The Life and Times of

Shelby Nichols

Colleen Helme

Copyright © 2016 by Colleen Helme

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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

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Book Cover Design by Yvonne Less © 2016 Colleen Helme

The Life and Times of Shelby Nichols, Volume 1/Colleen Helme -- 1st ed.

Journal Entry ~ April 1st

Something happened to me today, and even though it’s April first, this is no joke.

Today at the grocery store I witnessed a robbery. Even worse, I got shot by the robber. NO JOKE! The bullet only grazed my head, but it was pretty traumatic.

Anyway, I got stitched up and all, but now I’m wondering if I might be crazy. This is where it gets dicey. The truth is… I can hear people’s thoughts. I know… totally crazy, right? Am I going insane? Maybe all I need is a pain pill and in the morning it will be gone. Fingers crossed.

April 2nd

It’s still there!

Chris let me sleep in and got the kids off to school, so I didn’t wake up until the phone rang. It was the officer with the big dimples wanting to know if they could stop by with an artist, since I’m the only one who got a good look at the robber. No big deal, right?

BUT when I answered the door, I heard all of their thoughts and nearly fainted. It’s real… but how can that be? Did I just imagine what they were thinking? They’re gone now, but it sure didn’t seem like I could make all that up. But how can it be real? I think I’d better quit taking those pain pills… that must be what it is.

April 9th

Reading minds has taught me that honesty is over-rated. Sometimes you have to lie. If telling the truth could hurt someone’s feelings, it’s better to keep that sort of thing to yourself, right? But the best reason to lie is to keep your husband and kids ALIVE.

I’m going to tell Chris what is going on as soon as I have a plan to take Uncle Joey down. He’ll understand when he knows everything. At least, I sure hope so. But until then, I can’t risk their lives.

April 17th

It’s been awhile since I last wrote. My whole life has changed because I stopped at the grocery store for those blasted carrots! At least Chris still loves me, so that’s good.

Uncle Joey is now a fixture in my life, but I’ve decided to start my own consulting agency. Since I have this amazing ability, I might as well use it to help the good guys too.

So besides helping Uncle Joey, I also help Dimples with police cases, and cases of my own. That way, I hope to balance out helping the bad guys since I don’t have much choice with that.

So far, things are working out, but I’ve had a few scary life and death situations. Because of that, Uncle Joey’s hitman, Ramos, has saved my life a few times, so working for Uncle Joey definitely has its perks.

Even so, I’m getting used to the whole mind-reading thing. In fact, if I lost that ability, I’d feel terrible. So even though it’s gotten me into a lot of crazy situations, I’m glad I still have it. That probably makes me a little crazy.

I just hope it doesn’t get me killed. Good thing Ramos is around…

April 18th

Ok... so now I am totally embarrassed! Why do I do these things??? I made a quick run to the store and figured that even though I had on my sweats, no make-up, and hair in a ponytail because it was dirty, that I would just be in and out real fast and would see no one I knew. Right??? Ha. Ha. Ha.

So of course I run into my old high school flame. The guy I made a fool of myself over. And guess what? He's still HOT, and I looked like frump girl. At least he seemed happy to see me, only I could tell he was thinking...whoa, what happened to her? She used to be such a babe! and then, why is it that when a woman gets married, she lets herself go?

Of course I have to remind myself that he's not married so I should cut him some slack. Or maybe not. But still, I think from now on, I'll save the quick run to the store for when I'm dressed better and smelling good.

April 22nd

The other morning I was listening to the radio when the announcer said that next up, they were going to talk about something that ninety-eight percent of all women were addicted to. It was something they couldn't leave the house without doing, and they did it every day. Wow...what could it be?

Then came the inevitable break, where I had to wait through all the commercials for the program to come back on. During that time, I was imagining all sorts of unhealthy things. I mean, if ninety-eight percent of all women did this...then I probably did it too, so it made me kind of nervous, but I couldn't figure out what it was. I mean, caffeine is addictive...so maybe they were just talking about coffee, or diet drinks...but was that newsworthy? I didn't think so.

Finally the program came back on, and the announcer disclosed the addictive behavior... and guess what it was? Wearing MAKE-UP! What? I was addicted to wearing make-up? I don't think so...I always like to look my best, and make-up enhances my natural beauty. But to say it is an addiction really cooked my noodle. Wearing make-up is not an addiction! And whoever tells you that is a Moron!

April 23rd

I have a friend in a bowling league who asked if I could sub for her. How could I pass that up? I only had to pay fifty cents to bowl three games with some great ladies! Anyway, I started out with a strike. Pretty exciting! Even better, my next time up I got another one.

Well the third is called a turkey, and I got that one too! I've never bowled more than three strikes in a row, so I was pretty shocked when I got a fourth one. By the next time, people were watching... so I didn't think I could do it again, but guess what? I did! Five strikes in a row!! My nerves got to me, and the next time, I only got a spare, and then...I kind of went downhill after that.

Still, at the end of the game, I ended up with a score of one-ninety-eight!!! I was pretty happy... it was my highest score ever! But of course, everyone kept thinking, “Too bad she missed two hundred by two pins.”

“Too bad she couldn't get a two hundred game, oh well,” and so on, and so on, and so on. I didn't know if I should feel happy or sad... and I guess I was a little of both, because it really would have been amazing to reach that elusive score of two hundred. Oh well, maybe another day.

April 24th

This may sound silly, but I have a confession to make. I wrote a while ago about make-up, and the article saying it was an addiction. I totally disagreed with that statement, saying it was impossible to be addicted to something that wasn't bad for you. I mean, most addictions are bad, right?

Since then I've had plenty of opportunities to go without make-up. Like today. I wasn't planning to go anywhere, so, I figured today was the perfect day not to wear make-up. After exercising, I took a shower and fixed my hair.

I was thinking of all the time I would save by not putting on make-up, and before I knew it, I was putting powder on my nose and mascara on my lashes. It was like...I had no control. I didn't go all out, I just put on a little, you know, to make my complexion look good.

Plus, it has sun-screen in it for going outside. There's nothing wrong with that, right? So am I addicted to make-up? Maybe it's just more like a habit. Like reading books. I love to read books. I read every day. Does that mean I'm addicted to reading?

Come to think about it, I guess I'm addicted to a lot of things. Like sleeping, and eating, chocolate milk, diet soda, etc, etc, etc. So maybe I don't need to confess! Maybe I am addicted to stuff! And maybe...it's okay!

May 2nd

Ramos and I have become friends, which is really important in my line of work, and I've decided it's a good thing to have someone around who's willing to watch my back now and again.

Not too long ago, Ramos needed me to talk to some people without revealing our identities. As part of the disguise, we had to ride his motorcycle. I've never been riding on a motorcycle before. I couldn't even tell you what kind of motorcycle it was, except it was black and all shiny and nice.

Ramos looked pretty bad-ass, so he fit the motorcycle to a tee. Me, not so much. In fact, I was wearing a skirt, of all things. At least it was short, so that helped. Somehow we made it work, and I was clutching his middle pretty hard when we roared out of the parking garage.

Woohoo! I have to tell you it was pretty exciting, and I enjoyed myself immensely. Me, a muscled hot dude, and a motorcycle... yup... fun times.

The only problem? Well, besides my skirt flapping in the breeze (you should never wear a skirt on a motorcycle) the helmet he gave me was too big. I could hardly see a thing. It kind of ruined my experience.

So next time, (and I hope there is a next time) I'm finding a smaller helmet. And I'm wearing pants.

May 10th

Last week I had to have a ganglion cyst removed from the ball of my foot. It was hindering my walking experience and I'd just bought a new pair of sandals that I couldn't walk in without pain. I found a great podiatrist and signed up to have it done.

The only problem came when I got to the hospital and found out they weren't putting me out all the way - just sort of out. That’s a good thing because recovery is lots faster. But then he said something that made me nervous.

He said the first stuff they would give me is like a truth serum. It works great for relaxing and calming you, he said, but it is also what they use to get people to tell the truth. He went on to say that if I had any secrets, I might just start blabbing them.

He was smiling when he said that, but he was thinking about how many things he'd heard that he wished he didn't know. YIKES!! I glanced at my husband, and he just smiled, but he was thinking that this sure put me in a bad spot. What if I started blabbing about Uncle Joey? Or worse, told people I could read their minds?

I wanted to tell Chris to tape my mouth shut or something, but seriously, how would that look? Then I thought about the time I'd spent with Ramos in Orlando. Though nothing serious had happened between us, I was still glad Chris was not coming into surgery with me. He might get it into his mind to ask me some questions that I'd rather not answer.

As the anesthesiologist walked me down to surgery, I realized that I wasn't even worried about how the doctor was going to cut my foot open, or the pain it would cause. Nope, now I had to worry about keeping my mouth shut.

Right before the anesthesiologist gave me the truth serum, I clamped my lips tight. As the stuff surged through my veins, a sense of euphoria and peace saturated my body, making me feel languid and calm.

I hadn't felt that relaxed in a long time, and it felt really good. Just then, the nurse asked me what I did besides coming to the hospital for surgery. Without hesitation, I told her all about my consulting agency.

I don't remember anything else after that. The doctor came to recovery after it was all done with a big grin on his face. He said I did great, but he was thinking that I was a hoot, and he'd never laughed so hard in surgery before.

That was it, and soon, I was home, putting ice on my foot and taking it easy. I still don't know what I said to make him laugh so hard, but it couldn't be too bad, right? I mean, even if it was the truth, he'd never believe it. At least I sure hope not.

May 20th

Not too long ago I was with a group of people and we were doing a "Getting To Know You" activity - where we were asked to tell our names and our most embarrassing moment. I wracked my brain to think of what I could say, but seriously - my most embarrassing moments are the ones I want to forget, so there was no way I was going to share any of them!

I guess the point of sharing something embarrassing was to break the ice, so in a way, it made sense, but on the other hand telling a group of strangers my most embarrassing moment was not something I really wanted to do.

So what happened? I did what any self-respecting person would do - I told a story about when I was a teenager. (Just being a teenager is an excuse for anything). I told about how I got in my friend's mom's car to wait for her and some strange lady came to the door. She pulled it open and began yelling at me, asking what I was doing in her car.

So… I guess I got in the wrong car, but she really should have locked it, just sayin’.

Anyway, it was the perfect embarrassing moment because it happened A LONG TIME AGO, and as embarrassing moments go - it didn't reflect too much on my stupidity, which is important in front of a group of strangers with whom you might want to leave a good impression.

Although, I have to admit that to this day, I still don't know much about makes and models of cars. Thank goodness for car keys. With a push of a button, my car will let me know exactly where it is, and I no longer have to worry about getting into the wrong one.

May 23rd

Not long ago, the police department gave me an honorary badge to wear so that it would be easier for me to be admitted to a crime scene. I was working on a case, and needed to find out if my client's husband had a record, or any outstanding warrants. So I went to the police department, showed them my badge, and got into the records room and pulled his file.

While I was looking over the file, the Police Chief walked in. This wasn't exactly police work I was doing, so naturally, he startled me. Especially when he said, “What are you doing in here?”

As my heart was racing, I responded as truthfully as possible, and hoped I wouldn't get into too much trouble. “Working on a case. I needed to see if this person had any outstanding warrants before I went to see him.”

“That's smart thinking,” he said. “Hey, I'm really glad I caught you. Could you do me a favor?”

“Sure,” I answered.

He hesitated, knowing asking for my help to use my ‘premonitions’ might seem weird, or make him look silly. But he really wanted to know what his wife was giving him for his birthday. I took a deep breath, relieved to know I was off the hook for being in the records room.

“Umm...I know this sounds crazy, but can you get any vibes for what my wife is giving me for my birthday?”

I smiled. “Sure, let me concentrate for a minute.”

Of course, since I don't really have ‘premonitions’ I couldn't tell him. So I listened to his thoughts to see what he wanted. He was hoping for a new fishing pole, and all the stuff that goes with it, but he didn't think his wife would give him that since she didn't like to go fishing. Maybe I could call her later, and tell her what he wanted.

“When is your birthday?” I asked.

“Next Wednesday,” he replied.

Okay,” I said. Since today was Thursday, I had plenty of time to tell her. “Sorry, but all I'm getting is fish. That doesn't make any sense, unless that's what you're having for dinner. Sorry.”

“No, no! That's fine. Thanks.”

He left happy, and I left to call his wife.

May 25th

I made a dumb mistake when Chris and I first got married.

Probably the stupidest thing a woman could ever do, but at the time, I thought I was being considerate and practical. You see, Chris would give me flowers for our anniversary...and they were great...but that really made it easy for him...just give me flowers every year, right?

Maybe it came through that it wasn't quite doing the job for me because he asked if I liked flowers, or did I think they were kind of a waste, because they just wilted after a few days and then got thrown out.

Practical me said "yes, you have a point" and maybe something different would be nice. Well, what ended up happening was a card and dinner (which we mostly did anyway) and no flowers.

He always scoffed at those silly jewelry commercials too...like they were just soooo over the top, and who could afford that, and thank goodness I wasn't like 'those' women. (To be honest, I have gotten a nice necklace here and there, but you get the picture).

I got chocolates a few times as well, but I probably complained that eating chocolate was bad for my figure, so that soon stopped.

So now, at nearly fifteen years of marriage I don't get flowers, chocolate, or jewelry. I never thought I wanted or cared about those things, but now? Yes...I do. Mostly, I want flowers. Not the cheap little arrangement either...but the nice kind that brighten up the room and make me feel special. Why did I ever tell him I didn't need flowers?

