Extra Sensory Deception (18 page)

“Me? Why me? I’m a stranger, too.”

“Yes, but you have . . . you know . . .” Stephanie paused, obviously mindful of her cousin’s adverse reaction whenever the Quinn Sense was mentioned.

“Just because I get along with dogs doesn’t mean I want to adopt one,” Clara said firmly. “Besides, can you imagine what my mother would say if I brought a dog that size into the house? She’d have hysterics.”

“Well, you keep saying you’re tired of living with Aunt Jessie and you want to find an apartment.”

“I do, but so far my hunting for one has produced zero opportunities. Besides, an apartment manager is even less likely to view Tatters with a fond eye.”

Stephanie giggled. “Tatters. What a ridiculous name.”

Clara smiled. “Oddly enough, the name suits him.”

“Oh, he sounds adorable. What a shame Rick can’t keep him. I feel so bad for him. I wish—” She broke off, raising her voice to yell at an unseen child. “Michael?
Michael!
What are you doing with that tennis racket?
What?
No! You may
not
use it as a sled. Stay away from the stairs. You hear me?”

Clara held the phone away from her ear, well used to her cousin’s tirades.
Stephanie had three kids, and while Ethan, the eldest, lived in front of his computer and was barely seen or heard, Olivia and Michael spent most of their time seeing who could get into the most trouble.

“Sorry,” Stephanie muttered, when apparently peace was restored. “What was I saying? Oh, yes, about the dog. Surely there’s some way Rick could keep him? Can’t you talk to him? Persuade him to give Tatters a second chance?”

It was time to end the conversation, Clara decided. Her cousin was making her feel guilty, which was ridiculous, of course. She had no good reason to feel guilt over what was Rick’s problem and Rick’s alone.

After she hung up, she poured herself a cup of coffee and tried to relax, but the uncomfortable feeling still gnawed away at her stomach. She kept seeing the dog’s dark brown eyes staring hopefully into hers, his tail slowly swishing back and forth.

There was nothing she could do, she reminded herself. Working full-time in the bookstore and living with her mom were two very good reasons she couldn’t devote her time to training a lovable but totally undisciplined dog. Especially one that was almost as tall as her when standing on his hind legs—no mean feat, since she was five feet ten without her shoes.

Nope, Rick would just have to take care of his own problem. She just hoped he’d decide to keep the dog, so she wouldn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

That night she dreamed a monster dog was chasing her along the beach. Her feet kept sinking in the sand, and the dog was drawing closer as she fought to outrun him. Then, without warning, he vanished.

She turned and saw him struggling in the ocean, being taken out to sea by massive waves. Horrified, she tried to jump into the water, only to be thrown back by the current. She woke up with a start, her heart beating rapidly, as if she’d actually been running.

Annoyed with herself, she threw the tangled covers aside and leapt out of bed. She was beginning to wish she’d never set eyes on Tatters. It was easy enough to interpret her dream. She was still racked with guilt for what felt like her abandonment of the animal.

She’d thought that her years in New York had toughened her up, but here she was, obsessing over a dog she’d known for all of ten minutes.

—

The feeling of anxiety that had bothered her ever since she’d fallen out of bed that morning was now a full-blown feeling of impending disaster. Hoping it wasn’t the Quinn Sense giving her a warning, she shoved open the door and stepped inside the cool, shadowed entrance of the Raven’s Nest.

As Clara walked over to the counter, Stephanie called out to her. Balanced on the rung of a ladder and half-hidden behind a stack of books, she peered out from one of the aisles. “Have you heard the news?”

Clara paused. The sensation was back. She could hear them now—the voices, clamoring in her head. She struggled to banish them. “What news?”

A face popped up from behind the counter, crowned with flyaway red hair. Molly Owens’s bright blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “We’ve been waiting for you to get here. You won’t believe what’s happened. There’s been a murder!”

The voices were immediately silenced, leaving only a cold sick feeling behind. Clara’s lips felt dry as she answered Molly. “Where? Here in Finn’s Harbor?”

Stephanie abandoned her books and hurried over to join her young assistant behind the counter. “We thought you might have heard it on the news.”

Clara shook her head. “I was listening to a CD in my car. Who died? Not anyone we know, I hope.”

Molly was practically jumping up and down. “No one knows who he is. The police found him this morning. Guess where!”

You don’t want to know.
Clara jumped. It was as if someone had spoken the words out loud in her ear. She looked at Stephanie for help.

Her cousin’s face was a picture of discomfort. “I’m sorry, Clara. I know you like him, but . . .” She hesitated, and before Clara could absorb the words, Molly jumped in to finish for her.

“They found the body in the back of Rick Sanders’s truck!”