Page 55 of The Psychic

Ronnie put a call through to Marian’s cell phone as she drove to the Langdorf estate, but once again Carlton picked up.

“I don’t think dinner is going to work tonight,” he stated flatly before Ronnie could even say hello.

“Did you even tell Marian I would be there tonight? And why are you on her phone?” No use trying to be deferential to a client. Carlton didn’t pick up on subtleties and Ronnie was annoyed, really annoyed.

“She’s unable to come to the phone. She’s not feeling well. Maybe you can reschedule again.”

His “maybe” was tinged with “but I don’t think so.”

Ronnie didn’t have time for Carlton Langdorf or his petty games. “Well, I’m on my way, so she can tell me herself.”

“She’s not up. It’s not a good time,” he shot back, his voice rising.

Was Carlton being a little too eager to keep her away from his aunt?

With Mel’s and Shana’s deaths, the worry about Angel, and the vortex of messages she was receiving that almost left her with whiplash, she’d shoved Marian and Carlton Langdorf to the back of her brain.

Now she wondered if she smelled a rat. Of course he didn’t want Ronnie involved, as Marian was way too interested in pulling her into the inner circle, but taking over her phone?

Speaking for Marian? Not allowing Ronnie to talk to her?

“You know, I’ve been rethinking the whole ‘moving in’ plan,” Ronnie lied. “I know I’ve been lukewarm on it. It just didn’t seem feasible, but now I actually think it might work out very well for me.”

“You said it wouldn’t work for you!” he squeaked.

“Crazy how these things change, huh? See you soon,” she sang, then ended the call.

She had a faint smile on her lips, which slowly dissipated as her mind tripped back to Mel and Clint and Brandy and Shana and Angel and everything that had jumbled together over the past half week. It almost felt like someone or something was specifically targeting her.

“It’s not about you,” she reminded herself. Then again, maybe she was wrong.

Sloan ended the call with the sheriff as fast as he reasonably could. He needed time to think. His pulse was flying. Townsend had sounded almost gleeful that he could impart unwelcome news.

“Bro,” Sloan muttered fiercely. He wasn’t Townsend’s bro. Never had been.

And now Sloan was behind the wheel. Driving way too fast.

Stop. Think. Follow the investigation to its logical conclusion.

But Veronica Quick was not logical!

But then there was the coffee cup lid … with her DNA … ?

How?

His thoughts flipped to her prediction about Shana’s death … and then finding Shana’s body laid out in that exact same way . A prediction, she’d said. A vision. But shit …

Still, Quick couldn’t have been involved in Shana’s death. She hadn’t had time and why would she?

Now Sloan was the one who was mad. At Townsend for bringing this to him, putting doubts in his head … no, increasing his doubts about Quick’s ability to “see” things. Those doubts had already been there.

His chest constricted. He needed to talk to Quick, but she was at that dinner.

Don’t rush. Think it through. Work the investigation.

Words he lived by, but then he’d never been so personally involved.

All right. Fine. Stop. What next? Hugh McNulty, but he was with his friends and Townsend had already interviewed him. Go somewhere else.

He looked down at the screen of his phone, working hard to keep focused. He’d planned to call Amy Deggars, whom Shana had stayed with just before she was murdered. Amy had undoubtedly already been notified by the police communications department, but Sloan hadn’t yet interviewed her.

It was Sunday evening. In his mind, he’d planned on spending time with Quick today … Ronnie … interviewing Deggars tomorrow.

It’s got your psychic friend’s DNA all over it …

He shook his head. Science against pseudo-science.

Push that aside!

Gritting his teeth, he punched in the number he’d gotten for Amy Deggars. She answered on the third ring with a cautious, “Hello?”

“Amy Deggars? This is Detective Hart with the River Glen Police Department. I would like to talk to you—”

She gasped.

“—about Shana Lloyd. I’m sure you’ve been contacted regarding … her death.” He slowed down at her reaction.

“She said it was because of you!” Amy charged. “Shana was scared to death!”

“What do you mean?”

“She was scared of you ! Of everything! And look what happened.” Her voice had gone from fury to fear.

He slowed for a corner and took it too fast, his Bronco sliding a bit as he tried to keep the conversation on track. “She was staying with you, after the car accident.” Then, “She had no reason to be frightened of me.”

“She said she made a mistake! Trusted you when she shouldn’t have!”

Was she sobbing?

“I-I don’t trust you!” she insisted, panic audible. “I don’t need to talk to you. I—I need someone else. I need a lawyer!”

He slowed for a stoplight, silently ticking off the seconds in his head and tried to calm the woman down. “I don’t know what Shana said to give you the impression that—”

“I’m gonna tell them you killed her!”