I know... I'll tell him about my seventeenth birthday when the really hot guy I was dating gave me a dozen red roses and how excited and thrilled I was to get them. I'll tell him that I even took pictures.

That should work...right? Or maybe I should just tell him I've changed my mind and would like flowers once in a while. Who knows? Maybe he'll be relieved to finally have something to give me that he knows I want.

June 1st

I've been called to jury duty before, but I've never had to go in until now. Unluckily for me, I drew number two and, after answering a few questions, took my place in the jury box. I'd never wanted to be on a jury, but it was also kind of exciting to sit with a group of people and decide if someone was guilty or not. Although in my case, I'd know the truth without all the arguments. At least that's what I thought, but it wasn't so cut and dry.

The case was about a cop whose husband had used her gun to commit suicide... only the prosecution was trying to prove that she killed her husband for the million dollar life insurance policy. Of course, I knew right off the bat she was innocent, and her lawyers presented a pretty good case for her. Throughout the trial, most of the other jurors thought she was innocent too, but once we were dismissed to deliberate, things got messy.

The jury foreman, Lance, a big guy who worked in construction, started pushing for a guilty verdict. Not only that, but he was getting mean about it. It bothered me, but I didn't think it mattered until after lunch when we took another vote. Everyone but me had changed their not-guilty votes to guilty. That's when I knew I was in trouble.

By this time, the jurors were tired of the whole thing and wanted to go home. It didn't take long before everyone knew that I was the lone not-guilty voter. Lance turned his hard gaze on me, but I wasn't about to let him bulldoze me like he had the others.

“What's your problem?” I asked. “I know you're pushing for a guilty verdict, but it seems like there's more to it. It seems like it's personal.”

He sputtered out a denial, but I'd hit a nerve and I heard him thinking about his nephew who'd been sent to prison. Surprise washed over me to learn that the defendant was the cop who'd arrested his nephew and also testified against him during the subsequent trial.

Now it all made sense, but how was I supposed to handle this without giving myself away? I stood before speaking and made sure I had everyone's attention.

“I've noticed how Lance has bullied all of you into a guilty verdict, but I refuse to back down. This is not the time to let someone who has a personal agenda against the cops determine the verdict of this case. We have been given a task to determine if the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. After all the evidence, I can't say that she's guilty. How can you?”

I heard many of them thinking that I was right. They didn't like being bullied, but Lance wasn't about to give up so easily. He made some points, but I refuted each one of them, which also served to convince the others that I was right and there was a reasonable doubt.

But then he got in my face. “I'm not bullying anyone, but that cop's guilty.”

“Shall we have another vote?” I asked. We all agreed, and this time everyone said not-guilty, except for Lance. He stared daggers at me, thinking that I was ruining everything. He wasn't going to back down, so I had no choice but to reveal his secret.

“I know why you're doing this, Lance. It's because of your nephew.” His face went slack in shock, so I continued. “It's not going to work. If you vote guilty, I'll tell the judge, and you'll have to face the consequences of lying to the court. You'll have to pay a heavy fine and you might even go to jail. Do you want that to happen?”

He glanced at the others jurors and knew it was over. With a clenched jaw, he changed his verdict, and I let out a sigh of relief, especially since I was just making that stuff up about the fine and jail time...but it could be true.

After it was all over, Lance waited for me outside the building and I had no way to avoid him. “How did you know?” he asked, more curious than angry.

“Look, I know you're not happy about you nephew, mostly because of the pain he's caused your sister, but I think you know deep down that he was dealing drugs, and probably got what he deserved. It was just a fluke that this cop happened to be the one who arrested him, and you decided she was guilty for spite, but taking it out on her is not going to help your nephew... or your sister. Now... why don't you go home to your wife and your baby boy, and be grateful for what you have?”

His eyes bulged and he gasped. “You… How did you...”

I shook my head. “Goodbye Lance.”

I turned and walked away, hearing him swear up a storm in his mind. At least he was also thinking that I was someone to avoid in the future because I was freaky, and maybe even an alien. The alien part surprised me, but I was glad to know that he'd leave me alone.

So... that's my story about jury duty. I sure hope I don't have to do anything like that in the future. Although Chris did tell me that as soon as I was done, he needed my help with a case he's working on.

Yikes! With my luck, he'll probably want me to listen to the jury during the trial and find out what they're thinking... then figure out how to sway their votes. I really don't want to do that, but I guess if his client is innocent, I could. But what if he's guilty? Argh! Life was so much easier before I could read minds.

June 10th

I recently attended a bridal shower for my cousin's daughter. I don't normally like showers where they play silly games and all that stuff. I prefer the drop-in, open-the-gift, give-a-hug, eat-the-goodies, and get the heck-out-of-dodge kind. Not very sociable, but there it is.

I would have skipped this shower all together if it hadn't been for my mom. According to her, this was one shower I couldn't miss, or I would get blacklisted on that side of the family. So, of course, I sucked it up and went.

Interestingly enough, there was some tension between the mother of the bride and mother of the groom. Turns out, they knew each other in high school, and the mother of the groom blamed the bride's mom, my cousin, for something bad, but I couldn't pick up what.

On the outside they were acting all happy and nice, with big smiles that showed lots of pearly white teeth, but inside neither of them wanted this marriage to take place. Especially considering their thoughts that sharing grandchildren was making them both sick. YIKES!

I checked out the bride and groom and, after listening in on their thoughts, there was no question they were in love, so I just had to hope things would work out. But it really bothered me that these two women held so much animosity toward each other. Maybe I could help? Who knew? Maybe it was just a misunderstanding?

"That's really something that you two knew each other in high school," I said. "Weren't you guys like best friends or something?"

Their surprised gazes turned to me, and the whole room got quiet. Then my cousin narrowed her eyes and took a breath to ask me how the hell I knew that. Oops. Before she could utter a word her daughter gasped with surprise.

"You guys knew each other? You went to high school together?" she asked. "Why didn't you say something?"

My cousin's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. As she took in the curious glances of everyone there, she turned toward the groom's mother with a tentative smile curling her lips. "We had a falling out," she admitted. "It involved a boy, as I recall."

The other woman raised her brows, and was thinking that if my cousin was going to spill the beans, she'd better make sure her side of the story got told first.

"He was my boyfriend," she stated. "You knew how much I liked him, but you got him to go out with you while I was away on a trip. He broke up with me because of you. That was pretty low for someone I considered one of my best friends."

"Is that what you thought?" my cousin asked. "I didn't go after him. He asked me out. I admit I shouldn't have gone, but he was really persistent, and I didn't think you'd ever find out. It was just supposed to be one date."

The other woman huffed out a breath. "Yeah, right. As if that makes a difference."

My cousin dropped her gaze. "I know. I was a bad friend, and I felt horrible about it. I really did. I wanted to explain, but you wouldn't talk to me after that. If it helps, he dumped me pretty quick and moved on to someone else."

"But we were friends,” she said. “You shouldn't have done that."

"I know, and I've regretted it ever since. Dating him wasn't worth losing your friendship. But you never gave me a chance to tell you I was sorry. I tried hundreds of times, but you always blew me off."

The groom's mother licked her lips, realizing that for the sake of their children, and with everyone looking on, it was time to get over it. "You're right. It was a long time ago, and really… it doesn't even matter anymore."

My cousin smiled, then asked. "Whatever happened to him anyway?"

After that it was hard to pry those two apart. Not only did they have a lot to catch up on, but their children were getting married and now they could finally be excited about it.

I left that shower with a grin on my face, knowing I'd done something good. It was one of the few times my mind-reading skills had really paid off, and was just what I needed, especially since I have to go to Uncle Joey's office tomorrow.

I know he’s meeting with someone from his past, and after this experience, it could get tricky. But on the bright side, since I'd helped my cousin resolve a sticky issue, I’m hopeful that I can help Uncle Joey. I’ll just have to make sure I stay out of the way in case they pull their guns.

June 27th

I met some of the girls I'd grown up with for dinner the other night. Since getting my mind-reading powers, I'd managed to avoid dinner with them for a while, mostly to save myself from hearing thoughts that might hurt my feelings. Not that these friends are mean or anything, but there's always that element of competitiveness that comes when a group of women get together.

The drill goes like this: We start out by getting updates on what everyone's doing in their lives. This is accomplished by going around the table so everyone gets a chance to talk about themselves. That's when we get to hear about the cruises, trips, new cars, houses, and what activities the children are involved in, and how smart they are. Then we usually end with the latest gossip about other people we know. Pretty standard, right?

In some ways, I really wanted to go because I've got some crazy stories I could tell that might just top anything anyone else had to say. I'd also know how much of the truth they told, and how much they embellished their stories just to sound good.

But on the other hand, I'd know what they really thought about each other… and what they really thought about me. I wasn't so sure that was a good idea, even as much as it enticed me to know.

Anyway, it just so happened that I was free on the night of the scheduled dinner. And in a moment of weakness, I told them I'd be there. That's how I ended up in the restaurant, surrounded by six other women whom I'd known since grade school, but hadn't talked to in almost a year.

When it got to me, I decided to tell them about my consulting agency. I picked up curiosity, and a lot of astonishment, that I had the guts to do something like that. They had a ton of questions for me about what kinds of cases I'd worked on. Mostly because they didn't quite believe I was telling the truth, or that I was totally legitimate.

In fact, there were a couple of them who thought I couldn't possibly be a real investigator, and it was just a hobby, or something I said to impress people. Then someone asked if I'd ever worked on a murder case, but she was thinking that was the true test of my legitimacy as a consultant.

So naturally, I took the bait, and told them about the case where I'd helped a young woman find her mother who'd been missing for ten years, but whom I found out had actually been killed by a serial killer. That got their attention, and they listened with astonishment to the whole story, amazed that I got out alive. And who was this Ramos person? (I'd sort of glossed over that part, since I couldn't exactly tell the truth. But I had to say something about him. I mean, how could I leave him out when he'd saved my life?)

By the end of our dinner, I had their grudging respect, but they also didn't want me to think I was too high and mighty for them. So they took what I said with a grain of salt, not quite believing all of it (mostly the Ramos part.)

It also made me realize that if one of them had told my story, I'd probably have a hard time believing it too, so maybe it was all right.

Still, as we left, I had a strong desire for Ramos to show up on his motorcycle and take me for a ride, just to prove it was all real. That would show them, right? Plus, they'd probably all die of jealousy.

But, as satisfying as that scenario might be, all it would really prove was that I was lots more competitive than I thought. Even worse, that I'd enjoyed being the center of attention and having the best story of them all.

Dang. I hope that doesn't make me a bad person. It might also mean that I'd better keep my mouth shut next time. With as much trouble as I seem to get into, it's probably a good idea.

June 30th

Lately, I've been contemplating getting those fake eyelashes that they glue onto your own eyelashes. Mostly because, as I mentioned in my last entry, all my friends had done it, and they looked pretty great. Of course, I already have naturally long lashes, but without mascara, they're pretty much invisible.

Which brings me to wonder how much easier it would be to have the fake ones. Looking good all the time without putting on mascara sounds pretty awesome.

The only drawback I can see is the expense and the maintenance. My friend told me that after the first application, you have to go in every two weeks to keep them filled, or at least three to four weeks or they start to fall out and look kind of weird.

That seems like a big commitment to me, but her lashes looked so amazing, that I'm really tempted. But is the cost and maintenance worth it? She absolutely loves it, so it definitely is for her.

I'd almost made up my mind to do it, but then I remembered something that happened to me not too long ago. I broke out in hives all over my neck and face from a new face cream I was using. I'd ended up at the doctor's office, needing a shot and a few days on steroid pills because of my allergies.

Since I'd heard similar horror stories about people having an allergic reaction to the glue that was used on the lashes, it made me wonder if that would happen to me. I could just imagine how bad I'd look with swollen eyes no amount of benadryl could cure.

My doctor would probably think I was pretty stupid to even try it, which would mean I couldn't go to him for help. And I'd just have to live with it until all my eyelashes fell out. How would I look then?

Just thinking about it sent chills of terror down my spine, so... I think I'll just stick to mascara for now. It may take a few minutes to put on, and run down my face at inopportune times, but at least I'll avoid the trouble of something even worse.

I mean, if there's something I've learned lately, it's that if anything bad might happen to me, it probably will. Knowing that, it would be irresponsible to even try it. So I think I'll wait. Who knows what they might come up with in a few years anyway, right?

July 8th

I look forward to summer all year, mostly because of how great it is to be outside and enjoy the fun outdoor activities. The one thing I don't enjoy so much is the family reunion. That probably makes me a bad person, but ever since I got my mind-reading abilities, I think family reunions would be quite stressful.

Just think about it...do I really want to know what Aunt Beverly thinks about me? Or how about my cousins? It always seems like a big brag party about who is doing what, who has the smartest kids, who has won the most awards, or what great vacation someone went on, etc. etc. etc.

It's also a shock to see that the cousins I played with as kids turn up bald and not looking a bit like I remembered them. It makes me hope I don't look as old as they do.

The reminiscing part is kind of fun though, as long as it's about good memories and not the bad ones. Like the time my older cousins took turns sitting in a rocking chair that belonged to old great-aunt Lucille who had just died, and acting like they were being choked while I watched.

Everyone took their turn and the same thing happened. Then they dared me to sit in it. Of course, great-aunt Lucille kind of scared me while she was alive, with her missing teeth and whiskers, so I could just imagine her choking me for sitting in her chair.

