Her eyes watered with emotion, but she didn’t want to believe me. “Anyone could have guessed that.”
“She had dark curly hair and —”
“I don’t see their faces. I am these people. I see everything else.”
“Okay, her husband was tall, heavyset with wide shoulders and light hair. He had a birthmark on his jaw and still wore his class ring. It was huge with a ruby in the center.”
Recognition dawned on her face.
“When did you have that vision?”
It took her a moment to shake out of her thoughts. When she did, she took out her phone. “I used to keep a journal on here. I stopped when I realized nothing was coming of them even though they’d always seemed so real.” She thumbed through a couple of pages. “Okay, that was on October fifteenth.”
I thought back. “You had that vision about four days before it actually happened.”
“This is not what I want to hear,” she said, shaking her head. “These aren’t real. They’re not real people I’m seeing.”
I put a hand over hers to calm her. “When did these visions start?”
“I was nine. I’d drowned in my neighbor’s pool and the paramedics resuscitated me. I started having the seizures soon after.”
“That seems to be a common catalyst for extrasensory perception of any kind.” I thought about my friend Pari, who began seeing the departed after her near death experience when she was twelve.
“Is that what happened to you?” Nicolette asked me.
“No.” I took another sip, then said, “I’m something else.”
Thankfully, she didn’t seem interested in knowing what that something else was. “It’s so weird,” she said, “because with every death, I get almost the exact same feeling. It’s not what you think.”
“What feeling do you get?”
“Relief.” She leaned forward as though telling me a guarded secret. “A release of all burden. With Rosie, her last thought was freedom at last.”
That realization caused a schism to tear through me. I felt like a piece of paper that someone had ripped down the center, turned over, and ripped again. I’d failed her, and yet she was still free. I didn’t know how to feel about that.
I cleared my throat and fought for control over my emotions. “Can you tell me about this latest vision?”
She thought back. “I just remember that bridge. It had metal bracings like an old railroad bridge. I think I could see the metal beams as I died. And I remember blond hair and the number eight. Like a tattoo or a mark of some kind. And I could smell an oil of some kind. Or a gas.”
My Spidey sense tingled. Maybe the cases were connected. All the women in my apartment had blond hair. It was thin, but I’d done more with less. “Did you get a name?”
“No. Sorry. I’m channeling these people. How often do you think to yourself, ‘My name is Charley Davidson’?”
“Well, I do that a lot, but don’t use me as a measuring stick.”
Nicolette Lemay could see into the future. I’d never met anyone who could do that, though I did meet a guy once who said he could see in the dark because he had secret wolf eyes. I bought it at the time. I was four.
11
To save time, let’s assume I know everything.
—T-SHIRT
Cookie called as I headed back to the office.
“Are you skipping class?” I asked. “You can’t let one humiliating incident —”
“I’m not skipping. We get breaks.”
“Oh. Sorry,” I said, snacking on some Twizzlers I’d found in my backseat. They were a little brittle, but I had strong teeth. “Just so you know, I think I’m in love with the person who decided to sell Twizzlers in a two-pound bag. What mad genius came up with that idea?”
“Right? So, what did you find out about Zombie Chick?”
“She’s totally not dead. I’ll explain later. It’s a little bizarre.”
“This coming from the grim reaper. I just wanted to let you know that Noni told us a construction crew found what is looking like a mass grave on a ranch in southern New Mexico. They’ve found the remains of three bodies that he knows of. All female. And, Charley, they’re all three blond.”
I sat back, feeling like the wind had just been knocked out of me. “That would explain a lot. I’m not sure why the discovery of the grave would have them all running to me, but it had to be the catalyst somehow. Maybe they didn’t like others on their turf. Do you think ghosts have turf wars?”
“I think ghosts have all kinds of pent-up angst. So, is Noni married?”
“Cookie!” I said, pretending to be appalled. “Focus on your instructor’s words, not his ass.”
“Have you seen his ass?”
I groaned inwardly and made a mental note to get Cookie laid. “Get back to class, and thanks for this. I’ll call Ubie and ask him what he knows.”
“No problem. But, really, is he?”
“Do you still hate me with every fiber of your being?”
She hesitated, then conceded. “No, I guess not.”
“Yes, he’s married, and his wife is a champion markswoman.”
“Damn. Another one slips through my fingers.”
“I am not touching that.” I hung up with a chuckle and called Ubie.
“Hey, pumpkin,” he said.