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Joy Kingsley, dead four years ago. Why the hell was Laura getting a vision now?
It had been so vivid and strong – more so than anything she had ever seen before. She just didn’t understand it. She’d felt that her powers had been getting stronger ever since she’d been in contact with Zach, and then stopped being in contact with him so that the block between them could dissipate. She had known that they had come back not just as good as they were before, but even stronger.
But this…
This reminded her of when the block had been in place and everything had been so much more difficult to understand. Then her visions had been foggy and unclear, and they had also started to act up: showing her the past as well as the future. She’d thought they were fixed now, but apparently this seeing the past thing was here to stay.
If only she had a way to actually tell the difference between past and future visions, that would have been extremely useful.
“Laura?” Nate called out from the clearing.
“I’m here,” Laura called back, walking back towards him. When she emerged from the trees she found him standing, the kid by his side.
“We’re going to drop this one off at a shelter on the way out of town,” he said. “I made a couple of calls.”
“No problem,” Laura said, smiling at the kid but feeling like she was operating on autopilot while her mind went haywire.
“Oh,” Nate said, looking down at his phone.
“What?” Laura demanded, rushing closer in concern.
“Dean Marsters wants to know why you’re acting weird about this case,” he said, lifting it up to show Laura his screen.
Laura swore.
“One thing at a time,” Nate said. “Come on, you. Let’s get you to this shelter so you can settle in and get some lunch. Hot food sounds good, am I right?”
“Right,” the kid said, sounding a little grumpy and doubtful still. “For five minutes. And then I’ll be out here again.”
“I told you, didn’t I?” Nate said. “I put in a word for you. You’re getting the best, kid. Your own room in a fancy shelter and your own social worker to help you get back on your feet. You can even take my number so if they let you down after all, you can call and yell obscenities down the phone at me. And then I’ll help you again because it would be my fault it didn’t work out.”
“Okay,” he said, shrugging his shoulders like he was only grudgingly accepting. But Laura detected, underneath it all, that he was secretly pretty relieved.
***
“Okay,” Laura said, as soon as they were back on the road again. “What the hell am I going to do about Dean now?”
“Leave it to me,” Nate said. “I’ll talk to him when we’re back home. Are we going to the office, or pretending to stay out for the whole day?”
“We can’t wait until then,” Laura said. She felt a state of panic taking over her. In her mind’s eye, the consequences were clear. Dean would tell Division Chief Rondelle that there was something weird about Laura’s insistence on dismissing what seemed to be new evidence in a cold case. Rondelle would call them into his office and ask them to explain what had happened. Laura wouldn’t be able to produce a video or any proof that there had ever been one – mostly because there hadn’t been.
One way or another, finally, she would be forced to admit her deepest secret to her boss. The secret she had only told to two people: Nate, her loyal and trusted partner, and Chris – the man she loved. And now her boss would know about it.
And he would either think she was crazy and dismiss her from the FBI, or he would think she was dangerous and dismiss her from the FBI. Or, and she wasn’t sure if this was worse, he might also believe her and make her spend the rest of her life in what amounted to indentured servitude spending every waking minute trying to force a vision in every single case going.
Either way, her life was going to move rapidly downhill from here – she could sense it.
Unless, of course, they stopped Dean from talking to Rondelle.
“What do you want me to do? Pull over and send him a text?” Nate asked.
“Yes!” Laura exclaimed. “Thank you. Look, I think there’s a truck stop not far from here.”
Nate rolled his eyes, but in a good-natured way. He pulled off at the truck stop and parked in the parking lot, taking out his cell phone and looking down at it for a long minute.
“What are you doing?” Laura asked finally in exasperation.
“I’m thinking of a good enough lie that he’ll believe,” Nate said, waving a hand towards her as though she was an annoying gnat. “Just give me a minute.”
