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Though I’m on the other side of the glass from the mist, it’s almost like I can feel the chill settle into my body. In the next second, it has moved on. I watch it ripple down the street and then it’s gone.
That was utterly strange.
Thinking there must be some sort of storm nearby, I climb into bed, turn off the lights, and fall back to sleep.
It feels like I’ve barely been asleep when the sound of the phone ringing wakes me up. I groan, pulling my pillow up over my head to try to hide from whomever is calling me this early in the morning. But the phone keeps ringing and I know I can’t escape it. Besides, the intense sunlight coming in through the window is telling me it’s actually not as early as I thought it was.
Still lying flat on my stomach, I reach over toward the bedside table and feel for the phone. My fingers find the coiled cord and I tug on it to pull the phone receiver from its cradle. Pressing it to my ear, I flip over just enough to be able to speak.
“Hello?”
“Emma? Are you still in bed?” asks Jeffrey Newsom, an investigator I’ve been working with on my current case.
“What time is it?” Igroan.
“Almost nine,” hesays.
I groan again, rubbing my eyes. “I must have forgotten to set the alarm clock. Alright. I’m getting up. I’ll meet you at Pearl’s in half anhour.”
“Twentyminutes.”
I want to tell him not to push it, but I am the one who was supposed to meet him more than an hour ago, so I should probably hold my tongue. Dropping the phone back into place, I get out of bed and try to jostle myself fully awake. I glance at the alarm clock and see the red digital numbers flashing back at me. I sigh. It’s on the fritz again. I’ll have to see if Sam can fix it when he gets home. I’ve tried and it just won’t cooperate with me. I’ve been telling him it’s time to start thinking about a new one, but my husband is devoted to his trusty clock.
Throwing on my clothes, I pull my hair back away from my face and secure it with a clip before putting on enough makeup to look like I’ve joined the world of the living and heading downstairs. Xavier is still sprawled on the floor and Dean is draped across the love seat, both sound asleep. I turn the TV off and press the rewind button on the VCR to get the movie back to the beginning. While it whirs away, I go to my office at the back of the house to gather everything I need for the long day of work ahead of me. I’d have liked to read the morning paper like I typically do, but I just have no time. Jeffrey can catch meup.
I snag my pager from my desk and hook it to one side of my belt and secure my harness to the other. By the time I’m back in the living room, the tape has fully rewound and I eject it, putting it back in the clamshell case and adding it back to the stack sitting on the corner of the table. Xavier opens his eyes with the snap of theplastic.
“Hey,” I whisper. “I’m heading to work. You should go upstairs and get some moresleep.”
“Will you be back later?” heasks.
“Yes. I should be back for dinner. There’s a batch of cinnamon rolls in the refrigerator with a bowl of icing. When you want breakfast, just bake them,” I say. “I’ll bring something home fordinner.”
“Okay,” he says. “Have a good day. Investigate well. Get the badguy.”
He’s already lying back down and his eyes are closed, his voice drifting as he falls back to sleep. I chuckle as I leave, locking the door behind me and running for my car. If the roads are clear and there’s a parking spot available, I might just make it into Pearl’s on time.
Jeffrey is already sitting at a table in the back corner of Pearl’s when I walk through the door, making the bells jingle overhead. The sound triggers a cursory glance in my direction by the waitresses roaming the floor. If I look over at the kitchen I know I’ll see Pearl looking out over the brushed metal shelf of the window.
“Hey, Emma,” one of the waitresses calls out, already back to bussing the table in front of her.
I come in here often enough to no longer warrant much of a greeting. That changes a bit when Sam is with me. As the Sheriff of Sherwood, he inspires some deep-rooted respect. The fact that he’s very easy on the eyes doesn’t hurt when it comes to the ladies working the diner.
“Hey, Sarah,” I say. “I’m just meetingsomeone.”
She gestures over her shoulder in a way I’m sure she intends on meaning something but that is basically just waving in the direction of the entire diner.
“He’s over there. Want somecoffee?”
“That would be great, thanks,” Isay.
Jeffrey is fully engrossed in reading the newspaper spread out over the table in front of him when I approach. He doesn’t even look up but shifts some of the paper closer to him so it’s not hanging over into my lap.
“Morning,” he statesgruffly.
“Anything interesting happening?” Iask.
Sarah comes to the table with my coffee and refills the partially empty mug in front of Jeffrey. He nods his thanks toward her.
