“What do you mean, ‘remind you’?” I said.
“You’re going with me.”
“I’d rather bathe in rubbing alcohol after dancing with a porcupine.”
“That doesn’t sound fun.”
“Neither does being around a jackass that calls me ‘Big City’ all the time.”
She laughed, a rare occurrence for Cassie. It almost looked unnatural. At the same time, it gave her a light, airy look that made her even more attractive.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She regained her mental balance. A moment later, she added, “I know he’s a bit much, but he’s a good cop, Mitch. Once you start working together, you’ll see that.”
“No, I won’t, because there won’t be any working together. They don’t want me there, and I don’t want to get involved. I’ve had enough of these in my day. You know what a case like this can do to you.”
Her hand went to her chest as her gaze drifted toward the ceiling. “I do. You know I do.”
I reached over, wrapped my hand around her wrist. “Sorry, Cassie. I know you feel this as much, if not more than we do.”
“So humor me and stay.” Her gaze intensified. She wasn’t pleading with me as much as allowing me to feel how deeply she wanted me there.
I rose and walked past her. “I don’t think I can.”
“You have to.”
“Why?” I grabbed the top of the trim surrounding the doorway to the hallway, digging my fingertips in as I stretched my shoulders.
“I caught something from the postcard.”
I felt like my stomach dropped into my scrotum and my heart rose into my throat. I tried to speak, but ended up sounding like a baby seal.
“It wasn’t enough for me to pinpoint anything precisely,” she said. “And now, with this other case, and what I’m feeling, I don’t know if I can get it back. At least, not until this is resolved. This case is… How do I put it? Taking over my mind. And I need your help, Mitch. If you help me, the sooner we find this girl, the sooner I can help you locate your son.”
I didn’t know how to react. It felt like she was extorting me, and it pissed me off. But the look in her eyes revealed pain and sorrow and the desire to help me. I felt it deep within my own being. I wondered about the world that surrounded her. The one the rest of us weren’t privy to. Don’t for a minute think I was jealous of her gift. Not for a second. There’s no way I could handle all that contact—whatever it was—and the responsibility that came with it.
I lingered there, my arms stretched out and my head resting against my right bicep. It had to have been years since the last coat of paint was applied to the trim, but it smelled strong. There were traces of dark still visible underneath the white that she, or the previous owner, had used.
Cassie looked away from me. Shallow breaths and a constant drumming of her fingertips against the tabletop indicated she was anxious for an answer. Was there any but the obvious? If I had any chance of finding my boy, I needed Cassie’s help. And time mattered. The sooner she had the case resolved, the sooner she could assist me. The decision was made the moment I decided to fly down to Savannah.
“All right, Cassie. I’ll stay.”
Through the chaos of the detectives’ visit, Robbie’s postcard had remained on the table where Cassie had dropped it. She stared at the writing, her hand shaped like a claw, perched halfway between it and her body.
She glanced up at me. Her eyes misted over. “You know what can happen when I pick that up, right?”
I nodded, slowly, understanding what she meant. “If that’s the case, I need to know. One way or another, I need to know. Every fiber of being in my body tells me my son is alive and waiting for me to show up and take him away from the insanity that is his mother. But if that’s not the case, if something has happened to him, I will hunt her down along with anyone associated with harming him and end them.”
It appeared as though Cassie had to will herself to touch the postcard again. She grabbed it by the corner and pulled it close to her. She didn’t read it. Didn’t have to, I supposed. With her eyes closed, she felt it, ran the tips of her fingers across the front and the back. Her touch was drawn to the spot where he signed his name.
This went on for a solid five minutes. Not a word was spoken. The house took on a life of its own. The vents spewed cold air, speaking in some hushed language that perhaps Cassie understood. Hell, what did I know? I still had trouble believing anything was actually happening when she went into her trance. If it weren’t for the results, I’d have laughed in her face.
“It’s faint, Mitch.”
The sound of her voice lulled me from a false state of serenity.
“I’m getting something,” she said. “But still unsure of what, where, or who.”
I rose from my chair, securing the postcard and stuffing it back in my pocket.
“Then I suppose we should both get a good night’s rest so we can figure out what happened to that girl as soon as possible.”