Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(22)

“You better not be getting any ideas about spandex suits, Monica,” Val said. “And I don’t think seeing visions when I touch random crap is much of a useful skill. How am I supposed to live that way? Think about having two teenage boys. I’ll basically never be able to enter their room ever again.”

Monica cringed. “They’re definitely going to have to start doing their own laundry.”

“How does it work though?” Robin sat up straight. “Is it everything? You said some keys don’t make you see anything.”

“I don’t know,” Val said.

“I have an idea. Follow me.”

Sandwiches forgotten, they headed toward the door and into the main floor of the antique shop. Robin pointed to the new desk in the corner. “Touch that piece. It’s from an estate sale in Sacramento. See if you get anything.”

Val was wary. “An estate sale? Like, from someone dead?”

“I don’t think anyone died on the desk or anything. You’re not gonna see anything gross.” Probably. “We just moved it in today. Maybe we can figure out how this works.”

“But I touched it too,” Monica said. “And Jake and Brent. And the delivery guy.”

“Exactly.” Robin patted the edge of the desk. “Give it a feel. See if you get any of us, or just the elderly lady it belonged to.”

Val walked over and put her hand flat on top of the desk. She closed her eyes and her shoulders visibly relaxed. “She wrote letters here. She loved writing letters. She looks happy. Nothing bad.”

“You saw that?” Monica asked.

“Yeah.” She shrugged. “Okay, I guess it’s like what you were describing. Like watching a scene from the outside. Like a movie.”

“Okay.” Robin nodded. “Okay, so you can touch things and know something about their owner.” She pointed to another desk. “Now try that one.”

Val put her hand on the next desk and frowned. “Kind of… a feeling? But nothing specific.”

“It’s from the old high school home ec classroom,” Robin said. “So it didn’t really belong to anyone. It would have belonged to lots of different people, but I doubt any of them were attached to it.”

“Oh,” Monica said. “I see what you’re saying. So Val can feel if a thing belonged to someone, but not if it was kind of a general thing that lots of people used. Or something someone just touched for a minute.”

“If that’s true, then it’s a huge relief,” Val said. “I was worried about the tables in the café because so many people touch them all the time. I have to clear dishes. Handle cash. It’s kind of a nightmare. I’ve been wearing gloves as much as possible.”

“Which is good anyway, because money is disgusting,” Monica said. “I saw a report about it once on the news.”

Robin heard a buzzing from down the hall and realized she’d left her phone on the table. She walked back into the kitchen and saw her phone rioting on the table with two missed calls and a bunch of text messages.

She picked up the phone and answered. “Mark?”

“Is anyone at the shop with you right now?”

“Yeah. Val and Monica came by for—”

“Good. Perfect. Get the girls and go down to the lakeside where the car went in. The sheriff just called. They found something weird in the car.”





Chapter 8





When Robin, Monica, and Val pulled up in Val’s truck, Mark met them at the road. A group of police and a large crane were sitting on the edge of the lake while people milled around behind the equipment. At the lakeside, Robin saw her old Subaru looking remarkably intact. All four doors were open, and water dripped onto the narrow, sandy beach while people in uniform milled around.

Mark walked over to her, took her shoulders, and kissed her forehead. “You okay?”

She frowned. He was being… weird. “Yeah. I was just having lunch with Monica and Val. Did they find any of our stuff?” They’d left all their clothes and purses in the car.

“Your purse is in the back and they’ve found a few other things, but that’s not really why the sheriff called.” He kept his voice low. “Robin, was there anyone else in the car with you? Anyone?”

She frowned. “What?”

“Was there anyone—”

Val broke in. “Are you trying to accuse Robin of something? We were in the car alone. Just us. What the hell is this about?” She put her fists on her hips.

Mark kept his voice low. “Just… you do not have to say anything right now, okay? Remember that.”

Robin spotted Sheriff Sullivan Wescott striding over to them. Sully was a few years older than she was, but she remembered him a little from school.

“Hey, Sully. What’s up?”

Sully was an old-fashioned guy. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and a square jaw. He had a rifle rack in the back of his truck and a full row of lights on the top. If someone wanted to imagine “small-town mountain sheriff,” they could just look at a picture of Sully.

“Robin.” He tipped his hat. “Monica. Valerie.”

“Just Val,” she muttered. “For the hundredth time.”