She did not believe in reincarnation.
Ghosts.
Messages from beyond.
At least she had never thought she did.
She believed in traffic lights and mortgage statements and antibiotics.
She believed memories could play tricks.
Coincidences happened.
Children invented stories.
People unconsciously fed them information.
There had to be an explanation.
But none presented itself.
Her phone rang at 12:17.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Kendra?”
A male voice.
“Yes?”
“This is the biker you met today—the one with Claire’s brother.”
She became tense.
“How did you get my number?”
“The deputy passed it to the hospital after you were listed as the person who found him. The injured rider asked whether you could be contacted.”
“He’s awake?”
“Yes.”
Relief came first.
Then fear.
“Is he okay?”
“Broken collarbone. Three cracked ribs. Concussion. Leg fracture. Doctors say he got lucky.”
Kendra sat.
“Good.”
There was a pause.
“He wants to see your daughter.”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
“I understand.”
“I don’t think you do.”
“Probably not.”
Kendra looked toward the staircase.
“She’s six.”
“I know.”
“You all surrounded her asking questions.”
“I know.”
“She is not some kind of… medium.”
“I didn’t say she was.”
“What do you want from her?”
The man's voice softened.
“Nothing.”
Kendra remained silent.
“He asked to see the little girl who found him. That’s all.”
“Why?”
A long pause.
“Because he says Claire sent her.”
Kendra closed her eyes.
“No.”
“He was unconscious.”
“People with concussions say strange things.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you telling me this?”
“Because he said something before the paramedics sedated him.”
“What?”
The biker hesitated.
“He said he woke up at the bottom of the hill before you reached him.”
Kendra looked toward the dark kitchen window.
“He remembers hearing a woman.”
No.
“She told him not to move.”
Kendra said nothing.
“She told him help was coming.”
Still nothing.
“And she told him, ‘Look for the princess.’”
Kendra’s grip tightened around the phone.
The biker continued.
“He never saw your daughter on the road.”
Kendra swallowed.
“She was wearing a tiara.”
“I know.”
“How would he know?”
“That’s why I called.”
Silence stretched.
Then Kendra asked:
“What happened to Claire?”
The biker leader did not answer immediately.
“You read about it.”
“How do you know?”
“Everybody does after something like today.”
“Yes.”
“The articles don’t tell everything.”
“What don't they tell?”
The man's voice changed.
“Claire was riding with her husband.”
“The injured man.”
“Yes.”
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“What does my daughter mean by ‘stop blaming yourself’?”
The biker breathed slowly.
“That's a longer conversation.”
“Then have it.”
The answer came quietly.
“I told them to keep riding.”
Kendra waited.
“We were coming back from a fundraiser. Weather turned bad.”