Suddenly Psychic: Glimmer Lake Book One

by Hunter, Elizabeth

  Robin’s heart felt like it was breaking. “Is that why you stayed?”

  “I couldn’t leave because there was something I had to do. I had to be someplace and I missed it.”

  “Did it have to do with Helen?”

  He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “The sheriff, he said you were murdered.”

  “We knew that already, didn’t we?”

  “No.” Robin stepped toward him. “I mean, it wasn’t just the drowning. You didn’t drown in that mine shaft. They examined the bones on your neck. Someone took a knife and—”

  “Whoa.” Billy held up his hands. “I get the idea.” He rubbed his neck. “That’s unpleasant, for sure.”

  “Who would want to kill you? Did you have any enemies?”

  “Not that I know of. A few fellows didn’t like me much, but that’s no cause for killing, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah.” Robin did know what he meant. She wasn’t a trained detective, but something in her gut said that whoever had chained Billy and then cut his throat had hated him with passion. Chaining someone up was killing from a distance. A knife to the throat was personal, direct, and very, very permanent. Someone wanted to make very sure Billy Grimmer was dead.

  Robin stared at the ghost in the moonlight, the outline of his form getting murkier as the night grew deeper. He stared at the house, his eyes longing to see something just out of reach. “I just wanted her to know I tried.”

  “Tried what?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure. But I tried. I know that. I would have walked through fire for her. I would have done anything to make her smile.” Billy turned to Robin. “You do look like her, you know. Not everything, but something in your eyes…”

  He faded into the darkness. Robin was tempted to grab her sketchbook and try to make him come back, but she was tired and she was cold.

  And Billy Grimmer wasn’t getting any more dead.

  Chapter 20

  Val threw her pencil on the library table. “I don’t know what we’re doing.”

  Robin looked up. “What do you mean? We’re trying to figure out who killed Billy Grimmer.”

  “Why?”

  Monica and Robin exchanged a look, and Robin wasn’t encouraged by what she saw in Monica’s expression. Both her friends were having doubts.

  Val said, “Whoever did it is probably dead. We’ve uncovered the secrets in your family. Your grandmother doesn’t want to talk about it. We can’t make her. Your uncle knows about it. I don’t think anyone feels the need to tell your mom because why would we? And Billy—”

  “Shhhh.” Robin glanced at the librarian. “Do you need to shout?”

  Val dropped her voice. “Billy is a ghost. He doesn’t care. He doesn’t seem to want to move on, so why are we doing all this?”

  “All this” was box after box of old photographs and news clippings that Val, Robin, and Monica were sorting through. They were also scanning a few of them as they went to help Gail out, but that was kind of a side job.

  “I don’t know what we’re doing anymore,” Val said. “It’s been weeks since Sully found the bones, and I have a business to run. I have two boys, one of whom is failing geometry, and I don’t know why because he’s always liked math. And I don’t think any of this is going to cure” —she dropped her voice again— “our conditions. I think we’re stuck with them, because as far as I can tell, none of this is doing anything.” Val pulled on the gloves she wore everywhere. “So I’m going home.”

  Monica tried to speak up. “Val—”

  “No.” She cut her eyes at them. “I know that both of you have free time. Monica is trying to find her new place in the world and all that. Robin is trying to come to terms with… whatever, I don’t even know. But I have a business to run. I have two children. I have no backup plan. And I have an ex I still have to deal with and his pissy little girlfriend who’s screwing with my life because she’s an infant and has no idea what being a mother is.” She threw her notebooks and pencils in a black backpack. “I do not have time for this.”

  Val stomped out of the library and into the darkening afternoon.

  Robin looked at Monica. “What the hell?”

  Monica took a deep breath. “Josh filed paperwork to increase his visitation.”

  Robin frowned. “Why? He doesn’t make half his visits now.”

  “Val thinks it’s because his girlfriend is telling him that if he has more custody, he won’t have to pay as much child support.”

