“Maybe.”
He didn’t have much doubt himself. “Why are you so determined to help?”
She shook her head, shaking off his question. “I wasn’t expecting the vision to hit so hard last time. This time I’d be ready. I could look more carefully, see things I missed before. She might have seen things she doesn’t realize she saw, or is too traumatized to remember.”
His lips thinned. “All right. I’ll take you to the hospital in the morning.”
She nodded.
“If you tell me why you are so damned determined to do this.”
She shrugged. “What makes you think there’s a reason? Why can’t it be something I just want to do?”
“Come on, Megan, I know it’s more than that.”
She closed her eyes. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know a lot about you, Meg. Way more than I ought to. I want to know more.” He smiled at her. “Besides, I told you I was going to repay your prying with some prying of my own.”
She drew a breath, sighed. “I haven’t had a vision about anything this important since I foresaw my father’s death.”
He swung his head toward her, stunned by her words and the pain he sensed behind them.
“I saw it all. He’d been drinking, left the bar, got behind the wheel, went off a bridge on the way home. The car exploded. He was gone. I tried to warn him, he didn’t believe me. Called me a liar just the way he always did when I claimed I had a vision. I got the back of his hand for this particular lie, and was sent to my room. Then my mother came in and made me kneel and pray with her rosary for nine hours straight. She believed visions like mine could only come from the devil.”
“I had no idea. Meg, I’m sorry.”
She shrugged. “When the vision came true, just the way I said it would, she was even more certain I was evil. Said I had caused it. She barely spoke to me after that, and eventually sent me to live with her aging aunt, where I basically became a caregiver. My mother died a few years later. For years after that, the visions just didn’t come—except for this one recurring dream I could never understand.”
She averted her eyes when she said that.
“What was the dream?”
“It doesn’t matter, Sam.”
“Okay,” he said. “Okay, I won’t push on that. But what about the visions? Why did they stop?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe I suppressed them. Maybe on some level I believed I was to blame for my father’s death. I don’t know. But when they did come back, they came almost tentatively. Minor things, nothing big, nothing I had to prevent or change. This is the first time I’ve had a vision about something this important. And I guess I’m afraid if I don’t do what I’m supposed to do, they’ll go away again and maybe never return.”
He nodded slowly. “You think you stopped having visions because you failed to save your father. And you’ll stop again if you fail again.”
She shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe saving this girl is part of my penance.” She was silent for a moment. Then looked at him quickly. “If the killer is going after witnesses, Sam—”
“She’s safe. We’ve got a guard on her hospital room door, and her house is under surveillance.”
“And . . . what about her cat?”
Damn. He’d forgotten about the cat. “Tell you what,” he said. “You and I will go by her place and feed her cat ourselves, all right?”
“That would make me feel a whole lot better,” she told him.
He shook his head slowly. “All you’ve been through and your chief concern is still a damn cat.”
She shrugged. “I like cats.”
“Yeah. I kind of figured that out.”
Sam wasn’t 100 percent convinced they were going to find any cat at all, much less a buff-colored, overweight one with one green eye and one blue. But he phoned the hospital as he drove and asked a nurse to put him through to Linda Keller’s room, but only if she was still awake.
She picked up the phone, and Sam had her put the cop who stood outside her door on the phone to verify who he was, just to put her mind at ease before speaking to her. When she came back on the line, he said, “I wanted to check in, see if there was anything you needed taken care of at your house while you’re in the hospital.”
“Is there any—have you caught him yet?”
“Not yet. But we will, I promise you that.” He hated that he couldn’t bring her better news, tell her the bastard was in custody and wouldn’t be hurting anyone ever again. He hated it. “When we talked earlier, you said you didn’t have any family or friends in town, being new here. I thought I should check in, see if there’s anything you need taken care of at home.”
“I’m . . . thank you. That’s so thoughtful of you.”
“It’s the least I can do, believe me.”
“There is something you could do for me, if it’s not too much trouble. There’s really no one else I can ask. . . .”
“That’s why I called. And it’s no trouble at all, really.”
“I have a cat at home. I was out of cat food this morning, so he missed his breakfast, and if he doesn’t have anything tonight he’ll be just miserable.”
Sam caught Megan’s eyes, saw the knowing look in them. “I’ll pick up some cat food and feed him for you. Is your house locked?”
“Yes, but there’s one of those hide-a-key rocks near the front walk. Um . . . he likes Frisky Cat, the tuna flavor.”
“Got it. Is there anything else I can do?”
“Yes, actually. That woman, the one who helped me in the park . . . is she all right?”
“Fine. She’s with me now. Actually, this call was her idea.”
“Thank her for me, will you?”
He glanced at Megan, a thought crossing his mind. “What does your cat look like?”
She seemed taken aback by the question, but answered after a brief pause. “Yellow gold. I guess you’d call him buff. And terribly overweight. He’s got two different colored eyes, which makes him sort of bizarre looking, but I think that’s what drew me to him in the first place. Why do you ask?”
A funny little wave of something washed through his stomach and head.
“I, uh—just curious. Listen, if you like, you can thank that woman yourself. She’d like to come by and see you tomorrow, if you’re up to it.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Yes, I’d like that very much.”
