"Burnett heard about it?" Derek asked.
She nodded. "Nothing concrete, just read it in some of the reports." She touched her forehead. What did all this mean? "Is my pattern really showing that I'm a witch?"
He nodded, as if afraid to disappoint her, then asked, "What's going on? I woke up this morning after a terrible nightmare. I couldn't remember it, but the point of it was that you were in trouble. When I was alert enough, I realized that maybe you really were in trouble and I'd just dreamed what I was reading from you. Then I felt all these other emotions from you. Is this about the ghost? Holiday's ghost?"
The vision she'd had flashed in her head like a bad movie clip. She closed her eyes, trying to shut it off, and searching for what to say to Derek. Tell him, or not tell him?
"I had a vision," she finally said, needing to confide in someone-needing to filter though everything she'd learned from the vision. "There were three bodies in a grave."
"Three? So it's like a serial killer?"
Socks moved from her lap and tucked his face into the curve of her arm, almost as if he understood what Derek had said. Kylie brushed her hand down his soft black feline fur. Feline. Had she done this? Had she changed him back?
"I think so." Kylie bit down on her lip and pushed those questions away to concentrate on something more important. "Holiday, or the one who looks like Holiday, was one of them." She recalled all the things her gut insisted might be important. "They were buried below some kind of an old cabin." Her chest tightened. "Seeing Holiday like that was ... hard."
"I can imagine," Derek said. "Didn't you tell me that the visions were like puzzles to help you figure things out?"
She nodded. "But it wasn't the one who looked like Holiday that brought me into the vision. It was one of the other girls. I think she wants to be found, so they can leave the makeshift grave. So I'm still not sure if the vision is going to help me. Or maybe it can. I don't know." Her chest clutched. "Why can't they just tell me what they need?"
"Maybe if you tell me about it, I can help figure it out."
She looked at Derek. "How?"
"I worked for a PI. I sort of know how to dig things up. I'm good at it."
Kylie scratched Socks under his kitty chin as she tried to think of anything that might help them understand the vision. "One of the girls had on a waitress uniform. Like from a diner or something. For some reason, the uniform looked familiar. And she had a name tag on that said 'Cara M.' The others even called her Cara M., not just Cara, as if they didn't really know her but were calling her that because of her name tag."
"That's good," Derek said. "Maybe you should make a list of all the dinerlike restaurants you've been to lately. I'll go online and see if I can find what their uniforms look like."
As Kylie's mind tried to latch on to any other details that might help, she recalled the spirit's visit right before she'd gone outside to bring Socks to Miranda.
"What's puzzling you?" he asked, sensing her emotions.
Kylie watched her kitten-still finding it hard to believe that he wasn't a skunk anymore-leap down from the sofa. "The spirit told me that Socks wanted to be changed back into a cat. When I asked how she knew that, she said that she could communicate with animals."
"Holiday can't read animals." Derek's eyes widened. "Wait. She can't, but she knows someone ... someone close to her that is full fairy and actually had a little of the ability to do so."
"Are you sure?" Kylie asked.
"She told me during one of our counseling sessions."
"Did she say who it was?"
"No, but ... I got the feeling it was someone close. I also got the feeling that it was someone who'd hurt her, because I felt her emotions when she talked about her. And then she changed the subject."
Kylie nodded. Holiday was good at changing the subject when it came to something personal. "So, if this person was close to Holiday, then it would be understandable why she would take on Holiday's appearance as a ghost." Kylie chewed on that thought for a moment, feeling some relief. And it gave her the first real hope that Holiday wasn't in danger.
Kylie sighed. The early morning sun must have risen higher, because she watched as the first gold rays spilled through the window and cast shadows on the wood floor. "So how do we find out who this person is?"
"I can bring it up again in our next counseling session with Holiday. It's this afternoon. Like I said, she didn't want to talk about it, but maybe I can sneak it into the conversation."
Derek's words pulled Kylie away from the problem at hand. "You get counseling sessions from Holiday?"
He frowned. "Not counseling like my-head's-messed-up counseling. We just chat ... like you two do."
"I didn't mean it was a bad thing. I just didn't know you met with her regularly."
"I have since I came here."
"I knew you were in the beginning, but I didn't think you still did."
"I didn't for a while. But since I've been back ... I see her now."
Before Kylie could stop herself, the question slipped out. "Do you talk about me?"
"Some," he admitted, looking guilty.
She almost asked for details, but wisdom slipped in. She didn't need to know. Especially if it was about his feelings for her. The less she heard, or even thought, about his confession of love, the better off she'd be.
Her gaze, as if it had a mind of its own, lowered again to his bare chest. Reprimanding herself, she popped off the sofa. "I think I'll go talk to Holiday now about this whole witch issue."
"Are you going to mention the vision?"
She considered the question, but her heart said no. The message came with such certainty that she wondered if she wasn't getting some divine advice. "Not yet. If I don't get anything in a day or so, I think I should."
He nodded. "I'll get busy later trying to figure out what I can." He stood up. "Let's go." The sun spilling though the window hit his chest, making his bare skin look even more golden.
"That's okay," she sputtered. "You don't have to ... tag along."
Disappointment flashed in his green eyes. "Yes, I do. I'm your shadow until after breakfast."
Oh, great. Her gaze slipped down to his open shirt again. Was she going to have to look, or try not to look, at his chest all morning? "Then at least button your shirt." The words were out before she realized how that sounded.