I think, she added mentally. Because she really couldn’t be sure. Not when the vision stubbornly refused to come.
Laura tried to figure out how she could force it. There was nothing now. Not even that hovering darkness. Maybe she really had just made it all up, born out of a frantic mind. It had felt very real at the time. It had felt like a vision that couldn’t get through. But maybe she was wrong.
“I thought I was going to go away like Grandma did,” Amy said, her voice quiet and low. “Until I saw you.”
Laura bit her lip, her heart breaking all over again. “Your grandma went away? Where’d she go, to heaven?”
“Yeah.” Amy paused, looking down at the sheets of the bed. “It didn’t feel like I was going to go to heaven. It felt bad. It hurt. And I was really scared about going away.”
Laura squeezed her hand silently. There wasn’t much else she could say. Her heart ached that Amy would know that kind of feeling. That she had come face to face with her own mortality at such a young age.
“But then you came,” Amy said, looking up and into her face. “I knew I was going to go away. I knew it. But you stopped that from happening. You changed it even though I knew.”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Laura said, putting on a brave face for her. “To make sure that doesn’t have to happen to you.” Inside, she was mulling over those words. Thinking about destiny, even though Amy was too young to know a word like that. That was what she was talking about. The ability to change destiny. Was that what Laura was doing?
“You’re like a superhero,” Amy said earnestly. “Do you take care of bad men all the time?”
“Yes, I do,” Laura smiled, patting Amy’s hand. She thought about sitting in bed with Lacey at nighttime, reading her a story. That kid always had more questions than Laura had answers.
Laura pushed aside the thoughts of her daughter and the pain that came with them with impatience. Sitting here, trying to force a premonition… this was useless. There was no point in trying any longer. She had done what she had to make the optimal conditions for a vision. She’d rested a short while, taken painkillers for the very worst of the headache, caffeinated herself. She’d cleared the room to keep all those people from clouding the vision, causing confusion and interference. But nothing had happened.
“There are lots of people just like me. You see this badge?” she said, wanting to at least put Amy’s mind at ease before she left.
Amy peered forward at the FBI letters stitched into the front of Laura’s jacket. “Yeah?”
“That means I’m from the FBI. It’s our job to make sure little girls like you are safe,” Laura said. “So, if you ever see the bad man again, or you ever get scared, you can ask your mommy to call the FBI or the police, and someone will come help you. And if you’re on your own, you just dial nine-one-one. Got that?”
“Yeah, I knew that before,” Amy said, sounding a little uninterested in the process. “But you’re special. You’re my guardian angel. Mom said I had one but I didn’t know what you looked like before.”
Laura laughed. She pulled away from Amy’s hand, sensing that she no longer needed quite so much comfort. “I don’t know about that. But I’m happy that you’re okay now.”
“Will you come visit me again?” Amy asked, propping herself up on one hand and tilting her head to one side. Her hair swung down over her shoulder, her eyes getting even bigger and wider. “Pleeeeease?”
Laura couldn’t help but laugh again. The girl was cute, and Laura had a feeling she was used to getting her own way already. Who could say no to big eyes like that? The thought sent a twinge of regret through her, of pain about her own daughter. She hadn’t see Lacey’s big eyes for so long. “Well, that’s up to your mom and dad,” Laura said. “They might not want me to visit.”
“I’ll ask them,” Amy said seriously. Someone had propped a small, fluffy rabbit toy on the bedside table. Amy reached over and picked it up, swinging it by its floppy ears. “I need my guardian angel to look after me. And you can come back and see all of my toys.”
Laura’s smile was wan this time, her eyes following the rabbit so that she didn’t have to answer right away. It was a nice thought, but it wasn’t reality. How could it be
? Laura wasn’t anyone’s guardian angel. She wasn’t good with kids. She’d failed as a mom, failed completely. She didn’t even know what her daughter liked to eat anymore. Lacey was growing so fast, and Laura wasn’t there. She’d allowed Lacey’s father to get the upper hand, to tear her away from Laura.
No, she wasn’t likely to be allowed to see Amy again. There was no reason for her to. As much as Laura had found her heart touched by Amy, she was an FBI agent. She had no connection to Amy’s family.
Then again, Laura had no doubt that the governor would give Amy whatever she wanted. And given that he had promised to oversee Laura’s career progression, it was possible, just slightly, that their paths would cross again. Maybe they would end up getting to know each other. And if she dared to admit it to herself, Laura hoped they would. Amy was a sweet little girl, and Laura wanted to look out for her if she wasn’t going to be able to look out for Lacey.
“I should let you get some rest,” Laura said. She’d done what she needed to do. She was convinced, now, that there was no darkness hanging over Amy. It had all just been a hangover, a bad feeling born from the double whammy of the two visions slamming into her brain. The child was going to be all right.
“Wait,” Amy said, arresting Laura’s motion as she made to stand up. “I want a hug!”
Laura paused. Well, that was to be expected, probably. She’d held Amy close when she pulled her out of the box, after all. It was the only way children really knew to show affection. She gave Amy a warm smile and shuffled to the edge of her chair, keeping herself at the right height for Amy to throw her arms around her neck.
And that was when she felt it. A sharp pulse of pain behind her eyes, like an electric shock. Laura drew in a sharp breath, her arms tightening around Amy’s tiny form—
Amy was lying against the pillows in her bed, surrounded by stuffed animals. It was early in the morning, and she was playing with her toys as daylight filtered through the curtains. Laura could only just make out the scene.
There was some kind of noise out in the hall, beyond the room. Shouting. Crashing. An angry voice cursing, rising and slicing sharply through the air. The governor. Laura knew his voice, even if she couldn’t turn the vision around and look at his face. The edges of the scene were completely out of focus. She couldn’t sharpen it, no matter how she tried. She was still tired.
Amy looked up at the sound and hugged her stuffed bunny closer. Laura found herself turning now, slowly, as the sound continued. Turning and moving until she was behind Amy, looking over her head. The door to the bedroom was closed—but then it burst open with a loud clatter, slamming back against the opposite wall.