“All right then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Thank you, Detective Sheridan. For everything.”
“You’re welcome.”
He flicked off the phone, glanced sideways at Megan. “You nailed the cat. To a tee.”
“You sound surprised.” She tipped her head to one side. “You are surprised, aren’t you?”
He shrugged. “I just—I’m not used to seeing this kind of thing in action.”
“I thought you believed me about the visions, Sam.”
“I do.”
“No,” she said. “I’m not so sure you do. I don’t think you’re sure you do.”
She sounded almost heartbroken. Hell, he didn’t want to hurt her. He cared about the woman way more than he ought to, and to be honest, while he’d never believed in this kind of psychic bullshit—had actively refused to believe in it—she had him wondering. Her childhood tale was goddamned heart-wrenching.
Unlike his chief, he didn’t believe she had any real knowledge of or connection to the killer. He was on her side in that. And while technically, he was working here, getting close to her to get the truth out of her, the truth was, he was with her because he wanted to be. And he was starting to believe in her abilities.
“This kind of thing takes getting used to, Megan,” he said, aware she was still waiting for him to reply. “It’s never been a part of my experience. That’s all.”
He turned the car into the parking lot in front of a twenty-four-hour convenience store, and they went inside for the cat food. Frisky Cat, tu
na flavor. Then they drove to Linda Keller’s address, and he easily located the key in the fake rock. Too easily.
He picked it up, took the key from the compartment in the bottom, then held the rock out to Megan. “This is way too obvious,” he said. “She might as well leave the key in the door.”
“Oh? Where do you suggest people leave a spare key?”
“In their pocket.” He put the key into the lock and opened the door.
Megan came in behind him, carrying the cat food. The biggest cat he’d ever seen came bounding toward them with a plaintive meow, and proceeded to rub itself against Sam’s leg. Megan located the cat’s dishes, and promptly filled them. The cat pounced on the food as if starved, though Sam estimated he could probably live several weeks without a bite. She filled the water dish too.
Sam saw the collar, heard the jingle of the tags that hung from it, and out of curiosity, crouched down to take a look. He read the tag with the cat’s name, Roderick, engraved on it. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered.
“Got the name right, too, didn’t I?”
He glanced up at her.
“Wish I could get the name of our killer that easily.”
“So do I.” The voice of reason, and force of habit, told him it wasn’t proof of anything. Hell, now that he thought about it, the victim could have told her about the cat back in the park, while he was chasing after the perp.
But he didn’t really think so. “So are we set here?” he asked.
“Yeah.” She squatted down beside him and stroked the cat. “You’ll be okay for the night, won’t you, boy?”
A throaty purr that did not interrupt the feeding frenzy was the beast’s reply. She rose again, and Sam did too, walking to the door, pocketing the key. “We’ll take this to her tomorrow at the hospital. Leaving it where it was is just asking for trouble.”
“You’re the expert.”
They walked out to his car, and he drove the rest of the way to his home, a small, functional shoebox in a residential neighborhood. He wasn’t all that surprised to see the lights all on, and three cars lined up along the roadside out front. “The troops have arrived,” he said softly.
“I thought you lived alone.”
Was that a hint of disappointment he heard in her voice? He searched her eyes to see for sure, but there was too much going on in them for him to pick out or identify any one emotion.
“I try to live alone,” he said, offering a smile to lighten things up. “With my family, it’s not always easy. At least they left me a parking spot this time.” He pulled into the driveway, which was only big enough for one car, and shut off the engine. Before they even got to the front door, it was opening and people were spilling out. Sam waved to them and tried to look happy to see them.
“Megan Rose, let me introduce my family. This is my mother, Evelyn, and these are my sisters, Sabrina and Shelby.”
Evelyn smiled and nodded hello to Megan. “I’m sorry if we’ve interrupted a date, dear.”
“Please, Mom,” Sabrina said. “It would have been over in a couple of hours anyway. They don’t call him One-Night Sam for nothing, you know.”
He felt Megan flinch, realized he still had a hand on her arm, and promptly released her.
“It’s not a date,” Megan said quickly. “It’s . . . business.”
“Megan’s a witness to a crime. Now do you mind parting the waters and letting us in?”
The women exchanged curious glances, but moved aside. Sam and Megan went in, and he saw that his grandmother was there as well, sitting in his favorite chair, watching a football game on his big-screen TV.
“Told you he was all right,” she said, barely looking up. “Hello, grandson.”
“Hello, Lily.”
“These hens heard over the scanner that you were chasing after a murder suspect and got worried. I told them tonight wasn’t the night.”
“I’m fine, as you can all see.” He frowned, sniffing the air, turning toward his mother again. “You cooked, didn’t you?”
“Oh, just a little, dear,” his mother said. “As long as we were here, you know, we thought it wouldn’t hurt to toss a few potatoes into the oven.”
“Smells like chicken,” he said.
“Well, the oven was already hot. No sense wasting gas, you know.”
“And cake?”
“I hate to leave an oven rack empty.”
“Mm-hm. Nothing like a full blown meal at 11 P.M.”
