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my new Subaru and nodded. “Nice.”
    “Thanks. I, um, didn’t get coffee, ’cause I figured—”
    “Right, I’ve got a fresh pot right here. Marie made it when she dropped the boys off.” He got up, got mugs, poured, served.
    “How is she doing?”
    He shook his head. “Not good. She looked like hell this morning.”
    “I’m sorry, Mason. Your family’s a mess, and here I am horning in on you with—”
    “It’s good you’re here. I’ve been racking my brain trying to figure out what to do for Marie and the boys, how to help, if it’s normal grieving or if it’s gone beyond that. I was just thinking I’d like to talk to you about it.”
    I nodded, lowered my head and took a bite of my sandwich, which was already cooling and would soon reach that inevitable stage of inedible.
    “But that’s not why you’re here, is it?”
    I lifted my brows at him, slugged a little coffee down to clear my mouth. “What do you mean?”
    “I can see you’ve got something on your mind.”
    How could I have forgotten, even for a minute, that he was every bit as good at reading people as I was? Especially me.
    I lowered my voice. “I had a dream.”
    His eyes widened. “About the case I was telling you about? The missing soccer mom?”
    “I don’t know. But if it was, she’s dead.” I looked toward the living room, then back at him. “I was inside her head, Mason. I was there with her while she was murdered.”
    He looked horrified, then glanced toward the living room just like I had done. “How?”
    “She was paralyzed. Drugged, I think. It was impossible for her to move. And the killer cut into her and ripped something out.”
    He stared at me. “And you felt it? You experienced it like before?”
    I averted my eyes, nodded. I put my hands over my rib cage, poking the soft area where she—I—had been stabbed. “The knife went in here and ripped left, then right. God, the pain was just...” I’d started breathing hard and had to stop myself, rein it in.
    “Dammit, Rachel.” He put his hands on my shoulders. “Are you all right?”
    “Yeah. I’m okay.”
    “I thought you said you weren’t having the dreams anymore, that your brain was startling you awake every time one started?”
    I nodded. “I took a sleeping pill. Figured I had to know what it was my brain didn’t want to let me see. Now I know.”
    He shook his head slowly and started to say something, but his cell phone rang. He picked it up, spoke briefly, but mostly listened. When he put it down again he looked at me. “They found a body.”
    I closed my eyes. “Was it...?”
    “No details, but Rosie said it wasn’t pretty. I have to go.”
    “I’ll stay with the boys.” I blurted it without even thinking first, then realized I was effectively shooting our agreement not to see each other right in the foot. He noticed it, too; I could tell by the way he was looking at me, his eyes all questiony. “I’ve missed those two more than I thought, and Myrtle’s in seventh heaven with Josh. We’ll hang out. Go take care of this. I’ll see you later.”
    “Thanks, Rachel.” He put a hand on my cheek, then took it away, suddenly awkward, like he didn’t know why he’d put it there to begin with. “Thanks.”
    He walked away, into the living room to tell the boys what was up, then up the stairs to grab his things. Then he came back down, shoving his wallet into his back pocket, his shoulder holster over his button-down shirt, gun in easy reach. And I was still sitting there with my half-eaten sandwich and my coffee, wondering how I’d gone from “We should stay apart” to “I’ll spend the day in your house with your nephews, awaiting your return.”
    He came through the kitchen, looked me in the eye, and I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. I ought to say something. Clarify things. Right?
    “I’ll get back as soon as I can.”
    “Do what you need to. I’m not going anywhere.”
    He nodded, like that was enough. For now.