jamie to tell her he was on his way home when he saw a vehicle pull into the lot, nearly obscured by rain, and slow down as it approached the covered area.

There were no more spots available inside and the driver must’ve recognized that fact because he pulled into an empty spot in the uncovered lot, the car curtained with rain.

He immediately opened his driver’s door to get inside, figuring he’d better get going and give up his spot.

But the new visitor’s door opened and slammed shut, the sound barely discernible in the loud roar of the deluge.

Bare head bent, Veronica Quick walked with purpose toward him, drenching herself.

She stopped just under the covered lot ceiling, soaking wet. But she seemed … happy?

Cooper said, “I’m just leaving so a spot’s opening up. I might have an umbrella in my car if you want to move inside.”

“Too late for that. Thank you. It’s fine. The skies’ll clear sometime. Maybe even today.”

“You’re Veronica Quick,” he said, his voice raised against the thundering rain.

She swept a hand across her forehead to push back her hair and gazed at him out of cautious blue eyes. “Yes?”

“Cooper Haynes,” he introduced himself and stuck out his hand.

“Mine’s wet,” she warned as they shook hands.

He explained about having met with Paula Prescott … and then made the mistake of bringing up Jesse Taft and his half belief in her supposed psychic talents.

“Ah,” she said. A wealth of meaning in that one word.

She was pretty. A kind of girl-next-door look.

Unconcerned about the rain that had soaked her light brown hair and drenched her from head to foot.

Contained, but he had the sense of bubbling lava inside.

He’d met a lot of people during his years on the force, but some stood out.

Some, who you just knew something big was going on inside them, a depth of personality they maybe didn’t much like to share.

“You’re a police detective with River Glen P.D.,” she said suddenly, surprising him. “I’ve spoken with your partner, Detective Verbena.”

“Right.”

Quick had once predicted a crime to Verbena, which had made Verbena suspicious of her possible involvement in it. Cooper had only been peripherally aware of the events at the time, although it had since become buzz around the squad room.

“You here on police business?”

“Personal. I’m on administrative leave,” he admitted.

“What happened?”

He kind of liked that she asked straight out. “I pissed off the wrong people in town.”

“Like Mr. Taft does?” She grabbed her hair with both hands and squeezed water to the parking lot floor. “He’s wrong about me, by the way. I’m no psychic. I just knew he was in trouble.”

Cooper nodded.

She glanced toward the rain-blurred outdoor lot. “You’ll be back on the force soon.”

“You just said you’re no psychic,” he reminded lightly. And he wasn’t sure she was right. The chief would have to ignore the politics and back Cooper’s investigative efforts into a lot of withheld secrets and lies.

“You seem capable. You don’t have to be a psychic to see that.”

“‘All signs point to yes’?”

She actually laughed and Cooper broke into a smile himself.

But then she caught herself up on a small intake of breath.

“What?” he asked, feeling the hairs lift on his arms in spite of himself.

“Nothing.” She glanced toward the stairs.

“No, what were you going to say?”

He could see her clench her teeth, as if she were forcibly holding back whatever it was.

“Tell me,” he coaxed.

“You’re looking for someone?” she asked cautiously.

He felt a rushing in his ears. She couldn’t have talked to Paula. She was just arriving. Unless maybe Paula had mentioned his case earlier? In her hearing? After he’d called but before they had their meeting? “Paula told you that.”

“Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Her psychic abilities had been discussed and joked about.

Verbena’s skepticism had run through the rank and file, though someone had once suggested they could use her to solve cases.

He’d have to think about who that was. Cooper hadn’t paid much attention at the time.

Cops talked and joked about a lot of things.

But no harm in telling her the truth now, he figured.

“I’m looking for the surrogate who’s having my wife’s and my baby.

She took off about a week ago and her husband says it’s normal, but it doesn’t feel that way to me. ”

She keyed in on him so he gave her the bullet points of his and Jamie’s trials and tribulations on getting pregnant.

How Jamie had had a daughter with her first husband.

How that daughter, Harley, who was now in college, was thinking about going into law enforcement.

How he, Cooper, had never had a child of his own, but had raised his ex’s daughter, Marissa, throughout most of her life and considered her more daughter than stepdaughter.

How Jamie had been told she was very unlikely to get pregnant again and so they’d hired a surrogate.

How just after that surrogate announced a viable pregnancy, Jamie herself had learned that she was having a baby.

And how Jamie was now bedridden and how the surrogate had gone …

on a vision quest, according to her husband.

Quick shifted her gaze from his back to the rain, but she was clearly engaged. When he finished, she glanced back at him, those blue eyes gravely intent.

“Is your surrogate’s name Rebekkah? Two k ’s, one h ?”

Well, that was specific. “No … it’s Mary Jo Kirshner.”

She shook her head in annoyance. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about.”

“That’s debatable,” she scoffed, turning toward the stairs. “Nice talking to you, Detective.”

“You did warn Taft that he was in danger,” he said, feeling she needed some support even if he wasn’t a believer himself.

“Yeah, well. Anyone could’ve made that guess.”

Marian Langdorf and Carlton were in the waiting room when Ronnie entered reception from the stairway.

Nightmare.

Dawn took one look at her and said, “Ah … let me get you a towel.”

“I’m fine. I just need a few minutes to dry out.”

“You had no umbrella?” Marian demanded. She was standing directly in front of Dawn’s desk, listing to one side, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Just got caught in the rain.”

Carlton leapt up from where he’d been perched on the edge of his seat, as if he couldn’t make up his mind whether to stand or sit. He seemed to want to grab Marian but her frozen gaze warned him to stay back.

Ronnie said, “Take a seat and I’ll be right with you. I just need to freshen up.”

“All right,” said Marian as Ronnie headed toward the door that led to the inner offices, but she sounded none too pleased.

As soon as she was out of sight, Ronnie pushed into the women’s restroom.

She stared at herself in the mirror. What a mess.

Her shoulder-length hair was plastered to her head.

She finger-combed it, then looked inside her drenched cross-body purse for a brush, knowing she didn’t have one with her.

The shoulders of her raincoat were soaked, but at least her jacket and blouse were dry underneath.

Her pant legs and shoes were another matter.

Ah, well. She knew what Mrs. Langdorf wanted and she was determined to gently ease her on her way.

When Ronnie returned to reception, Carlton said, “She wouldn’t sit down until you got here. Insisted on standing. I tried to reason with her, but she’s stubborn. I did get her her cane, but she won’t take care of herself.”

Annoyance crossed Marian’s face. He was right, clearly, but the older woman didn’t want to hear it.

She was leaning heavily on the cane’s carved silver handle, which Ronnie saw was designed as a wolf’s head with glaring red gem eyes. Marian Langdorf was nothing if not dramatic.

Ronnie’s gaze had just turned from the wolf’s head when a dog started barking, somewhere to her right, outdoors. She looked through the window, in the direction of the sound, but no one else seemed to notice. Great.

Am I the only one who hears it?

“Do you hear anything?” Ronnie asked.

Behind the desk, Dawn glanced to Ronnie’s right. “The dog?”

“Yes, the dog,” Ronnie said in relief.

“Why?” Marian cocked her head. “Is it yours?”

“No, I just … hope its owner finds out why it’s barking. Are you here to see Albert?” She hoped against hope she was wrong about the woman’s intentions.

“No, darling, I came to see you. Do you mind? I need somewhere to sit down.”