I refused, and naturally, they called me all kinds of names for being such a chicken, and then later they made fun of me for believing them since they just made it all up to scare me.

That's why it will be so tempting this year to listen to their thoughts. Just imagine the juicy details I could pick up from their minds to tease them with... but, do I really want to know what they're thinking? What if I pick up something really bad? Probably not a good idea.

I'll just have to put my shields up and act normal, although it might be fun to see if they're thinking the same things about the reunion as I am. Now that would be something.

July 11th

It was my mom and dad's anniversary the other day and they invited my family along with my brother's family over to celebrate. It was a big crowd, and we had a fun time together...until Savannah asked my parents how they met.

I'd heard the story lots of times, but that was before I got my mind-reading abilities, and let me say...the truth came as something of a shock.

My mom started to tell her how they met at a diner where she was a waitress, but in her mind I heard it was a bar and not a diner at all, and she served drinks wearing a short skirt and halter top. That kind of surprised me since she's such a prim and proper lady now, but it certainly made the story more interesting.

She continued, saying how my dad saw her and was immediately smitten. After coming in a few times just to see her, he asked for her number. Now my mom was quite the babe back then, and she still looks pretty great, but she got asked for her number a lot, and made it a rule not to give it out.

So the first time he asked, she wouldn't give it to him, a fact she relished telling us. But here's where the story got interesting. My dad was thinking that it wasn't quite like that. Sure, she had turned him down and he was heart-broken, but after one of the other girls thought she was nuts and offered him her own number, my mom had a change of heart and wrote her number down on the back of his receipt.

It was kind of nice to hear his version, but that still didn't prepare me for the truth I'd never heard. They were talking about how they hadn't been back to that diner for a long time, and I picked up that there was something about that diner my mom didn't want me to know. So when Savannah suggested that we all go there for dinner sometime, I was right there with her.

My mom hedged a bit, but my dad started laughing and she swatted him to shut up. I guessed she didn't want us to know the truth about the bar part and her being a waitress with the skimpy clothes and all, but then I heard my dad thinking it was called, "Shelby's Bar & Grill," and maybe it wasn't so bad to tell me they'd named me after the place they'd met.

My breath caught, and I nearly spilled the beans right then and there. They named me after a bar? And I didn't know? "Where is this place?" I practically shouted. "I want to see it."

"It's in downtown Denver," my dad said. "A little too far to go for dinner."

"Oh, yeah," I agreed. It was a long drive from home, but I was determined that the next time I was in Denver I was going there. I mean, what's the point of being named after something if you never visit?

"Well...next time I'm in Denver, I'm going to stop by. So Mom, what's the name of this place?"

My dad grinned, but my mom's brows rose in alarm. She really didn't want to tell me, but I wasn't going to let her off the hook. "You know I have premonitions, right?" I continued. "So I'm getting a premonition that it has something to do with my name... so what's that about?"

It was worth it to see my mother's eyes bulge a bit, and finally my dad told us the truth. After the shock had worn off, we all had a good laugh, and it hit me how I could have gone through my whole life without knowing something important like that.

"So...mom," Savannah said. "Is there anything you'd like to tell me about my name?"

Oops.

August 6th

My birthday was a few days ago, my first with my recently acquired mind-reading abilities.

Because of that, it was a little frustrating. Even though I tried to block everyone's thoughts, I still managed to 'hear' what everyone was getting me for my birthday. It was so exhausting to keep my shields up all the time and I just couldn't do it.

The worst part was acting surprised when I opened them, mostly for my kids. Though I have to admit, even though I knew what I was getting, I was still excited with my gifts. I got a kindle fire from Chris that I'd wanted and only had to hint a couple of times to get the biggest one with HD, so that worked out great.

And I knew that my parents were giving me a certain amount of money, so I already bought the clothes and sandals I wanted, and was able to wear them on my birthday - so that worked out good too.

I was surprised about the gift that my aunt gave me, mostly because she couldn't remember what she got me, and it turned out to be a surprise for both of us!

The only other gift I was surprised about came from Uncle Joey and Ramos. It was heartwarming to get a big bouquet of roses with a nice little happy birthday note from Thrasher Development, which everyone signed.

But the biggest surprise was what came with it. A toy alligator was attached to the bow. It had a note stuck in its mouth. Once I got the note out, a big grin spread over my face to read the message.

It said, "Remembering Orlando" with the initials "A. R." underneath. I stuffed the note way down inside where it wouldn't get out before my family saw it, since I didn't really want to explain what it meant.

The alligator now rests in my jewelry box, next to all the small mementoes that I've saved over the years. Someday when I'm old and gray, I'll take it out and read the note again. I'm sure it will make me smile.

August 10th

I recently learned how to play poker, and I have to admit, I really enjoyed it. When I was growing up, I was taught that face cards and the resulting gambling that came from using them was bad for you. Naturally, I wanted to learn all about it.

The closest I got to poker as a kid was a game called Tripoli, and we played it all the time with poker chips. It wasn't until recently that I learned how to play Texas Hold'em and found out what poker was all about.

All the things I'd learned playing Tripoli certainly helped, but I still had to master the whole two pair, flush, straight, three of a kind, full house, royal flush, etc. And I still have trouble remembering which is better, a flush or a straight?

The book, Poker for Dummies, helped me out a lot. So did a friend of mine. I had to play for a lot of money recently (a million dollars) and went from not knowing anything to playing the game in less than two days.

It turned out to be kind of stressful. Now when I play the stakes aren't quite as high, but I always win. How can I not... when I know what everyone's cards are? This is a great advantage to me, but it also makes everyone think I'm a cheater.

They can't figure out how I do it, but when I always win, that's the only explanation they can come up with. So... should I quit winning so much, so people will keep playing with me? Or should I just beat the pants off of them?

Of course, the second option is the most fun, but I guess I could always lose a few hands so they feel better about it.

August 14th

I got a phone call recently from someone I thought was out of my life for good. It really threw me to hear Kate's voice saying hello and asking me how I was doing. I have to admit I wasn't very friendly. That's when she told me she was in town on business, and wanted to know if I'd go out to lunch with her.

Seriously?? She thought I'd do that? To set the record straight, Kate is one of my least favorite people, and that is putting it mildly. At one time, she was after my husband, and nearly got me killed. Why she thought I'd like to go out to lunch with her boggled my mind. Until she mentioned we wouldn't be alone. Then it kind of clicked. She had a new associate, and was hoping to get my opinion on his trustworthiness. As in, she wanted me to read his mind.

"Sure," I said. "But just so you know, my going rate is five hundred dollars an hour."

Without hesitation, she quickly agreed, and now I was committed to spending a whole hour with my former nemesis. I didn't know if I'd done the right thing, but I had to admit, I was certainly curious to find out what kind of trouble she was in, and the money didn't hurt either.

I arrived at the restaurant to find her seated with a tall, gorgeous, dark-haired guy, who loaded on the charm, and greeted me as Kate's old college buddy. Since she was about six years younger than me, I took that as a complement.

I picked up enough from her thoughts to answer his questions about our college days together, and then started asking questions of my own. By the time lunch was over, I knew lots more about their relationship than I wished.

After lunch, he had an appointment and had to leave, which suited Kate's plans perfectly, giving her a chance to ask me what I'd found out. It was tempting not to tell her everything, but since she was paying me, I had to give it to her straight.

"You're right," I began. "He's hiding something from you." Her face paled, but she motioned for me to continue. "First of all, he works for your rival...  and the plan was to make you fall for him, because of his considerable amount of charm and good looks, and then undermine your organization so that this person can take a big cut of your profits.

“But now he's having second thoughts because... he's fallen in love with you. He doesn't want to go through with the plan, but now he's worried that his boss will kill him. He'd tell you, but he thinks once you find out he was going to double-cross you that you'll kill him too. So basically, he's decided he's pretty much toast."

"Thank you Shelby."

She handed me five one hundred dollar bills and stood. She was thinking that was the best news she'd heard in weeks and it was worth every penny.

We said our goodbyes, and I smiled at this turn of events. Kate was in love, and I'd helped her. She was going to do everything she could to save her man. Who would have thought? And what a mess!

Phew! It made me realize that even with all the trouble I get into, I'm still glad I don't have her life.

August 24th

I love my kids. That said, I have to say how great it is to have them back in school. This summer break had a lot of everything in it, both good and bad. Don't get me wrong, it was fun, but also had some crazy scary moments.

We went to Orlando for our vacation and visited FIVE theme parks, needless to say, we squeezed it all in and wore ourselves out. Thanks goodness we took a couple of days off in between, or I wouldn't have made it.

After all that, I still had an errand to run for Uncle Joey.

I'll have to post about that later, but let's just say he owes me...big time. Now with the house to myself it feels amazing. I even played some new music to rock out to. It seems there are times I just need some new music to bring some variety into my life.

I'm going to enjoy this moment, because, if there's anything I've learned lately, it's that things can change in an instant… like tomorrow, for example. I'm meeting with a new client, and I'm kind of nervous about it. I have a feeling it's going to disrupt my life in some way. But you never know, it could all just be in my head. In the meantime, I’m going to listen to my tunes and enjoy the moment.

September 9th

Yesterday, I decided I'd better get some shopping done while things were still on sale. I went to the mall, even though it was snowing pretty hard, and got started.

Of course, the first thing that caught my eye was a gorgeous red dress. I'd always wanted a dress in that color and thought, what the heck? It wouldn't hurt to try it on. Half the time clothes like that didn't look good on me, so I probably wouldn't buy it anyway.

Even with all my rationalizations, I couldn't help the twinge of guilt that I was looking at something for myself when I should have been shopping for my family.

Before I could change my mind, I found the dress in my size and hurried to the dressing-room. I had just taken my clothes off and was standing there in my undies when the lights went out. I let out a little yelp to find myself undressed and surrounded by total darkness.

As my heart raced, my eyes adjusted and I realized a faint light was coming under the door. At least it was enough to see my hand in front of my face. That was when I heard footsteps approaching my door. They stopped right outside and, as the knob turned, I prayed I had actually locked it.

"Don't come in!" I yelled, and rushed to throw on my shirt. The rattling stopped and without a word, the footsteps retreated. What the freak! I quickly threw on my pants, shoes, and coat, then grabbed my purse and high-tailed it out of there.

It wasn't until I got home that I realized my shirt was on inside-out, but at least I was in one piece. And the red dress? After that, it didn't really matter. Who needs a red dress anyway? So maybe from now on, I'll try harder to listen to that little voice in my head. The one that's usually right.

September 14th

Last week, Kate flew in from Seattle to go over some business with Uncle Joey. Even though we are civil to each other, I don't like her much and I don't think that will ever change. Still, I smiled and asked how she was doing.

Just before leaving, she studied my face, and was thinking that I'd better do something about the fine lines at the corners of my eyes before they got any worse. Then... just like that she smiled and walked out.

Since she knows I can read minds, I'm sure she thought that deliberately, just to get to me. At first it made me angry, but I tried to push it from my mind and forget about it. Just the same, I couldn't help looking for the wrinkles around my eyes in the mirror. I couldn't see anything too alarming, but I figured it couldn't hurt to take some preventative measures and find a good anti-wrinkle cream.

This led me to check out all the newest anti-wrinkle face creams on the market. I finally settled on one that claimed to erase the fine lines on the face and neck. I thought that was the one I'd better get, since I didn't want to have neck wrinkles either, and I might as well go all out and get the best.

A few days later, the cream came in the mail and I couldn't wait to smooth it on my skin and see the results. Two hours later, my neck started to itch. Thinking nothing of it, I scratched it a little, but it didn't go away. As the itching increased, I realized something was terribly wrong and ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror.

My breath hitched and my eyes widened in horror. Itchy, red, hives covered my neck and crept up to my cheeks and out across my forehead. Yikes!! I quickly washed my face and neck to get the cream off, and hoped that would take care of it, but it only seemed to get worse.

I hurried to the store and bought some cortisone cream and took an allergy pill. I rubbed the cortisone cream on thick and at first it worked great. The itching stopped immediately and I sighed with relief. However, just a minute later it started itching again, but I hoped it would settle down once the pill kicked in.

I spent the rest of the evening with an ice pack on my neck, and after another pill, went to bed with hopes that it would be better in the morning. That night my neck itched so bad it was hard to sleep, but in the morning it seemed a little better. Still, once I got going, the hives on my neck flared up again, along with those on my cheeks and forehead. Even my eyebrows were itching.

Chris took one look at me and told me I'd better see a doctor. That's how I ended up at the Instant-Care facility. After examining me, the nurse was wondering why I hadn't come in yesterday before it got so bad. It made me feel kind of stupid, but I had hoped it would get better, not worse.

The doctor was more sympathetic, and only shook his head a little when I told him about the wrinkle cream. He gave me an epinephrine shot and had me drink some nasty kind of medicine. Within minutes, the itching stopped and the redness went down. What a relief!! I ended up having to take a six-day regimen of pills, but at least I was finally getting better.

The doctor told me not to use that cream ever again, and of course, I agreed. I mean, who'd do that to themselves on purpose? Then I heard him thinking that I looked too young to worry about wrinkles anyway, and that made me feel almost as good as the medicine.

So, I guess I shouldn't worry so much about wrinkles. What can you really do about them anyway? But I can stop listening to Kate. I smiled as thoughts of giving that cream to her flooded my mind... but that wouldn't be very nice of me. Still, I think I'll hold onto it, just the same.