  “Again, he hardly pays child support as it is.”

  Monica threw up her hands. “I know. He’s an ass, but he told the boys they were going to see him more, and now Jackson and Andy are both excited and Val feels like chopped liver for being the steady one all these years and getting no credit when Josh was being a dumb ass.”

  Robin closed her eyes. “Why are men the worst?”

  “They’re not all the worst. Let’s keep this limited to Josh.”

  “Why is Josh the worst?”

  “Because he thinks with his dick and not his brain,” Monica said. “Just don’t take any of that stuff personally. She’s stressed. And when you top all that shit off with picking up random visions from personal objects, it’s just been a bad couple of months.”

  “What about you?” Robin asked. “I mean… I guess I don’t know why I’m doing all this, but it feels important personally. Why are you doing it?”

  “Val’s kind of right.” Monica gave her half a smile. “I feel like the accident woke me up. I’ve been treading water since Gil died. I need to find something new. I don’t have a career. I’m not an artist like you.”

  “I’m not an artist.”

  “But you are. You always have been. You’ve always had that thing that you’re really good at. I’ve been… what? Gilbert’s wife. Jake, Michael, Philip, and Sylvia’s mom. I was on all the PTA boards and volunteering in classrooms, but what does that leave me with now?”

  “Monica, you are so smart and funny and have so much to give—”

  “To who?” She threw up her hands. “Seriously, Robin? To who? That’s what I’m dealing with right now. My husband is gone. No one cares if I’m home or not. I mean, I know you think Jake is freeloading off me, but honestly, I think he’s still there because he knows I don’t want to be alone. I know how to make dentist appointments and juggle homework with studying, music lessons, and sports practice. None of that translates into a career once your kids are gone.” She lifted her chin. “And I have two persistent chin hairs now instead of one. What is that about? They’re grey too! I don’t have a single grey hair on my head, but I get one on my chin? It pisses me off.”

  “Don’t get me started on random chin hairs, because I’ll never stop,” Robin said. “And I don’t know if my opinion counts for anything, but I think you’re really good at being a psychic detective.”

  “Thanks. You’re as much of an expert on that as I am. But thanks.”

  Robin closed her notebook and started putting pictures back in boxes. “Have the dreams gotten any better?”

  “Nope. I’m not getting any new ones either. Just you and Billy by a house in the woods, and a bloody knife in a dark room with stained glass.”

  “Did you go to the church?”

  “Yes.” Monica rolled her eyes. “Every single church in town. None of them have stained glass like what I saw. It doesn’t look like a church either. It looks more like… You know those Tiffany stained glass lamps they have at the lodge?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Like that.”

  “Is it the lodge?”

  “Nope. It’s definitely a window. And yes, in case you were wondering, I drove up to the lodge too. They do not have any stained glass windows. They only have the lamps.”

  “This is maddening.”

  “Tell me about it. I think maybe the next step should be trying to find that cabin I keep seeing.”

  “Where do we even start with that?” />
  “With you learning how to call ghosts better.” Monica threw her purse over her shoulder. “You ready to go?”

  “Yep.” They walked out of the library, waving at Gail behind the desk, and to the dark parking lot shared by the library, city hall, and the post office.

  Monica grinned when they got to Robin’s new car. “I love your car.”

  “Thanks.” Robin couldn’t stop her smile. “I’m starting to like it a lot. I’m not in love yet, but it’s heading there.”

  “It’s sexy.”

  Mark had jumped at the task Robin had given him and bought her a deep red, low-slung crossover SUV that was halfway between a station wagon and a Jeep with all-wheel steering, a state-of-the-art navigation system, and tan leather interior.

  “It’s very… red.”

  Monica elbowed her. “And you said your husband thought you were boring. That is not the car of a boring woman. That is a sexy car. It’s sexy red.”

  “Monica—”

  “And it has all the things you love, but it’s not a boxy Subaru. Just take the sexy car as it was intended and do bad things to your husband with your newfound sexiness.”

