“Cooper said you helped.”
“That’s good to hear.”
Jamie went back to something she’d said. “You profile killers?”
“Mainly, I help people work through problems by understanding their own psychology. Their motivations, their fears. Like that.”
“Is this a session?” Jamie asked.
She laughed. “Well, I guess it could be, but I see it as two old friends getting together who haven’t seen each other in a while.”
Jamie relaxed a little. The tea helped.
Gwen said, “You know, I was just thinking about the night of the Stillwell party, when your sister was babysitting the Ryersons. A lot of people have been affected by what happened. Some in small ways, some in quite large. Emma, for certain, but there’s been a ripple through this town ever since. With certain people you can feel it.”
“Like who?” Gwen didn’t immediately answer her, and Jamie realized she may have stepped into privileged information, so she asked instead, “Are you feeling it with me?”
“I know you’ve been affected.”
Though she’d had no intention of revealing what was in the note, or that she’d been “called” in her dream, Jamie suddenly changed her mind and showed Gwen the note and what both she and Harley had “heard” the night Irene died.
Gwen looked at the note for a long time, then her gaze locked hard on Jamie. “Your daughter received this same message?”
Jamie nodded. “The same night.”
“At the moment of your mother’s death?”
“Well, there’s no way to know that for certain.”
She drew a breath and exhaled slowly. “That’s interesting.”
“Crazy, you mean? Impossible? In the realm of ‘Your imagination is getting the better of you, Jamie’?”
“No. I’ve known of some strange things.”
“Like what?” Jamie challenged.
She shook her head. and the hoops at her ears danced. “You aren’t my first unicorn, Jamie. I had a client with a similar experience. Not as wonderfully pinpointed as yours, but a message from a dying family member nevertheless. Sometimes, in ways we don’t understand, people are able to send out messages to their loved ones when death or great peril is imminent.”
“Yeah? Well . . . it’s creepy,” said Jamie.
“Yes. It is. But you’re so incredibly lucky. I’m very jealous.”
“Oh, yeah. Right.”
“I’m serious.”
Jamie lifted her hands in surrender, then dropped them. “I don’t know why I told you. I’ve kept it between Harley and me until now.”
“Do you think your mother had a message for you, beyond ‘come home’?” she asked.
“No . . . other than she wanted me to take care of Emma.”
“And you are.”
“Yes.” Jamie heard the conviction in her tone and so did Gwen.
“Did you just make that decision?” Gwen asked curiously.
“I think I made it a while ago. I just didn’t know it till now.”
“That’ll make your mother happy.”
“Happy’s not a word I would use to describe my mom,” said Jamie. “Strong. Pro-active. Single-minded. Always sure of the right course of action. And . . . dead, so I don’t know how much she’s feeling right now. . . .”
“I knew your mom. She also loved you and Emma very much. And your daughter.”
“Yes . . .” Jamie’s voice petered out. Although it wasn’t even noon yet, she felt like she’d already put in a full day.
Gwen discreetly checked her watch. “I have an appointment coming. Actually, they’re late. . . .”
“Oh, thanks, Gwen. Really. It was great to see you,” Jamie said hurriedly, rising from her chair. “I’m at Mom’s house, if you want to stop by sometime.”
“I’d like that. I’m at my parents’, too.”
She left Gwen a few moments later, heading into a watery, midday sun. There’d been a wash of rain and the pavement was wet, but Jamie made it to her car. She had a sense of being watched and looked around from inside the Camry. There were several pedestrians on the street, but they were just walking, one on his phone, another climbing into her vehicle.
She drove back to her house, parked the car, and walked into the backyard, looking at the garden. While she stood there, the clouds opened up and rain poured down, soaking Jamie as she ran for the back door.
Letting herself inside, dripping water on the floor, she looked around and thought, for the first time, I’m home.
Jamie Whelan.
I watch her get into her car and, after a few moments of looking around, drive away.
Has she been to my therapist? I don’t like that idea.
I enter the office room full of ferns. I know plants suck up carbon dioxide and provide oxygen, but they feel invasive. I always feel claustrophobic.
Gwen is there, greeting me with a smile, though it looks somewhat forced today. She’s been looking that way more and more.
“You were with Jamie Whelan,” I say. No reason to beat around the bush, if it’s indeed true.
She’s taken aback by my attack. Although Gwen’s good at disguising her feelings, she’s not perfect at it. I can detect the little nuances.
Gwen decides to be honest by saying, “Jamie’s a friend of mine from high school.” Like I don’t know that.
They’re all treacherous, these women. I’ve seen them for what they are. They never give up. They start young, targeting good men and throwing them away . . . stealing them from their wives and children . . . cheating on their own spouses. They feed off men and then throw them away. It’s happened to me before. I won’t let them do it again.
Jamie Whelan looks just like her sister.
I’m almost sorry Emma’s become what she is.
I’d rather she was dead.
Chapter Twelve
“I’m babysitting for Mr. Ryerson Saturday night,” Marissa said to Harley in between classes. “They live about three blocks over from me. You want to join me? I’ll ask him. I’m sure it’d be okay.”
Harley’s gaze was on Greer Douglas and Tyler Stapleton, who were in a serious confab at the other end of the hall. They hadn’t been expelled, despite some hard-ass parents, but they were in some trouble; Harley wasn’t sure how much. The truth was, she had a crush on Tyler.