October 11th

There are times when I can't help being a little bit bad. Like the other day. First of all, it was a beautiful autumn day with the bright blue sky and orange & yellow leaves falling to the earth like feathers. The air had a chill to it, but the sun was still warm enough to take most of the chill away. I was leaving Thrasher Development and something just pulled me over to the corner of the parking garage where Ramos kept his motorcycle. I stopped and stared at it, feeling a rush of longing to go for a ride.

With a sigh, I turned to leave and found Ramos standing behind me with a lopsided grin on his face. "Babe," he said. "Looks like you're drooling just a little. Want to go for a ride?"

My breath caught and, even though I knew I shouldn't, I nodded my head, grinning like a fool. See what I mean about being a little bit bad? I didn't have any control when it came to Ramos and going for a ride on his motorcycle. What was worse, Ramos knew it.

"I have to take a message to someone for Manetto," he said. "But it shouldn't take long."

"Perfect!!"

He popped the trunk of his car and got out the gear I'd need, and I quickly put on the helmet and leather jacket. Before I knew it, I was on the bike behind him with my arms wrapped around his waist. As we pulled out of the garage a thrill went down my spine and my stomach churned with butterflies. We didn't go far before stopping, and I was a little disappointed. But I shouldn't have worried.

After Ramos delivered his message, we got back on the bike and he said over his shoulder, "We'll take the long way back."

"Woohoo!" I shouted, and felt his stomach muscles wiggle with laughter. We left the city behind and took a loop around the University past some big homes with huge trees lining the residential streets. The leaves kicked up as we drove through them and rained down from above as well. It was a timeless moment, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Then we hit the main road and traveled back to the city.

Parking in the garage, I got off the bike like an expert, and stowed the helmet and jacket back in Ramos' trunk. "That was awesome!" I said, grinning widely. "Thanks."

"Sure," he said, thinking it was the best part of his day.

"Me too," I agreed. "So tell me... if you were going to a Halloween party, what would you dress up as? I think I'd want to go as a biker chick."

"Babe," he said. "I'd just go as a hit-man, then I could wear whatever I wanted."

We both laughed and I was still chuckling in the car on my way home. Then it hit me that not too many people could say that, and here I was, a normal soccer-mom housewife... who'd just taken a ride with a real live hit-man. See what I mean about taking a ride on the wild side?

October 15th

Since Halloween is just around the corner, I thought it would be fun to watch some old scary black and white movies. I found one called Village of the Damned and thought I'd try it out. It's about  this little village in England where everyone sort of blacks out for about four hours and the next thing you know...all the women are pregnant!

When they all give birth to white-haired, glowing-eyed kids they know that something is amiss. What's so crazy about this is that these little kids can read minds and control people with their thoughts.

The village people finally figure it out and the school teacher decides he has to block their mind-reading abilities, so while he's teaching, in the back of his mind he's saying, "think of a brick wall...think of a brick wall," and he's building a wall brick by brick in his mind.

The kids are all going...wow, something's wrong...what could it be?  Anyway, at this point I burst out laughing, and my whole family is looking at me like I'm a crazy person. (Except for Chris) But seriously!! It was so funny. So lately, when I've thought about blocking people's thoughts I say to myself, "think of a brick wall" and I can't help it, I burst out laughing. So if you see me laughing to myself, I'm not crazy, I'm just thinking of a brick wall.

October 19th

Sometimes I feel like I'm leading a double life. In one life, I'm a wife to my husband and a mother to my kids. I make dinner, clean the house, do the laundry, take my kids to school...all those sorts of mundane things that are necessary to run a well-organized and happy home. In my other life, I help the police with hard cases, run my own consulting agency, which, I'm not gonna lie, can be boring or entertaining depending on the day, and I help a big time mob-boss. In my second life, it's usually the mob-boss part that challenges me the most.

Like today. Uncle Joey wanted me to come into the office by eight o'clock sharp to help him out. He told me to dress casually and bring a sweatshirt. As usual, he didn't tell me anything else before he hung up, so I wore my jeans and a tee with my running shoes and a sweatshirt. When I got to the office, I was a little surprised to find Uncle Joey, Ramos, Jackie, Ricky and Nick, all dressed in jeans and t-shirts. I'd never seen Uncle Joey in jeans and a t-shirt before, so it kind of rattled me.

"Shelby's coming?" Nick asked, thinking he was surprised that I would agree to go with them. After hearing that, I started to get a little nervous.

"Of course, she's coming," Uncle Joey answered. "She's like family, so naturally I'd want to include her." He glanced at me and grinned like he was doing me a big favor.

"She has no clue, does she?" Ramos asked. He was thinking that he felt a little sorry for me, and hoped I wouldn't chicken out.

"Joe," Jackie said. "Tell her."

"It's my birthday," Uncle Joey said. "I'm sixty-three today. So to celebrate, I've decided that we're all going sky-diving."

"What?" My stomach clenched. "Me too? But I...uh..."

"Don't worry, Shelby. It will be fun." Uncle Joey checked his watch. "Let's get going. Our jump time is in two hours, and we can't be late."

I'd never in my life, ever wanted to go sky-diving. Never. Not once. So I just kind of stood there, while everyone filed out of the office toward the elevators. I trailed behind, trying to figure out a way to get out of it. Ramos waited for me. "You've never gone before?" I shook my head. "It will be okay. You don't have to go, but you should at least go out to the airport with us. After all, it is his birthday, and you don't want to disappoint him too much. Right?"

"Okay," I agreed. "I can do that."

We all piled into a black SUV and Uncle Joey told us about the first time he'd ever jumped out of a plane, and how frightening it was, but also how it made him feel more exhilarated than anything he'd ever done in his life. He wanted to share that feeling with all of us on his special day, and was so pleased that we were all there together.

Talk about pressure. Did this mean I really had to jump? Yikes! Why did I ever come? Once we got to the place, our instructor went over everything, telling us we'd be perfectly safe. We'd be doing a tandem jump with a USPA licensed tandem master, wearing top-of-the-line equipment and securely connected. After showing us a video of the jump, my misgivings started to ease. I mean, it could be fun, right? But I still wasn't sure I wanted to do it. I've got this thing about heights, and falling. Plus, I have a husband and kids.

I was just about to tell Uncle Joey that I'd stay and cheer him on from the ground, when I picked up that he'd already paid the big bucks for me, and he hoped the reason I wanted to talk to him wasn't because I'd chickened out. "Yes, Shelby?"

"I'm...I'm...uh...nervous about this."

"It will be great. You'll see. You'll love it."

I nodded and, with my stomach a bundle of nerves, put on the gear and dragged my feet all the way to the plane. "I can't believe I'm actually doing this," I said to Ramos, who was, once again, waiting for me.

"I know," he agreed. "I can't either."

"Never let anyone tell you that peer pressure doesn't work," I answered. "Especially when it's from a mob-boss."

Ramos chuckled, thinking I was right about that, but also thinking that this was a perk of the job, and I needed to look at it that way so I could enjoy it. How many people ever did all the exciting things I got to do? Of course, most of them included getting shot at, but this was lots different.

"Yeah, right. I could still die," I said.

"Shelby, I promise, you're not going to die."

"How about throw up? I could do that."

"You're not going to throw up either. I think you'll enjoy it lots more than you think."

By then we'd reached the plane, and I had no choice but to get on. With my stomach a queasy knot, I watched Nick, Ricky and Jackie all go. Then it was my turn. I thought Uncle Joey would go first, but he was waiting to go after me, just to make sure I went. "We'll be right behind you," Ramos said, trying to encourage me. I nodded, and taking a deep breath, put on my goggles. On the count of three, I JUMPED OFF THE PLANE.

I think I screamed a little, but then managed to just grit my teeth extra hard. The first few seconds weren't so bad, but I thought I might pass out since I held my breath for so long. Forty seconds of free-falling can seem like about ten hours, especially when imagining everything that could go wrong. Finally, my partner pulled the parachute, and I let out a little happy gasp that it opened. After that, I mostly enjoyed the six minute fall to the ground. Still, I'd never been so happy to make it back to the earth in one piece.

Uncle Joey was the last to land, and we all clapped and cheered for him, and even sang him the happy birthday tune. After treating us all to lunch, we headed back to the office, each of us reveling in our experience of jumping off a plane.

Before I left for home, Ramos pulled me aside. "So, how was it? Would you do it again?"

I smiled. "Well... it was kind of fun. Although it scared me to death. But...yeah, I think I'd do it again. How crazy is that?"

Back home, I finished the laundry and tried to decide what to make for dinner. It was hard to believe that just that morning, I'd jumped off a plane. Who would have thought? See what I mean about leading a double life?

October 22nd

Sometimes I feel like someone else is running my life and I have absolutely no control. Lately, it seems like something unexpected is always happening to me, and although it might seem like a coincidence... I'm not really sure.

I mean, how many times do crazy things happen to one person? I think I get more than my fair share. Like yesterday... I went out to lunch with my husband. Now that doesn't sound like something that could get me in trouble, right?

There I am, waiting for Chris outside the courthouse, and who should come by, but a judge with whom I've played golf in a foursome that included me, Uncle Joey, and Ramos. That day I had on my hair hat, and Uncle Joey introduced me as his niece from Orlando, Shelly Manetto.

I was hoping the judge wouldn't recognize me, but could I be so lucky? Nope... not a chance. It might have been okay, except for the fact that the judge was with the police chief.

The police chief likes me, mostly because I've helped solve some hard cases, and he was enthusiastic about introducing me to the judge. The judge remembered me as Shelly Manetto, so when the chief started out with the Shelby part of my name, the judge jumped in with..."Shelly... yes, I've met you... you're..."

I jumped in and said, "A consultant for the police," before he could say Joe Manetto's niece, like he was thinking. It kind of threw him for a loop, and he wondered what was going on. Then he realized it probably wasn't a good idea to talk about Joe "The Knife" Manetto with the police chief, and maybe that was why I'd cut him off.

But that got him to thinking about me working for the police and "The Knife" and his eyes got big. Did the police chief even know I was Manetto's niece? Had I infiltrated the police department for Manetto? Then he remembered how I'd driven the golf cart and stopped so suddenly that he'd fallen out and cut his arm pretty bad, and it was probably better to stay far away from me. His life was complicated enough already.

Instead, he said, "Oh, yeah...you help the police, that's right."

I let out my breath and smiled, then told him it was nice to meet him. The chief was pleased the judge had heard of me, and said something about how great it was to have me on their side. The judge nodded politely, willing to go along with whatever I said, mostly because of Uncle Joey.

Then they went on their way, and I let out a relieved sigh. Who would have thought I'd meet those two people at the same time? It was uncanny! See what I mean about coincidences?

November 2nd

I usually like sleeping. After a hard day it's nice to go to bed and let it all go, especially after a relaxing bubble bath. But I've found that when I'm stressed, I can't even get away from it in my sleep.

I've all had those dreams where I fall off a cliff, or someone's chasing me and I can't run...at all, or I go to school or work, and realize I forgot to get dressed and I’m standing there in my undies, or worse, naked!

So, after Uncle Joey told me we were taking a little trip to Las Vegas for a couple of nights, the stress levels going through me were off the charts. It was supposed to be for fun, and he was hoping I could win some money playing poker.

Reading minds comes in handy for that, and I'd already proven I knew how to play the game...as long as I had my cheat sheet handy. There is also someone there he has dealings with. What kind, I don't know for sure...but I have a pretty good guess. He needs to meet with them and that means I need to be there for that too.

We're leaving this morning, and I'm a little nervous. Last night I was plagued by all sorts of dreams, but the weirdest came just before my alarm went off.

I dreamed I was going on a cruise. It was to the Caribbean, and was supposed to be really fun with sandy beaches and blue, pristine waters. I was looking forward to it...a lot. Then came the day to leave, and I was at the dock ready to board. The excitement rushing through me turned to shock as I discovered that my cruise ship was actually a submarine!

As they forced me toward the plank, I told them I didn't want to go on a cruise in a submarine. There must be some mistake and I wanted my money back... and they couldn't make me go.

But did anyone listen to me? Nope. They told me I'd get to do all sorts of fun things. Like put on one of those suits and walk along the top of the submarine. Seriously? That was supposed to be fun? I woke up right after they pushed me inside and closed the lid.

I think my subconscious is trying to tell me something, don't you? Maybe going to Las Vegas sounds like fun, but with my luck, who knows what could happen? Still, dreams are always the worst case scenario, right? And whoever heard of a cruise on a submarine, that's just nuts!

Uh oh, the limo just pulled up. I suddenly feel exactly how I did in my dream when they closed the lid to the submarine. Maybe I really do get premonitions. Here comes Ramos, I guess I can't get out of it now, so I really hope I get to come home alive.

November 17th

My job as a consultant for the police often has me listening in on interrogations, mostly so I can determine if the person is guilty. Since I can read minds, you’d think that would be easy for me. Most of the time it is, but there are other times when it’s more complicated, and I have to determine whether telling the whole truth is really the best thing to do. This puts me in a terrible moral dilemma.

Take yesterday, for example. Dimples, a.k.a. Detective Harris, asked me to listen in on a suspect who’d been accused of murder. Dimples thinks I have premonitions, so naturally, he likes my help with hard cases.

The case involved a wedding planner who was a suspect in the murder of her client, the bride-to-be, or “bridezilla,” as she kept calling her in her mind. The suspect was in a planning session with the bride when the bride supposedly lost her footing and fell over the balcony at the hotel where they were meeting, plunging to her death. The suspect claimed it was a horrible accident, but the bride’s family didn’t believe her and wanted the police to investigate.

