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“I was right ninety percent of the time.”
“You just better hope that Tommy Barnett’s not part of the ten percent.”
She’d expect something like that from him—seeing only what was right in front of his nose. Tangible. “For my job, yes,” she said. “But it would sure be better for Tommy if he was.”
She had to call Susan. Ninety percent. She couldn’t believe it. She wasn’t crazy. Or insane. She wasn’t kidding herself.
Of course, her friend would just say “I told you so.”
And she couldn’t wait to hear the words.
She glanced up at Mark again. Surely now that he had the numbers in front of him, he’d see that she was for real.
Ninety percent. What a relief. What a gift.
What a frightening, horrible thing. Kelsey’s solemn face swam before her eyes. The little girl knew she was going to be hurt. Badly. She was confused, scared, alone.
But it wasn’t too late. She was still safe.
“Where’d you go?” Mark asked, calling her attention back to him. His brows were drawn as he studied her.
“Nowhere.”
“What were you thinking about just then?”
He’d seen the figures. Maybe the timing wasn’t a mistake. Maybe now that he knew she was for real, he’d listen. Maybe they could help Kelsey before it was too late.
“I’m not sure I should tell you.”
His frown deepened. “Why not?”
“Because you don’t want to hear.” Do you? Are you ready to start trusting something besides what you can see and touch? Would you be willing to try, for Kelsey’s sake?
“Tell me anyway,” he said, leaning forward with his hands crossed on top of his desk. “You could be wrong and I do want to hear. There’s always that ten percent.”
He was playing with her. He thought this was about them. She wasn’t sure of that, but figured it was a good guess.
“I’m serious, Mark.”
“So am I.”
“I think Kelsey’s in trouble.”
The words dropped baldly into the after-school quiet.
“You think it?” His gaze was sharp.
“I know it.”
He turned his chair a couple of inches until he was facing the computer more than her. “You were right, I don’t want to hear it.”
Meredith swallowed. Took a deep breath and made a quick appeal for the appropriate words. She’d come this far; she had to try.
“Mark, please don’t shut me out. Not yet.”
Punching a key on his computer he said nothing.
“I’ve had feelings for a while that she was struggling. But they’d come and go, and there was so much else getting in the way. Susan. You. The Barnett thing.” She was talking too fast, but wasn’t sure how much longer he’d sit there.