She smiled. “I’ll just go set an extra place for your guest.”
He closed his eyes slowly, then turned to Megan. “They’re staying for a post-dinner dinner.”
“I got that.”
“You, girl!” his grandmother called. Megan turned her head sharply, and the old woman waggled a finger at her. “Come on over here and sit with me. It’s halftime anyway, you may as well be polite.”
Megan blinked in shock, sending a look at Sam. “Sorry,” he whispered.
She smiled, an amused, indulgent smile, and went to obey his grandmother’s summons.
Chapter Eight
MEGAN sat alone with Sam’s grandmother, while his mother and sisters coerced him into the kitchen, obviously wanting to talk to him in private. The old woman had a face like aged leather and twinkling blue eyes. She had short curly permed hair, and wore a pair of faded jeans and a sweat-shirt that was two sizes too big. It had a fat cartoon cat on the front, with the caption Cats Rule. Dogs Drool.
“I’m Lily,” she said. “You’re my grandson’s flavor of the week?”
“I’m Megan.” She offered her hand and the old woman took it, then paused, frowning, squeezing tight, and looking more closely at Megan’s face.
“Megan,” she repeated and released her hand. “They come and go so fast, I don’t bother learning their names. Yours though, maybe I will. You have any pull with Sam, girl?”
“Pull?”
“Influence. Does he listen to you?”
“I really haven’t known him that long, Mrs.—”
“Lily. Just Lily.”
“Lily.” Megan wasn’t sure where this conversation was going, but the woman had her curious. “Why? What is it you would want me to . . . influence him to do?”
“Quit his job.”
Megan blinked. “Quit the police department?”
“That’s what I just said. And soon, girl. His birthday’s next week, you know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t under—”
“His thirty-fifth birthday,” she said, as if that were significant somehow.
“I didn’t know. But I still don’t see why—”
Lily leaned forward in her chair and gripped Megan’s forearm, her clasp powerful. “His father—my own son—was a policeman, you know.”
“I know. I’m so sorry for the way you lost him.”
She shook her head. “We all lost him. That wife of his keeps his den like a shrine. Won’t even let anyone in there. Hasn’t changed a thing since he died.” She sighed deeply. “Shot down in his prime, he was. The week of his thirty-fifth birthday. Just like my husband.”
And suddenly the light dawned. Megan met the old woman’s piercing blue eyes. “And you believe Sam will be killed as well?”
She nodded slowly. “I know he will. It’s . . . it’s some kind of curse,” she said.
The word “curse” seemed to echo endlessly in Megan’s mind. It made her knees go weak, and she sank into a chair near the older woman.
“If he doesn’t quit that damnable job in time, I’m afraid we’ll lose him too.” Her lips thinned. “I’m a tough old bird, but I think it would kill his poor mother. And those sisters of his. It’s not right they should suffer like that just because he’s too stubborn to listen.”
Megan licked her lips, understanding now why Sam’s family tended to panic every time they heard what seemed like a dangerous situation on the scanner. “Have you talked to Sam about this? Maybe if you told him—”
“Talked myself blue, gir
l. He says he doesn’t believe in curses, doesn’t believe in any of that sort of hoo-ha. Much less my intuitions.”
“You have . . . intuitions?” Megan asked, lifting her brows.
Lily nodded slowly. “I knew something bad was coming before my husband went to work that day. I had that same bad feeling the day Sam Jr. died, and I think he did, too, the odd way he’d been acting all week.” She tipped her head to one side. “You get feelings too, don’t you, girl.”
It wasn’t a question. “Sometimes. I . . . see things.”
“You have the sight,” she whispered. “I knew it. Felt it when I took your hand.” She bit her lip, shaking her head slowly. “You’re with my grandson for a reason, girl. God didn’t send you to this family by coincidence, and I think you know it.”
Megan drew a breath. Her gift had changed since she’d met Sam. The visions had grown stronger, more important, more frequent. And never before had they hit her with such crippling impact.
“You’re the one who can break this curse and end this family’s grieving once and for all. You can do it. You can save Sam.”
Break the curse. Save his life.
Megan took Lily’s papery-soft hand. “I’ll try my best.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
“What’s all you can ask, Lily?” Sam said, coming in from the kitchen.
“I’ve just promised her my favorite recipe,” Megan said, seeing the note of panic in the older woman’s eyes and knowing, as Lily apparently did, that Sam would be furious if he knew what they’d really been discussing.
“You cook too?” he asked with a smile. “You’re just full of hidden talents, aren’t you, Meg?”
“She’s a keeper, this one,” Lily said. “And if this wasn’t a date, then you’re a damn fool. Now, are you people gonna put some food on the table before I starve to death or what?”
Sam shook his head slowly. “Dinner—or rather, an all-out Sheridan-family midnight snack—is served,” he said.
THE meal was pleasant, which surprised Megan. She ate only enough to be polite, since she and Sam had already enjoyed one luscious meal tonight. Sam’s mother, Evelyn, seemed naturally friendly, and the sisters dropped their attitude at a single, swift, meaning-laden glance from Lily. The old woman had apparently decided to view Megan as her ally.
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