by Lena Gregory
Leighton frowned. “What do you mean?”
“A psychic reading.” She offered a smile as she stood and took the crystal ball from the counter behind her. “I’d be happy to do one for you. It’ll be fun.”
“I don’t know.”
Cass sat and placed the ball in front of her. She didn’t waste time trying to get comfortable; she was anxious to get started before Leighton could say no.
She stared into the depths of the ball. She’d used the same one since she was a teenager working the beach and the boardwalk to save money for college. What could she see about Leighton? What was she hiding? Something about her manner struck Cass as devious, or at least deceptive. She couldn’t very well say that.
Leighton fidgeted in her seat. She slid forward and uncrossed her legs. She’d been nervous about something since she’d walked in, but now she seemed even worse.
“You enjoy your work.”
A tentative smile formed. “Yes.”
Reading someone as closed up as Leighton was difficult under the best of circumstances, but with Leighton purposely keeping her expression and her body language neutral, it was close to impossible. She had to find a way to connect with her. She’d noticed most of Leighton’s work consisted of dark, stormy landscapes and beach scenes, which she now knew were not commissioned. They evoked a sense of turmoil.
“You display your emotions in your paintings.”
“Mostly.”
The stormy painting she’d noticed in Leighton’s window came to mind: the violent sea, waves crashing against the stones, sending their spray against the lighthouse, the dark color choices. “When did you paint the lighthouse in the window?”
She stiffened.
Something was there, if Cass could just grab hold of it.
Leighton shifted her gaze away from Cass’s. “Last month.”
“It’s beautiful. And . . . angry.” Cass frowned. Something about the darkness made the painting seem almost alive. She could envision the waves breaking one after another, hear the ebb and flow of the sea’s roar. Powerful. The deep rumble of thunder rattled the windows.
“I . . . was going through a tough time.”
Cass waited, but it seemed Leighton had nothing more to say. What would evoke such strong feelings of anger? Something personal. Something she was determined to keep hidden. Had she been angry enough to kill? It was a long shot, but . . . “You were angry with someone.”
Leighton turned her cup around and around on the table. “Yes,” she said softly.
Male or female? Cass couldn’t tell. If she guessed and got it wrong, she might lose Leighton’s trust. Trust. “Someone you trusted.”
A tear leaked out and slid down Leighton’s cheek. She swiped it away a bit harder than necessary. She nodded, keeping her gaze riveted on the foam cup. “Why is it always the ones we trust who hurt us most?”
“Because we don’t expect it from them.” A vision of her ex and his mistress tried to surface, but she tamped it down. She didn’t have time for that. She had to get more from Leighton. There would be time to wallow in self-pity later. “Because then it’s a double whammy. Whatever they did to lose your trust, plus the pain of betrayal.”
Leighton’s gaze shot to Cass. “Yes. Exactly.”
Cass bit back the urge to offer comfort or ask questions. She simply waited, giving Leighton the space to figure out how to share her feelings. An old trick, but quite effective.
“I never expected it from him,” she whispered softly, almost to herself.
“Expected what?”
“I never expected him to cheat on—”
The chimes over the door interrupted, cutting the connection and announcing Bee and Stephanie’s arrival.
Leighton jumped up. “You know what? I have to run, anyway. It was good to see you, Cass. This does seem fun; we’ll have to try it again sometime.”
“Wait.” Dang. She’d been onto something. She was sure of it. She grabbed a business card and handed it to Leighton. “I have a group reading on Saturday night. It’s the first one I’m doing in the upstairs room. I’d love to have you if you’d like to attend.”
Leighton glanced at the card and shoved it into her skirt pocket. “Sure. I’ll see if I can make it.”
In other words, no.
“You’ll enjoy it, and you’ll get to meet a lot of people. Many of the business owners come.”
“I’ll be there,” Bee interjected, smiling warmly. “We have a good time.”
Cass shot him a thank-you look. He must have realized Cass wanted Leighton there for some reason, because Bee hated the group readings.
While Bee introduced Leighton to Stephanie and the three talked for a moment, Cass studied Leighton, trying her hardest to figure out what she could be hiding. A transparent woman’s image shimmered into view directly in front of Leighton, allowing Cass a hazy, distorted vision of the other woman. It grew brighter and brighter. Cass shielded her eyes, still trying to understand what she was seeing. Then the vision vanished, leaving a dark shadow in its place. A premonition of death? Or simply the darkness that’s often left after a bright flash of light?
Bee saw Leighton out, shut the door behind her, and turned on Cass. “Okay, what gives? You’re pale as a ghost. Are you feeling all right?”
“I feel fine; thanks, Bee. But I need help.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and looked hopefully back and forth between her two best friends. Her gaze ultimately landed on Bee, since he would need convincing. She knew without asking that Stephanie would be all over the idea that had begun to take shape.
“No.” Bee held up a hand. “Whatever it is, I want no part of it.”
“Oh, come on, Bee. You can’t let me do this alone. It might be dangerous, and I need a big, strong man to help me.”
Bee tossed his silk scarf over his shoulder and fluttered his lashes. “Then call Tank.”
