Out of Mind

Willow met his eyes and took a very deep breath at the same time. “Why didn’t you answer me?”

“Did you signal, Willow?”

“Signal?”

“Do you see how many people are around here? They’re all talking, and Marley’s putting in comments, to say nothing of Sykes. I know you can’t see him, but—”

“I did see him in the kitchen earlier when Marley told him to show himself to me, and he talked to me,” she said, sounding defensive and embarrassed at the same time.

“But you started a telepathic conversation with me?”

“I don’t know what I did—just the same as before, I guess. You and I have been talking like that more and more. The first day you got back from Kauai you were in the shop when I got there, and I heard you talk to me in my mind.”

“I signaled first,” he said, realizing she might not understand what he meant. “I signaled but you pretended not to hear.” He didn’t want to make this difficult for her. “Of course. Whatever happened when you just tried to reach me was a misunderstanding. I didn’t hear you, Willow. It’s all about concentrating on the mind you’re looking for. Then there’s confirmation that you’ve been recognized, and you enter—if everything’s okay. It happens almost instantaneously. We just need more practice together.”

“Of course.”

He saw her decide to let the topic go. Okay for now, but they would have to straighten these things out. “What’s the deal over Nat asking Vanity some questions? He told me he wanted to ask you a few more, too—that’s why I came.” Careful. “He mentioned it and I wanted to be here with you.”

“How do you know Vanity?” she said.

“I met her right here after Chloe died. That was it.”

“Of course.” Willow gave a short nod. “And Gray—why is he here? It feels like a special operations force came to take us all down.”

“C’mon.” He squeezed her, and they both closed their eyes a moment. “Gray’s here because Marley’s with you, and he doesn’t like her too far out of his sight. That’s something I share with him—we can be a bit possessive with the women we—With our women.”

Her glance said she knew what he’d almost said. He’d like her to look more pleased about it.

“Do you know what an energy sentient is?” Willow asked.

He made the subject switch fast. “Yeah. Someone who feels energy others don’t—and some of them—”

“Translate what the energy is and what it means and why someone has it. Marley thinks that’s what I am. One of those. She thinks I have it strongly. If I do, what was I picking up on last night when I saw that horrible thing going after her?”

Ben looked at the others, who were clearly not having a happy conversation. “Did Marley make a suggestion about it?”

Willow hesitated. “I didn’t exactly tell her the whole thing.”

“What did you leave out?”

“That it was her I saw.”

He screwed up his eyes. “Any reason for not telling her that you want to share?”

“I didn’t want to frighten her. Visual premonitions, energy sentience, it’s feeling real to me and scares me—a lot. Maybe it wasn’t Marley I saw. Maybe it was me. It was me when I went outside from the room upstairs after Chloe died. Remember?”

His tightened grip made her gasp. “Don’t you know who you saw at Sykes’s place? You said you did.”

She shook her head, no. “I don’t, not for sure.”

Ben didn’t believe her, but he also didn’t blame her for wanting to shield her sister. “Okay. That episode could have been brought on by stress, too. Let’s see what Nat and Bucky need from you. Probably nothing much.”

“I think it’s going to make me mad,” she said. “Even madder.”

“Willow,” Nat said when Ben walked her back. “I’d like you to stand by, please. I’ll get to you as soon as I can.”

“I’m going to be around, Nat, but not standing anywhere for long. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re trying to arrange a memorial here.”

“Bad timing,” he said. “And inappropriate.”

“Damn you,” Vanity said. “I cleared this with your people, and they said you’d all be out of here today.”

“I don’t think they did,” Nat said. “Are you sure you weren’t told they’d be clear by tomorrow—we hope?”

Vanity spun toward Val. “We’re working around them until they’re gone. And we didn’t ask for an opinion about what we choose to do. Did we, Val?”

“No.” He rubbed her back. “Please stay calm. Does this have to be done now, Detective?”

“Sir, your wife died under very unusual circumstances last night. This is all perfectly normal procedure. We’ll take as little time as we can.”

This was awful, Willow thought. They were trying to make a case against Vanity. “Vanity couldn’t have done it.” She heard her own words, explosive, and the silence that followed. “She couldn’t.”

They all stared at her.

“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you’re up to, Nat. You’ve got to have someone to pin these deaths on, and you’ve got some crazy idea about Vanity.”

Ben reached for her, but she shrugged away. She didn’t feel too steady on her feet, but she did feel plenty mad. “What’s that nasty man’s name? Molyneux. The chief of police. He wasn’t nice to Marley when she had so much trouble. And then—after all that and everything Gray and Marley did to solve the crime for the cops—they lost the people they caught!”

“Who told you that?” Nat said sharply, his eyes narrowed and furious.

Who had told her? “I…I just know,” she said. Someone had told her. She frowned at Nat. There was something she was almost remembering. Had Nat told her himself?

“Ben?” Nat stared hard at Ben.

“You don’t speak to her like that,” Ben said. “I don’t know what you’re suggesting, but I don’t like it.”

Vanity leaned against the wall. All color had drained from her face. “Me?” she whispered. “You think I… You think I killed Chloe?”

“I did not say that, ma’am,” Nat said, glaring at Willow.

An officer near the stairs cleared his throat and said, “You might want to know the chief’s been on TV again, sir. I hear he just got off. He commented about a possible new suspect.”

“Shit,” Bucky Fist said with feeling. “Molyneux held another press conference? That bastard’s tongue needs to be cut out.” He cleared his throat and the expression from his face. “You want me to check with the chief before we carry on, Nat?”

If Bucky’s face showed little emotion, Nat’s had taken on the clear unconcern of a choirboy. “That won’t be necessary. This is all in a day’s work.”

“We’ll call off the celebration,” Val said. He held Vanity’s hand. “It can be done when all this nastiness is cleared away.”

“It never will be if we don’t go ahead now,” Vanity said, her voice rising. “The invitations are out and we’re going ahead. We owe this to Chloe.”

Willow moved closer to Ben again. “This is out of control,” she said quietly.

“You’ve got that right,” he said. “Best to stay quiet and let them work it out.”

“Vanity,” Willow said, looking only at her friend. “You shouldn’t talk to any of these people. Not at all.”

Ben muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

From behind them, Willow heard the kitchen door open and turned to see the Potted Ladies sliding buckets of red roses over the tiles with the aid of a cloth runner.

“Not now, please,” Willow said.

“Good,” Vanity said at the top of her voice. “Wonderful. You’re every bit as versatile as Willow says you are. Put them here in the foyer, ladies.”

Preston Moriarty, who had appeared comatose, stepped forward and helped with the flowers. Willow didn’t