rather like, “I always wondered if psychics were real and here I am, presented with the idea they’re real, but it’s still a lot to process.”
“So no,” I finished. “They’re not migraines. And if you’d like, I’ll prove it to you. Stiles has always known about them, and so does my Uncle Darling. Stiles can tell you that I knew about the pink lipstick without ever going into the bathroom at Feeney’s…because I saw it in my vision.”
“So the ‘migraine’ you had at the store that night? That was a vision of the crime scene with the pink lipstick in it?”
“Yep,” I acknowledged. “Also, the smell of cigarette smoke. My uncle can confirm I’d told him about what I’d smelled just before he told me he’d smelled it, too.”
He’d sat mostly silent the entire time I told him my story, with the exception of one or two questions, but now he held up a hand. “You don’t have to prove anything to me, Hal. I believe you. Totally.”
“Really?” I cocked my head just before another sneeze came on. “You believe me?” I asked, wiping my watery eyes.
He shrugged, then he smiled. “Why wouldn’t I? I mean, you knew things no one could possibly know about the crime scenes. But that does bring up a question. Did you see stuff the last time we fished around a murder—when Lance Hilroy was murdered?”
I gave him a guilty look and sighed. “Yes. I did. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wanted to, but it takes a lot of trust… It’s why I’ve never told anyone here in Marshmallow Hollow—because my mother and my grandmother were sure I’d be branded a nut, and they were afraid I’d become an outcast.”
His eyes held realization. “Is that what that Hessy Newman was screeching about at the bakery?”
That was a whole other ball of wax. I shrugged. “Sort of. She’s definitely put me in the nut category a time or two.”
“Then complete honesty, I think your mother and grandmother were right, even though I still think you’re a little nutty. It’s not because you have visions,” he teased, reaching across the dining room table for my hand and giving it a squeeze. “I don’t care, Hal. It’s what makes you Halliday Valentine. That’s all I need to know.”
My stomach did a little hop, skip and a jump. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, but I didn’t want to dwell. I am who I am, and who I am has visions—among other things.
I braced my hand on my chin. “So I guess you want to know what happened in the barn?”
Hobbs grinned and nodded. “Does the pope wear a funny hat? Does it rain in the rain forest? Do birds fly? Do they poop on your car—”
“Okay, okay,” I said with a laugh.
But he held up his hand again. “Only if you want to tell me, Hal. I don’t want to pressure you. I was more concerned for your health than anything else.”
I snickered. “Not telling you might give me an advantage and leave you firing on one cylinder, Cagney. We can’t have that if we’re partners, can we? I’ll tell you all about it, but first, let me get some coffee. You want some?”
“I reiterate, does the pope wear a funny hat?”
I pushed off from the table. “Coffee it is. Would you check the fire in the fireplace?”
As Hobbs stoked the fire and I grabbed us some coffee from the coffee bar and fed Phil—who was as grouchy as ever when I plopped an unwanted kiss on his head, where he slept atop his cat tree—I told him about what happened with Uncle Monty and my latest vision and that I’d been up since long before dawn.
He sat silent for a moment before he said, “So, the guy had a dark hoodie on and he was in the car with her? What kind of car? Do you know?”
“I have no idea. Maybe it wasn’t so much a car as it was the idea of a car? In a vision, I see things pretty clearly, but everything was rushing past me fast. That’s what made me think car. Plus, there was music. ‘Do You Hear What I Hear’ was playing, so I assumed it was on a radio. But maybe they were on a train?”
Hobbs took a sip of the coffee I set before him. “You said he was kissing her fingers, right? I thought Kerry’s parents claimed she didn’t have a boyfriend? Why would