Suddenly Psychic (Glimmer Lake #1)(37)

He shook his head. “It’s all a little fuzzy. I remember waking up in the mine and I was chained up and had a big, bloody knot on my head. Don’t remember what happened before that. There was something…” He frowned. “I was supposed to be somewhere that night. I don’t know where or why, but I needed… I needed to be someplace.”

“Like an appointment?” Robin asked. She glanced at Monica. “He says he doesn’t remember what happened. Just remembers waking up in the mine. Someone must have knocked him out before.”

“Do you know why you can see me?” Billy asked. “That hasn’t happened for a good long while. Most people can’t. Every now and then a little kid will see me, but their parents usually ignore them. And dogs. Dogs can usually sniff me out.”

“That’s so weird.” Robin breathed out. “I’m not sure why I can see you. We just…” Robin looked helplessly at Monica. “We went in the water normal and came out—”

“Different.” Monica smiled a little. “Just… kind of different.”

“And you’ve never seen ghosts before now?” Billy asked.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

Robin thought back to the strange ringing bell in her shop. That wasn’t recent. That had been happening for months. “I saw a little girl by the lake. Have you seen her?”

He shook his head with a soft smile. “We can’t see each other. I can feel other spirits sometimes, but I don’t see them. They don’t see me. You’re the only person I’ve talked to in… I don’t know. Time is different here.”

“Where is here?”

“I guess… I don’t know how to explain that either.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What’s your name, ma’am? You from Grimmer?”

“They call it Glimmer Lake now.”

Billy turned to the water and the corner of his mouth turned up. “I suppose that’s a prettier name than Grimmer.”

“Robin. My name is Robin Brannon. And yeah, I’m from here. I have the shop at the corner of Foreman Creek Road and Lake Drive. The big old log house. Does that sound familiar?”

Billy shook his head. “I’m not much for town; I like the woods. Always have.”

Robin stared at him while the light grew dim. “Why do I know you?”

The corner of Billy’s mouth turned up. “You’ve seen me a few times now.”

“No, it’s not that. As soon as I saw you—as soon as I remembered you—I could picture your face. It was familiar, like someone I’ve seen before.”

“You got any Grimmer people in your background? Maybe we’re related. Probably not. All my people were on the way to Sacramento when…”

“When what?”

“I don’t know.” He shook his head again. “It’s like there’s this fog that comes down when I try to think of it. I was going with them. I’m sure of it. But there was some place I needed to be first. And then…” He pointed to his temple. “Quite a thing, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Robin saw his outline beginning to fade. “You can touch things. How does that work? You broke the car window. Can you feel my hand?” She held it out and Billy reached for it, but their hands passed through each other with nothing more than a gust of cold air.

“Guess not. I think I have to want something real hard to do that,” Billy said. “And I wanted to save you. I saw your face, and it reminded me…” His voice drifted out and his tenuous outline seemed to shimmer in the setting sun.

“Billy? I reminded you of what?”

His mouth was moving, but the sound of his voice was gone. Billy Grimmer reached out his hand and Robin tried to close her fingers around his, but they were gone.

“He’s gone.” Robin stared at the place where he’d been. “And we still know nothing.”

“We know his name.” Monica put her arm around Robin’s shoulders. “That’s something.”

“Do you think I did it right?” Robin said. “Maybe there are ways to help him remember stuff better. Do you think that’s what I need to do? Does his soul have to… I don’t know. Find peace?”

Monica looked over the deep blue water of the lake. “It’s pretty peaceful here.”

“Not for him.” Robin walked to the edge and watched the evening breeze whip up small whitecaps. “For him, this is his grave.”





They were pulling onto Robin’s street when Monica suggested it. Robin thought she was hearing things.

“Wait, what?”

“I think we should talk to Sylvia,” Monica said. “Don’t you think that would be good?”

Robin’s eyes went wide. “Sylvia? Your Sylvia? The daughter who is getting her masters in psychology? Um, no. I don’t think it’s a good idea. I think that sounds like a recipe for us being committed.”

“Oh, come on,” Monica said. “Maybe she’ll know how we can get rid of this.”

“I’m sorry.” Robin reached out. “Are you still having dreams?”

“Every night.”

“Every night? Why didn’t you tell us?” Robin couldn’t imagine seeing ghosts every day. It was bad enough that she saw them sometimes. “What are they? Are you seeing Billy? Something about his death? Are you—?”