some perv if I try to pick her up in my car. I don’t know if she’ll recognize me. She’ll be more comfortable if she sees a woman in the car. She’ll trust you.”
His pleading eyes and begging expression on his face sent a slow tremble through her body. She’ll trust you. She took a deep breath. Her hands started to shake. She’ll trust you. The dead girl flashed before her. Derrick’s speech blurred. Her stomach churned. She clasped her trembling hands around her face, feeling like a scared teenager all over again. She remembered the night she and another girl secretly set off for the beach. The last time she helped rescue a runaway, the girl ended up dead. She shook free of the memory.
“I shouldn’t have asked this of you. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He pulled her hands from her face. “Baby, you’re shaking. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you while the doctor looks you over.”
“No, Derrick. I’m just a little rattled.” She shook his hands from hers and went into her studio, grabbing an oversized bag from the walk-in closet. She stuffed a thick yoga mat inside the bag. Not that she needed the mat. She had plenty at her teaching studio. “I’ve got a yoga class in an hour, and I don’t need to see a doctor. I tell you what, come back later, and I’ll help you find the girl.” She’d saved herself from a trip to the hospital. “Besides, if I need to see a doctor, I’ve got you and my father.”
She crammed a towel, brush, hair ties, and CDs into the bag then rushed to her bedroom in search of her hooded sweat jacket, with Derrick on her heels.
“Well, then maybe you should talk to your dad about this.”
My father is the last person I should talk to. He overanalyzes everyone.
She dropped the oversized bag and shoved her hand against her hip. “What are you suggesting? My father treats adolescents with behavioral problems and emotional disorders.”
“I’m not suggesting anything, other than I think you’re stressed out. He’s the doctor of psychology, not me. Obviously, someone was here. The floor is wet. The question is: how did she get out without me seeing her? Something else has me puzzled.”
She yanked her jacket from the hanger and slammed the closet door shut. “What?” She stormed around the room cramming more stuff she didn’t need into the bag.
“That spot on the floor is soaked. If she left through the front door, I’m sure she would have left wet tracks on the carpet on her way out.”
She shrugged. He looked over his shoulder to her studio and then at the sliding glass doors to her balcony. He crouched down and touched the floor. “It’s not wet.” He went back into her studio, playing detective. He wouldn’t let this go.
The questions he’d bombarded her with made logical sense. She rearranged the items she’d tossed into the bag. He was a doctor. Eventually, he’d figure out that she was seeing things. If he hadn’t already. Was he waiting for her to tell him about her visions? Derrick took the bait when she’d mentioned her father, suggesting she talk to him. She wasn’t overstressed. She practiced yoga daily and led a peaceful life. Those kids didn’t affect her the way they did him. She wasn’t out to save the world.
She stopped fidgeting with the bag, conflicted about telling the man she was falling in love with about the visions. She’d never imagined their lives reconnecting. Not that she’d thought about him much in later years, but she did sometimes wonder what had become of the boy who hardly noticed her.
Should she confide in him about Dana? But how could she explain the teleport to Dana’s backyard? Had she really been there or had she only seen him commit suicide? How could she explain to him she believed she’d helped Dana take his life? He and her father would commit her. The eerie mantra from the night Dana died filtered out her thoughts and repeated.
You know what you must do, you know what you must
His pleading eyes and begging expression on his face sent a slow tremble through her body. She’ll trust you. She took a deep breath. Her hands started to shake. She’ll trust you. The dead girl flashed before her. Derrick’s speech blurred. Her stomach churned. She clasped her trembling hands around her face, feeling like a scared teenager all over again. She remembered the night she and another girl secretly set off for the beach. The last time she helped rescue a runaway, the girl ended up dead. She shook free of the memory.
“I shouldn’t have asked this of you. Come on, I’ll take you to the hospital.” He pulled her hands from her face. “Baby, you’re shaking. Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you while the doctor looks you over.”
“No, Derrick. I’m just a little rattled.” She shook his hands from hers and went into her studio, grabbing an oversized bag from the walk-in closet. She stuffed a thick yoga mat inside the bag. Not that she needed the mat. She had plenty at her teaching studio. “I’ve got a yoga class in an hour, and I don’t need to see a doctor. I tell you what, come back later, and I’ll help you find the girl.” She’d saved herself from a trip to the hospital. “Besides, if I need to see a doctor, I’ve got you and my father.”
She crammed a towel, brush, hair ties, and CDs into the bag then rushed to her bedroom in search of her hooded sweat jacket, with Derrick on her heels.
“Well, then maybe you should talk to your dad about this.”
My father is the last person I should talk to. He overanalyzes everyone.
She dropped the oversized bag and shoved her hand against her hip. “What are you suggesting? My father treats adolescents with behavioral problems and emotional disorders.”
“I’m not suggesting anything, other than I think you’re stressed out. He’s the doctor of psychology, not me. Obviously, someone was here. The floor is wet. The question is: how did she get out without me seeing her? Something else has me puzzled.”
She yanked her jacket from the hanger and slammed the closet door shut. “What?” She stormed around the room cramming more stuff she didn’t need into the bag.
“That spot on the floor is soaked. If she left through the front door, I’m sure she would have left wet tracks on the carpet on her way out.”
She shrugged. He looked over his shoulder to her studio and then at the sliding glass doors to her balcony. He crouched down and touched the floor. “It’s not wet.” He went back into her studio, playing detective. He wouldn’t let this go.
The questions he’d bombarded her with made logical sense. She rearranged the items she’d tossed into the bag. He was a doctor. Eventually, he’d figure out that she was seeing things. If he hadn’t already. Was he waiting for her to tell him about her visions? Derrick took the bait when she’d mentioned her father, suggesting she talk to him. She wasn’t overstressed. She practiced yoga daily and led a peaceful life. Those kids didn’t affect her the way they did him. She wasn’t out to save the world.
She stopped fidgeting with the bag, conflicted about telling the man she was falling in love with about the visions. She’d never imagined their lives reconnecting. Not that she’d thought about him much in later years, but she did sometimes wonder what had become of the boy who hardly noticed her.
Should she confide in him about Dana? But how could she explain the teleport to Dana’s backyard? Had she really been there or had she only seen him commit suicide? How could she explain to him she believed she’d helped Dana take his life? He and her father would commit her. The eerie mantra from the night Dana died filtered out her thoughts and repeated.
You know what you must do, you know what you must
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