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“No, no! You should have. I’m glad you did. The news was on anyway and I was going to see it. God, how awful.” Elizabeth shuddered again as in her mind’s eye, she pictured the burned wreckage that had appeared on the television screen. “So, it was good that I had someone to talk to.” With her free hand, she started to pull the door closed behind Jade when she felt that chill again, the all-to-familiar sensation that raised the hairs on the back of her neck, the feeling that someone, somewhere in the dark night, was observing her. Her throat went dry as she closed the door and herded her friend into the living room. “You really don’t want some?”
“No. Seriously. I’m good.” Jade eyed her. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes. No.” Elizabeth lifted a shoulder and shook her head. “It’s all too weird. I just”—she glanced around the room as if expecting to find an answer that didn’t exist—“don’t know what the hell’s going on.”
“Sit down.” Jade took the cup from Elizabeth’s fingers, set it on one of the magazines fanned across the coffee table, and guided Elizabeth to the couch. Sitting down next to her friend, Jade said, “First, let me say this isn’t your fault. None of it is. That’s not how the world works.”
“How do you know?” Elizabeth asked on a short laugh.
“It just doesn’t. I don’t know how you knew about Little Nate, but you saved him. That’s all that mattered. You saved him. That’s who you are. You’re not causing people to be hurt . . . or anything else.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. Tried to pull herself together. The truth was, she’d told Jade too much about herself already. Of all of Elizabeth’s friends, Jade was the only one who knew about her strange ability to sometimes see things that were going to happen a second or two or a few minutes before they occurred.
All of her life, or at least for as long as she could remember, Elizabeth had told herself it was intuition. Some form of primal communication that arose when she was near a coming disaster. Nothing all that spectacular. No ESP or anything remotely psychic. God, no.
But...
Dark memories assailed her, one in particular.
“The bridge is falling!” She was a young girl, screaming those words. Fear engulfed her. She had a vision of cement decking buckling, girders twisting, the groan of metal as it was wrenched from its anchors.
It was all so vivid.
“Elizabeth?” Jade asked, snapping her back to the here and now. Jade’s face was contorted in worry.
“I’m okay,” she said.
“You’re pale as death.”
“It’s nothing. Just something I remembered from when I was a kid.” Sighing, she said, “Look”—she reached out a hand and clasped her friend’s, squeezing tightly—“I know what happened to GoodGuy is not my fault. I mean, I was nowhere near the gym. But . . . it’s all so . . . shocking . . . so terrible. . . .”
“I know.” Jade linked her fingers with Elizabeth’s.
“I’m okay.”
“You say that—”
“No. I am.” Elizabeth was firm. She meant it. The darkness in her mind had receded and she was in control again. At least more in control. “Jade, I love you for coming by, but I’m okay. Truly.” She noticed her friend rubbing the side of her abdomen again. “Go home and take care of yourself and Little Nate and Byron. I’m perfectly fine.”
“You’re sure? You do look a little better,” Jade said, still uncertain as she critically examined Elizabeth’s face.
“I’m sure.”
It took a bit more convincing, but Jade finally headed for the door. Once outside, she took a final glance over her shoulder, a line of worry furrowing her brows as if she were concerned that she’d been given the bum’s rush.
“Bye,” Elizabeth called after her. “Thanks.”
“Anytime.” Jade waved.
Elizabeth waved back, watching her friend climb into her car and drive away, taillights glowing in the night. The air was fresh. Damp from the recent rain. She gazed up and down the street, searching the shadows, but saw no one.
Once Jade’s car disappeared around the corner, Elizabeth closed and locked the door and rested her forehead against the inner panels, her thoughts turning to GoodGuy again. It is my fault, she thought, now that she was alone. If he dies, it is my fault.
Snapping off the lights, she tried to dissuade herself of the notion that she was to blame but couldn’t. Feeling light-headed and weird, she went to bed. She hadn’t wanted to lie to Jade, but she needed time to process everything that had happened.
In the morning she turned on the news again and learned the top story was the horrific death of a man at Fitness Now!; a member by the name of Channing Renfro. A man had been seen near the vehicle minutes before it exploded into flames, and the police were calling him a person of interest.
In the passenger seat of Rex Kingston’s car, Ravinia tugged on the hem of the short black dress and wriggled her toes in shoes that felt a size too small though the woman in the shoe shop had haughtily told her that they were Italian leather and fit like a caress.
