She sat back. “Why do you say that?”
“I think, when I saw the first nightmare,” he said, “since it seemed to have been such a long time ago, I ignored it. But then I had another one and then another, and each time they came back around, another child had been in the group.”
“If that’s true,” she said, “then whoever this person is has taken four.”
Then he shook his head. “No,” he said, “because it’s quite possible he’s taken a lot more, and I just haven’t connected.”
“Connected?” she pounced. “So you are thinking along psychic terms?”
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not thinking on any terms. I just know these damn nightmares won’t leave me alone, and last night I saw the name Jason. And the child maybe was six, and I can’t give you any more than that.”
“Well, it’s not much,” she said, “but I’ll need your contact details.”
He just stared at her.
“If it does turn out to be something, I obviously have to contact you again,” she said. “Not to mention the fact that every visit here is recorded.”
He swore softly.
“Is that a problem?” she asked. And again she studied him intently. Everybody gave away so much in their body language that they weren’t aware of. But, in his case, no, he kept his cool, even as the small tic in the corner of his jaw pulsed away. She watched it, fascinated, because she never understood if it was a muscular thing or a nervous sign. But, in his case, it was neither.
He was thinking hard. He turned to look at her, nodded, and said, “My name is Simon St. Laurant,” and he went on to add his phone number and address.
“That’s a pretty high-end area for you to live,” she said, staring at the False Creek North address she’d written down.
“Formeto live?”
“For anybody,” she said smoothly. “In other words, it takes money to live there.”
“If you say so,” he said curiously. “Money comes. Money goes,” he added. “I try not to worry about it too much.”
Her pen stopped in the act of writing down his address. “Isn’t it nice that you can say that,” she said. “Most of the world can’t.”
“I’m not most of the world,” he said, once again settling back into that arrogance she’d seen in him when he’d first arrived.
She nodded, stood, and said, “I’ll see you out.”
“Will you check?” he asked abruptly, as they reached the entrance door, where he would walk back out onto the street.
She nodded. “I’ll check.”
He flashed her a brilliant smile that had her stopping still in amazement. “That’s all I can ask,” he said, and he turned and walked out.
Behind her, the Audrey, from the front desk said, “Wow.” In a lowered voice Audrey added, “He’s gorgeous. Did you see the way he moved? Like a panther, so smooth.” She giggled. “And you got to talk to him too.”
Kate said in exasperation, “Well, I had to, obviously.”
“You’re just lucky I’m here to run interference for you,” Audrey said, with a cheeky grin. “In his case, I’m more than happy to. I wonder if he’s married?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care,” Kate said and headed back to her desk. Anything to do with psychics made her back away.Charlatans, the whole lot of them.
But the one thing burning in the back of her mind now—well, other than the mention of her brother, Timmy—was how the hell this Simon guy had heard about Jason, a six-year-old boy who’d been missing for six months and whose emaciated body had just been found.
Chapter 3
Friday Morning
Three days afterSt. Laurant’s statement, Kate still had no answers. But, from the little bit nonpsychic Simon had given her, she did confirm he was talking about Jason Holloworth, who’d gone missing while walking home from school one day. He was supposed to go outside to wait for his mother, who had been late to pick him up, so he decided to start on his own because he was only a few blocks from home.