Stephanie laughed. “Nice try, Bee. But you know as well as I do you’re going to give in. May as well do it without the theatrics this time. Cass looks tired.”
He studied her for a moment, then threw his hands in the air and stalked toward the table. “Fine. I’ll help with whatever it is, but I’m not doing anything without coffee.” He flopped into one of the large, velvet-covered chairs, crossed his arms over his chest, and sulked. “Tony’s coffee. And whichever one of you is going out”—he waved a finger back and forth between the two of them—“you’d better get donuts.”
19
Cass hefted the large canvas bag higher onto her shoulder as she trudged down the beach toward Mystical Musings. Very little moonlight spilled through the storm clouds still threatening to unleash their fury. Thunder rumbled softly in the distance, lightning rippled among the clouds, and the pungent scent of ozone warned her she’d better hurry.
“I still don’t understand why we have to do this at all, never mind at Leighton’s shop in the middle of the night,” Bee grumbled, plodding along next to her, head down, feet dragging.
“She already explained it, Bee.” Stephanie patted his arm sympathetically. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine.”
“I have to get as close to the spot where the woman died as I can. Souls are most receptive to contact at the point of departure.” That might be true, but even if it wasn’t, she still had to get into that shop.
“Then why not do it on the beach where her body was found?”
Cass thought it through again. The somber feeling she’d had in Leighton’s shop and when she’d tried to do Leighton’s reading bothered her. Even in the dunes where the bodies were discovered, she hadn’t experienced the same sense of dread and fear she had around Leighton. “I have the definite impression Leighton is keeping secrets.”
Bee glared at her. “People have secrets, Cass. Not all of them are sinister.”
The reprimand stun
g, but she shook it off. “Look . . .” She stopped and faced them. “Tank told me something I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone, but it’s bothering me.”
Bee perked up considerably at the prospect of good dirt.
She looked directly into Bee’s eyes. “You cannot repeat this.”
“Of course, I won’t repeat it.”
“Promise?”
He held up a hand. “Promise.”
Since they were standing on a wet, chilly beach with her at close to three o’clock in the morning, she at least owed them an explanation for why they were there. Stephanie probably wouldn’t say anything, though there was always a chance she’d slip and mention it to Tank. And she was reasonably sure Bee wouldn’t say anything, as long as he wasn’t forced to defend her.
Thunder boomed, and she glanced up at the gathering clouds.
She didn’t have much time. “The second woman was found with a bag over her head. It was tied down around her neck with a red string. If she died on the beach, it had to have been premeditated, and the killer had to have brought those things with him. Unless, of course, he’d been lucky enough to happen across them on the beach. So it seems more likely that she was killed somewhere else and buried on the beach after the fact.”
The fine mist leftover from the afternoon storms dampened her skin. At least that’s what she told herself. It could also have something to do with the cold sweat that had sprung out at the thought of breaking into Leighton’s shop. “There is a rack in the back of the art gallery with all different colors of thick twine. I don’t recall seeing red, but I wasn’t really paying that much attention either.”
Stephanie chewed on her thumbnail, not seeming quite as comfortable as she had before Cass mentioned Tank.
“Is that why you need to get into the shop?” Bee asked. “To see if there’s red twine? Heck, I’ll stop by and visit her tomorrow and ask to use the restroom.” He turned and started back toward Cass’s house.
“Not so fast, buddy. I still have to do the séance, remember? I don’t know any other way to try and contact the woman. She appears whenever she feels like it, but I don’t know how to summon her.”
“Well, here’s a novel idea at three in the morning: why don’t you go home and go to sleep and see if she shows up? That’s when she usually makes contact.”
Cass was already shaking her head. “I need to be in control of the interaction for once. I have to see if I can get her to answer my questions.”
Stephanie looked around the deserted beach. “You could always try the Ouija board.”
“No,” Cass and Bee cried together.
“Oh, fine. It was just a suggestion.”
Bee raked his hands through his hair, pushing the damp, bleached blond strands off his face.
Thunder rolled down the beach, closer than it had been before.
“Just out of curiosity . . .” Stephanie started. “Why not call the police and let them investigate?”
Cass searched for patience. Stephanie meant well, but she always wanted to call the police. “And tell them what? That Leighton has string in the art gallery? Or that a shadow fell on her when she was leaving the shop?”
Although Chief Rawlins might be receptive if Cass reached out, she was still hesitant. She’d prefer to have something a little more concrete to approach her with.
“You didn’t mention the shadow before.” Bee sulked.
“No. That changes things.” Stephanie moved closer to Cass.
“Yeah, well . . . Come on. We have to get going.” Cass started to cut across the dunes, angling toward the art gallery with Stephanie at her side.
“Oh, fine. Let’s just get this over with. And someone’s buying me breakfast when we’re done. At the diner.” Bee stayed glued to her other side.
Stephanie grabbed her arm. “You know, if Bee can get into the shop tomorrow to check for the twine, maybe we don’t need to break in after all.”
Cass frowned. She was already having enough trouble with Bee; the last thing she needed was Stephanie balking, too. “What do you mean? I just explained—”
“Hang on. If anyone was killed in the gallery and dragged out onto the beach, maybe staying just outside the shop will be close enough.”
