“Did I really say all this?”
“Yes.”
“I don't remember.”
“I know.”
“This is creepy.”
Kendra laughed.
“Finally.”
“No, seriously.”
Adeline pointed.
“The locket?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“Maybe he put it there.”
“He says he didn't.”
“Maybe someone else did.”
“Maybe.”
Adeline continued reading.
“What if you all remembered things wrong?”
“That is why I wrote them down immediately.”
The teenager stared at her mother.
“You were testing me.”
“I was documenting.”
“That is testing.”
“Yes.”
“Did you think I was crazy?”
Kendra sat across from her.
“No.”
“Did you think you were?”
“Yes.”
Adeline laughed.
Then became serious.
“What do you think happened?”
Kendra had spent nearly a decade preparing for that question.
Still had no answer.
“I think you experienced something.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
“Ghost?”
“Maybe.”
“Reincarnation?”
“I don't think so.”
“Why?”
“You were always you.”
Kendra smiled.
“Painfully.”
Adeline rolled her eyes.
“Psychic?”
“Maybe.”
“Coincidence?”
“Some of it.”
“All?”
Kendra looked at the notebook.
“No.”
Adeline nodded.
That answer mattered.
Not certainty.
Honesty.
Then she asked:
“Do I still do it?”
“Sometimes.”
“What?”
“You know when people need calling.”
Adeline frowned.
“That's not supernatural.”
“Probably not.”
“You notice stuff.”
“Like Grandpa says?”
“Yes.”
Kendra smiled.
“But once in a while you know something you shouldn't.”
Adeline looked uncomfortable.
“Does that scare you?”
“Less now.”
“Why?”
Kendra considered.
“Because you grew up normal.”
The teenager looked offended.
“I am not normal.”
“You are painfully normal.”
“Rude.”
They laughed.
Claire did not appear again for almost four years.
Then everything changed one final time.
Adeline was seventeen.
The biker leader had aged.
His beard had gone almost completely white.
His knees hurt.
He rode less.
The injured biker—now long recovered and remarried—remained active but increasingly preferred shorter trips.
The club held a charity event for children of injured motorcyclists.
Adeline volunteered.
Not because of supernatural history.
Because she had known these men most of her life.
During cleanup, she stopped carrying a box.
Went very still.
Kendra was across the room.
She noticed immediately.
Old instincts.
“Adeline?”
The teenager did not respond.
Kendra approached.
“What?”
Adeline's face had gone pale.
“I can hear her.”
Kendra's heart stopped.
“Claire?”
Adeline nodded.
The leader, nearby, froze.
“What is she saying?”
Kendra raised one hand.
“Don't crowd her.”
Adeline closed her eyes.
Then opened them.
“She says blue truck.”
The leader looked confused.
“What?”
“Blue truck.”
Adeline grabbed her mother's arm.
“We have to go outside.”
Nobody moved fast enough.
Adeline ran.
Kendra followed.
Several bikers followed them into the parking lot.
A blue pickup was backing away.
Adeline pointed.
“That one!”
“What about it?”
“Stop him!”
The leader shouted.
Two riders moved toward the truck.
The driver braked.
Confused.
A young man stepped out.
“What the hell?”