Chapter 1
Megan sat up in bed, cold sweat coating her skin, her trembling hands already clutching the telephone. Sure, it was upside down, but that was sort of beside the point. Obviously, her subconscious thought this was it. The big one. Time to do some good. Her eyes were drawn to the television on the far side of the room. She’d fallen asleep with the set still on, and at the moment it was showing a photo of the missing woman, Sarah Dresden, smiling at the camera, obviously unaware what the future held for her. Underneath the photo was a telephone number: Pinedale Police Department’s tip line.
Bringing the receiver closer, she dialed the number. She had never phoned the police department after one of her episodes before. Never.
“PPD Tipline, can you help us?”
Cute, she thought. “I, um ... I need to speak with the chief, please.”
“May I ask who’s calling?”
She didn’t want to answer that. “It’s about the missing woman,” she said instead. “I know where she is.”
“Hold on.” The voice betrayed no emotion, but there had been a brief hesitation before the reply.
A second later, a male voice came on the line. “Chief Skinner speaking.”
“Good,” she said. “Look, I’ve never done anything like this before. But... I think I know where your missing woman is. Sarah Dresden.”
“Uh-huh. And how did you come by your information, Miss...?”
She swallowed hard, gathered up her courage. “I get...visions.” She heard his sigh and realized she’d better talk fast before he hung up on her and filed her call away with all the other cranks he must receive. “Never anything this important. Actually, I’ve always wished...but it doesn’t matter. My visions are always on the money. I swear.”
“Look, lady, I don’t have time for—”
“Sarah is twenty-five, a pretty brunette, a runner—”
“All of that information has been covered by the local news, ma’am.”
“She had a butterfly tattoo on the back of her neck, and was wearing red sneakers with white laces.”
He paused for a moment, then said, “I don’t know if that’s right or not. I’d have to check the reports.”
“Check. I’ll hold.”
“All right.” She heard papers shuffling. “Why don’t you tell me where you think she is, while I look?”
Maybe she had his attention. Maybe he was going to take her seriously now. No one in her life ever had. God, this could be a banner moment for her. If only the information she had to share was more positive. “I had a dream about her last night. She’s not alive, Chief. Her body is in the river, snagged on some rocks underneath the Amstead Road Bridge.”
“Uh-huh.”
She swallowed hard.
“Ma’am?”
“Yes, Chief.”
“It would give you considerably more credibility if you’d give us your name. Caller ID says—”
“Megan Rose,” she said. “I live here in Pinedale, out on Sycamore Street. I own the Celestial Bakery in the village, corner of Silver and Main. And I’d appreciate your discretion about this. I’m not sure how my customers would feel about my calling you like this.”
“I’m not sure that will even be an issue, ma’am.”
“Excuse me?”
“I found the reports on the Dresden woman. She was last seen wearing suede hiking boots, not red sneakers. And there are no unusual markings on her body, no tattoos of any kind. Sorry, ma’am. It was a nice thought, though.”
She felt her jaw drop and her head swirl. What the hell? How could such a vivid dream be so wrong? God, would her so-called gift ever be of any use to anyone? She swallowed hard.
“You have a nice day now, Ms. Rose.”
“Uh, Chief?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
She sighed heavily. “You left your headlights on when you parked your car this morning. You might want to check.”
“I’ll do that.”
Megan hit the cutoff button and set the phone down, then leaned back against her headboard and wiped the sweat from her brow. Damn, damn, damn. She thought she had finally seen something important. Something more than the useless tidbits her visions provided every day of her life. Something big.
No such luck.
The damn dream had started out as the same one she’d been having since she was twelve years old—the one where she saw the handsome man’s face hovering in the mists and heard a voice telling her she was going to break a curse and save his life. Then it had taken a unique turn, and the image had changed to one of the missing woman, first smiling like in the photo on TV, and then lifeless and pale, her hair tangling around her face just below the surface of the Genesee River.
Probably her subconscious had heard the television news report talking about the missing woman. Probably her mind had woven what she heard into her dream, a bad case of wishful thinking. Not wishing the woman was dead, of course, but wishing she could help find her, and finally be believed.
She thought again of the man, the one she was supposed to save from some kind of curse, and she sighed. “Whoever you are, mister,” she said softly, “my feeling is, you’re doomed.”
Sam Sheridan knocked twice before stepping into the chief’s office. “Morning, Chief.”
“Morning, Sam. How’s your mother?”
“Mom sends her love and a slice of apple pie.” Sam set the Tupperware container on his boss’s desk. The older man had been an intimate family friend a lot longer than he’d been Sam’s boss, and old habits died hard. “She says you’re expected for dinner on my birthday, and she won’t take no for an answer.”
The chief smiled, his wrinkles showing more deeply when he did. “You bet your ass I’ll be there. Your old man would come back from beyond and knock me senseless if I missed it.”
Sam nodded, a twinge of sadness twisting his belly, even though it had been twenty-seven years. Ed Skinner turned to the window, absently parting the blinds' slats and looking out over the parking lot below.
“Listen, Sam, I wanted to talk to you about this Dresden case. There’s– Well. I’ll be damned.”
“Chief?” Frowning, Sam moved closer to the window.
“I left my headlights on,” the chief said.
Sam smiled. “Old age creeping up on you, that’s all. I’ll flip ’em off on my way out if you want.”
The chief let the blinds snap back into place, turned to face Sam again. “Where you heading?”
“Questioning some witnesses on the Sarah Dresden case. People who might have seen something in the area along the riverbank where we found the body this morning.”
The chief nodded. “Press hasn’t been notified about the body yet, have they?”
“No, sir. Hell, she’s barely been out of the water an hour.”
“No leaks that you know of?”
“None.”
The chief pursed his lips. “Sam, I’ve got something else I want you to be aware of. Sam lifted his brows. “A woman by the name of Megan Rose, owns a local bakery and knows more about this case than she ought to.”