“You know what? I might have a couple of days ago.” Jim shrugged. “Now I’m not inclined to at all. You always been like that?”

“Started when I was a kid.”

“So…what did you see about her?” When Vin couldn’t bring himself to reply, Jim muttered, “Okay, I’m guessing it wasn’t candlelit dinners and romantic walks on the beach.”

“Not hardly.”

“What was it, Vin. And you might as well tell me. You and I are in this together.”

Anger spiked, hard and hot. “Right, I showed you mine. Now you show me yours. What the fuck are you doing—”

“I died. Yesterday afternoon…I died and I’ve been sent back to help people. You’re my first.”

Now it was Vin’s turn to get good and silent.

“Looks like you get points for not laughing, too,” Jim muttered. “Tell you what, let’s stipulate that we both have some of the WTF going for us and move along. I need to save your ass from yourself and like I said, I have a feeling the solution is not Devina, but the woman behind us in that Camry. So why don’t you cut the shit and tell me what you saw about her—because I’m not going to fail on my first trip out of the park, and the more I know the better.”

Jim Heron did not seem delusional, and considering where Vin was coming from when it came to the freaky shit, he figured he could give at least marginal credence to what the guy said. Even if it didn’t make any more sense than…well, medium trances, for example.

“I saw…a gun go off.”

Jim’s head slowly swiveled around. “Who was hit? You or her?”

“I don’t know. I’m assuming her.”

“You ever been wrong?”

“No.”

The guy’s hands cranked on the steering wheel. “Well. There you go.”

“Sounds like we have more to talk about.”

“Yup.”

Instead, they didn’t say another thing: They sat side by side in the car, and Vin couldn’t ignore the metaphor, the two of them belted in on some kind of ride, with God only knew what outcome waiting for them.

As he looked into the rearview mirror again, he prayed that Marie-Terese wasn’t the one who got hurt. Better him. Much better.

When they finally got to the Commodore, they pulled into the garage, and as Marie-Terese waited in front, Vin thought maybe that was a good thing: He’d just end up trying to say good-bye to her again, and enough was enough.

“I’m spot number eleven over there.”

After the M6 was parked, Vin got out of the car, took the key from his new buddy, and they went their separate ways, with Jim heading over to the stairwell that would lead him up to the street.