Psychic Dreams: A Paranormal Women's Fiction Novel (Glimmer Lake Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hunter

  “I don’t know. Has anyone come in smelling like smoke and kerosene?”

  “Be serious!”

  “I am serious!” Monica was actually annoyed. “I don’t know what to tell you. Did you try reading them?”

  “Yes. All I got was the same sense of confusion, except maybe more desperate. She’s really scared now. She’s really confused.”

  Monica tried to put what Val was feeling from the blankets together with what they knew about their arsonist. “Do you think this is someone who’s lighting fires and doesn’t realize it until afterward? Like… do you think you could do that? Set a fire and not realize it?”

  Val blinked. “Like the worst case of sleepwalking ever?”

  “Maybe? I mean, remember when Robin’s cousin was on those pain meds and he ended up out in his boat in the middle of the night?”

  “Oh, I do remember that. Her cousin Brent. He had all his fishing gear too.”

  “Exactly. I don’t know, is it possible?”

  “But Brent goes fishing all the time,” Val said. “Like it’s an automatic routine for him. It doesn’t seem like setting fires with kerosene of all things would be routine for anyone.”

  Monica mused, “I don’t even know where you get kerosene.”

  “You can get it at the farm supply store or most hardware shops,” Val said. “People still have kerosene heaters.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, so that’s not really a clue.” Val poked at the blanket again. “Neither is this. I saw a pile of this kind of blankets at the sporting goods store. You can get them anywhere.”

  “This pattern?”

  “I didn’t see this one, no.”

  “I’ve seen this pattern somewhere.” Monica frowned. “I’m telling you it looks familiar. I wish I could remember where.” Monica felt her phone buzzing in her pocket. “You need to call Sully and give this stuff to him. It’s probably evidence.” She looked at her phone. “It’s Robin.”

  “Put her on speaker.”

  Monica touched the screen to answer. “Robin, you’re on speaker. I’m at Val’s. She found some burned blankets in her dumpster just now. They’re the same type that we found at the Alison cabin in the loft.”

  “I found something too.” Robin’s voice was quiet. “Can you and Val come over? I’ve been going through the online archives from the Glimmer Lake library and ran into a dead end, so Mark helped me access some records from Sacramento.” Robin drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “I think I know why Bethany is scared. I think I know how she died.”

  Chapter 15

  Robin and Mark’s beautiful home was set at the end of a wooded neighborhood that backed up to the national forest. A broad porch surrounded the stone-fronted wood home.

  They were sitting out on the porch, drinking iced tea while squeezed behind Mark’s laptop so they could see the screen.

  “I found it in this little article that was written after the dam was built,” Robin said. “There were quite a few families who were unhappy with the payment they received from the power company—families that left after the fire got almost nothing for their land—and there was a reporter at the Sacramento paper who interviewed a bunch of them.”

  “There’s something about Bethany?” Val asked.

  “I can’t know for sure, but it make sense. Remember what Gail told Monica? The fire started at the Sanger home and killed the father and the two children?” She pointed at the screen. “Look at the third paragraph on this page.”

  The computer screen showed a scan of an old newspaper; while the picture was scratchy, it was still readable.

  Lucille Sanger, sister of the late Corbin Sanger, told the newspaper that her brother’s and nieces’ deaths did not mean the family land had been abandoned. Corbin Sanger, along with his daughters Rosemarie and Bethany, died in the 1932 fire that devastated much of the Grimmer Valley. The surviving Sanger family is petitioning to be compensated for their share of the settlement…

  “Bethany.” Monica blinked. “Bethany died in the fire. For some reason, I always assumed she’d drowned.”

  “I did too,” Robin said. “I have no idea why.”

  “Because the town was drowned?” Val shrugged. “I assumed she drowned too.”

  “She died ten years before the dam was even built,” Robin said. “It was her home that was the epicenter of the fire.”

