Page 8 of Fragments of the Past

“I used to. Those drain just as fast.”

“Maybe you should make sure they’re both fully charged before leaving the house.” She’s a psychic. Didn’t she see this coming?

Rae Lee blinks at me. The gears in her mind turn a sarcastic combination of “why didn’t I think of that” and “duh, you idiot.”

Which is what I am for believing a liar. Apparently, I’m also a sucker because she has no way to call for another ride and that leaves me chauffeuring her home.

The waitress drops off my coffee. I empty a sugar packet into the mug. Rae Lee still hasn’t spoken when the spoon I’ve stirred with creates a soggy brown stain on a paper napkin. “What brought you out last night that made you feel you couldn’t be yourself?” I lift the cup to sip. “I’m not judging.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“Trying to understand how the woman I took to bed last night wound up being the medium I contacted to try to answer Mrs. Turner’s prayers.”

She sighs. “My cat died.”

I blink and place my mug back on the laminate table. That’s not what I expected to hear from Rae Lee at all.

“Your cat?” I scoff.

“Mm-hmm…Your turn, Detective. Unless picking up random strangers is part and parcel for you? I’m not judging either. I just don’t really want to know that what’s got your panties in a wad isn’t that you feel duped. It’s that I’m hookup number ten this month, and now you’re worried about what happens when numbers one through nine march into this diner and ruin your upstanding reputation.”

“You’d rather carry on the fairy tale that you’re number one?” I lean against the Naugahyde seat back, threading my fingers over my stomach.

She shrugs. At first, I think she’s indifferent to my opinion of her. Except then she leans forward and says, “You know, being the way I am isn’t a day in the fucking park. I’ve dealt with judgmental as fuck people who think I’m a fraud all my life. So seriously, fuck you right up your dry fucking ass for trying to slut shame me when you’re obviously as big a fucking whore as you’re trying to make me out to be. You’re the only fucker I’ve fucked lately and thank fuck for that. I didn’t ask for, or need, your chauvinistic shit.”

My brows raise and my lips pinch, taking the beating down I deserve. In her shoes… Nah, Iamjust as angry that her first impression of me is that I’m a manwhore.

Silence fills the air. Rae Lee grabs her things to go. Not that I blame her. I hadn’t given her much of a chance before we met, so my reaction to her intentional miscommunication is the way I’d treat a habitual offender. I open my mouth, intending to make amends with a lackluster sorry. I mean, who cares that this woman got it wrong and casual sex isn’t my norm? I’ll probably never see Rae Lee Chatham again.

That’s what you thought before.

“This week marks the anniversary of the death of someone I loved,” I blurt.

Weirdly enough, Angeline used Rae Lee for a case. It’s what prompted me to pick up the phone to call her when Mrs. Turner was insistent we’d find her daughter buried in the neighborhood like the other girls.

“Drinking to forget is a common bond.” The faint smile I’m treated to is the same as the one with a hint of sorrow that crossed her face when I got her name wrong.

“So youweredrowning your sorrows at Sweet Caroline’s?” I confirm.

“More like drowning out the noise.”

My forehead pinches, not understanding.

“Paul, my cat, was sick. It was finally his time. But animals don’t show themselves to me. I don’t have whatever that ability is.” She flicks her wrist. “When my defenses go down, everyone gloms on. They take advantage of my sadness, wanting to be heard, and I don’t really want to listen.” She makes a slashing movement. “Like sometimes I need them to cut it out.”

I want to ask if she means dead people, but of course she does.

I’ve been a cop for a long time. I’ve encountered a lot of individuals who, right or wrong, are convinced the unexplained equates to the paranormal. Their unwavering conviction that it cannot be anything else is mind-blowing. They accept it as God’s honest truth. So what if it seems like an act? My reluctance to accept Rae Lee’s “gift” doesn’t make it any less true for her. What it will do is keep putting her on the defensive. She won’t mention any details she omitted, and without specifics, the Turners don’t get their answers.

Our waitress delivers Rae Lee’s sandwich. I let her chew and swallow a few bites before bringing up the things that bugged me during her walk.

“Why were you glad the Turners didn’t have any more children?” My hands splay on the table, an open plea for her to be honest.

“I didn’t say that.” She wipes her mouth.

“You did.”

Even if it wasn’t my job, after fucking it up last night, I’d been paying close attention this morning.Her relief was palpable when Rae Lee said “oh, good.”

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