By the time I finished hearing about the victim, and how terribly she’d treated everyone associated with her wedding plans, I had to admit that the wedding planner had my complete sympathy, and I totally understood how she could have lost her cool and pushed “bridezilla” over the railing.

That’s when it got complicated.

It turned out that the wedding planner was in the room, but she hadn’t pushed anyone. It really was an accident, only she wasn’t alone. The fiancée had joined them for a spontaneous meeting. In fact, he’d told bridezilla that, after seeing the way she was behaving, along with her mother and her entire family, he didn’t want to marry her after all. She’d taken an angry swing at him and he’d ducked, but the momentum had sent her over the edge.

Shocked at what he’d caused, he begged the wedding planner to keep his involvement a secret, especially since bridezilla’s mother would most likely accuse him of murder, and there was a real possibility he’d go to jail. He convinced her that he’d have to live with this the rest of his life, but if the mother found out, he might as well be dead.

Knowing the bride’s mother, the wedding planner had agreed with his assessment, and omitted that little piece of information, never believing that she’d end up being accused of murder. Now she was wondering if she’d done the right thing, and since she’d lied, she worried that she’d go to jail even if she did come clean and tell the whole truth.

With her dark eyes shadowed in fear and guilt, everyone in the room decided she looked guilty about something. All they needed now was a confession. They turned their gazes to me, expecting me to begin my usual tactics to get her to do just that.

Now it was my turn to squirm. Should I goad her into telling the truth to set things straight? Or was now was one of those times it was okay to let it go?

On impulse, I decided a version close to the truth would probably be best. “She’s telling the truth,” I said. “It was an accident. Only she’s leaving out one small detail. The bride didn’t trip.” I caught the wedding planner’s gaze and smiled. “She took a swing at you and lost her footing. That’s how she fell. You didn’t tell us that part because you were afraid you’d get blamed for her death.”

“Yes, that’s right,” she agreed, letting out a breath and grabbing on to my explanation like a lifeline. “That’s exactly what happened. I made the mistake of telling her that what she wanted was unreasonable, and she got angry. She took a swing at me and I ducked, but then she fell. It was horrible. I should have told everyone the truth from the beginning, but... I was so shocked that I didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to get blamed for her death. But I didn’t do anything wrong. She tried to hit me, and I ducked. I swear that’s the truth. It was a horrible accident. I would never hurt anyone, no matter what they said to me.”

“You’re convinced it was an accident?” Dimples asked, glancing at me for confirmation.

“Most definitely,” I answered. “She didn’t do anything wrong. You have to let her go.”

“All right,” Dimples said, assessing that the guilty look on her face made more sense now. Besides that, he believed that if she’d done it, I would have told him. “I guess that means that you’re free to go, but we’re going to have to tell the family the truth.”

“Yes, I know, but can you do that without me?” she asked. “I’d really rather not have to see them again. Her mother’s kind of scary.”

He hesitated, then agreed, much to the wedding planner’s relief. She left, thinking she’d been an idiot to help the fiancée like that, and she’d never agree to help anyone in that way again, no matter how cute, or desperate, or right they may be.

I smiled, knowing that she’d learned a valuable lesson. But where did that leave me? I hadn’t exactly told the truth either. Maybe I should have spoken up about the fiancée, but how would that have changed anything? The bride’s death was an accident either way.

See what I mean about always telling the truth? I know there are times when a satisfying lie is better than the awful truth. But was this one of those times? I rush of guilt washed over me, and I sighed. Maybe I should have let the truth come out.

After I got home, I called Uncle Joey and told him my story. He completely understood and agreed that I’d done the right thing. “I know what you mean about walking a fine line,” he said. “Sometimes life isn’t as black and white as it seems.”

I thanked him and ended the call. I felt a little better, but deep down, I knew the reason I’d called him was because I had a pretty good idea he’d agree with me. So what did that say about me? Taking advice from a mob-boss probably wasn’t the best idea, but in a way, it still made me feel better.

But next time, I think I’ll tell the whole truth and let the chips fall where they may. Unless, of course, it will ruin someone’s life for no good reason ... Ugh! See what I mean about my moral dilemma?? Life just isn’t as black and white as we like to think.

January 1st

I am not a 'New Year's resolution' type person. Mostly because I usually fail, but this year, I'm going to make a goal I can keep. I hope. Not too long ago I got shot in the arm. Not a shot like you get at the Dr.'s office. I really got shot by a bullet! It went right through my arm! It hurt like hell! If you've ever been shot, you know what I'm talking about. If you haven't, I hope that you never do.

Although my arm still twinges now and then, it's mostly better, so I feel pretty lucky. Still, it could have been much worse. So this year, I'm going to make a resolution not to get shot again.

I'm also going to start training in a martial art called Aikido. I'm kind of excited about that. My friend, Billie Payne is meeting me at her dojo tonight for my first lesson. I'm eager to learn how to defend myself, and I think it will help me feel more in control of my life.

I could turn into one of those cool ninja's that no one wants to mess with. So now I actually have two New Year’s resolutions. One, not to get shot, and the other, learn how to kick ass! This should be fun!

January 20th

I've been going to Aikido for a few weeks now and I love it!

The first few times I went were spent learning how to fall - not too exciting but a necessary skill, believe me. I'm learning what to do when someone grabs my arm, or grabs me from behind, or basically grabs me anywhere, and how to get away...which in my line of work is essential.

It's also given me a feeling of empowerment which I have to say is pretty awesome... only I think I may have overdone it. The other day I made the mistake of telling my friend, Ramos, that I could take him. I know...not very smart of me, but I was looking forward to throwing him over my shoulder like I'd imagined so many times.

Naturally, he couldn't pass up the opportunity to show me how wrong I was. I didn't know at the time that he was a martial arts expert. Why didn't he tell me this before I made a fool of myself?

Needless to say, I couldn't get the drop on him to save my life, and I guess it would have been funny if you think getting thrown to the ground and having your ass kicked is fun.

Luckily, we were in his apartment which connects to Thrasher Development, and the carpet was nice and soft or it may have hurt. But the worse part wasn't getting plastered to the floor in the grip of a two-hundred-pound macho man (who was enjoying it way too much, I might add).

Nope, it was the fact that Uncle Joey showed up and snapped a picture of that moment. The flash startled me enough, but the smile on his face...like he'd just won the lottery, still makes my stomach hurt.

I think he's putting it in a file...with my name on it. Yikes!! Why does this always happen to me? He says I can earn the photo back from him. All I have to do is help him win his next poker match. I can do that...but seriously?? What was I thinking???

February 17th

I admit I'm kind of a geek, but when I got the opportunity to meet Nathan Fillion a.k.a. RICHARD CASTLE I jumped at the chance. I LOVE that show! It was a photo op at FANX and after signing up I checked the guidelines for how to have a great photo shoot. They suggested making it fun and said that the stars loved to ham it up with their fans! They even had a picture showing Nathan Fillion with a fake sword stabbing a bad guy and catching the princess in his other arm. So I decided to figure out something fun.

Thinking of a tie-in to the show CASTLE, I came up with the idea of getting some handcuffs and handcuffing us together, just like Castle and Beckett in season three. That meant I had to find a pair. Naturally, I turned to my police detective friend, Dimples, and asked if he had a set I could borrow. When I explained what I wanted them for he agreed, and loaned them to me the day before the shoot. That night, I was so nervous I could hardly sleep. But the morning came and I got all dolled up just how I thought Beckett might look... if she had blond hair.

When it finally came my turn to meet him, my heart was all a-flutter, and I have to admit I was a bundle of nerves. But he was so gracious and sweet that it calmed me down. He didn't even blink too much when I pulled out the handcuffs, although he was thinking I didn't look too scary... and he had bodyguards, just in case.

We got them on and I posed like I had captured him, and he was looking a little worried. It was great fun... until it was time to take them off. I knew I had the key somewhere, but for the life of me, I couldn't remember where I'd put it.

I'd left my purse on a table in the other room and had to drag him around with me to get it. After dumping everything out, and his arm flopping with my every movement, I finally remembered I'd zipped it up in my loose change pocket and dug it out.

We all breathed a sigh of relief when the key fell into my hand, but with my fingers a little shaky, I still couldn't get the key in the lock. Nathan gently took the key from me, inserted it, and like magic, the cuffs popped off.

I think my face must have been bright red, or maybe it was all the apologizing I was doing, but anyway, he had them take another picture of us. This time he put his arm around me and gave me a little squeeze. He was thinking that he was glad it had turned out all right, and now he had a funny story to tell about the ditzy, but beautiful blond, and the handcuffs with the missing key.

February 19th

I first met Ramos not long after I got shot in the head and received my mind-reading abilities. He'd just saved my life, but was thinking that he might have to kill me for the big boss. That's why it came as a shock to 'hear' him singing a country song in his mind.

Of course, the song was something about the Devil and The Long Road to Hell, so in a way, it made perfect sense. Back then, he was one scary dude, especially since he didn't seem to possess any of those warm and fuzzy feelings for anyone or anything.

That changed after he met me. I seemed to make him feel guilty about things, and he hadn't felt that way in years. I also brought out those protective instincts in him, and I knew it bothered him more than he cared to admit.

Since I'm now part of Uncle Joey's organization, Ramos has had his hands full keeping me alive, and I will be eternally grateful to him for that. But it's also opened a crack in his heart that kind of ruins his tough-guy image, at least where I'm concerned. That's how I was able to find out the one thing that always puzzled me about him. How he got his affinity for country music.

He told me that before he worked for Uncle Joey, he started out as a security guard/bouncer at a club in Nashville that featured new artists. There was an amazing singer who got her start in that club. He told me she sang country like it came from somewhere deep inside her soul, and it woke something up inside of Ramos.

Of course being the sexy stud that he is, she was drawn to him, and he told me there were nights when it seemed like she sang to him and him alone. He didn't tell me any specifics, but said that not long after that, he got in a fight and had to leave town in a hurry, but he never forgot her or her music. Then he told me she was a big star now, and he liked to think that he may have been the cause of her rise to fame.

Puzzled, I asked him why he would think that, and he just laughed. Then he admitted that her breakout album was obviously all about him. I thought that maybe he was a little too full of himself, so I bought the album, just to see what he was talking about. Now, after listening to it a few times, I'm convinced it must be true, and his reputation as a heart-breaker came through loud and clear. Poor girl.

I'd write down who the singer is, but I promised I would never tell a soul. So now I know why Ramos loves country music. He may have broken her heart, but I think it may have broken his heart a little bit too.

March 22nd

There's a song about leaving your heart in San Francisco, and that used to be true for me, until I visited Paris! Although... I have to admit, I almost left my heart there because I nearly died...but that's a story for another day.

Still, Paris ranks up there as one of the most amazing cities I've ever visited...if not the most amazing. I loved walking down the Champs-Élysées starting from the Arc de Triomphe and walking all the way to the Luxor Obelisk.

I kept picking up the amazing scent of perfume all along the walk. I couldn't tell if it was from the people who passed me or the shops, but I decided then and there to make sure I bought some French perfume before I left. It's a good thing too, since after that, things got dicey for me and it wasn't until later that I got a chance to find a shop.

I'll never forget walking down the street from Notre Dame and finding the little L'Occitane en Provence shop on the corner. Wild dogs or a certain hit-man couldn't stop me from going inside and taking a whiff of all the wonderful smells. After much sniffing, I found the perfect fragrance for me. It's called Néroli & Orchidée, and I LOVE IT!

So, even though I'm not in Paris anymore, I can still spray some of that perfume on my neck and remember that day, and how thankful I am to be alive... and for good friends who always seem to be there to get me out of trouble.

March 25th

After my trip to Paris, I looked forward to going out to lunch with my best friend, Holly, and telling her all about it. She's one of the few people who can really appreciate a certain hit-man, and all the juicy details that I always leave out with everyone else.

Naturally, I told her all about my brush with the terrorists, and how Ramos came to my rescue. I picked up that her jealousy spiked a little, mostly when I told her about the motorcycle ride with Ramos through the city. She tried to tamp it down a little, and rationalized that since I'd almost been killed a few times, she wouldn't ever want to trade places with me.

That reasoning worked for her, especially when I told her about the rest of the story and how I nearly got blown up. Of course, it went out the window after that, because...what kind of a friend would I be if I couldn't tell her how the inspector and his men showed me their appreciation after I’d helped them? Her mouth dropped open, and I think she even drooled a little. After that, she was thinking that maybe all the bad stuff that happened to me wasn't so bad after all.

In some ways, I had to agree that there was a silver lining in there somewhere, but I wasn't sure coming so close to death made up for that. Still, I had to believe that the outcome was worth it all, or I might want to stay home and never leave my house again.

Then her thoughts turned to Chris, and the time she'd seen him with another woman while I was in Paris. It had troubled her, but after hearing about my adventure, she decided to leave it alone, thinking there had to be a reason for it.

I picked up more details, that she'd seen him at a furniture store with a pretty, younger woman. They were laughing together, and looking at a fine leather couch set and some artwork. It probably had something to do with his job, although she couldn't figure out what that might be.

Now my mouth dropped open, and my stomach tightened with dread. All those old feelings I'd had when Kate was around came to the surface, and threatened to overwhelm me with panic.

"Shelby? Is something wrong?" Holly asked.

"Oh no...nothing. This sandwich is really good. How do you like yours?" While we ate, all kinds of scenarios about what Chris might have been up to filled my head, but I decided that I'd try not to worry. I had no doubt that he loved me, and we were good, so there had to be a reasonable explanation. We'd talk and he'd think about it, and then I'd know. I was sure it was nothing, but I couldn't help seeing the irony in the situation, either.

