Page 64 of The Psychic

Harley pulled up across from the house as Cooper’s Trailblazer was backing out of the drive in a big hurry.

“Where’re you going?” she shouted, climbing from the car and madly waving at him.

He rolled down the window as he stopped to put the vehicle in drive. “Mary Jo’s in labor!”

“Shit.” She ran to the passenger door before he could take off. “I’m coming with you.”

“You need to stay with your mom. She’s not feeling great. Back pain. She doesn’t know about Mary Jo yet.”

“I’ll check on her, but I want to meet you at Glen Gen. That’s where Mary Jo’s going, right?”

“Eventually,” he said tightly.

“Hey!”

They both looked toward the front porch where Emma stood with Duchess, who started barking as soon as her mistress yelled at them. “Jamie wants to know where you are going!”

Harley cupped her hands over her mouth. “We’ll be back soon! Take care of Mom, okay? If she still feels bad, call us.”

Twink streaked out of the still open door. Duchess gave chase. Emma yelled at the dog and the cat circled around and shot back inside the house, Duchess on her heels. Distracted, Emma said, “I will take care of her.”

Cooper muttered, “It would be better if you stayed,” as Harley buckled herself in.

“I don’t trust Mary Jo.”

“She’s on her way, or already at, Heart of Sunshine Church. Stephen called me.”

“Oh, God … already in labor?”

He pressed the accelerator and they tore forward. No police siren on the Blazer. Didn’t matter as Cooper wasn’t slowing down for protocol. He was hell-bent and Harley was glad.

Verbena directed Sloan to a small park on the edge of River Glen, near the East Glen River, tucked up against some older houses.

She grilled him while they drove, about the McNulty and Lloyd investigations, and he told her all he knew.

She didn’t ask specifically about Angel Vasquero’s death, but Carlton Langford was in jail and likely to remain there, so they could go over that later.

Marian Langford had awakened. Still not out of the woods, but it was a positive sign.

“Okay,” she said, as he pulled into a parking spot. They were facing children’s playground equipment, swings and a climbing structure in the shape of a ship with a Jolly Roger flag atop a central post. She turned to face him. “Since my mom’s illness, I use this place to clear my head.”

“How is your mom?”

“As good as can be expected, I suppose,” was her brief answer before turning to the case. “Clint Mercer is still in ICU. Bitten by a dog, you said. And Quick has been hearing a dog but not seen one.”

Sloan nodded.

“What is your relationship to Quick?” she asked curiously. At his hesitation, she added, “Look, I don’t care what it is. I just need to know.”

“We’re seeing each other.”

Her dark eyes studied him. “You believe the coffee-cup lid was planted at the McNulty crime scene by Shana Lloyd, and that Lloyd was killed because of it?”

He nodded. “Someone set her up to do it.”

“Whoever killed McNulty. But now you’re questioning whether it’s Mercer. What does Quick think?”

“Feels the same way I do.”

“Okay.” Verbena quirked a dark brow.

“I want to re-interview Hugh McNulty,” Sloan told her. “Townsend interviewed him and he said he was hiking with friends in the mountains, which has been verified. But I want to meet with him and hear it firsthand.”

“You don’t trust Townsend? I thought you were friends, and didn’t you start with the sheriff’s department?”

“It isn’t working out.”

A smile briefly slanted her lips. “I’ve had dealings with the man. He runs a fiefdom out there.”

Sloan was glad she held the same appreciation for Abel Townsend as he did. No more bros; they never had been in the first place. “I think Quick needs protection. Amy Deggars took off because she believes she’s in danger, and I think Quick is, too.”

“You should’ve brought Deggars into the station.”

“She won’t be hard to find, if we need her, but for now I thought she would be better out of River Glen.”

Verbena thought about it a bit, then gave a short nod. “Call Quick. See what she thinks about a temporary security detail for her. And let’s go interview Hugh McNulty.”

Ronnie’s ire had subsided to a low simmer as she came out of the Coast Range and down toward Highway 101, which ran north/south along the curving shoreline of the Pacific.

The drive was going to be a little longer than her estimate. She was heading south, forty-five minutes to an hour before she hit Deception Bay.

Her cell dinged, an arriving text. She’d set it in her cupholder and now she looked down and saw it was Sloan: Everything okay at work? Verbena is thinking about security detail for you.

“Hell, no,” she muttered. She could almost feel his worry being telegraphed down the phone. Since it was impossible to text and drive, she pulled over on the nearest wide shoulder and wrote: No security needed. Running an errand. All is well.

