How can an old lady just vanish in her own hometown? And why? Police ask a reclusive psychic and her reformed young assistant to unearth clues through visions and investigation. They must ask themselves what in the woman's past needed silencing...
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As DeeDee dragged herself up through the last remnants of sleep, she saw Nora. Nora sat in a dim room. Lamplight behind her left shoulder. She was settled in an overstuffed, dark chair. A ragged shawl over her shoulders. Her unruly hair looked like a halo and her eyes were on fire as she whispered something to the child on her lap. That child.Boy or girl, DeeDee asked herself yet again. The child giggled. Nora's face glowed with affection. The child grasped her face and planted a solid kiss on her wrinkled cheek. Nora's head flung back and she laughed.
DeeDee couldn't pull back. She wanted to examine more of the room – the building, despite being captivated by the scene. She stiffened her neck and tugged her head back. Her eyes fluttered open to...her own bedroom.
"Damn," she hissed, reviewing the vision in the creeping morning light.
She let her annoyance slide and her eyelids drop as she tried to replay the image with its saturated details. Reaching for something on her night table to write on, she rolled forward on her ample derriere. Her hand came back with her last birthday card. The one that played you are my sunshine when she opened it. On the back, she scribbled: small windows with grids, bungalow because the eaves must overhang widely to create such a shaded interior, possibly surrounded by mature trees. DeeDee's mind raced through speculations. She thought of those tiny post-World War II houses on the one-way streets in the center of town. Yes, yes, she thought. Probably with narrow hardwood flooring and plaster walls.
Clarence gave the bedroom door a sharp rap and poked his head in. A serious frown creased his face.
"Ah...my face isn't ready yet, love," she said and her husband withdrew mumbling something about tea. Setting the list aside, DeeDee tottered off to the bathroom while attempting to glean information from the small scene. What was there about that child? The ragged hair? Tiny heart-shaped face? Chubby hands on Nora's pale cheeks? The chin lifting up...eyes meeting Nora's. Hair sweeping back over bird-like shoulders. A subtle glimmer. Golden sparkle. Earrings! They were indeed looking for a young girl.
DeeDee splashed water on her face. She reached for a towel to dab. Ah, it's all about the archeology, she sighed to herself as she made her way back to the bed. To her makeup tray containing the means to camouflage the bone-tiredness that she carried these days. She worked quickly. Clarence would beckon her to the sunroom at any moment. A sweep of taupe. A hint of rose. The dewy touch of pale mauve and she slid into her silvery bed jacket and amethyst slippers.
"Soup's on," called Clarence's voice from the kitchen as she sauntered down the long hall to the far end of their home.
East light illuminated the room with a golden glow. DeeDee sat at the glass table. Clarence poured. Scones were warm and flaky. Strawberry preserves cloying and sweet.
"That child I saw is a young lady," said DeeDee, chest puffing.
"I see you've made progress. Age?" He raised his eyebrows just enough to keep the conversation going.