Bee bit his lip but remained silent, though hope filled his eyes.
Cass looked up at the back of the gallery. They were only a few feet from the wooden walkway that would lead them through the remainder of the dunes and onto the gallery’s back deck. Would it be close enough? “All right. I’ll try it from the outside.”
Bee’s breath whooshed out.
She shot him a dirty look, but she couldn’t deny the bit of relief she felt. Breaking in had never sat well with her, but she couldn’t let another woman die if she could avoid it. “We’ll have to get as close to the shop as we can, though. I know you guys don’t really understand why I have to do this, but the shadow I saw over Leighton scared me. What if she’s the next victim of a serial killer and she dies because I didn’t try to figure out what his last victim was trying to tell me?”
She shook her head and looked down at the wet sand, then wiped the tears tracking down her face. “I can’t live with that guilt again.” The guilt of losing her patient after seeing a shadow pass over him, after ignoring her gut instincts to check on him, after missing the desperation that must have been in his voice when she’d last spoken to him, still weighed heavier than she could bear. “If you guys don’t want to come, I’ll understand, but I have to do this. Maybe you could just keep watch for me.”
Bee took the bag from her shoulder. “Come on. We’ll try it up there and if it doesn’t work we’ll get you into the shop.” He gestured toward a few dunes that butted up against the gallery and the boardwalk, creating a quiet little corner that should be completely private even if someone did happen to be walking along the beach that early.
She smiled through the tears. “Thanks, Bee. You’re the best.”
“Yeah, well don’t forget it, because when we go to Southampton on Monday, I want to go to the beach.”
Cass grinned. That would be an easy enough request to grant, since she’d already planned on going anyway. “Sure thing.”
“Hey, what about me?” Stephanie pouted.
“You’re the best, too.” She squeezed Stephanie’s hand and they started toward the gallery.
Bee skirted one of the small dunes and headed into the corner.
Cass looked around for a flat spot to set up. She hadn’t planned on doing the séance outside, and the wind from the approaching storm was already starting to kick up. “I don’t know if the candles will stay lit out here.”
“Would this work?” Bee stood around the side of the building in a small dip created by the runoff from Leighton’s gutters. “The wind is mostly blocked on this side.”
Cass moved into the sort-of-protected space between the side of the building and the boardwalk. The wind tearing off the bay was somewhat diminished in the little corner. “We’ll give it a try.”
“Yeah, just do me a favor, and don’t burn the building down, because I am not hanging around to explain that one to Tank.” Bee lifted a brow and stared at her.
Cass laughed softly. “I’ll do my best, Bee.”
She’d brought towels to clean up any mess they made on Leighton’s floor, and she pulled them out of her bag and handed one to Bee and one to Stephanie. “Sit on those, so you don’t get soaked.”
Cass drew a circle in the wet sand and pointed out a spot for each of them to sit. She pulled out several candles from her bag, dug them into the sand and, with Bee and Stephanie shielding them from the bit of wind funneling around the corner, managed to get them lit. She preferred to sit directly on the ground, so she slid off her shoes, sat, and dug her toes into the sand.
Since she’d never actually tried to contact a spirit before, she
just sat there and tried to focus on the woman. A few minutes passed, and nothing happened.
Bee readjusted his position, grunting with the effort, then whispered, “I don’t think you’re doing it right.”
“Shh.” Stephanie slapped his arm. “Let her concentrate so we can get out of here.”
While she appreciated Stephanie’s help, Bee was obviously right, but Cass wasn’t about to admit that, so she ignored him. She took her crystal ball out of the bag and set it in the center of the circle in front of her. The flames from the candles flickered and danced within the ball. A flash of lightning reflected off its surface.
She had managed to conjure a spirit once before—maybe—but she hadn’t been trying. It had just sort of happened on its own, so she had no clue how she’d done it—if she even had.
The flames seemed to recede deeper into the ball. Even though she’d never actually seen a vision in the crystal ball, the distorted reflections off its surface helped her to focus. The temperature plummeted suddenly, raising goose bumps and making her shiver. “Do you guys feel that?”
“Feel what?” Stephanie looked around.
“The chill?”
Stephanie and Bee both shook their heads, and Bee shifted onto his knees on the towel. Probably preparing to make a quick getaway.
“Okay.” She glanced toward the gallery. Maybe she’d made a mistake trying to contact the woman from outside. She could always send Bee and Stephanie home and break in herself. She tried to shake off her uncertainty. No use second-guessing herself. She returned her attention to the depths of the crystal.
Fear touched her, but it was probably her own. Or maybe Bee’s.
A shadow appeared in her peripheral vision, but she resisted the urge to turn her head and look at it. Instead, she kept her head perfectly still and tracked the shadow from the corner of her eye.
The figure crept stealthily through the dunes, keeping as low as possible in the dips between them. Odd; the woman in her visions had never made any attempt to sneak up on her before. When the figure rounded the walkway, Cass stared at Bee and Stephanie, put her finger to her lips, then gestured toward the figure. She moved quickly and snuffed out the candles before it emerged again.
