Monica’s heart was still pounding. “I do. I know this person, and she’s… she’s had visions that have been verified by multiple people. Including Mark. It’s not just her imagination. And she’s having a recurring dream that might indicate a horrible tragedy is coming, and she’s basically wondering if it’s set in stone or if it can be changed.”
“Okay. I am putting myself in the position of someone who does believe in precognition. I think… I would warn her that the future is very malleable. And predicting it… If it was possible, there would be no way of knowing if her actions to prevent this tragedy might inadvertently bring it about. So perhaps try using the dream as a tool to find the cause of this event. Or intercept the perpetrator if it seems to be caused by a person.”
“Okay. I think I see what you mean. See the bad future like a sickness or a disease and use the vision to diagnose the problem before it gets really bad.”
“Not a bad way of saying it.” Somewhere in the background a door opened and closed. “Time is fluid and changeable. Nothing is set in stone. I believe that. So if there’s something she can do to prevent a tragedy, I truly wish her the best of luck.”
Chapter 8
“So she just flat out said that precognition wasn’t possible?” Val said. “What did you even say to that?”
Monica paused pouring the oil-and-vinegar dressing over the salad. They were having dinner at her house, and she’d been telling Val and Robin about her chat with Dr. Katherine Bassi. “I just told her that I had a friend I trusted implicitly who had verified visions. And she said working from that premise—”
“Which obviously she doesn’t believe,” Val muttered.
Monica shrugged. “I mean, she doesn’t, but I didn’t feel like she was brushing me off either. She respected that I believed my ‘friend.’”
Robin raised her hand. “I have a friend who sees ghosts. I know she sounds nuts, but it’s true.”
Monica smiled. “She said that if precognition was possible, that the future was still very changeable. Malleable, she said. And that there was no way of knowing if, by trying to prevent events, we wouldn’t end up causing them.”
“So what are we supposed to do?” Val asked. “We can’t do nothing. An arsonist in Glimmer Lake could kill a lot of people.”
“She recommended trying to look for an underlying cause. Like using the dream as a symptom to figure out the disease.”
Robin nodded. “Okay. I think I get that. We can’t know what actions might trigger the fire, but if we think someone is behind it, we can use the dream to find that person, which would be the best way to stop any bad stuff from happening.”
“Exactly.” Monica finished preparing the salad and put it on the counter. “Which is why I want Robin to start asking the ghosts about the previous fire.”
“I’m still not sure the two are related.” Robin put the salad on the table next to the grilled chicken Monica had cooked. “Like Mark said, fires happen. It’s part of the natural system in the forest.”
When Gil had been alive, she never touched the barbecue, but with Jake gone, she’d had to figure it out. Come to find out, she was pretty good at grilling! Especially chicken. Jake had always burned it because he was impatient, but Monica had figured out how to cook it perfectly.
“Cheers.” Val clinked her beer bottle against Robin’s wineglass. “Here’s to figuring out who wants to burn down Glimmer Lake.”
Robin hadn’t let go of the ghost question. “Why do you think the ghosts would know something?” She sat down across from Monica. “Do you think some of them died in the fire?”
“I don’t know. It was just an idea. You’re right—the old fire might have nothing to do with the new one, but it might be worth just asking around if anyone on the other side has seen anything strange.”
“Well, like I said, they’ve been quieter than usual, but I’ll see if I can talk to Bethany.”
Bethany was the ghost of a girl Robin had seen almost as soon as she developed powers. They didn’t know much about her, but she seemed to like Robin and often hung around even when nothing was going on. She was a pleasant spirit and more aware than the average ghost.
“Hey, Monica.” Val reached for the chicken. “Sully said you met his friend yesterday. He tried to tell us about him the other day. The new guy with the state fire service? Cabe? Gabe? Something like that?”
Monica dropped her fork. “Um… who?”
Val frowned. “He said his friend met you? He did some inspection out at Russell House?”
Robin asked, “Is there a problem at Russell House? I thought you and Mom already updated all the fire-code stuff.”
“Right.” Monica picked up her fork. “Um, it’s not the inside. He came by—Gabe, Gabriel, I think his name is—to talk about the perimeter.” She motioned to the windows. “You know, keeping a defensible perimeter around the structure, cutting some of the trees back, stuff like that.”
“Oh right.” Robin frowned. “Oh, that could be difficult at Russell House.”
“I think I have a plan that will really add to the building and create some space too.” Please don’t ask about Gabe. Please don’t ask about Gabe. I do not know what to think about hot-sex-vision Gabe, so please do not ask about him. “And it might even give us extra event space too. For weddings, parties, stuff like that.”
“Oh cool.”
Val smiled. “But what did you think about Gabe though? Sully showed me some old pictures from when they worked together down south. He’s hot. Or he was.”
“Oh, I just…” Monica shrugged. “He was very professional. I really didn’t notice… You know, Kara and Jake talked to him more than I did.”
Robin and Val exchanged a look.
“She noticed,” Val said.
“She definitely noticed.” Robin nodded firmly. “That was stuttering. He must still be hot.”