  Monica remembered Bethany’s words by the lake only a few days before. “Bethany said: ‘It wasn’t her fault. She didn’t mean for it to happen.’ Was she talking about her sister? Did her sister start the fire?”

  Val said, “Didn’t Gail say that it was probably a cooking fire? That would make sense.”

  “But why is Bethany still scared?” Robin said. “She died in a fire. There have been fires since. What’s special about this fire?”

  “There were wildfires last season,” Monica said. “Not big ones, but there were a couple. I didn’t have visions about any of them.”

  “Okay,” Val said. “So there’s something different about this fire, and someone knows about us or suspects we know something, because why else would they have dumped those burned blankets in my dumpster?”

  “You are right on the main drag,” Robin said. “Maybe that part is coincidence.”

  “I don’t know, but something about it doesn’t feel right.” Val leaned away and kicked her feet up. “We’re looking for an arsonist who doesn’t seem to know she’s starting fires. How do you forget starting a fire? Or is this person being framed? Is the real arsonist stalking this person I keep reading off the blankets? Is he following her and lighting fires, trying to kill her?”

  “Is there a woman drifting through town? Have you guys seen anyone who looks unfamiliar and isn’t on vacation?”

  “It’s practically impossible to tell this time of year.”

  Monica felt tired. “None of this is making any sense, and I feel like things are getting worse. Val, did you give the blankets to Sully?”

  “Yeah, I called him. Told him they were on the back porch.” She picked at her jeans. “Do you guys all feel it? Everyone in town is on edge.”

  “I know.” Monica shook her head. “The guests at the lodge are the only ones having fun. Kara and Eve are putting on a friendly face, but I can see they’re stressed out. Even Jake seems to be stressed. And when is he stressed out?”

  Robin rubbed her bottom lip. “The kids were supposed to come home for a couple of weeks right before school started. Mark and I told them to go visit his parents. We made an excuse, but I think they know something’s up here.”

  “I told Jackson to keep a go bag in his truck,” Val said. “He thinks I’m being dramatic.”

  “Teenagers always think their moms are being dramatic,” Monica muttered.

  Robin closed the laptop. “What do we do?”

  Monica said, “I guess I better start taking more naps. I’m starting to distrust my visions though. This last dream ended up being nothing like what actually happened. So why am I dreaming about that redwood cabin?”

  “Do you think you’ve ever been there before?” Every kid in Glimmer Lake spent hours during the summer roaming around the woods, poking into old cabins and using them for forts. Most of the cabins were abandoned, but a few were still used by the forest service or campers.

  “I don’t think so. It looked really old. I’d remember one that old.”

  Val reached for her phone. “Sully’s calling me.”

  Monica felt her phone buzz too. She took it out. “It’s Russell House. I have to get back to work.” She touched the phone and answered it. “Hey Kara, I’m sorry. I’m heading back right now.”

  “Good.” Kara sounded nervous. “Um, that’s great. Because… that fire inspector is here again.”

  “Gabe?”

  “Yeah. He’s been poking around, and he doesn’t look happy.”

  Monica pulled up to the front of Russell House and saw Gabe’s red-and-white truck parked right at the f
ront door. She drove around and parked by the kitchen. By the time she got out of her car, Kara was practically running to her.

  “I didn’t know what to do.” Words tumbled out of her mouth. “He asked to talk to Jake. Then they went to the boathouse and I heard arguing and then he stormed back to the house and demanded to see purchase records for the rec budget and I don’t know where those are so—”

  “Chill.” Monica put a hand on Kara’s shoulder. “Where is he now?”

  “He’s in your office.” Kara looked guilty. “I didn’t know what else to do. He just kind of… barged in. I haven’t seen Jake.”

  Monica felt her stomach drop. What was Gabe looking for?

  “He’s there right now?”

  “Should I call the sheriff? I mean… he kind of works with the sheriff, right?”

  “I’ll call Sully.” She got her phone and called Val. “Hey, hon.”

  “Hey. Is Gabe there?”