In the end, it kind of ruined my enjoyment of telling Holly all the juicy details about Paris, and this was one of those times I wished I couldn't read minds.

April 1st

I can’t believe it’s been a whole year since I got shot in the head, giving me mind-reading powers. So much has happened in that time that it kind of blows my mind. To say the least, it has been one adventure after another! I always seem to have my hands full, and right now is no exception.

I'm helping a police detective, whom I call Dimples, with a murder investigation. Since he thinks I have ‘premonitions,’ he wants my help when he's assigned a hard case. I usually don't have too many problems finding the guilty party, since all I have to do is talk to the major suspects and listen to their thoughts. The guilty person always thinks about how they did it, and I can usually wrap it up pretty quick.

But not this time.

So far, every single suspect I've talked to is innocent, and my ability isn't as helpful as I'd like. The police chief is even getting a little upset with me and wondering what happened to my 'premonitions.' So now Dimples and I are scrambling to find the guilty party, and I'm finally learning what it's like to do real detective work.

But after this morning, I'm ready to quit. Some evidence Dimples gathered yesterday makes it look like organized crime might be involved. Dimples actually had the gall to ask me to spy on Uncle Joey. He knows I used to work for Uncle Joey, but what he doesn't know is that Uncle Joey knows my secret and I still work for him.

I can't very well spy on Uncle Joey for the police, can I? So what am I supposed to do? If Uncle Joey is involved, does that mean I should warn him about the investigation? Maybe if I did, he could do something to cover up his involvement. But isn't that aiding and abetting? I could go to jail for something like that.

On the other hand, if I find he's not involved, that would be a good thing, too. My only way out, is to find the real killer and hope he's not tied to Uncle Joey. Still, I think I might mention the investigation to Uncle Joey, just in passing, so it's not like I'm actually warning him about anything. Then he'd be prepared, right?

Besides, I think if Uncle Joey had the guy killed, the body wouldn't have been at the crime scene. From what I've picked up about how he does things, there probably wouldn't have been a body to find in the first place. So in that respect, it couldn't have been Uncle Joey, and all my worry is for nothing.

Ugh! See what I mean about quitting? As much as I enjoy having my own consulting agency, it's not an easy thing to work on both sides of the law. In fact, it's downright stressful. If I don't quit the agency altogether, I should probably make a decision to either help the police, or work for Uncle Joey.

Or maybe I'll just take some time off and quit working for both of them. That way, I'll only have personal cases to work on, and I won't end up in such dangerous situations all the time.

Of course, that's not always true either. I've had a few of my own cases that nearly got me killed anyway. See my dilemma? If I had to choose between Uncle Joey and Dimples, I don't think I could do it. I owe Uncle Joey too much to ever break ties with him, and Dimples is my friend and knows my secret.

So... I guess I'll just keep going with what I'm doing and hope for the best. As long as I have plenty of Mylanta handy, I should be able to handle it, right? Especially if Ramos is around to save my bacon...and maybe take me on a motorcycle ride or two.

April 4th

Helping the police has always been a little nerve-wracking, mostly because the local mob-boss, Uncle Joey, doesn't like it much. So I try to keep a low profile when I'm helping my partner, Dimples, or I should say, Detective Harris, solve a difficult case. Since Dimples trusts my premonitions, we make a good team. I also feel like it eases my conscience to help out the good guys once in a while, since I'm sort of obligated to help the bad guys out the rest of the time.

This can sometimes be a little tricky, but I do my best to keep things on the low-down. Even so, things can get complicated. Like today.

Dimples and I were just returning to the police station when a call came through about a man with a gun at the State Capitol Building. We were only a block away, so naturally, Dimples flashed on his lights and siren, and swerved the car around to rush to the scene.

We were the first to arrive, and Dimples told me to stay in the car, while he jumped out to run inside and save the day. Naturally, I couldn't let him run into danger like that if I could help. So, much to his consternation, I quickly followed.

"What the ... Shelby, you can't come, you're not armed."

"I'll stay behind you."

Since there wasn't time to argue, he just swore a blue streak in his mind, and continued up the steps with me right behind him. Then I caught that he wished I wasn't there, since he'd have to worry about my safety, and it kind of hurt my feelings. I mean, seriously, I can read minds... that's a huge help, and it can also keep me safe since I'll know what's coming ahead of time, right?

We passed several people running out the doors, and I picked up that the man with the gun had cornered s few people in the rotunda by the busts of all the former governors. As we hurried inside, I relayed that information to Dimples, and his annoyance with me dissipated a little.

As we approached the back of the rotunda, Dimples slowed his steps and then came to a stop just out of sight. We could hear a woman trying to calm the man with the gun, so I took the opportunity to zero in on the man's thoughts.

His underlying desperation hit me first, but his thoughts didn't make a lot of sense. The harder I listened, the more I realized I could hear three distinct voices all trying to talk at the same time. They were arguing about doing whatever it took to get what he needed. One was pushing him to put the gun down, but another was arguing to use it to get them to listen to him. It scared me so bad, I jerked out of his head.

"What's wrong?" Dimples whispered, noticing my widened eyes and shallow breath.

"He's crazy." At Dimples' raised brows, I continued. "I mean, literally... he needs his medication. Wait...that's what this is all about. He has no insurance and can't pay so he came here to get help. At least that's what it sounds like."

"Do you think he'll shoot someone?"

"I don't know..." I listened to the different voices and thought I just might go crazy. Then I caught it. "I don't think the gun's loaded."

"Are you positive?"

Before I could answer, we heard soft footfalls and turned around to find a fully armed and loaded SWAT team slowly coming our way. A couple of them crept up the stairs where they could get a clean shot and take him out before he killed someone.

Knowing I didn't have much time, I caught Dimples' gaze, then took a deep breath and walked around the corner. "Hey Benny, it's Shelby. I've got your meds for you." He turned around, pinning me with his startled gaze, and raising his gun in my direction. "Uh...Jerry wants you to put the gun down now. He says everything's going to be all right. But you have to put the gun down first. You should listen to Jerry and not Cindy. Jerry's got the right idea. He doesn't want anyone to get hurt, and I don't think you do either."

Benny's brows rose with astonishment. "He... told you that?"

"Yes."

His mouth opened and closed, then he shook his head. "Cindy's going to be mad."

"She'll get over it. You should listen to Jerry and put the gun down. He's right you know."

"O..kay. If you're sure..."

"I am."

With his brows drawn together in confusion, he lowered the gun to the ground.

Dimples rushed in and kicked the gun away before pulling Benny's arms behind his back and cuffing him. All at once, police officers came out of the woodwork and surrounded us. They had Benny subdued before I could blink. That's when I realized that with Benny's focus on me, all the hostages had taken off.

I glanced toward Dimples to find him examining Benny's gun and hurried to his side. His gaze caught mine and he shook his head, thinking that I'd taken a hell of a risk talking to Benny like that... because the gun was fully loaded.

"Are you serious?"

He let out his breath and nodded, then thought that even though I was wrong about the gun, I was right about everything else, and it was kind of creepy the way I talked to that guy. But it worked.

I let out a breath, grateful it was over, and a little wigged out by the whole thing. And now I had to worry about the unwanted attention that was sure to come my way. "You did this, not me," I whispered. "I'll meet you at the car." I turned around to get out of there before someone stopped me.

Luckily, I made it to the car before I heard my name. Cringing, I turned to find Billie Jo rushing my way, and knew it was time to lie my head off. "Oh hey Billie, Dimples saved the day in there. You should go talk to him."

After asking me a couple of questions, she high-tailed it up the steps and I breathed a sigh of relief. That was close, and I thanked my lucky stars that the hostages and the police didn't witness my conversation with Benny. At least I sure hope not.

I hope you enjoyed The Life and Times of Shelby Nichols, Volume 1. For new journal entries from Shelby, please check out her blog at:

Shelby Nichols Consulting.com.

CARROTS

By

COLLEEN HELME

(read on for a free sample)

My life changed that day because I didn’t have any carrots.

I was driving home when the dark, threatening clouds that had been gathering all afternoon finally let loose, and it began to pour. It was April, so rain wasn’t unexpected, but it couldn’t have come at a worse time. All I wanted to do was go home and relax, but first I had to stop at the grocery store and pick up some carrots. I was planning on making chicken soup for dinner, but I didn’t have any carrots, and everyone knows you can’t make chicken soup without carrots.

Luckily, the grocery store was on my way home. I pulled into the parking lot, but all the close spots were taken, and I ended up parking so far away that I knew I’d get soaked. Did I really need those carrots? I turned off the engine and without the wipers going, I could barely see out the windshield. I waited a few minutes, hoping the rain would let up, but when it didn’t, I knew I’d have make a run for it.

Gathering my courage, I took a deep breath and jumped out of the car. I made a mad dash for the doors, and was nearly there when a massive puddle blocked my way. I was running too fast to stop, so I jumped. I barely made it over the center of the puddle before my feet splashed dirty water halfway up my pants and soaked my shoes. My breath caught at the sudden wetness and I stifled a curse. By the time I reached the doors, not only were my shoes completely drenched, but the splash made it look like I’d wet my pants.

Totally humiliated, I had two choices. Either go back to the car and admit defeat, or take it like a man. I grabbed a shopping cart and marched into the store. Now that I’d made it this far, there was no turning back. It didn’t matter that my shoes were squeaking, and water was trickling down my neck. Or that my hair was now plastered to my skull, and water was dripping from my nose. Come hell or high water, I was going to get those blasted carrots.

I got to the produce aisle and triumphantly placed the carrots into my cart and stood there. I did it. So why was I feeling let down? Where was the euphoria of accomplishing what I’d set out to do? Then I realized that I’d been through all that for a measly bunch of carrots. What was I thinking? I’d risked life and limb for this? I wiped the rain from my face, and pushed the hair back from my forehead. There had to be something else I needed.

I suddenly had a hankering for some Hostess Cupcakes, yummy chocolate goodness with creamy whipped filling inside. Now was my chance to grab a box. I could probably hide them easily enough in the back of the kitchen cupboard with the pots and pans. No one but me would know where they were. While I was at it, why not pick up some more Diet Coke? I hated to run out, and it never hurt to have extra on hand.

When I reached the check-stand, I was feeling lots better. This hadn’t been a wasted trip after all. My cart was at least half full. As I placed the items on the black conveyor belt, I noticed the checker had raised her eyebrows. Sometimes the checker can tell what I’m making for dinner from what’s in my cart, but not tonight. She rang up my items; carrots, celery, Diet Coke, cupcakes, and potato chips. Then she gave me one of those knowing looks while she scanned the Twizzlers, Cheetos, and candy bars. With a guilty flush, I quickly explained that most of it was for my kids and their friends. It was the truth, but from her smile, I wasn’t sure she believed me. Maybe I had gone a little overboard in the unhealthy foods department.

As she placed the bags into my shopping cart, somebody screamed. My heart skipped a beat, and I flinched when an earsplitting boom came from the area near the bank. I stared in astonished disbelief as a man fell heavily to the floor, blood oozing from his chest. As he fell, he grabbed the rubber mask from the face of the man beside him, and I realized that man had a gun.

Another shot went off, and everyone scattered for cover. Everyone except me. My brain seemed to be moving in slow motion, and I stood there with my mouth open like a dummy. How could something like this be happening in my grocery store? The man with the gun pivoted and saw me staring at him. His eyes blazed with demented zeal, and he fired.

Next thing I knew, someone was holding a cloth to my head and murmuring something I couldn’t make out. His face was white, and when he spoke, his voice shook. I tried to ask him what was wrong, but the words just wouldn’t come out of my mouth. What was I doing on the floor? What was that awful noise?

I finally recognized the wailing sound of sirens. That seemed to jolt my senses awake, and I reached for my head. It suddenly hurt. I started to sit up and smashed the potato chip bag with my elbow. The bag exploded and sent chips flying everywhere.

The man helping me was horrified. I tried to tell him that I hadn’t meant to make such a mess, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead, he kept trying to push me down, but there was no way I wanted to lay my hurting head on those greasy chips. His face turned a bright shade of red before he finally quit trying and left to get help.

Safe from the potato chips, I sat up and caught my breath when the world started to tilt. Maybe sitting up hadn’t been such a good idea after all. I concentrated on taking deep breaths, and was rewarded when everything came into focus. Good. That had to mean I wasn’t hurt too bad, right?

My relief turned to panic to feel something wet trickling down the back of my neck. It was warm and sticky, with a faint coppery smell, and my stomach turned into a queasy knot. I clutched the cloth a little tighter and swallowed.

Just then, a young man knelt beside me. He wore a paramedic’s uniform, and his eyes held quiet confidence. His calm manner soothed my racing heart, especially when he told me I was going to be all right. That was when my eyes got a little misty and it was hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. He didn’t laugh or seem embarrassed by my tears, and his concern was so sweet, that I almost started to cry in earnest. Since I didn’t want to become a blubbering idiot, I concentrated on getting up off the messy floor.

“Whoa, what do you think you’re doing?” he asked. “You should stay there until we make sure you’re stabilized, and then we’ll load you onto a gurney.”

Load me? He made it sound like a monumental task, like I was a big sack of potatoes or something. A crazy fear came over me that if anyone tried to pick me up they’d stagger, or groan or something. Maybe even pull a muscle. How embarrassing would that be? Not that I was overweight or anything, but I wasn’t as slim as I used to be. “That’s okay. I’m really not feeling so bad. It’s just a little knock on the head. There’s no reason why I can’t walk to the gurney.”