“You know, firefighters have to maintain very strict physical regimens,” Val said. “You think he lifts? I bet he has great arms.”
Robin said, “I’ve never met a firefighter who doesn’t have great arms.”
“Mmmm.” Val smiled. “Especially forearms. Really thick forearms—”
“I didn’t…” Monica huffed out a breath. “I mean, yeah. He was handsome. Are we twelve? Do we really need to spend dinner talking about cute boys?”
Val blinked. “Uh, yeah.”
Robin said, “The need to talk about cute boys is timeless, Monica. When we are old and grey, we will talk about cute boys. Or handsome silver foxes, whatever.”
“We’re both old and coupled up now,” Val said. “We have to live vicariously through you.”
“Thanks.” She dumped salad on her plate. “He was very professional, very friendly, and yes, very handsome. Happy?”
“No. I need to know about the arms,” Val said. “Sully gave me nothing.”
Robin turned to Val. “You mean you actually asked your boyfriend about his friend’s arms?”
“Yes, but like I said, he gave me nothing.” She huffed. “I told him I was doing research for Monica.”
“Val!” Monica dropped her fork again. “Can you not?” How on earth was she going to get them off this topic? “You know what I was thinking? I think that… trying to date again might be a great idea.”
Robin and Val lit up.
“And if I’m going to do that, I should go out with someone we know. Like the friend of a friend.” Who do we know? Who should I—
“You mean the friend of a friend, like Gabe?” asked Val. “I think that’s an awesome idea.”
Not Gabe! “I was thinking someone like… West.”
Robin frowned. “Who?”
Val’s eyebrows threatened to collide with her hairline. “West? My friend West? Biker West?”
“Yeah.” Oh shit. What had she done? “Didn’t you say he thought I was cute?”
“Cute is not what he thought of you, but that’s the PG version. Okay.” Val shrugged. “I mean, if you w
ant to go out with West, I can set you up. But if… I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s a very good time, but I don’t know if there’s anything more—”
“That’s all I want,” Monica said. “Just someone fun. To try dating again.” She had a feeling she’d made a terrible mistake, but she’d be damned if she backed out now. “I haven’t gone on a first date in literally thirty years. Over thirty years if I’m being honest. And I bet West dates a lot.”
Val nodded slowly. “Dating might not be the right term, but he has a lot of experience with women.”
Oh God. “See?” Monica was committed now. “That sounds perfect. It’ll be like going out with a professional.”
Robin choked on her salad, and Val burst out laughing.
“I mean, not a professional professional.” The hole was just getting deeper. “Not like that! You know what I mean.”
Val put both her hands on the table. “Okay, tell you what. I’m going to call West tomorrow and give him your number and tell him he should call you. That sound good?”
“Yes.” Monica took a deep breath. “Sounds perfect.”
Robin looked skeptical. Val looked amused.
And Monica was terrified.
She was walking through the woods, barefoot again. The pine needles and cones cut into her feet. She walked over rough granite and raised tree roots.
Through the trees she could see a dilapidated old cabin leaning to one side. It was a hunting cabin, one of those countless summer and fall shelters built by old residents of Grimmer, places they would retreat to when the valley became too warm.
The stone chimney was leaning but still intact. The wood cladding was falling down in places, but the rest of the cabin was sound.
In the distance, an outbuilding like a small barn stood with its doors hanging open.
She could smell woodsmoke in the air.
From the top of the stone chimney, she saw a thin line of smoke coming from inside the cabin. Was it a cooking fire? It was too warm for anything else. The outdoor kitchen lay empty, the rocks from the oven falling from the concrete where they’d been set. Birds had created a nest in an alcove.
Monica walked toward the cabin, drawn to the sound of a child singing inside.
Who are you?
Just as she reached the steps of the cabin, something made her pause. She backed away, a sense of dread making a knot in her stomach.
“Hello?” Her voice was damp and muffled. “Hello? Is anyone here?”
A peal of wild laughter was the last thing she heard before the cabin in the woods burst into flames.
Monica bolted up in bed and reached for her dream journal. Scribbling everything down as fast as she could, she felt her heart start to slow.
What was this? Everything about these dreams felt different. She’d never felt so present in them before. Everything about these visions felt personal.
She knew where the cabin was. She’d spent time there in high school. The old Alison place was a regular haunt for kids looking to hang out, drink beer, and generally feel free of their parents.
Monica reached for the phone as soon as she finished writing. She dialed Val’s number.
“Hello?”
“Val.”
“Monica?” Val sniffed. “What’s wrong?”
“I just had a dream about the old Alison cabin. There was a fire there. What do you think I should do?”
“You had a dream about an actual fire at an actual place?”
“Yes. The old Alison place. Remember that?”
“Oh man. Is that still standing?”
“Pretty sure. Jake and his buddies used to go drinking there. Gil caught them one time and scared the shit out of them, but I’m sure they went back.”
“Um..” Val cleared her throat. “You have to call it in.”
“How? How am I supposed to explain that I know about a fire, but I’m not the person who set it? If I call 911, they’ll know my number. And if there is a fire there, I’d be a suspect.”
