Leo nods. “She is wondering just that.”
“So you can read her mind so easily?” I muse. I’m not exactly sure how easy it is for Leo to read anyone’s mind, but it seems unfair that he can single out her thoughts at such a distance.
“I can,” he says with a touch of sadness. “For some reason, I can pick up on Emmie from twice this far. I guess we’re just that in tune.”
“Correction,” I say. “You’re just that in tune.”
A dull chuckle streams from him. “How about dinner tonight? The four of us. We can tell her then.”
“Too formal. Besides, she won’t be able to eat, or digest properly after we fill her in on a whole new level of terror.”
“Okay, how about we do a little bonfire out on the sand?” he counters. “I’ll bring the blankets, the chairs, all the makings for s’mores. We’ll bring our pets, you bring yours. We’ll have fun. The four of us—we’re practically a family, Bizzy. And families shouldn’t hold secrets like this.”
Sherlock Bones and Sprinkles bark and whimper all at once.
Sherlock barks the loudest. Oh please, Bizzy! Can we? Jasper always gives me a bite of his hot dogs at a bonfire, and I know he’ll do the same for Sprinkles. And Cinnamon and Gatsby will be there. They have to meet Sprinkles.
Great. More dogs. Fish groans and closes her eyes, doing her best to take a nap. I’d ask to be left home alone, but I can’t chance that doll showing up again. Don’t have children, Bizzy. Their toys are terrifying.
I look over to Emmie and watch as she shares a warm laugh with Georgie—Georgie who already knows my secret. But Emmie isn’t Georgie. She’s going to be disappointed in me for withholding something so big for so long. She’ll be terrified of me. And speaking of terrifying things, I can’t help but notice that Georgie is right back to schlepping around that haunted doll. She’s hoisted her onto her hip as if she were a toddler, and she’s picking up gourds and showing them to Annabeth as if she expects the doll to talk back to her. And knowing that doll, she just might.
“How about this,” I say as I meet up with Leo’s dark eyes once again. “Yes to the bonfire. But as far as telling Emmie about our telesensual abilities, we play it by ear. If it feels right, we go with it. If it feels forced, we pull back and try again some other time. It’s going to happen, Leo. I already know that. But the last thing I want is for this to go sideways.”
A knot builds in my stomach because at the moment I don’t foresee another direction.
“Sounds perfect.” His entire countenance lights up. “It won’t go sideways, I promise.” He pulls me in for a quick embrace. “We’ll see you at the cove at seven. How does that sound?”
“Like a whole new frightmare.” I’m only partially teasing.
“I need to take off, but I’ll let Emmie know about the bonfire. I’ll make sure things go smoothly between the two of you, Bizzy. I’m not looking to wreck your friendship.”
He takes off, and I decide to give him a minute before I head that way myself.
“Things are going to go sideways,” I say as I plant a kiss on Fish’s furry head. “Doesn’t he recognize a pattern when he sees one? This whole month is going sideways.”
Fish stretches her paws high up over my chest and mewls. You don’t think the killer will strike again, do you?
Sherlock barks. Fish is only asking because she’s afraid she’ll be next. Don’t worry, Fish. I won’t let that happen.
Sprinkles barks and dances in a circle. If the killer did get anywhere near us, I’d bite their ankles.
“You’re a little sweetheart,” I say, picking up the tiny darling. “Guess what? I’m headed out to speak to Raven today. I’ll ask to see if any of her friends are interested in adopting you.” Jasper said he spoke to Blair’s parents, both of which live out of state—and separate states at that. Neither of them was interested. And Blair had no siblings, so there’s that. “Do you like any of her friends?”
Sprinkles whimpers. Not in particular. They were always so gruff with one another. And I’ve seen them point fingers at Blair when she turned her back.
I’m guessing it was a specific finger they were pointing. I get the feeling not a lot of people got along with Blair.
A thought hits me. “Hey, Sprinkles? Did Blair ever mention anyone named Dr. Feel Good around you?” If the killer is a man, I’m afraid he’s my only viable suspect in that arena.
Dr. Feel Good? she chirps. Oh yes. Blair mentioned him all the time. She was forever asking me if Dr. Feel Good would love this dress or that. Or which shoes she should wear to meet up with him. She talked about him incessantly to the point of nausea. It was too much of a focus on one person. Her time would have been better spent focusing on me.
“I agree with you there.” A tiny laugh escapes me. “Sprinkles, do you know his real name? Or can you describe him to me?” That man in the tan trench coat comes to mind—the one I bumped into as soon as I stepped into the inn the night of the murder. The same man I saw shaking Blair then slipping cash into her hands—the same cash that was scattered all around her when I found her body as well. I distinctly remember he had a dark beard and commanding light eyes. If Sprinkles describes Dr. Feel Good that way, I’ll know exactly who to look
