Awakening (Lily Dale #1)(55)

No, she knows what she saw.

Yet she also knows what she tasted. That was definitely Irish Cream. Even Blue agreed.

“Here you go. Sorry about that, again.” Sue hands her the fresh cup and turns back to preparing the espresso drink.

Calla fixes the new cup with half-and-half and a couple of sugars. Then she takes a cautious sip.

This time, it’s regular. But a chill slips down her spine.

She realizes there suddenly seems to be a chill in the café as well.

And in the air, mingling with the aroma of brewing coffee, is the unmistakable fragrance of flowers.

“Hello, is this Mrs. Riggs?”

“Yes . . . who is this?”

Standing in the shadows on the pier outside the café, Calla hesitates, clenching her cell phone hard against her ear. “I . . . I’m a friend. I might have some information about your daughter.”

There’s a gasp on the other end of the line. “Who is this? Are you calling from . . . Florida?”

Caller ID, Calla realizes with a sinking heart.

Well, of course. Mrs. Riggs can trace the call to Calla’s phone. And she’ll have the police do it, too. She might even think Calla had something to do with her daughter’s disappearance.

Oh, God.What am I doing?

She should have stopped to think this through, but she didn’t. She had come up with the plan earlier, somewhere between the Taggarts’ house and Odelia’s. Still, she wasn’t even sure she was going to go through with it.

She was sitting there trying to sip her coffee and listen while Blue talked, but she was still unnerved by what had just happened. It wasn’t anything overtly scary, but the mistaken coffee, the chill, the scent in the air—it was all just off. She needed to get out of there . . . and yes, she needed to do something about Kaitlyn. So she impulsively snuck a hand into her back pocket and pressed the ringer button on her cell phone to make Blue think she had a call. Then she pulled it out, answered it, and excused herself to take it outside. Blue didn’t seem to mind. He was chatting with Sue the counter girl again before Calla even made it to the door. Still, she has to make this fast, because he might come out here looking for her.

“I’m only trying to help you, Mrs. Riggs,” she says in a rush, keeping one eye on the café door. “Please . . . you have to believe me. I’m—I met you in Lily Dale.”

Silence.

“You came to see my grandmother, Odelia Lauder, for a reading. And—and you heard from your father in the auditorium here the other night. A man named Walter brought him through for you. And he was showing you a rock, and a house. Do you remember?”

“Ye-es.” The word is so soft Calla can barely hear it.

“Mrs. Riggs, I think I can help you find Kaitlyn.”

“How?”

“Because—” Calla’s breath catches in her throat.

“Because I’m a psychic,” she admits quietly. Finally. “Like my grandmother. Do you . . . have you ever heard of Hocking Hills State Park?”

Blue insists on walking her up to Odelia’s front door, even though Calla tells him it’s not necessary.

She just wants to be alone with her thoughts right now.

Elaine Riggs did know where Hocking Hills State Park is, and she flatly told Calla that it was miles from where Kaitlyn was last seen.

“Still, I think you should ask the police to search there,” Calla told her, and the woman hung up pretty quickly, without saying whether she would take that advice or not.

There’s nothing else Calla can do. It’s out of her hands. She tried.

“Watch your step.” Blue slips a hand beneath her elbow as they walk up to the porch. “It’s dark out here.”

It is. Odelia must have forgotten to turn on the porch light. She does that about as often as she forgets to lock the door. Or maybe it was just as deliberate tonight, to set the stage for romance with Blue?

“Hey, listen, Calla, I’m sorry about what happened back there.”

His comment takes her by surprise. What is he talking about? Can he possibly know about her call to Mrs. Riggs?

Maybe. He’s psychic, remember?

“What do you mean?” she asks cautiously.

“I mean at the café. When Sue called you Willow, when we first came in. She’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“Sue?”

He laughs. “God, no. Willow York. That’s who Sue was talking about. People are kind of used to us being together, so . . .”

“Now you’re not together?”

“Nope.”

“Because it’s no big deal if you—”

Blue presses his index finger against her lips and says in a whisper, “Shh. Stop talking.”

“Why?”

“Because if your lips are moving, I can’t do this.”

Gently grasping her upper arms with his warm hands, he leans in, eyes closed. His kiss is expert: long, but not wet or sloppy. It’s like a movie kiss, Calla finds herself thinking as he pulls back.

“So . . . I’ll call you,” Blue says cheerfully, and then he’s gone, leaving her alone in the dark, heart pounding and knees weak.





FIFTEEN

That dream . . .

Again.

The fragmented one about the lake, Mom, Odelia. It’s haunted Calla the last two nights again, jarring her out of sleep. She has no way of knowing what time she’s waking up, but it’s definitely been in the wee hours. Like, say, around 3:17 a.m.