Chapter 27

I saw a different name in my mind. “Garret.”

“Garret.”

I’d said it before Tate, which made Shelby’s jaw drop.

“She was close,” I said.

“Not really.” Shelby was feeling less charitable than I. “How did you know?” she asked me.

I shrugged. “The name just appeared in my brain.”

“If I have a gift, Patrick caught it.” Goose nudged me, and right then, Wilbur started barking. “Or maybe Garret’s here,” Goose said.

Shelby grabbed his arm. “You think so?”

“Shh, Willie.” Goose soothed him with his touch. “If he was, he’s gone, now.” Then, Goose frowned.

“Did Wilbur scare him away?” Shelby lifted the doughnut bag, as if Garret was hiding there. Meanwhile, Tate was still talking on TV.

“I feel…I don’t know how I feel,” he told the psychic and the show host. “I just want to make sure Uncle Garret is resting in peace…happy. He was a soldier during Vietnam and was never settled afterward. Things were tough.”

“PTSD?” I asked, as if Tate could hear me through the screen.