Dead Certain. Carla Cassidy

the coffee is on me.”

      She was grateful he didn’t try to fight her for it. She was far too tired, far too emotionally fragile to fight over something as inconsequential as a dollar cup of coffee.

      “Thanks for the coffee,” he said as he walked to the door of the shop.

      “Thanks for the information,” she replied. Together they stepped outside, where night had fallen and the surrounding stores had closed up for the night. The night brought with it a terrifying sense of loss as she realized that her mother had been missing for nearly twenty-four hours.

      “Your father…is he doing all right?”

      “He’s hanging in there. He’s a stubborn Irishman with a hard head.”

      He quirked a dark brow upward. “Irish, huh? I would have never guessed. You and your sister and brother don’t look Irish.”

      “My father always teased that Mom wasn’t happy unless she dominated everything, including the gene pool.” She swallowed hard as a wave of emotion swept over her. “It was nice meeting you, Riley,” she said, and held her hand out to him.

      “I wish it had been under different circumstances.” He reached for her hand, but to her surprise instead pulled her into an awkward hug. “I’m so sorry about your family,” he said into her hair. “I hope…I pray that everything turns out okay.” He released her as quickly as he’d hugged her, then murmured a good-night and walked away.

      She stood on the sidewalk, shell-shocked, a bundle of exposed nerves and heightened sensations. It had been a very long time since she’d felt the press of a muscular chest against hers, the warmth of strong arms surrounding her. In the instant that he’d hugged her, she’d smelled him, a distinctly woodsy male scent that was quite appealing. Too appealing.

      She turned and went back into the ice cream parlor. She joined her cousin Alyssa behind the counter where she was making a fresh pot of coffee. Alyssa finished what she was doing then turned and embraced Savannah. “Is there any news?”

      Savannah shook her head. “I spoke with Bree before coming here and there’s no change in Dad’s condition. Clay is trying to get Glen to let him into the house or at least see what the crime scene has gathered so far, but Glen is refusing.”

      Alyssa sank down on a stool. “This is what I saw,” she said softly. “I knew something bad was coming…knew somebody was going to be hurt…but I couldn’t tell who…I couldn’t stop it.” Tears filled her eyes, threatening to spill down her cheeks.

      “Melinda, keep an eye on things, okay?” Savannah asked the young woman who worked for Alyssa. Savannah took Alyssa by the arm and pulled her through the doorway that led to Alyssa’s living quarters.

      She closed the door behind them, shutting off the sounds from the ice cream parlor and led Alyssa to the cream-colored sofa where they sat side by side. She took Alyssa’s hands in hers and squeezed tightly.

      “Alyssa, everyone in the family knows how your visions come to you. We all know that most of the time you can’t figure out exactly what they mean. Nobody blames you for not seeing this coming.”

      “I know that, but it’s just so frustrating,” she replied. She pulled her hands from Savannah’s grasp and used one to push a strand of her long dark hair behind an ear. “Over the past two months, I’ve had a single, recurring vision, and it’s been different from any other one I’ve ever had.”

      Although Savannah had heard this before, she sat patiently and listened, knowing Alyssa needed to talk about it. “What I’ve experienced over the past two months weren’t even real visions,” Alyssa continued, her eyes dark and worried. “There was never a picture…just a feeling of horrible doom, of enormous grief and emptiness. Is there any news on Aunt Rita?”

      “None.”

      Alyssa frowned. “I had a new vision this morning…about Aunt Rita.”

      Savannah leaned toward her cousin, her heartbeat quickening with hope. Maybe Alyssa’s newest vision could provide a clue of some kind as to where Rita was…what had happened to her. “What? What did you see?”

      Alyssa frowned, a delicate furrow appearing across her brow. “It won’t help,” she said as if reading Savannah’s thoughts. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

      “Tell me anyway,” Savannah replied.

      “I saw Aunt Rita in bed. She was sleeping peacefully in her own bed, in her own room.” She sighed in frustration. “I told you it wouldn’t help.”

      Savannah frowned thoughtfully. “Are you sure it was her own bed?”

      “Positive. I saw her beneath the dark-blue floral bedspread that’s on their bed. I saw the Tiffany-style lamp they have on the nightstand. It was her room, Savannah. I told you it wouldn’t help. We both know Aunt Rita isn’t safe and sound and sleeping in her bed at home.”

      Savannah reached for her cousin’s hand once again. From the time they had all been children together, the James siblings had known that their favorite cousin had mysterious visions. The visions were as much a part of Alyssa as her long, dark hair and gentle nature.

      “But you’ll tell me if you have any more visions of her?” Savannah asked.

      “Of course,” Alyssa replied.

      “Even if they seem crazy or unimportant?”

      Alyssa’s lips curved into a half smile. “Even then.”

      “And if you think you see anything that might help find her, you have to promise me you’ll tell Chief Cleberg.”

      The half smile fell into a frown. “Glen Cleberg is like nine-tenths of the people in this town. They all think I’m more than a little crazy.”

      “I know the chief has given you a hard time before when you’ve tried to help, but you’ve got to promise me you’ll tell him if you see anything that might help us find Mom.”

      “I promise,” she agreed. “You know I’ll do whatever I can to help find her. She’s always been like a mother to me.” Tears once again sprang to Alyssa’s eyes, and she and Savannah hugged.

      Alyssa’s mother had died when Alyssa was four, and it had been Rita who had stepped in to fill the empty space in the little girl’s life.

      “Who is Riley Frazier?” Alyssa asked as Savannah stood.

      “A man who had something horrible happen to his parents a couple of years ago. He was offering me his support.”

      “Nice-looking man,” Alyssa said, also rising from the sofa.

      Savannah shrugged. “I guess.” A vision of Riley streaked through her mind. “I’ve got to get going. I want to stop by the hospital on my way home.”

      Alyssa walked with her to the door. “You doing okay?” she asked.

      “I’m holding up,” Savannah replied.

      Alyssa gazed at her with warm affection. “You were always the strong one, Savannah. I’ve always admired your incredible wealth of strength.”

      Alyssa’s words replayed in her head thirty minutes later as she sat by her father’s hospital bed.

      The sight of her father lying there, so pale, so lifeless had shocked her. Thomas James was a big man with an even bigger presence. Now, with his head wrapped in bandages and his mouth hanging slack, hooked up to a variety of monitors and machines and with deep, dark circles beneath his eyes, he looked frighteningly old and fragile.

      Savannah took his hand in hers. Cold…his hand was so cold. Tears welled up in her eyes as she gazed at him. “Daddy,” she said softly. Did he hear her? Could he hear her? “Daddy, you need to wake up.” She squeezed his hand. “We need you…I need you.”

      It was all too much, she thought.