“Maybe,” Toni muttered. “Thanks, I guess?”
“And others” —Katherine looked at Toni, then at Megan— “might assume that someone with a Southern accent conforms to the negative stereotypes about Southerners promoted by mainstream American culture without recognizing that really, all people have accents that are mostly an accident of geography.”
All three of them were staring at her, so Katherine just kept speaking. “In fact, people have multiple accents they use in different situations, all of which have nothing to do with intelligence. I imagine Detective Bisset’s voice sounds very different when he’s interrogating a suspect versus when he’s speaking to his daughter.”
“Depends on how clean her room is,” he muttered.
“I hadn’t thought about that ’cause it’s what we’re used to hearing on the television and in movies,” Megan said. “But y’all have California accents. They’re kind of… flat. Sorry if that sounds rude.”
“No offense taken,” Katherine said. “My husband has a very unique accent since he was born and raised in Hong Kong but educated in England. He also speaks four languages, so that’s changed his accent over time.” She smiled a little. “I was born and raised in San Francisco, so I think my accent is—like you said—very flat.”
Megan was staring at her intently. “You are such an interesting person. I think I could listen to you talk about anything.”
Katherine smiled. “You’d probably disagree if you took one of my classes.”
“I don’t think so,” Megan continued. “I’m not sure I’d understand all of it, but I bet it would be interesting.”
Detective Bisset cleared his throat. “Ladies, I hate to interrupt, but we really need to continue with the interviews. Toni, I know you’ve been here a while, but do you mind—”
“I’m cool, Drew.” Toni had already turned her attention back to the television. “I told the guys I’d be busy today.”
Katherine held her hand out to Megan. “Good luck, Megan. I hope you feel more welcome in Moonstone Cove soon. After all, you’re a local hero now.”
Megan shook her hand vigorously. “It was so nice meeting you. And… um.” She glanced at the detective. “You’ve got a great tackle.”
“Thanks.”
Katherine suspected that Megan wanted to talk more about the odd statement she’d blurted out about the gun leaping into her hand, but not in front of a police detective.
“It was very nice to meet you both.” Katherine nodded at Toni, smiled at Megan, then walked toward the door. “Maybe I’ll see you around town.”
Toni nodded. “Nice to meet you too.”
“Same.” Megan obviously wanted to say more. “Hopefully I’ll see you.”
Katherine walked away from the break room with a more settled feeling in her stomach. The detective had obviously believed her, and as for Megan and Toni?
Whatever strange event they’d shared, it was more than likely she’d never see them again. After all, Moonstone Cove wasn’t that small.
Chapter 5
Katherine ran through the events of the day before while she sat on her front porch and watched the sunset.
A gun that jumped into a person’s hand.
A man who had to have an extreme amount of adrenaline coursing through his system suddenly going limp at the sound of a small woman’s voice.
Telekinesis, telepathy, even ghosts. All of them could exist in theory. She knew science didn’t have an answer yet, but she strongly believed that at some point, a logical explanation would be found for all those traits, likely as evolutionary relics of the nervous system that modern humanity had little use for.
Megan could be a telekinetic whose skill was triggered by an extreme fear for her life.
Toni could be an empath, though Katherine suspected the woman would dislike even the idea of influencing anyone with her emotions.
But emotions were chemical reactions in the brain. Telekinesis was the manipulation of energy and magnetic fields. All those things could theoretically be accounted for by science.
Nothing could account for the screams she’d heard in her mind. The blood she’d seen. The scent of gunpowder in the air.
“What do you think about visions?”
“Visions? As in precognition?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, I don’t think that’s possible.”
As Megan so eloquently put it, Katherine didn’t know what to think about that. And not knowing how to classify something put her on edge.
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.