  “Could you say sexiness one more time?”

  “Sexiness.” Monica made a purring sound. “Sexy. Sex-ay. Sexy.”

  “This is bordering on disturbing now.”

  “Shut up, sexy.”

  * * *

  Taking Monica’s advice, the next night just before dusk, Robin went out to the edge of the lake where she’d seen Billy’s ghost twice. She sat on the rocks with her sketchbook and started picturing Billy in her mind. She sketched him walking in the forest near the edge of the lake in his plaid flannel and worn jeans. The image was so clear in her mind her pencil flew over the paper.

  As she drew, Robin felt like her mind opened. She could sense everything around her. The scent of lake water and pine. The cold clear air laden with the coming winter. The birds grew louder, then fell silent, and when she looked up, Billy Grimmer was there, looking more than a little disoriented.

  “It worked.” Robin couldn’t stop her smile.

  “That was strange.”

  “I did it. I called you.”

  “Is that what you did?” Billy walked toward her, his ghost looking more solid the closer he came. “The other times I’ve felt you close, and I followed you, if that makes sense.”

  “Not really, but I’m not a ghost.” Robin kept the sketchbook open. She had no idea what would happen if she closed it. Would he disappear? She had a few questions she wanted to ask. “So this time what happened? What was different?”

  “I felt a pull. You weren’t just a bright, warm spot in the fog—being here is kind of like living in the fog—but I felt a tug in my mind. Like that feeling when you know you’re forgetting something, so you go to the last place you were? It felt kind of like that.”

  “Huh.” Robin wondered how far it worked. Did geography matter? Or did ghosts not really work like that? “I have some questions for you.”

  “I’ll answer them if I can.” Billy picked up some small stones along the lakeside and skipped them across the water.

  The ripple wasn’t in her mind. She saw the water splash. “You’re picking things up again.”

  “I feel really strong.”

  “Do you know why all this is happening to me?” Robin asked. “To us? Monica, Val, and I—we all went into the lake. Before that, I hadn’t been able to see ghosts. I’d never seen anything like that before.”

  Billy frowned. “Hadn’t you?”

  Robin hesitated. “I think I’d remember seeing ghosts, don’t you think?” She dismissed her childhood “fairies” as nothing but a vivid imagination.

  “I don’t know,” Billy said. “I forget a lot of things. Like now that I’ve seen you, how did I not recognize you as Helen’s granddaughter? You’re the spitting image of her, but I didn’t see it before. You just looked familiar.”

  “Familiar like your resemblance to Uncle Raymond.”

  “Exactly.” He picked up another stone and skipped it. “I’m feeling stronger. Not sure why. More… clear. Clearer than I’ve been in a long, long time.”

  Robin shook herself. She’d better ask the questions before she forgot. It was easy to lose track when she was talking with ghosts. “Monica had a vision of us walking in the woods by a cabin,” she said. “Do you know what she saw?”

  “The cabin?” Billy smiled a little. “It’s not far from here. Just an old hunting place my dad maintained. I think it was on Russell land, but it was back in the woods before the lake came.”

  “Where?”

  He nodded to the forest across the road. “You can follow me if you want.”

  Robin stood and cautiously followed Billy’s outline, which was growing slightly more translucent as he walked.

  “Helen and me, the cabin was our place. We’d meet there and talk. Meet there to…” His smile was bashful. “Well, you know. We liked to pretend it was our own house. We were young.”

  “How young?”

  “We were the same age. Had known each other all through school. I suppose twenty-one when we started up together? Twenty-two when Helen got pregnant.”

  “Why did you keep it a secret?”

  Billy shrugged. “I knew her family wanted something finer for her. They were good people. Had property once. They knew she was smart and pretty and funny. She’d make someone a real fancy wife.”

  “They didn’t care what she wanted?” Robin had seen the sadness on Helen’s face. She’d loved Billy. Wanted Billy.