  Monica walked through the kitchen and through the dining room, waving and smiling at guests as they enjoyed an afternoon drink by the giant portrait windows. “Yeah. Do you have any idea what’s going on?” She kept her voice low.

  “Sully showed Gabe those blankets I found, and his kid was with him. His kid said something about the blankets being the same as the ones at Russell House, and Gabe just took off. Sully’s been trying to call him, and he’s not answering his phone.”

  “The same ones as…” Oh shit. “That’s where I’ve seen the pattern.” Monica blinked. “Oh my God.”

  She reached her office; the door was already cracked open, and she saw Gabe Peralta standing at the table, looking through files. “Val, I gotta go.”

  “Okay, Sully is on his way out there.”

  “Thanks.” She put her phone away and pushed down the sharp bite of anger. “Chief Peralta, can I help you? Would you like to explain why you’re in my office, going through files that are not yours?”

  Gabe looked up. He was leaning both hands on the table and his shoulders were tense. “Would you like to explain why we’ve found blankets that came from your boathouse at three arson scenes so far?”

  “You have me at a disadvantage. I don’t know what blankets you’re talking about.”

  He reached down and pulled a plastic bag out of a box by his feet. In the plastic bag were the remains of the blanket Monica had seen that morning at Val’s. On the table was one of the brown, cream, and blue plaid blankets that remained unburned.

  The same blankets they’d seen at the Alison cabin.

  The same blankets they’d ordered for Russell House. That was why they looked familiar. They were the same blankets Jake kept in the boathouse for guests to use in the evenings on the boat or when people wanted a picnic or when they just needed a cushion. They didn’t use them in the house—that’s why she hadn’t recognized them immediately.

  “So a mass-produced blanket we happen to order to use in our boathouse has also been found at an arson scene? You can get those blankets at any sporting goods store. They’re very common.”

  “This color?” Color rode high on his arched cheekbones. “What are you hiding, Ms. Velasquez?”

  “I’m not hiding anything.” Lie. Where was Sully? This was bad.

  “I asked your son for an inventory of these blankets, and he couldn’t seem to come up with one.”

  “Good Lord, this is Jake. He thinks a yellow legal pad is a filing system.”

  Gabe’s granite expression didn’t move.

  Monica huffed. “We order gobs of those blankets because they’re guaranteed to get lost. People drop them in the lake when they’re fishing. They get left in the woods or accidentally packed in bags and taken home. Any number of people have access to those blankets, Gabe.”

  “So you’re saying that these aren’t blankets from Russell House?” Gabe pointed to the plastic bag.

  “They could be. They could not be. What I’m trying to tell you is that they go missing a lot, and that doesn’t mean anything nefarious. Do you know how many new towels we order every season?”

  “I also thought maybe I was overreacting,” Gabe said quietly. “I thought all the same things you just mentioned. They’re common. They can get lost. They might have been stolen—God knows your security system at the boathouse is nonexistent—but then the routine phone logs I asked for last week came in.”

  Monica felt the blood drain from her face. “Phone logs?”

  “Sully got anonymous tips about two fires. He said they were anonymous, so it made sense to check the incoming calls to his house and his mobile phone. The calls were dialed into his government-issue phone.”

  Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.

  A pulse pounded in Gabe’s temple. “So please—please, Monica—tell me why you called Sully in the middle of the night to report two wildfires that were already burning. Tell me you saw smoke or smelled something with an insanely accurate sense of smell or anything that will make sense.”

  Anything that will make sense? Monica let out a rueful laugh.

  “You think this is funny?” Gabe was both furious and upset. “This doesn’t look good.”

  “You were sitting across from me.” She pointed to the chair at the end of the table. “Right there. We were together when you got that call on the second fire.”

  He shook his head. “That fire was started hours before it was reported. And that doesn’t explain the other two. The two that no one else saw.”

  Monica nodded. “Right. No one but the arsonist.”

