Page 30 of Jasmine Street Blues

“From what I hear, Loran Raine is more than a casual friend,” Colt said as he opened his bottle of water. “You’re dating?”

Was that really such a stretch? “News travels fast,” Mac grumbled.

“I believe the saying is good news travels fast. Is it? Good news?”

Mac took a swig of coffee before answering. “I haven’t decided. Until I find out what happened to Carrie…”

“What if you never find out?” Colt interrupted. “I’ll help if I can, you know I will, but we have no idea what kind of information I can get from Kylie going forward. She hasn’t been exactly clear and forthcoming about what she knows.”

“She never was,” Mac grumbled.

“Are you really going to throw your life away for something that might never happen? For all we know Kylie’s ghost is just yanking your chain, doing what she can to make sure you’re unhappy and spun up, unable to enjoy your life. Not all ghosts are well-meaning. It’s possible your ex has nothing to tell you.”

That was his fear, that he’d never find out, that he’d go to his grave not knowing. “I failed Carrie in the past. If Kylie is right and she does need me, I owe her.”

“Bullshit,” Colt said in a low voice. “You’ve done everything you could possibly do to find her. Moving on with your life doesn’t mean you forget about Carrie. It just means you have a life of your own while you do whatever it is you need to do. You can search for her and have a decent life at the same time.”

A life of his own. Balance had never been his strong suit. “I took a photo of Loran’s portrait. This morning I sent it to Biloxi, Mobile, and Jackson. Later today or tomorrow I’ll do the same to a few smaller jurisdictions.”

“Great. Good luck with that. Now, call Loran and ask her on a date. A real one, without Olive’s assistance.”

“Does everyone in this town know every damn thing that happens to me?” Mac snapped.

Colt smiled. “Not everyone. At least, I don’t think so. You are Police Chief, so folks are interested.”

Of course they were…

“How does she do it?” Mac asked, tired of talking about himself.

“How does who do what?”

“Loran. How does she paint dead people, ghosts, spirits, whatever you want to call them. She says she doesn’t see them, that they just pop into her head and demand to be her next subject. This deal with Kylie pushing her to paint Carrie is pretty far-fetched.”

Colt hesitated, drank more water, then glanced around as if they weren’t alone. Dammit, they probably weren’t. “I don’t know. I can’t explain what I do, much less make sense of someone else’s woowoo. My ability started after the wreck, after I died for a few minutes. Did Loran have an accident, some traumatic event that might’ve started this ability of hers?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, don’t ask her about it on your next date, but one day, when the time seems right, you can bring it up. To be honest, the why and how isn’t important.”

“Seems like it should be,” Mac responded.

“If you really like Loran accept her as she is. Don’t grill her, don’t push her, don’t ask for more than she offers to give you. Being different is hard enough without having those closest to you in interrogation mode all the time.”

“That’s why you and Anna get along so well, how you manage to make it work. She gets you, as you are.”

“It is,” Colt said.

Mac envied his friend what he’d found, but that didn’t mean he believed he could have it for himself. “Loran might help me find out what happened,” Mac said absently. “Where Carrie is, why she needs me.”

“And she could be the first step in Joseph Maxwell allowing himself to have a decent life of his own. You won’t know unless you try.”

Did he dare? What was he willing to give up in order to have a life of his own? A life with Loran in it…

* * *

Loran had been surprised when Mac called and instead of asking about Carrie, the portrait, what else she might be able to discover for him, he asked her on a date. A real one, where he’d pick her up and they’d have dinner without Olive and Tuck or anyone else along. An evening for just the two of them.

He’d broached the subject earlier in the day, before Helen had interrupted with news about free publicity. That news had pushed all thoughts of an evening with Mac out of her head. He hadn’t forgotten.