  “They didn’t see it that way,” Billy said. “To them, security would mean happiness. It was a different time.”

  He was leading her on an animal trail through the trees and along a creek bed. The creek was dry because the rains hadn’t come yet, but they would. Soon, the shallow channel up the hill would be full of water, only to be covered with snow and ice when winter came.

  “It’s not far now.” Billy stopped at the rise of a small hill to let Robin catch up.

  Her knee was aching, but she pushed herself. It was hard hiking through the woods with a ghost who didn’t have to breathe.

  “Where… is it?” Robin panted. “I don’t see.” She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, but she ignored it. Billy’s outline was starting to fade.

  “There.” He pointed to the east. “See?”

  Robin squinted and peered through the trees along the creek. Her phone went still in her pocket, only to start buzzing again almost immediately. She could see a deep green sweep of moss in a fold of the hillside, just under a granite outcropping.

  “Is that it?” She reached for her phone.

  Billy was walking up the creek and toward the granite rocks.

  “Hello?” Robin tried to keep her eyes on him as she answered her phone. She didn’t want to lose him.

  “Robin?” Mark’s voice was low and worried. She could hear someone crying in the background. “Robin, honey, you need to go to Russell House right now.”

  She froze, watching Billy walk away from her into the shadows. “What is it?”

  “It’s Helen.”

  Emma’s voice was in the background. She was the one crying. Robin spun and started walking down the hill.

  “Helen?” Robin’s voice caught. “No, she can’t have—”

  “She’s alive, but she fell, Robin. Your mom found her this afternoon. She’s been in and out of consciousness since then.”

  “Did they call an ambulance?”

  “They did, and the EMTs called her doctor and home-health aide.”

  “Are they at the hospital?”

  “No.”

  “What?” Robin started walking faster.

  “They did not take her in.”

  “Why not?” Robin started jogging. Damn her knee.

  “She has a living will or something. She doesn’t want any extraordinary measures. Doesn’t want a hospital. The doctor’s with her and Grace right now at the hous
e with a nurse. Just get over there. Emma and I will meet you.”

  Chapter 21

  Robin sat at her grandmother’s bedside, listening to the low voices of her mother and her husband in the background. They were discussing Grandma Helen’s wishes and her current status. She’d been in and out for the past few hours. She’d woken up when Robin got there, squeezed her hand, smiled, and then fallen back to sleep. She’d spoken to Grace a few times and smiled when she saw Mark.

  Emma was sitting next to Robin, holding her great-grandmother’s hand, as Robin stared at the painting over her grandmother’s bed.

  It was one of Helen’s own pieces, but the subject of the painting wasn’t the lake Helen had grown to love, it was the valley as it had once been. At the bottom of the painting, the twisting blue and white of the river snaked through a steep mountain canyon, threading through hills dotted by cattle and rolling through dense forest.

  In the foreground, a cluster of cabins peeked through the trees, smoke rising from stone chimneys. There were wagons and a water tower. There were tiny trucks and horses.

  It was Grimmer. How had Robin never noticed before? In her own bedroom, near the place she slept every night, Helen kept a crystal clear portrait of the town where she’d been born. The memory of it had been so crisp, she’d painted it in vivid oils. It must have hung on the wall for years, but Robin had never noticed it.

  “Don’t you think she should go to the hospital?” Emma asked. Normally her daughter was confident and mature, but in that moment she sounded like the girl she still was.

  “No, baby.” Robin stroked Helen’s hand. “Grandma wasn’t too happy when she had to go to the hospital last year. She made it clear with her lawyer and Dr. Cramer that she didn’t want that again.”

  “But what if there’s bleeding or something?” Emma leaned on the foot of Helen’s bed. “Like, on her brain?”

  “What would they do?” Robin said. “She’s ninety-five, Emma. She didn’t want any more surgeries.”

  “But she’s still here,” Emma said. “Doesn’t that mean something? Couldn’t she get better?”