  “Give me a fucking explanation, Monica!” He slapped his hand on the table.

  Monica stalked over and shut her office door firmly. “Do not threaten me, Gabriel Peralta.” She walked back and got in his face. “I don’t pull this out very often, but do you know who the hell I am? I am the widow of a career firefighter who watched her husband rush off to countless emergencies over twenty years and didn’t say shit in complaint.” She pointed to his truck out the window. “My husband gave the fire service the better part of his life, and I was the model department wife, and now you come to my business and accuse me of being an arsonist?”

  He didn’t move an inch. “Tell me something that will make it make sense, Monica.”

  Her eyes never wavered from his. “You won’t believe me.”

  “Try me.”

  What the hell? Why not? What was there to lose? Gabe’s respect? He already thought she was an arsonist.

  “I saw them in a dream,” Monica said quietly. “The fires. I had a vision about them. It happens sometimes.”

  Whatever explanation Gabe had been expecting, it was not that. He blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

  “Sully knows I have visions,” she continued. “I’ve helped him on cases in the past, so I called him. I knew if I called 911 that no one would believe me.”

  “You are telling me that the explanation for why you called Sully in the middle of the night is because… you’re psychic?”

  “Yes.”

  Gabe blinked again. “Are you joking?”

  “Why would I joke about this? You basically accused me of arson because I knew when two of the fires happened before anyone else. You think I’d joke about something like that?”

  He took a step back. “You’re… ridiculous.”

  His disdain burned, and Monica felt her self-control snap. “You think I’m ridiculous? What’s ridiculous is you storming in here without any kind of warrant and looking through my files. My husband was a decorated firefighter. You think I don’t know people? You are accusing Gil Velasquez’s widow of arson.” She pointed her finger in his face. “I tried to be nice. I told you information that I trust very few people with, and you are blowing me off. Get out. And don’t even think about touching any of my papers or setting foot in Russell House again.”

  He picked up the box with the burned blankets. “I’m reporting this. I’m reporting you.”

  “Good. Do it. Sully Wescott knows exactly where I live.” Monica crossed her arms
and pointed her chin at the door. “Out.”

  He was still pissed. “You know what? I was looking for some reason—any reason—to defend you. But this bullshit—”

  “Get the fuck out of my office.” She walked over and put her hand on the doorknob. “Know what else I had a vision about?”

  Gabe narrowed his eyes. “What?”

  “The two of us having sex. Good thing I know the future is changeable, because that is never going to happen.” She opened the door wide. “Ever.”

  Chapter 16

  Val’s eyes were the size of saucers. “He thinks you started the fires?”

  “You had a sex vision about him?” Robin reached for the wine bottle Monica had set on the dining room table. “And you told him? I don’t know which one is more shocking.”

  “He didn’t believe the psychic thing,” Monica said. “This is exactly why I didn’t call it in to 911. I knew I’d be a suspect, even with an alibi.”

  “But do you have an alibi?” Robin asked. “You were home alone.”

  “I have that alarm I set at night,” Monica said. “Remember that ridiculous security system Gil insisted on? That sensor that attaches to my keys?”

  “Oh right. I forgot about that.”

  “That key fob thing keeps track of when I enter the house and when I leave. Or at least it shows them my keys enter and exit. And does anyone actually think I’m walking to these places in the middle of the woods?”

  “What would your motivation be anyway?” Val said. “Did he say that?”

  Robin got up and refilled the bowl of pistachios they’d torn through. “To be fair, with serial arson, the fire is the point. There doesn’t really need to be another motive.”

  “Can we talk about the fact that he was right on one thing?” Monica asked. “As pissed as I am at Gabe, I do think those blankets are coming from Russell House. I didn’t say this to him, but we had to order that pattern. They were the same brand as you can get at the sporting goods store, but we had to order that particular pattern. And Jake has had to reorder quite a few. I was looking at the order history online, and we’re missing significantly more this summer than last.”