“Um…” Val sounded so tired. “Sully.”
“What?”
“Call Sully. He’s used to answering his phone in the middle of the night, and he knows about you. He can say he got an anonymous tip or something.”
“Right.” Monica nodded. “Okay, let me call him.”
She hung up on Val and called Sully’s number.
He picked up after two rings. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Monica. I just had a very specific vision of a fire starting at the old Alison cabin. Do you know the one I’m talking about?”
“Teenager hangout, right?”
“Yes. It’s off old Timberline Road. You take that fire service road past the pump station and—”
“Yep.” Sully coughed. “Yep, I know where it is. You see any faces? Anything recognizable?”
“Nothing except…” She tried to remember the exact sound. “Laughter. Like either a kid or a woman. High-pitched laughter.”
“Right.” Sully’s voice had turned grim. “Monica, I’m gonna drive out there, okay? If I see any smoke, I’ll call it in. I’ll leave you out of it, all right?”
“Thanks, Sully.” She hung up and waited in her bed, clutching her hands as she thought about the call the firefighters might get.
A blaze in the summer could quickly burn out of control, risking lives, loss, and devastation of the forest and the town. Though fire was part of the natural cycle in the forest, uncontrolled wildfires were every mountain resident’s nightmare.
Half an hour later, she got a text from Sully.
There’s smoke.
A choking sensation overtook her as she heard the first sirens cut through the night.
Chapter 9
Two days after the fire had been extinguished, Val and Monica walked through the remains of what was left of the old Alison cabin.
Val looked up at the scorched chimney. “They got it out pretty quick, thanks to you.”
The clearing around the old cabin had been torn up by fire engines and dozens of boots. The trees in immediate proximity were blackened but not burned. The main loss was the cabin, which had already been a wreck. The surrounding forest was fine and had been soaked by the fire hoses. The firefighters had raked the rubble left over into the center of the clearing and doused all of that too, just to make sure no sparks escaped.
If Gil were alive, he’d call it a good day and be done with it.
It was cold comfort to Monica. “What if I don’t have a vision next time?” She walked through the frame of the house. The floor was still solid, but the walls were falling around her and the roof of the old cabin was completely gone. “Do they know where it started?”
“I think Sully said Gabe was pretty sure it started right in front of the fireplace.” Val pointed to a large black mark on the floor. “Spread from there.”
“Do they have any suspects?”
Val kicked an empty beer can across the clearing. “Unfortunately, the fire service thinks it was just kids because this is a hangout, so they’re not really looking for much more. And since Sully told them the tip was anonymous…”
“They think kids were goofing around and called the sheriff when the fire got away from them.”
Val nodded. “Pretty much, yeah.”
Monica sighed. “It’s a good theory. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe it.” She walked away from the house and toward the barn. “This wasn’t damaged.”
“No.” Val followed her. “I don’t think they even went inside. Maybe just to check if anyone was there.”
Monica swung the barn door open and poked her head inside. The building smelled like smoke, but it didn’t appear hurt. Other than the damage that was already there.
Graffiti covered the walls, and cardboard boxes of old paperwork had been kicked over and spread across the barn floor. Someone had clearly used it for storage sometime in the past, but time and a roof leak had led the paper to warp and swell. Blankets and a rotten sleeping bag were in one corner
underneath an old ladder leading up to the hayloft.
“Looks like someone was sleeping here.” Val squatted down and picked up an empty tin of canned pasta with an ungloved hand. “It’s old. A homeless man, I think?” She closed her eyes. “Years ago.” She reached for another can. “He stayed here, but I don’t think anything bad happened to him.” She reached for one of the blankets. “Nothing bad really.” She made a face. “Gross, but not bad.”
Monica walked toward the ladder and put both hands on it. “You think it’s stable?”
Val looked up. “The ladder looks okay, but I’m not too sure about the loft.”
She craned her neck and tried to see into the overhead area. “I feel like there’s something up there, and the ladder has been used recently.” She pointed to the wood. “See? No dust.”
“Right.” Val brushed off her hands and stood. “Well, only one way to find out.”
Monica gingerly took the first steps up the ladder. It was solid as a rock—the thick-cut pine boards hadn’t rotted or cracked. She slowly walked up the ladder, feeling each step and testing her weight. “I should have had the skinny girl go up first.”
“No way,” Val said. “You’re clearly more of a daredevil than I am.”
“Three boys and an adrenaline-junkie husband will do that to you.”
Val laughed. “Was Gil an adrenaline junkie?”
“He was a firefighter. To one degree or another, they’re all adrenaline junkies.” She reached the top and looked around at the dusty loft. “Besides, don’t you remember what he was like when we were young?”
“I mean, he rode bikes and stuff, but everyone does that around here.”
“He rode dirt bikes. He mountain climbed. He water-skied. He snow-skied. If he went too long without a call or without a training exercise, I swear the man would climb a tree.” She crawled off the ladder and stood, her head nearly reaching the sloped roof. “Careful not to hit your head.”
Psychic Dreams: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Glimmer Lake Book 3) Page 6
