Did that mean she was a psychic, like he was? Did that mean that she wasconnectedor whatever else one might want to use for strange terminology? Was it her intuition? She would consider that she had a strong intuitive sense. Most cops believed in that much. Did that mean she was supernatural psychic weird? No, it didn’t because she was used to it because that was something that she considered normal in her professional world.
While the coffee hissed behind her, she walked over and stared out the window, still not quite ready to go back in there and to deal with whatever answers and questions would arise. Could he stop it from happening again? What did he need to do to make this go away, and could she have any relationship with somebody who had these episodes? Was there a medical reason? A medical solution?
Could he learn to control it, or would he always be at the whim and the mercy of this?
Questions she’d never thought to even have to ask, yet those questions sat right between them. Part of her wanted to turn and to walk right out of that apartment and never come back. Another part of her was fascinated, intrigued, and terrified. Conflicted, she had no idea how to handle this.
*
A trip tothe bathroom, a cold washcloth to his face, a hard glare into the mirror, telling himself to buck up and to deal with this, and Simon turned and headed out of the bathroom. He wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t come back into the bedroom. When he saw her standing in front of the big living room window, he had to admit to being somewhat surprised that she was still here. “I thought you’d left,” he said, his voice unintentionally harsh.
She slowly turned, looked at him, and said, “A part of me wishes I had.”
He tried to hold back the wince, but, the one thing about Kate was, she was direct, and he really appreciated that. There was a lot to be said for finding out the truth. “Why didn’t you?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t have an answer for you. I don’t know what’s going on. I don’t understand, and I don’t like anything I don’t understand. It’s a scary thought to think that you can connect to people, other people around the world, that you might have information that’s not even possible for anybody to know. It’s not logical. It’s not reasonable. It’s nothing that I’ve ever prided myself on in terms of truth and facts. I said it borders on fiction and so much more of the garbage in life that I’ve heard from other people—particularly my stepfather—that I just don’t even know what to say, and yet the truth is irrefutable when I see you in the middle of something like this.”
“And yet what am I in the middle of?” he asked. “I don’t know how it looks because I’m on the inside.”
“It’s scary as hell,” she snapped. “You’re like completely catatonic. I was this close”—and she held up her fingers pinched together—“to calling an ambulance. Only because you were capable of objecting did I stop. And even then, I had to question my better judgment. What the hell is going on?”
“I’m not sure,” he said, “but I think”—he took a long slow deep breath—“you have to reserve judgment on this.” At that, her eyebrows shot up. He nodded. “I get it. I’ve asked you to suspend belief on a lot of things, and it’s really pushing your buttons.”
“You think?” she said sarcastically. “Tell me what happened, please.”
“I think,” he said, “that I’m connected to a woman. The same woman,” he said, “and I don’t understand why her, but I presume there’s a reason for it. I think she is looking to commit suicide, and I think she’s really torn about it. And I keep getting sent back to the bridge, where she stands, looking down at the water, contemplating her options.”
“And why are you connected to her, or why is she connected to you? Why would whatever, whoever is doing this, care about her, and what the hell are you supposed to do about it? You don’t even know who she is.” She spun and looked at him, her lips tight. “Or did you get an ID?”
“No,” he said, “I sent you the photographs.”
Her mouth opened. “Seriously, is that the woman?”
He stopped, frowned, and said, “I don’t know.”
“Okay, hang on a minute. What do you mean,you don’t know?”
“A part of me says yes, but I haven’t confirmed it,” he said immediately. “And yet I think it’s her.”
“Think?” She stared at him in astonishment. “I can hardly track down this woman on just this. Imagine a public plea for help to identify her and then to find out that it’s not her and, even worse, to have ruined her life by intimating that she might be suicidal.”
“I know. I can only give you what I feel, what I see, when I’m looking out of her eyes,” he said. “I get it, and it’s crazy, and it’s stupid, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it.” She sagged down into the couch and dropped her face into her hands. He walked over, sat down beside her, and said, “On the other hand, I’m really happy that you came.”
“And what the hell does that say about me?” she said, turning to look at him, her face still resting in her hands. “What the hell does it say that I walked into my apartment after my judo session andknewsomething was wrong. I knew something was wrong. I didn’t know what. I first did a search of my place, thinking I might have had an intruder because I had that weird sense of something supremely wrong. Instinct said that I needed to defend myself first and foremost, and then I realized that it wasn’t me. It was you.”
He stared at her in shock.
“And I came racing over here, used my badge to pull authority over your doorman to get up here, to get inside your apartment, and to find you in some sort of catatonic state, completely helpless. What the hell does that say about me?”
He reached over, picked up the one hand that wasn’t supporting her head, brought it to his lips, where he kissed her gently, and whispered, “You won’t like my answer.”
She stared at him, her gaze hard. “And what would that be?”
“That you’re psychic?”
She bolted to her feet and paced around the room.
Obviously not the answer she wanted to hear, and he could understand because it was her inherent disbelief in this whole process that caused her so much trouble. “I don’t know what it is,” he said, “but I’m grateful.”