So far, getting a dog was working out great.
CHAPTER 2
I arrived at the police station and pulled on my special ID badge. I’d changed my clothes from this morning, going with my black jeans and new ankle boots. I wore a soft, periwinkle blue v-neck shirt topped by a silver necklace and matching earrings. With my blouse tucked into my jeans, I looked pretty hot. Not that I was trying to impress anyone, but I couldn’t help hoping I looked better than my competition.
Since I didn’t want to run into Willow-the-Psychic before my appointment, I took the elevator straight to the third floor. I found the door with Bob Spicer’s name stenciled on the glass and knocked. A thin man with a receding hairline opened the door and smiled. “You must be Shelby. Come on in.”
He motioned me inside and shut the door. “Have a seat,” he said, pointing to a soft, plush chair sitting in front of his desk. “I’m Bob. It’s nice to meet you.” He shook my hand and moved to take his seat behind the desk.
“I’ve been looking over your file. From what I’ve read, you’ve been a huge asset to the police.”
I nodded, listening real close to his mind. I picked up that he was genuinely impressed. I couldn’t tell if he believed in my abilities, but he was willing to go with it since that’s what I believed. Helping me was important to him, especially after what I’d been through. Plus, talking to someone like me could prove to be exciting and completely different from anything he’d ever done before.
“You’ve helped them out with a number of high-profile cases,” he continued, “all because of your psychic ability. I have to say I was skeptical at first, but, after reading through your file, it’s obvious you know what you’re doing.”
“Uh… thanks.” What was I supposed to say? Thanks for believing I’m not nuts?
He smiled, picking up my reticence. “I’m not here to judge your ability. I’m just really glad you came in to see me.” He thought it was a good move to tell me to get counseling, after everything I’d been through. Killing someone was the main reason, but he knew there was probably more to discover.
When had my premonitions started? From what he’d read, I’d claimed it was a recent development. How had I coped with this sudden notoriety? Had my relationships with my family and friends changed? How did my husband feel about it? Had it changed our relationship? Had I tried to hide it from others so people wouldn’t think I was crazy? There were probably issues I dealt with on an ongoing basis that I wasn’t even aware I had.
Yikes. He was right about that, but I didn’t want him concentrating on my psychic ability. I mean… sure it was a part of who I was now, but there had to be more to talk about than that.
“So… how are you doing?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I’m doing okay. I mean… I’ve been better, but I’m managing.”
He nodded, knowing I was evading the question. “Was there something that prompted you to come in to see me today?”
Telling him about the new psychic downstairs didn’t seem like a good idea, so I went with the other reason I was there. “I’ve had some bad dreams lately. And… things tend to upset me more than usual.”
He nodded. “Bad dreams can manifest for many different reasons, but one is because we’re not dealing well with a traumatic experience, or because we have unfinished business. You say you seem more stressed than normal. Why do you think you feel that way?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” He made a go-on gesture, so I figured I’d better keep talking. “I guess it’s because I’ve had a lot on my plate lately. I mean, first I’m working for the police, then I also do work for a… uh… family member.” I swallowed, glad I hadn’t spilled the beans about Uncle Joey, and calling him a family member was almost true.
“Then I have my own consulting agency. Although, I have to say, I haven’t done a lot of that lately, at least not since the stalker. That’s how he got to me in the first place. He was a client… but then he used that to set me up.”
“How did that make you feel?” Bob asked.
“Pretty angry. I mean, how would you feel if some crazy stalker person used you to hurt others, just to make a point?”
He nodded. “I see what you mean. That would be upsetting. What was the point he wanted to make?”
“He wanted me to fail… you know… with my psychic abilities. I think he wanted to prove that I was a fraud.”
“But that didn’t happen, did it?” Bob asked.
“No.” Tension radiated across my shoulders and neck. “But it was close. It put a lot of pressure on me. I mean… he planted a bomb to see if I could stop him. How sick is that? Then… he grabbed me and shot someone who was trying to save me. He would have killed him, and probably me too, if I hadn’t shot him first.”
Bob nodded. “How do you feel about shooting him?”
“I guess I’m angry, but… I don’t feel too bad about it. I mean… I didn’t have a choice. It was him or us, and, to be honest, I’m not freaked out that I pulled the trigger and killed him. Is that normal?”
“It’s good that you don’t blame yourself for his death. He targeted you, not the other way around.” Bob thought that this guy had really done a number