His mouth quirked and he started to argue, but he didn’t have much of a say in the matter when I stood up. His arm came around my waist to steady me, and I was grateful for his help. He was stronger and bigger than I first thought, and when he smiled encouragingly, I started feeling better. Maybe he could have picked me up after all.

After sitting down, I realized I was still a little shaky, and it had nothing to do with him. At least I didn’t think it did. He urged me to lie down, but I felt silly lying down when I wasn’t hurt that bad.

He pursed his lips in disapproval, and I was just about to relent when my attention was drawn to the man lying on the floor. Paramedics surrounded him, frantically working to save his life. An oxygen mask covered his face, and several white bandages on his chest were soaked in blood. They inserted an IV in his arm, and when they lifted him onto the gurney, the rubber mask fell out of his hand. My stomach clenched, and I didn’t feel so good anymore.

“Okay, I’m ready here. Let’s see the damage.”

I gratefully turned my attention to the paramedic beside me. He had little rubber gloves on his hands, and medical packages laid out ready to use. He gently moved my hand holding the cloth from my head, and I blanched at the sight of all that red blood. My blood. I swayed, but the paramedic must have figured something like that would happen and, with relative ease, maneuvered me to lie flat on the gurney. He was good.

“Don’t worry. Head wounds usually bleed a lot, but you’re going to be fine. The bullet just grazed your scalp. You’ll need a few stitches, and you’ll have a headache and a little pain, but nothing serious. You’re very lucky.” He staunched the bleeding with a bandage and began wrapping it around my head. “We’ll get you to the emergency room, and the doctors will take care of you.”

I nodded, grateful I’d taken a shower and washed my hair that morning. Then what he said hit me. The bullet? I’d been hit by a bullet? In the head? Oh my gosh! And they were taking me to the hospital? I blurted the first thing I thought of. “Where’s my purse? I can’t go anywhere without my purse.”

Why was he smiling? “Is this it?” He held it up so I could see it, and my mouth dropped open.

“Yeah. How did you get it?”

“Someone brought it over. Here, I’ll put it next to you so you won’t lose it. Then we’ll put you in the ambulance and take you to the hospital.”

“Okay, thanks.” I got cold all over and started to shake. The realization that I had nearly died washed over me with freezing clarity. That crazy bank robber had fired a gun and shot me in the head! I could be dead right now! I tried to calm down, but the shaking seemed to get worse.

Concerned, the paramedic patted my arm, and then spoke over my head to someone. “I think she’s going into shock.” For the first time, I realized there were several people standing around me. One of them put a blanket over me, and took my wrist to check my pulse.

“I’m going to give you something to help you relax, all right?”

I nodded gratefully and hardly felt the sting in my arm. A few moments later, the drug took effect, and settled me down. As they wheeled me to the waiting ambulance, my fear vanished, and I felt a lot better. It had even quit raining, and the air had a nice, fresh smell to it.

Almost to the ambulance, a man in a dark suit came to my side. He smiled encouragingly, and two big dimples magically appeared in his cheeks. I’d never seen dimples like that. When he started to talk they wobbled in and out of his cheeks like little tornados. He looked at me expectantly, and I realized I hadn’t caught a thing he’d said.

“Huh?”

He smiled again and repeated his question. “My name is Detective Harris. Did you see the man who shot you? We were hoping someone got a good look at him.”

“Oh…yeah…I did.” When I didn’t elaborate, the detective said something about talking to me at the hospital. “Sure thing,” I said, or at least that’s what I tried to say. It came out more like, “Shrthn.”

While they loaded me into the ambulance, I strained to get another look at his dimples. He kept smiling and those dimples started to spin. I shifted my position to keep him in sight while they closed the ambulance doors. My elbow slipped and I almost fell off the gurney. Thankfully, the paramedic helped straighten me out, and put a pillow under my head. Before I knew it, I was so relaxed that my eyes wouldn’t stay open, and I dozed off.

I woke to the glare of bright lights, and realized I was in the emergency room. Two men in green scrubs and funny hair nets wheeled me into a curtained area that gave the impression of privacy, but allowed me to hear everything else that was going on. It was a little disconcerting. A nurse came in and introduced herself, then took my blood pressure and pulse.

When she was done, she asked me about my health insurance. Luckily, my purse was right beside me, and I rummaged through it until coming up with the card. Things were still a little fuzzy, and when she asked me who my next of kin was, I panicked.

“You’d better let me call my husband. I don’t want him to worry.” Christopher had enough on his plate without me adding to it. He put in long, hard hours at his law firm, and usually stayed late, so I knew I could catch him there.

But the nurse wouldn’t let me near the phone. She assured me they could place the call and, after thinking it through, I relented. Besides what could I say other than, “Hi honey, I’ve been shot in the head, can you come to the hospital and get me?” He’d probably think it was a joke, and I was only saying that to get him to come home in time for dinner.

The doctor was gentle and stitched me up pretty fast. Only I didn’t like it when he kept saying how lucky I was. Just an inch or more over, and my brains would be mush. I moved my gaze to look at him when he said that, but his lips weren’t moving. “Did you just say something?” I asked.

He smiled, shaking his head. “Just a few more stitches and I’ll be done. I know this has been a difficult experience, but you’re doing great. Just hold still a little longer.”

That was strange. Things must have affected me more than I thought. My head was numb but it still hurt, and I did feel a little out of it. That probably explained it.

“There, all done.” The doctor smiled, and I let out my breath in relief. Just then, the nurse opened the curtain and there was Chris, looking stoic and scared at the same time. My heart caught like it always did when I saw him unexpectedly. His dark, wavy hair was slightly mussed, like he’d run his hands through it several times. His face was so pale that it looked like he’d forgotten to shave, and his deep brown eyes seemed to gleam with extra moisture. He cleared his throat and smiled, then came to my side and grabbed my hand.

“Hey there.” He was trying to sound casual, but I could hear the underlying stress in his voice. “How’s she doing?” he asked the doctor.

“Great. We’re all done here. I’m going to give you a prescription for the pain and some instructions on how to care for the stitches. I’ll be back in a moment.”

The moment he left, I threw my arms around Chris, and sudden tears ran down my cheeks. I didn’t want to let go of his solid comfort. It took a minute to get under control, and when we finally pulled apart, I could see the worry lines around his eyes.

He swallowed before speaking. “I didn’t know what to think when they called and said you’d been shot. At least they told me you only had a minor injury, or I don’t know what I would have done. I’m still not clear on what happened.”

“I was at the grocery store getting carrots when a man came in and robbed the bank. I saw him shoot this guy, and then he shot at me. I guess I didn’t duck in time.”

He hugged me again. “Thank God you’re all right.”

The doctor returned with last minute instructions and the prescription. I was hoping for another happy shot, and I did get a shot, but this one was for tetanus and hurt like crazy.

As we gathered up my things to leave, the detective with the dimples arrived. When I saw him before, the only thing I’d noticed were his huge dimples, but now I was struck by how good-humored and clean-cut he seemed. Definitely not something you’d expect from a cop. He was built like a linebacker though, so his size was intimidating. Maybe that was why he could afford to be nice.

He introduced the other detective with him, and explained that they were both assigned to my case. The other cop’s name was Detective Williams, and he began to question me. I told them everything that happened, except for the smashed potato chips.

“Do you think you would recognize the bank robber if you saw him again?” This was from Dimples.

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I would.”

“What did you say?” Detective Williams asked. His brows were drawn down over his eyes, like something I said didn’t make any sense. I scanned the other faces around me, and realized that everyone was looking at me like I’d lost my mind.

“Dimples just asked me a question, and I answered it. You did, didn’t you?”

“Dimples?” Detective Williams grinned, then cleared his throat like he was trying not to laugh.

“Oh, sorry. I couldn’t remember his name, and you have to admit, he’s got really big dimples. It’s not something you could miss, especially when they spin around like…” I stopped before I made a bigger fool of myself.

Everyone focused on Dimples, and his face turned a bright shade of red. “I’m Detective Harris.” He talked to me slowly, like there was something wrong with me. “I’ve been assigned to your case with Detective Williams.” He stuck his hand out, and I took it automatically.

“Shelby Nichols. Nice to meet you,” I said, just as slowly. The detective smiled and his dimples got huge again. I choked back a chuckle, and couldn’t understand why just looking at him made me a little crazy.

“I was going to ask you if you thought you would recognize him again.” Dimples a.k.a. Harris said.

“You did ask me that.” At his confused expression I cringed. “Didn’t you?”

“No. I was going to, but I hadn’t yet.”

Detective Williams was growing impatient. “It doesn’t matter. I think we understand that she thinks she could identify him.” He turned to me. “You’re our only lead at the moment since the video feed at the bank only got the back of his head after the mask came off.” It would be great if she could come down to the station and give us a complete description, though. Maybe we could even get an artist’s rendering done.

My breath caught. What was going on? I knew he didn’t say the words, but I heard him as if he had. Next, he confirmed it by saying aloud those exact words. The room started to tilt, and I felt the blood drain from my head. I swayed, and Chris grabbed my arm to steady me.

“I think I’d like to go home now.”

“Can this wait until tomorrow?” Chris asked. “I think my wife has had enough for one day.”

The detectives exchanged glances. “Sure,” Dimples said. “We have the general description. Here’s my card. I’ll call you in the morning and maybe we can set up a time with an artist to get a more complete picture.” I watched his face to make sure I heard everything he said. It all came out right. Still, I nodded just to be on the safe side.

I sighed with relief when they left. Chris did too. As he directed me to the car he was worried, and more than a little scared. Just an inch or two to the left and I’d be dead. He’d lose me and what would he do with the kids? Who would make sure they did their homework, and get them to all their practices and games? He couldn’t do all that, along with the demands of his job. He’d have to hire a housekeeper or something, and that could cost a lot of money.

What? Where had that come from? I got into the car and tried to stop those depressing thoughts, only to get an instant headache. In pain, I leaned back into the seat and groaned.

“Honey, are you all right?” Chris asked.

“No. Something’s drastically wrong with my head.”

He chuckled. “Well, yeah. I’m sure those stitches hurt. Come on. Let’s get you home.”

My brain had to be misfiring or something, and my imagination was running wild. Somehow, I was imagining what I thought other people were thinking. That had to be it. The trauma of getting shot in the head was causing this wild reaction. If I got some good rest, this weirdness was sure to go away.

As soon as we got home, Chris wanted me to go right to bed, but I wanted to see the kids first. Thank goodness he’d called them earlier and explained what had happened.

When we pulled into the driveway, every window in the house blazed with light. Our house was old, but I had fallen in love with it after Chris and I were married. I loved the big front porch and the blossoming cherry trees in the front yard. We’d probably spent more money fixing it up than a new house would have cost, but I knew it was worth all the trouble the moment I walked in and felt safe and warm.

The kids bounded into the living room as soon as they heard us come in. Josh wanted to hear all the gory details. At fourteen going on twenty, it hardly seemed to faze him that I’d nearly been killed. He thought the blood on my shirt and the stitches in my head looked cool. But I could tell it really troubled him, and handling it this way made it easier.

Twelve-year-old Savannah was quiet and subdued. Normally she could talk my ear off, but not tonight. She held me a little tighter than normal, and didn’t let go until I reassured her that everything was going to be all right. Her thoughts were jumbled, racing from one idea to the next before the first was completed. I tried to block the noise from my mind and winced. She was so loud. “Can you talk more softly please?”

“Mom, I haven’t said anything.”

Oh no. She was right. “I’m going to lie down. I think I really need some sleep. Will you guys be okay?”

“Sure, honey. We’ll be fine.” Chris’ brows were drawn together in concern, and Josh and Savannah eyed me with unease. Although none of them said anything, I could practically hear them thinking that I looked terrible. My shoulder-length blond hair was poking up on one side of my head, and I had mascara under my eyes. The blood on my shirt and in my hair, along with my pale face, made me look like a vampire. Or maybe it was vampire food. That seemed to be coming from Josh.

I pasted a big smile on my face and practically ran to my bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, the barrage of thoughts ceased. Holy crap! What was going on? I was breathing pretty hard, and it took a minute to calm down. I jerked slightly when Chris came to the door, and said he was leaving to get my prescription and something to eat. I told him thanks, and relaxed when his footsteps retreated down the hall. The prescription was what I needed. That, and some sleep, and I would be fine. This craziness would go away.

In the bathroom, I avoided looking in the mirror while I turned on the hot water and wet down a washcloth. When I finally got the courage to look up, a pale wild-eyed version of me looked back. My blue eyes seemed startled, and there wasn’t any color in my lips. Kind of like vampire food. My neck and white shirt were covered in blood, adding to the effect. Good grief! No wonder they’d looked at me strange.

I spent the next few minutes washing my face and neck, and felt a little better once I was clean. This time when I glanced in the mirror, I looked more like myself, although my eyes still had that haunted look. It was probably because the scene when the gunman shot me kept playing over and over in my head. It was like a re-run that I couldn’t get to stop.

I turned out the bathroom light and, with a calming breath, changed into my pajamas. Sleep was what I needed, and I would be fine in the morning. I crawled into bed and tried to relax, but couldn’t do it. I kept seeing the gun pointed at my face, and hearing the crack as it went off. Finally, Chris came in with some water and a pain pill.

