Precognition? There was no scientific theory for that. There couldn’t be. Which meant that science couldn’t explain something in her life. Which had never happened before in all her forty-seven years.
It was not a comfortable feeling.
It was Friday night and Katherine was on her third glass of wine. Baxter was in his study, playing evening/morning chess with his brother in London while she was quietly examining her sanity on the front deck with a bottle of rosé.
She stared at the phone number she’d written down months ago. What instinct had urged her to save it? It had been such a random call.
Monica Velasquez was a friend of an old college friend, a woman who was by reputation an intelligent, practical small-business owner and mother. She had no history of mystical thought or questionable mental acuity. She was, as her old friend Mark put it, “solid as a rock.”
But Monica had called—clearly for herself, though she used the “asking for a friend” excuse—and asked Katherine her scientific opinion on predicting the future.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible.”
Clearly she’d be eating crow on that statement.
She took a deep breath, another swallow of wine, and called the phone number.
The phone rang long enough that Katherine expected it to go to voice mail.
“This is Monica.”
Katherine had been mentally preparing to leave a message and was taken off-guard. “Mrs. Velasquez?” Was that her voice? She needed to calm down. “Is this Monica Velasquez?”
“Yes. Are you okay?”
Well, that was a loaded question. “I just… I’m not sure how to ask this. I don’t even know if you remember me.”
“Does this have something to do with Russell House? If there’s a guest emergency, I’m not on-site, so you’ll have to call—”
“What’s Russell House? I’m sorry.” Katherine stopped. Took a breath. She was calling a woman she’d only spoken to once months before. She needed to explain.
What was she supposed to say about any of this?
“I do apologize; I’m not making any sense. My name is Professor Katherine Bassi, and I believe I spoke to you around seven months ago about—”
“Precognition.” The voice on the phone switched from confused to surprised. “Yes. Yes, I do remember you. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m…” What was she? “…unsettled. But I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
Katherine refilled her wineglass. Just be honest, Katherine. This woman was honest with you and put herself out there even when you dismissed her. Just be honest.
“I’m calling because something happened very recently, and I don’t understand it, but I remembered our conversation from months ago.” Katherine took a drink and cleared her throat when she drank too fast. “And I am so sorry if I seemed dismissive at the time. I admit, hearing about your… friend’s experiences seemed so out of the realm of scientific possibility that I was probably patronizing. I apologize for that.”
Hopefully that came across better than it sounded in her head.
Monica’s voice was cautious. “Professor Bassi, what happened?”
“Are you the friend, Mrs. Velasquez?” Katherine suspected, but she needed to know. She needed to know if Monica Velasquez could give her answers. “I need to know if you were using a common distancing tactic to—”
“Yes, I’m the friend I was talking about. I experience precognition through dreams.”
Relief. Immediate, unequivocal relief. “Then I need your help. Someone tried to commit a violent crime yesterday. A shooting. It could have been very bad, but it wasn’t. Because… I saw it happen before it happened. And I helped stop it.”
Even as she said the words, the images filled her mind again. Gunshots. Broken glass. Blood sprayed on walls…
“Okay. Katherine, I’m going to get your number and call you back in about five minutes with some friends of mine. Everything is going to be okay, but I have a feeling you’re going to want to talk to all of us.”
What? Why?
Relax. You’ve interrupted the woman’s night. Give her a few minutes. “Thank you. I don’t know what’s happening, but… thanks.”
“Trust me. You are not alone.”
Something tight in Katherine’s chest—something she hadn’t even been aware of—loosened and relaxed.
She wasn’t alone.
* * *
She walked into the kitchen to grab something to eat. She’d had a big lunch, but she’d forgotten to eat dinner. She briefly thought about ordering something in; then she spotted Baxter through the office doorway, gesturing dramatically and speaking quickly in Cantonese with his brother on a screen.
She quickly put together a fruit tray and some cheese and brought them into the office.
“Katherine!” Her brother-in-law, Oliver, waved from the other side of the world. “I told Baxter I thought it was Valentine’s Day in the States and he couldn’t remember. I think it is.”
“Is it?” She looked at Baxter with a frown. “What’s the date?”
“The fourteenth, I think.” His eyes lit up. “Oh! I suppose it is.”
“Happy Valentine’s Day.” She set down the plate of pears and manchego. “I got some pears at the farmers’ market. Is this enough for dinner? I have a call in a few minutes.”
“This is lovely, darling.” He squeezed her hand. “We always forget, don’t we?”
“I know, but then we don’t have to go to crowded restaurants.” She waved at Oliver. “We should set up a family chat this week. I miss the boys.”
“I’ll tell Lily to message you.” Oliver waved back. “Marco and Louis are in ten different directions these days. I have no idea what their social calendar is like.”
“I think that’s normal with teenagers. My sister says the same thing about hers.” Katherine leaned down and kissed Baxter’s cheek just as she felt her phone begin to buzz in her pocket. “Call’s coming through. Enjoy your game.”
She walked back to the kitchen as they continued their conversation. Once there, she grabbed the phone from her pocket and answered it. “Hello?”
“Katherine?”
It was Monica Velasquez again. “Hello. I’m getting something to eat. Do you mind the sound of chewing?” She’d had enough wine that she was feeling a little
