Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(18)

“Okay and…?” Val unwrapped her sandwich and began to eat. “I don’t know about you two, but I haven’t had anything but coffee today and I’m hangry.”

“Eat.” Robin unwrapped her sandwich too. “I get what you’re saying about dreams, so how are these dreams different?”

“They’re linear. Like a scene out of a movie, only I just caught a bit in the middle and it doesn’t make sense. But everything happens in order. I can hear people. Like really clearly. I can hear other things too. Like I can hear background noise and I notice it. Who does that in a dream?”

Val swallowed a large bite. “Don’t ask me. I don’t dream.”

“Everyone dreams,” Robin said. “You just don’t remember.”

“Either way, I have no idea what a normal dream is.”

Monica said, “Well, I’ve always dreamed a lot, and these are not normal dreams. And I see the same ones over and over.”

“Recurring dreams?” Robin took another bite of her sandwich. “How is that weird?”

“I can’t explain it, but they just feel more real than normal dreams.”

Val raised an eyebrow. “What does that mean?”

“I mean maybe they’re not dreams?” Monica looked unsure.

Robin felt unsure. Of everything.

“If they’re not dreams,” Val said, “what would they be?”

“I don’t know!” Monica threw up her hands. “I’m Catholic. I don’t believe in psychics and visions and stuff.”

“But a virgin birth is no problem?” Val narrowed her eyes. “Or a guy coming back from the dead?”

“It’s not the same, Val!”

“Stop.” Robin held out her hands. “We’re not having this argument right now. Let me…” She took a deep breath. “Okay, something happened at the hospital, and I didn’t tell anyone about it. Not Mark, not you guys. No one.”

Monica’s eyes went wide. “What happened?”

“I saw…”

A nurse with gunshot wounds who’s been dead for over thirty years.

A little girl on the edge of the forest with bare feet.

A man sitting in the corner of a room.

The bell over the door rang and Monica rose. “I could have sworn we locked that.”

Robin sighed and took a bite of her turkey sandwich. “We did.”

Monica walked out to the shop and walked back. Her eyes were locked on Robin. “The door was locked.”

Val frowned. “Is there someone in back?” She reached into her purse. “I have my pepper spray.”

“It’s locked in back too,” Robin said. “There’s no one here but us. It’s probably just the vents or something.”

“What were you talking about?” Val said. “What happened at the hospital?”

Robin’s heart began to race. “I saw someone who wasn’t supposed to be there. Someone who had already died.”

“You saw a dead body?” Val grimaced. “Sorry. That’s not fun. But, I mean, it is the hospital.”

“No. I mean… she was kinda dead?”

Val shook her head. “You’re not making sense. You did or did not see a dead body?”

“I saw her… but she wasn’t dead. But she was.”

Monica’s eyes bugged out. “What?”

“There was a nurse in my room.” Robin took a steadying breath and put her sandwich down. “I talked to her. We had this whole conversation, and she checked my vitals, but I didn’t realize…”

Val was staring at her. “You didn’t realize what?”

Robin reached for the notebook and flipped forward a few pages. “I talked to this woman.” She showed them a portrait she’d sketched. “But then she turned around, and I saw gunshot wounds in her back.”

Val and Monica both stared at her with their mouths open wide.

“I screamed,” Robin continued, “and the nurses came in and the woman was gone. I don’t remember her leaving. I don’t remember the door opening until the other nurses came through. They told me I was hallucinating because of PTSD.”

“Which you were,” Val said. “It’s completely normal, Robin. I mean, having it after an accident is normal. You know what I mean.”

Monica murmured, “That doesn’t seem normal to me.”

“Or me,” Robin said. “Why would I see someone or dream someone I’d never seen before? Never heard of before? Then later, one of the nurses who came in told me about this woman—this other nurse—who was murdered in the emergency room in 1982.”

“So you must have heard the story somewhere,” Val said.

“I never heard her name or saw her face until that day.” Robin looked hard at Val. “Look up her name on your phone. Look for Debbie Hawkins murder. 1982. Bridger City. It’s her. I looked it up after they told me her name. I’m not crazy.”

“I’m not saying you are.”

“Your eyes are saying it.”

Monica said, “So you think you saw a ghost?”

“I don’t know. But I saw Debbie Hawkins in the hospital. She took my blood pressure. I felt it. And I saw a man in the lake.” She tapped the picture Monica had been staring at. “I saw this guy—the same guy you saw in a dream. He broke the window in the car and got us out. And then he wasn’t there.”