Clueless Psychic

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER 7

I didn't realize I had fallen asleep until the sound of doors shutting woke me. I quickly sat up and adjusted my ponytail just before Liam opened my door. Scooting out of the car, I looked at the front of the building. It would be filled with many humans, some friendly, some not so much.  I figured out years ago that physical contact made everything worse, so avoiding it was crucial. 

My steps were slow on the hot pavement. Mr. Snappy Dresser Liam walked before me, and James took the rear. Did I feel awkward walking into a police station with bodyguards? I sure did, but I'd rather be alive than think of the alternative. Bodyguards aside, I had an overall feeling of blah. Today just sucked. Well, the night before did too. My whole life has either been blah or crappy.

I recall so many times wishing they could fix me. It took me a long time to figure out that nothing was wrong with me. It was the only thing keeping me relatively sane. I mentally shrugged and walked into the door Liam held for me.

Leaving the beautiful pendant in the car was smart since I had to empty my pockets and remove all metal before going through the metal detectors. The boys only had keys to drop into the bowl before they x-rayed our things. After our pre-check-in, we had to check in at the front to see Detective Anderson.

We waited for about five minutes before a deputy sheriff escorted us to Anderson's office. I kept my head down and my eyes forward, leaving the scanning up to the bodyguards. We walked past the ringing of telephones and multiple conversations happening at once. The old building was stuffy but cold, with a distinct smell of stale coffee lingering in the air.

"Glad you could make it, Ms. Garcia," Anderson said, then cleared his throat before adding, "And gentlemen."

I was sticking with my 'don't ask, don't tell' policy regarding my escorts. I would pretend that the elephant in the room was not there.

"Detective. Thank you for seeing me. Our plans were delayed, so I figured I'd come to see you. I hope that's okay," I said, wishing I were at home, curled up in bed.

With hands on his hips, Anderson looked around his cubicle of an office. It had enough seats for two people other than himself.

"I'll stand," James said as he leaned against the wall beside Anderson's desk.

"I'll wait outside the door," Liam said.

It seemed that they had solved our seating arrangement. I took one of the seats in front of Anderson's desk, leaving the chair beside me empty for the sketch artist.

The office was tiny and had a very bland color, like beige, but it was more depressing. I noticed there was nothing personal on Anderson's desk other than a picture of a small child, possibly five years old. Besides that, the room was void of anything that could give me insight into this man.

Anderson lifted the phone from its cradle and punched in some numbers, speaking in a quick, businesslike tone. It made me wonder how he was off duty. Did he laugh? Did he have many friends? Why I wondered about these things was beyond me. He intrigued me for some reason.

"Thank you again for coming, Ms. Garcia." 

"It's Cat," I replied.

"What?" 

"Just call me Cat, Detective," I said, smiling. I heard a cough. James. I looked at him. He patted his chest and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me, I must have a bit of a cold," he said—a cold. Werewolves did not catch colds or any other diseases that I knew.

I looked at Anderson and smiled at him again.

"Feel better," I said flatly. A cold. Ha! Who did he think he was fooling?