“I can’t believe you, a former New York police officer, don’t know what huffing is.”

“Okay, Soph, you got me on that one. Of course I know what it is. It’s called all kinds of names. Bagging, dusting, sniffing. All ways to partake of a chemically soaked rag or a can of something, like cooking spray or Freon, and I’m sure there are more than even I know, but yes, to answer your question, I know what huffing is. Next time I refer to your cigarette habit, I’ll make sure not to use the word huffing. So now that that important information is out of the way, I would love to know why you, my intelligent and sexy wife, are lounging in the backyard in the wee hours of the morning?”

Sophie couldn’t help it; she laughed. God, she loved this man. He knew her too well, but in her case, it was a good thing. “I wanted to huff.”

They both laughed at her words.

“Seriously,” Goebel coaxed. “Are you feeling okay?”

Sophie knew he wasn’t asking if she was physically well. He wanted to know her mental state, if her psyche was in a good place. Not wanting to discuss her vision just yet but knowing she would tell him soon enough anyway, she asked, “Another cup of coffee?” That would give her a few much-needed minutes to try to figure out how exactly to explain what she’d seen to Goebel.

He reached for her cup. “Two minutes.” Light on his feet since he’d lost over a hundred pounds with their friend Mavis’s encouragement and rigid diet, he hurried inside, leaving her alone with her crazy thoughts.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to tell Goebel what had actually brought her outside in the wee hours of the morning. The problem was that she didn’t really know how to describe this very new experience. What she’d seen had been from the 1920s, close to a century ago. But that wasn’t what was really bothering her. No, her main concern was that something was nagging at her subconscious, something Sophie needed to know, something that the woman wanted her to know.