Showdown in Mudbug (Ghost-in-Law, #3)(37)

Jennifer lifted the pot. “Would you like any?”

“No, thank you,” Zach said. “We don’t want to take much of your time.”

Jennifer poured a cup of coffee and sat on a stool at the end of a bar, nervously fiddling with the handle on her mug. Raissa tugged on Zach’s sleeve, and he took a seat along with Raissa across from the girl. As soon as he slid onto the stool, the girl relaxed. He glanced at Raissa. That woman could definitely read people.

“I guess I don’t have to ask if you know who I really am,” Jennifer said. “Is this about the kidnapping? It’s been all over the news.”

“Yes, but why do you assume that?” Zach asked.

Jennifer shrugged and stared into her coffee. “I don’t know. I guess ’cause the missing girl sorta looked like me.”

Zach studied her for a couple of seconds and decided that Jennifer was right. There was definitely a resemblance. “You do favor each other, but that’s not the only reason. There are similarities regarding the disappearance that make us think it might be the same person or persons involved.”

Jennifer looked up at him, her expression bleak. “What do you want from me? I told the police everything years ago.”

“I know. I guess I was hoping that maybe after all this time you might have remembered something. Something you didn’t mention before.”

Jennifer stared at him for a moment, then shook her head. “I wish I could remember. I can’t even walk down the sidewalk without wondering ‘Is that the guy who took me—is that the guy?’ Or maybe it was a woman. I’m scared of them, too. I thought changing my name and moving in with my aunt would help, and it did, but only barely. I’ve been homeschooled since I was returned. I graduated high school last semester with top scores. I already have offers from Ivy League schools, but I’m afraid to go. I’ve been through seven counselors and no telling how many drugs, and I still won’t leave this house without an escort. Trust me, Detective, I would love to remember.” Her hands shook as she stirred her coffee.

Raissa reached across the bar and placed her hand on Jennifer’s arm. “Your fear is real and valid. Counselors usually try to tell you otherwise, which is where they go wrong, in my opinion, anyway. What they don’t tell you is that because of your experience, your senses are finely honed. You are far better suited to recognize danger than the average person.”

Jennifer looked at Raissa, her expression wavering between wanting to believe and wanting to run for cover. “I’m a quivering mess. I’m not finely honed.”

“Not yet. You’ve tucked yourself away for so long that when you go out now, you’re on sensory overload. If you increase your public time slowly, even by five minutes a day, you’ll find the anxiety will start to fade. Then you’ll be left with an awareness, almost a sixth sense, about what’s going on around you.”

“Did someone attack you?” Jennifer asked.

“I was stalked and shot. And I learned to trust that feeling in my gut and when the hair raises on the back of my neck. Fear is a gift. A gift far too many of us have forgotten how to access.”

“Wow.” Jennifer’s expression cleared in understanding. “That makes sense.” She gave Raissa a shy smile. “You’re the first person who’s made me feel anything but neurotic. Thank you.”

Raissa smiled. “You’re welcome. So how does knowing you have an advantage make you feel? Strong?”

Jennifer thought for a couple of seconds, then nodded. “Yeah. It does. This is so cool. Now, I can go out in public a little at a time, and I’ll remember that my being hyperaware is a good thing. I could get better, right?”

“Yep, maybe even in time for college registration next spring.”

Jennifer’s smile widened, and Zach could see how Raissa had opened a whole new world in the girl’s mind with just a few sentences. He liked to consider himself tough and hard, but he couldn’t help being moved.

After a couple of seconds, Jennifer’s smiled faded and she looked over at Zach. “I don’t know if this means anything, but I started having dreams right after I saw the kidnapping on the news.”

“What kind of dreams?” Zach asked, feeling his pulse quicken. Buried memories often started surfacing in dreams or in states of semiconsciousness.

Jennifer frowned. “Weird. Like it’s me in the dream, but I’m watching it from the outside, you know?”

Zach nodded, but didn’t reply, not wanting to interrupt her thought process.

“I’m in this room, but all I can see is bright light. The first time I had it, I thought I was dreaming about dying, you know, with the white light and all. But the next time I heard voices…regular voices, not God or anything.”

“Do you remember what the voices were saying?” Zach asked, pen and paper ready.

“A man says, ‘We’re running out of time.’ Then another man says, ‘I won’t have what we need until Wednesday. The blood wouldn’t do any good now. It’s too thin.’ Then the first guy says, ‘I hope that’s soon enough.’ And the other guy says, ‘Of course it will be. I can make anything happen.’ ”

Jennifer stared at the wall behind Zach for a moment, then shook her head. “And then I woke up.” She looked directly at Zach. “I tried to remember more. I tried going back to sleep, hoping more would come, but finally I just decided it was my imagination working overtime after that news story.” She bit her lip and looked at Raissa. “What do you think?”