Never Saw It Coming

Eight

What the hell was he to make of this woman?

Wendell Garfield didn’t know what to think. Did Keisha Ceylon really have visions? Her telling of that story about the little girl was pretty convincing, but it wasn’t enough to persuade him she was legit. There was something about her, though, that was hard to dismiss.

And worrisome.

His mind raced through the possibilities. The woman was trying to shake him down, plain and simple. He had a feeling that, even though they hadn’t gotten around to the topic of money, it was just around the corner. What better mark than a husband desperate to find out what had happened to his missing wife? Wouldn’t plenty of people in his position be willing to engage a psychic, a medium, a spiritualist, a paranormal expert-whatever the hell this woman wanted to call herself-even if they believed, at best, there was only a one in a million chance she really knew anything? Isn’t that what someone who truly loved his wife would do?

Or maybe she wasn’t trying to con him. Maybe she really believed she could do what she claimed. It was possible she was here out of a sincere wish to help. It didn’t have to mean she actually had some psychic gift. She could be a well-intentioned nut. Deluded. Her visions could be the product of a twisted, disordered mind.

And then, of course, there was a third possibility: She was the real thing.

Garfield considered that the least likely prospect. But what if, somehow, for reasons he was not yet privy to, she was on to something? Did he want her talking to the police?

Not really.

The smartest course, for now, seemed to be to hear her out. See what she had to say.

Once Keisha was back in the chair, with Garfield sitting across from her, he said, “First of all, let me apologize if I was rude earlier.”

“Not at all. I understand that what I do, the talent I have, is difficult for many people to get their heads around.”

“Yeah, well, I have to admit, I have my doubts. But then again, I very much want to know what’s happened to Ellie. I love her so much. This is just so unlike her, to disappear this way. Totally out of character. And it’s been so hard on Melissa.”

“Is she here?” Keisha asked.

“Not at the moment. She doesn’t live here. She’s been staying the last couple of nights, but went back to her own place this morning. I’m going to pick her up later.”

“She’s not very old to be living on her own,” Keisha said.

“When Melissa was younger, she didn’t care much for observing our rules. So we all agreed it would be a good learning experience for her to try living on her own.”

“I see,” Keisha said. “And when I saw her on the news, it looked to me as though, that she might be-”

“Yes, she’s pregnant.”

Keisha forced a smile. “Isn’t that wonderful.”

Garfield couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. “Yeah, it’s terrific. I don’t really want to talk about Melissa. If you’ve got something to tell me about Ellie, if you’ve got some damn vision you want to share, then let’s get to it.”

“I get the feeling you’re not going to be very receptive to anything I may have to tell you.”

He shook his head. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

“There is another matter we need to talk about first.”

“Here we go.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’ve been waiting for this. What’s it going to cost me, to get a glimpse of this little vision of yours?”

Keisha adopted a look of great patience. “What do you do for a living, Mr. Garfield?”

“I work at Home Depot,” he said.

“They provide you a salary for that?”

“Indeed they do.”

“I bet you have to be very knowledgeable to work there. You have to know about so many things. About paint, and lumber, and plumbing and appliances. All the different kinds of screws and nuts and bolts? Am I right? They don’t pay you just for the work you do. They pay you for what you know. For your experience.”

“Go on.”

“It’s no different with me,” Keisha explained. “This is my livelihood. I have a gift, and I’m offering to use it to help you. But I don’t provide a service without some reward for my knowledge and experience. If you were to hire a private detective to assist you in locating your wife, you wouldn’t expect him to put in his time and use his experience without compensation.”

“Oh, of course not.”

“I’m pleased to hear you say that.”

“And what sort of money are we talking here, Ms. Ceylon?” he asked.

“One thousand dollars,” she said, not being the slightest bit shy about it.

His eyebrows went up. “You’re not serious.”

“I believe the sum is reasonable,” Keisha said.

He thought about it. “I’m not a rich man.”

“I understand,” she said. “I’ve taken that into account.”

“So there’s a sliding scale? You take a look at the house and the kind of cars in the driveway, and if you see a Beemer you jack the price up? What the market will bear and all that?”

She started to get up once again. “I think I’ll just be on my way, Mr. Garfield, if that’s okay with-”

“How about this,” he said. “You give me a hint of what your vision’s all about, a little sneak peek, and if it sounds credible to me, then I’ll give you five hundred dollars. And if the information you have leads to my finding Ellie, I’ll pay you another five hundred.”

She considered his words a moment, then said, “I will tell you about a few of the initial flashes that have come to me. If you wish to hear more, how the images evolved, then I will tell you everything for the full amount of one thousand dollars.”

He let out a long sigh, wondering how this all might look to a third party. His wife is missing, and he’s going back and forth with this woman like he’s buying a new Toyota. But he still didn’t know what her game was, and he was wary, though it didn’t strike him that he had anything to lose by accepting the deal she was proposing.

“Okay,” he said.

“I’m very pleased,” she said. “Not just because we’ve reached a satisfactory arrangement, but because I do very much want to help you.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.”

“Do you have something of your wife’s that I might be able to hold?”

“What for?”

“It helps.”

“I thought you’d already had your vision. I don’t get why you need something of Ellie’s to hold onto.”

“It’s all part of the process. Some of the fuzzier details in my vision may come into sharper focus if I’m in possession of something that belongs to the person, something that’s come into close contact with them.”

“What do you need?”

“An article of clothing would be best.”

“Like, her bathrobe or something?”

Keisha nodded. Garfield sighed, stood, and went upstairs. A moment later he was coming back down the stairs with a pink robe in his hands. It was faded and tattered from years of wear.

“Thank you,” Keisha said, placing the robe in her lap and laying both hands on it. She ran her fingertips over the flannel material and closed her eyes.

Several seconds went by without her saying a word. Finally Garfield interrupted her trance state and said, “You getting bad reception there? You want to go outside or something? Get more bars for your vision?”

Keisha’s eyes flashed open and she looked at him with something bordering on contempt. “Is it all a joke to you, Mr. Garfield? Your wife is gone, you have no idea whether something’s happened to her, and you joke?”

“I’m sorry. Go ahead, do your thing.”

She closed her eyes again, took a few seconds to get back into the mood. “I’m feeling some… tingling.”

“Tingling?”

“It’s a little bit like when the hairs go up on the back of your neck. That’s when I know I’m starting to sense something.”

“What? What are you sensing?”

Keisha opened her eyes. “This was what first came to me, when I started picking up something about Ellie’s predicament. Your wife, she’s…”

“She’s what?”

“She’s cold,” Keisha said. “Your wife is very, very cold.”