Not exactly the truth, but her current mission was personal, something she wanted to delve into on her own until she fully understood what was going on.

Back on the road, her phone rang. She glanced at the lighted screen. Her father calling.

She mentally went through a string of swear words. She didn’t want to answer. But she’d sure as hell wanted to have it out with him earlier, so …

“Hi, Dad,” she answered coldly, pressing the speaker button and leaving the phone in the cupholder.

“Where are you? The receptionist said you were looking for me, but you left.”

“Dawn.”

“Yes, Dawn,” he repeated, sounding slightly annoyed at being corrected. “You need to come to the office. Albert has taken leave of his senses and left his wife for that girl he hired. What’s her name? The newest one.”

“Moira.”

“I fired her this morning. Told Albert he was an old fool. You need to be here and support the firm.”

Ronnie thought about that for a moment. Her father was nothing if not single-minded. Then she knew what to say. “Maybe you should check with Mom. You purport to love her so much. The firm should be hers.”

“Is that a joke?”

It was clear Aunt Kat hadn’t told him about their phone call. Her father and her aunt may have schemed together, but they apparently weren’t in total agreement. At least that’s how it appeared. Maybe Aunt Kat’s disgust with Jonas had been real after all.

But they sure bonded over their lies to you, didn’t they?

She narrowed her eyes on the winding coastal road in front of her. Down the cliff to her right, the gray waves of the Pacific undulated beneath a silver sky. She set her jaw and said, “I guess I’ve had a psychic moment, Dad. ”

“Do you hear what I’m saying?” He barreled ahead without listening. “Albert is going to end up in an expensive divorce that may split the firm into pieces! You need to stand with me. I can’t keep making excuses for you.”

Ronnie gritted her teeth. He wanted to play games with the truth?

Fine. “Wait, Dad. I’ve got another vision!

I thought I saw Mom. And she was alive! Oh, wait …

she’s fading in and out … I can’t see … oh, yes, she’s at an institution of some kind.

Maybe a care facility? I’m not really sure.

It’s hazy. Not really clear. Wait! Is that the sound of waves breaking against a shore?

She’s at the beach, Dad! It’s so real! She is alive! ”

Ronnie waited, but there was only silence. Except for his breathing. Which kind of sounded like he was struggling for air.

“You spoke with Katarina, I see,” he finally said.

“Yes, Dad, I did. I spoke with Katarina, and guess what? There’s no death certificate on record for Mom.”

“Where are you now?”

“One guess.”

“You’re driving … to the coast.”

“To Seagull Pointe, to be exact. To meet my mother for the first time since I was four !”

“Veronica,” he said.

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

She clicked off and turned off her ringer.

Mary Jo’s car was parked outside the church. Harley and Cooper shared a look as he threw the SUV in park. Cooper had called the station to make certain Symons was still in custody, which he was, so that, at least, was something, Harley thought.

She followed a half step behind as Cooper strode up the steps to the church’s double doors and yanked one open. Not locked today.

And neither were the inner vestibule doors, which Cooper pushed open, Harley scurrying to keep up behind him.

The sight that met their eyes was enough to stop Harley in her tracks. Mary Jo, lying in the aisle between the pews. Legs spread. Dress hiked up to her thighs.

“The baby,” she gasped.

Ho … lee … shit.

Cooper turned to her and barked, “Find those other women.”

Harley jumped to obey. She had to pass Mary Jo, who leaned upward, her hands planted behind her, and suddenly bore down with a loud EEEEEEAAAAHHHHHHHHH before shrieking “The head is crowning! The head is CROWNING!”

Harley raced to the door on the left side of the apse, yanking it open, charging down the hallway that led to the outside and back dormitory. She could hear Cooper’s voice almost all the way, saying, “I’m here … relax … I’ve got you …”

Seagull Pointe was a light gray, one-story building down a long drive bordered by gnarled and skeletal, wind-stunted trees whose dark limbs waved a greeting to Ronnie as she drove by.

Rain splattered her windshield in big drops, her wipers brushing them away but barely able to keep up.

The weather was worse here at the coast than in the valley, which had been warmed a bit by watery sunshine.

She had no hat and her coat had no hood. She parked in a side lot and walked to the front door, bending her head to the burst of wind-driven rain that slapped her face and turned her hair into wet, lank strips.

Pulling open the door, she entered a room that was warm and light. She stood a moment, dripping on the mat just inside. She could feel her heart beat in her throat. Now that she was here she was nervous.

And there was a lump in her throat as well. Her mother. Her mother was here.

It was like she’d been resurrected from the dead.