Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(19)

Both Val and Monica were silent.

“I know it sounds crazy! But so does having…” She gestured toward Monica. “Visions. Or premonitions. Whatever.”

Val shrugged. “I mean, weird things happen, Robin. Are you saying you believe in ghosts? If that guy in the water was a ghost, how could he have broken the window like you say he did?”

“You think I broke the window myself? With what?”

Monica said, “Everyone calm down. Robin, we’re not saying you made him up. We’re just saying…”

“What?” Robin asked. “For real, what are you saying? Because if you have a better explanation for all this, I’d love to know.” Robin pointed at the door. “I hear that damn bell all the time. Sometimes the door is open. Sometimes it’s not. But that bell goes off all the time and no one is there.”

Val and Monica didn’t say anything.

“What about you?” Robin shoved Monica’s foot under the table.

“Ow!” Monica sat up straight. “I’m sure I’m just imagining things.”

“Did you see this guy in a dream or not?” Robin asked.

“Yes.” Monica was looking paler and paler. “But” —she spoke carefully— “maybe—”

“And it wasn’t just his face,” Robin said. “Tell Val what you saw us doing.”

Monica’s hand traced over the notebook. “He was with Robin, and they were walking in the woods by the old mill, not far from where the car went in the water.”

“That is not a dream,” Robin said.

Val’s eyes shot between the two of them. Suspicious, pragmatic Val. She wasn’t buying any of it. “So what do you think it is?”

Robin didn’t speak. Neither did Monica.

“Okay, let me get this straight.” Val pointed at Robin. “You are saying you can see ghosts.” She turned to Monica. “And you’re saying that you are having… visions? Premonitions?”

“I think premonitions would be the more accurate term,” Robin said quietly.

Monica added, “I googled it.”

Val rolled her eyes. “Forgive me. It’s been a while since I watched Charmed.” She turned to Robin and held up her phone. “I looked. Your sketch is dead-on. Good job. It’s Debbie Hawkins.”

“I told you I didn’t make her up.”

“Because you saw this story somewhere!” Val said. “You remembered it—maybe not consciously—but when you ended up in Bridger City Hospital, your brain pulled it out—”

“I didn’t suddenly remember a murder from 1982.” Robin fought to keep her voice even. “I was eight in 1982. I wasn’t watching the news or reading the paper.”

“Your brain was reacting to stress,” Val said. “That’s it. That’s all this is.”

“And what about Monica?”

“She’s dreaming. She’s dreaming about weird, intense stuff—”

“Last night I dreamed about a hunting knife, and it had dried blood on it,” Monica said. “It was in a dark place with stained glass windows. Is that a normal dream? I don’t know any place that has stained glass except the church. I have never dreamed violent things. Never. I have happy, silly dreams. Sometimes sad dreams. But now I’m dreaming about Robin walking with a mystery man and bloody knives?”

“Will you just stop and listen to what you’re saying?” Val put her phone down. “You’re saying that you’re seeing ghosts, Robin. Ghosts. That you can even have conversations with them, and they do stuff.” She turned to Monica. “And you’re having visions.”

“Premonitions.”

“Whatever you want to call them, you’re saying you get previews of the future? Really?” She looked between them. “I mean… really?”

Robin didn’t say anything. She could see the skepticism on Val’s face, but nothing else made sense. She’d been turning it over in her head for weeks.

“I know I’m not crazy,” Robin said. “And I know this doesn’t seem like something I’d believe—”

“You’re like the last person who would believe bullshit like this!”

“I know. Because I’m practical, sensible Robin.” She looked Val dead in the eye. “So doesn’t that mean something?”

Val stood and walked around the kitchen. “I want to get this straight so I can be sure how much counseling you both need. You—my two normal, nonflaky friends—had near-death experiences, and now you think we’ve all developed psychic powers, and that’s the most logical explanation? Not that we’re all dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder. You think you’re psychic?”

Robin leaned on the table. “What did you say?”

“It’s PTSD, Robin. I’m saying—”

“No.” Monica narrowed her eyes. “The thing before.”

Val frowned. “What?”

Robin and Monica exchanged a look.

Did you hear that?

Uh, yeah. I heard that.

Robin turned back to Val. “We’ve all developed psychic powers?”





Chapter 7