“How are you doing?” He sat beside me, his brows drawn together in concern. He thought I looked terrible. “Come here.” He pulled me into his arms and gently rubbed my back. “You’re safe now.” He kissed my forehead, then took my face in his hands and lowered his mouth to mine. The kiss was soft and gentle, and like a broken dam, tears flowed from my eyes. I clung to him and deepened the kiss, needing his warmth and strength.

Breathless, he pulled away. “You really had me worried and I…just don’t ever do that to me again. All right?”

“Okay. Sure.” I eagerly promised, needing him more than I needed air. The dark images hanging over me were forgotten. “Now get back here and finish what you started.”

With a wolfish grin, he took me in his arms.

***

The next morning, I woke to the sound of the phone ringing. Chris was gone, and for a moment I panicked, wondering if the kids had made it to school. The clock read eight-thirty, and I quickly picked up the phone. My voice cracked, and I had to clear my throat before I could say hello.

“Mrs. Nichols? Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. This is Detective Harris. Detective Williams and I would like to know if you could come down to the station and help us with an artist’s rendering of the suspect.”

They didn’t waste any time. “I don’t know. I just woke up.”

“I understand if you’re not feeling well. Would it help if we came to your house? We can be there in about forty-five minutes.”

“All right…I guess.” He thanked me and hung up.

I lay back down, then sat up with a jolt. Forty-five minutes? I should have made them give me at least an hour. What was I thinking? I showered and carefully washed my hair around the stitches since the doctor told me not to get them wet. My head was tender and painful, but I managed to blot my hair dry. At least my dark blond hair was long enough to comb over the stitches, but it took a while to fix it right.

My face was another matter, but I didn’t really have time to put on any makeup. At least I’d lost that wild-eyed look. I compromised and applied some lipstick, hoping I didn’t look too bad.

As I buttoned up my shirt, the doorbell rang. I hurried to the door, and there was Detective Williams and Dimples, along with a woman I figured was the artist. I invited them in, and the detectives smiled pleasantly. Dimples was surprised at how well I cleaned up. He liked the way my hair covered the stitches, and thought I looked good without makeup. He had no idea my eyes were so blue. I was about to thank him when I realized he hadn’t said a word.

I took a step back, and sudden black spots clouded my vision. Williams grabbed my arm, and both of the detectives hurried me to the couch. As I took in big gulps of air, Dimples gently shoved my head between my legs.

“This should help,” he said. “You must have stood up too fast or something.”

The darkness slowly faded, and the world seemed to right itself. Now was not the time to panic. I managed to sit up, and put a reassuring smile on my face. “Sorry about that. I’m okay now. I guess I’m still a little woozy from yesterday.”

“That’s understandable,” Dimples said, anxiously studying my face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I assured him. He smiled encouragingly, and his whirling dimples instantly caught my attention.

“This is Julie. She’s going to do a description for us on her laptop.”

It was hard to tear my gaze away from his cheeks. The way his dimples flashed in and out seemed to have a hypnotic effect on me. With an effort I broke the spell, then turned my attention to Julie and gave her a quick nod.

She was a professional, and got right down to business. I concentrated on the questions she asked, and it helped shut out thoughts I didn’t want to hear. It also kept me from freaking out.

Every once in a while I could hear Williams suck in a breath, and mild annoyance came through. He was not a patient man. Dimples, on the other hand, was more encouraging. He was basically positive, and that helped a lot. Still, I was having a hard time blocking out some of the random thoughts they were sending.

With all of that going on, it was a surprise to see the artist’s finished product. It was basically right, even though I couldn’t exactly remember the details. His eyes looked kind of crazy, like something out of a nightmare. Those she got perfect.

Both of the detectives thanked me profusely, and I felt a little guilty at how quickly I ushered them out the door, but darn it, I was barely holding it together. As soon as they left, I shut the door and slumped onto the couch.

What was going on? It wasn’t possible to read people’s minds. That was insane! How could a simple head wound cause this to happen? Could I hear everyone’s thoughts, or just those connected with the robbery?

No, that didn’t make sense. Besides the detectives, I’d heard other people as well. Probably even the doctor who sewed up my head yesterday, and last night it was Chris and the kids. At that point, I thought maybe all I needed was a good night’s sleep, but now I knew nothing had changed. It hadn’t gone away. This was real, and it scared the living daylights out of me.

The phone rang, startling me so much I nearly jumped a foot. When I got my breathing under control, I gingerly picked it up. The caller ID said it was my mom. Would I hear her thoughts over the phone? “Hello?”

“Shelby? Is that you? You sound funny. Are you all right?”

“Oh, sure Mom.” I listened to silence, and brightened considerably.

“Well you don’t sound fine.” Again there was nothing in the pause, and I sighed with relief. “Are you going to answer me?” she continued. “What’s going on?”

“Sorry Mom. I thought someone was coming to the door, but they kept walking up the street.” I was lying, but it was the only thing I could think of at the moment. “Did Chris call you?”

“Yes, and it’s a good thing he did before the paper came. Have you seen it?”

“The newspaper?”

“Oh, never mind,” she huffed. “How’s your head? Chris said you had to have stitches.”

“Yeah, but it’s not too bad, although it still hurts some. I’m just a little out of it today, so I thought I’d take it easy.”

“That’s a good idea. Do you need me to come over?”

“No, not at all. I’ll be fine.” That came out a little forcefully, but I knew I wasn’t ready to face her thoughts.

“Well, call me if you need anything. Don’t worry about dinner. I’ll fix something, and bring it over later.”

“Oh, that’s great. Thanks.”

We disconnected, and I felt better. At least now I knew I couldn’t hear anyone over the phone. I had a sudden vision of being locked in my room, and talking to everyone I knew over the phone, kind of like the people in prison. Yikes! There had to be something else I could do. Maybe all I needed was time. Maybe once my head healed up, it would go away. If I just knew it would get better, I could handle it. Maybe I could make it go away by sheer force of will. The words, “go away and never come back” brought me up short. Where had I heard that before? Now I was driving myself crazy. Get a grip, Shelby!

I wandered into the kitchen for breakfast. I wasn’t hungry, but since breakfast is the most important meal of the day, I thought I’d better eat it. I decided to pretend that nothing was wrong. And if it was, maybe there was a bright side to all this. Maybe I could get in one of those poker tournaments, and win a million dollars.

I read the paper while I ate. I was on my second bite of toast when I saw the article. My throat got tight, and I couldn’t swallow. There was a picture of me, and the other man who was shot. My picture wasn’t bad. I was sitting on a gurney holding a towel to my head, and talking to the nice paramedic. Besides being so nice, he was really good-looking.

The other photo showed them loading the man who was shot into the ambulance. All the tubes and medical equipment covered up his face. He looked like he was in bad shape, and I realized that I didn’t know if he’d lived or died.

I scanned the article and found out that he was in critical condition. It was a relief to know he was alive, and I really hoped he’d make it. I was surprised to find how thorough the newspaper was. Not only were Dimples and Williams listed as the officers in charge of the investigation, but it also included both my name, and that of the other victim. His name was Carl Rogers, an average guy who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Kind of like me.

There were several eyewitness reports, but they were mostly reactions to what had happened. Apparently everyone else had ducked when the shots rang out.

It was hard to believe someone would rob a bank inside a crowded grocery store, but according to the paper, this was the third time in two months this had happened at different stores. Only this time, people got hurt. Poor Carl Rogers. At least my injury was small compared to his.

The phone rang, but this time it was my best friend, Holly. She wanted to know all the gory details, which I felt obligated to tell her. Plus, she would definitely appreciate the cute paramedic part. Talking to Holly was always good therapy. Of course, I left out the fact that I could read minds. I wasn’t going to tell anyone about that. They’d think I was crazy, or delusional. Until I told them what they were thinking. Then they’d probably want to stay as far away from me as possible.

I’d barely hung up the phone when it rang again. This time it was my next door neighbor. When I finished that call, it rang again. It seemed like everyone I knew in the neighborhood had read the newspaper, and wanted to know the whole story. After about the eighth time, I was ready to throw the phone at the wall. I figured an abbreviated version was in line, so the next time it rang, I answered abruptly without checking the caller ID.

“Yes I was shot in the head, but the bullet only grazed me, and I’m still alive. I had to have stitches, but my hair pretty much covers it up, so you won’t be able to see any blood. Other than that, I’m doing fine.”

“Honey?”

“Oh. Hi Chris.”

“I take it you’ve been getting a lot of phone calls.”

“Yeah, only about fifteen or so.” I was exaggerating, but by the end of the day it could be true. “But that was the first time I used the shortened version.”

“I just thought I’d call to see how you were doing. Did your mom call?”

“Yes, she’s bringing dinner tonight. Isn’t that nice?”

“Yeah, that’s great. Maybe you should turn the phone off.”

“That’s a great idea. I think I will.”

“I’ll try and come home a little early. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. So how early is early?”

“I’ll try to be home around five-thirty…unless you need me before that?”

“No, that sounds good.” Five-thirty was early for him, and I didn’t want to push my luck. We said our goodbyes and I quickly turned off the phone. All that talking had given me a headache, and the stitches didn’t feel too good either, so I decided another pain pill was in order. Besides, who knew? Maybe I’d be back to normal after a little nap.

***

I woke to the back door slamming. That had to be Josh. He always made a grand entrance. “Hey mom! Where are you?” Before I could answer, he was striding into my bedroom full of excitement. He had Chris’ brown eyes and my blond hair, and I knew he’d been fighting off the girls since he was ten or eleven.

“Did you see the paper? You’re a celebrity! Everyone at school was asking me about it. So did you really see the guy who shot you?”

“Um…yeah. The police came over this morning with an artist for a description.”

“Cool. We’ll have to be sure and watch the news tonight so we can see what he looks like.” Before I could answer, his attention was already wandering. He was hungry, and wanted to play his new video game. He also had a lot of homework that was due tomorrow.

“Why don’t you get something to eat, and then start on your homework?”

“I don’t have any homework.” I arched my brow and narrowed my eyes at him. He frowned. “Okay, I have a little, but I can do it after dinner.” He really wanted to play his video game.

“Not tonight. You do your homework first, and then when you’re done, you can play your game.”

He gave me a sharp look, but reluctantly agreed. As he thought about his homework, he decided he could rush through it pretty quickly. It was a stupid science class anyway. Then he could get together with his friends after dinner.

“And do a good job, or you’re grounded from playing your game for the rest of the week, and maybe forever.” This time there was anger in his eyes. “What’s so stupid about your science class?” I asked.

“What? I never said it was stupid. And how did you know I had homework in science?”

Oops. “It was just a guess. Plus, it seems like you don’t like science.”

“The teacher’s just boring, that’s all.” He turned to leave, thinking I’d never understand what his life was like, and he wished I would just leave him alone. Why did I have to be so involved in his life anyway? He was old enough that he didn’t need anyone telling him what to do.

Wow. That was a surprise. Is that what he really thought? “Hey Josh.” I was about to remind him he was only fourteen, but changed my mind at the last minute. “You’re a great kid, you know?”

He looked at me like I was a moron, but I wasn’t offended because I knew it secretly pleased him. “Whatever. I’m going to get something to eat.”

“Okay.” I listened to his retreating footsteps, and then took a deep breath. My nap hadn’t changed a thing. I could still read minds. And if I wasn’t careful, I was going to get in a lot of trouble. How was I going to manage around my family?

Maybe knowing what they were thinking could help me understand them better. But the thing that made shivers run up my spine was realizing I’d know what they thought about me. I mean…really thought. Could I handle it? Especially from Chris?

We hadn’t been as close to each other lately. His long hours as a junior partner in a big law firm didn’t help. His firm handled all kinds of important cases, which he couldn’t always talk about. Now that I thought about it, it seemed like all we had in common anymore were our kids. Most of our conversations were about them, or paying the bills and taking care of the house and yard.

Would I find out that he thought I was boring? Or worse, that he didn’t even like spending time with me? I was his wife, sure, but did he see me as anything else? He needed me to take care of the kids and house, but what did he really think of me? Was I boring? I didn’t think I wanted to know.

I eased out of bed, and hurried into the small room we used as an office. Maybe there was something on the Internet about reading minds that would help me. I googled mental telepathy, and was shocked by all the hits. I even found a how-to book I could buy, but most of the information was based on developing mental telepathy, not stopping it. There were some interesting articles, but nothing more than conjecture. The only thing that looked like it might work was making a hat out of tin foil. I was desperate, but seriously, how would that look?

Savannah came home from dance class, and it was only a matter of minutes before my mother and Chris would be there. Maybe blocking out people’s thoughts would be like blocking out background noise. I had done that before, so that was an option. Still, I got out a piece of tin foil just in case.

END OF SAMPLE.

Carrots: A Shelby Nichols Adventure

is available in both print and kindle formats.

It’s also available on Audible.

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SHELBY NICHOLS ADVENTURES

CARROTS

FAST MONEY

LIE OR DIE

SECRETS THAT KILL

TRAPPED BY REVENGE

DEEP IN DEATH

CROSSING DANGER

DEVIOUS MINDS

HIDDEN DECEPTION

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

As the author of the Shelby Nichols Adventure Series, Colleen is often asked if Shelby Nichols is her alter-ego. “Definitely,” she says. “Shelby is the epitome of everything I wish I dared to be.” Known for her laugh since she was a kid, Colleen has always tried to find the humor in every situation and continues to enjoy writing about Shelby’s adventures. “I love getting Shelby into trouble… I just don’t always know how to get her out of it!” Colleen lives in the Rocky Mountains with her family. Besides writing, she loves a good book, biking, hiking, and playing board and card games with family and friends. She loves to connect with readers and admits that fans of the series keep her writing.