Sloan could hardly grasp what she was saying. “I didn’t have anything to do with Shana’s death.”

“She found out about you and your girlfriend!”

Trying to keep up, Sloan was rendered damn near speechless. He didn’t have time to go into the whys and wherefores of how wrong she was. “She must’ve meant someone else,” he said. “Did she contact anyone?”

“No.”

“She talked to Evan Caldwell,” he suggested.

“Evan Cald— No! Wait. I—I think he tried to talk her out of it!”

“Out of what?” he asked, but Amy wasn’t listening.

“Evan said she was being paranoid! But it’s you. You she was scared of!” She sobbed loudly and then clicked off.

Well, that sure went down the rabbit hole fast. But it forced him to think hard and ease off the gas. What the hell had Amy been talking about? She had to have him confused with someone else. Who?

Not. Ronnie. She was not responsible for Shana’s death no matter what the evidence looked like.

He’d spent the night with her. That had been real. That had been … wonderful.

But are you being led in circles? You thought she was a charlatan. A fake. A nutcase.

But she’s none of those things.

Are you sure? Do you just want that to be true? Like Townsend doesn’t want Mercer to be responsible for Melissa McNulty’s death?

Is Clint Mercer responsible? He was there. Maybe he didn’t mean to hurt her, but he was on site.

If he didn’t do it, who did? And did it have anything to do with whoever murdered Shana?

“Emma’s at Heart of Sunshine Church?” Cooper repeated slowly.

“I think so.” Harley swallowed hard. “I can’t be sure, but yeah, I think so.”

“Where are you?”

“Home,” Harley told him as she stared at their house where the Christmas tree was visible in the living room window. “I’m parked across the street.”

“Well come inside and wait. I’ll be back later after I visit the preacher.”

“You’re here? In the house?” she asked, and at that moment she saw him shoving his arms down the sleeves of his jacket as he crossed the living room behind the lighted tree.

“And you’re going to Heart of Sunshine?”

“That’s right,” he said, steel in his voice.

“I’m going with you!”

But she didn’t know if he’d heard her. Didn’t matter.

She cut the engine, threw open the door and locked the car remotely as she dashed across the street to the yard.

Her boots sank into the slushy ground as she ran around the corner to the driveway and caught a glimpse of Cooper sliding behind the wheel of his SUV.

She sped up because whether he liked it or not, she was going with him.

Ronnie pressed the bell for the third time, annoyed with Carlton, who seemed to have control of Marian’s phone and possibly Marian herself.

Faintly, she heard the sound of a dog barking. Somewhere from the back of the estate … Langdorf’s dog? Mel’s dog? Or a neighbor’s?

The door opened and Carlton stood in front of her in a dark jogging suit, hands folded at his waist, his expression tense. “There’s no dinner. My aunt isn’t feeling well. I told you not to come.”

Ronnie glanced around the foyer, her gaze sweeping up the stairway and then back again, settling on the umbrella stand that currently held Marian’s cane, the red eyes of the wolf’s head seeming to throb.

“She doesn’t have her cane with her,” she observed.

“There are other canes. That one’s for going out.”

“She used it last time I was here.”

“Well, she’s not using it now! She’s in the den. Do you want to see her or not?”

“Yes,” said Ronnie, a little surprised. All Carlton had done was try to dissuade her from contact with Marian over and over again.

She followed him back to the den. This time he didn’t pose at the fireplace. This time he sat down next to Marian on the leather couch, while Ronnie remained standing.

Marian was staring into the fire, which was now mostly glowing red and orange embers. She looked up as Ronnie entered.

“Hello there, dear.” Her welcoming smile was a taut line of her lips.

“What’s going on?” asked Ronnie. The vibes in the room were definitely odd.

“I made you a generous offer, and you’ve been very … rude … about it,” Marian said as Carlton patted her hand. “You’ve put me off and put me off, and … maligned me behind my back.”

“ What? ”

Marian said calmly, “I’m still grateful that you saved my life, but—”

“The doctors would have found it,” interrupted Carlton.

“—I think it’s time we part ways.”

Marian was deeply hurt, Ronnie realized, surprised.

Her blood boiled as she considered the lies Carlton might be feeding his aunt.

She wanted to scream at him to stop being such an asshole, but more than anything she just wanted to go.

To leave Carlton Langdorf and his naked greed and go back to finding what had happened to Mel and Shana … and Angel.

“All right,” she said. “If that’s the way you want it.”

Ever more faintly she heard the dog. She glanced toward the back windows and then at Marian and Carlton.