The Kiera Hudson Prequels 2 by Tim O'Rourke

then turning away.
    I handed one of the Cokes to Kiera and picked up the other. I turned away from the bar and stopped. Someone was leaving the pub I thought I recognised.
    “ What’s wrong?” Kiera asked me.
    “ I thought I just saw someone…”
    “ Who?”
    I looked a Kiera. “I thought I just saw Constable John Miles leaving the pub.”
    “ Sparky?” Kiera frowned. “Are you sure? What would he be doing all the way out here?”
    “ More importantly, what if he saw us and tells Sergeant Phillips? We’re not meant to be together,” I reminded her.
    With Coke in hand, Kiera went to the door. Pulling it open she peered out into the dark. “I can’t see anyone,” she said. Kiera closed the door and came back, standing at my side. “You could’ve been mistaken. And besides, he might not have seen us. And even if he did, why would he tell Sergeant Phillips? It’s only us who knows that we shouldn’t be together.”
    “ You know what training school is like,” I sighed. “If he did see us together all the way out here, then he might think that there is something going on between us and spread gossip. That would soon get back to Phillips.”
    “ Well there is nothing going on and it was probably someone who looked like Sparky,” Kiera said, “Let’s try not to worry about it.”
    “ I guess,” I said thoughtfully. I did only get a fleeting glimpse of the guy as he left the pub, so perhaps Kiera was right and I was worrying about nothing. I took another sip of my drink.
     
    Kiera
     
    Standing at the bar next to Tom, I looked at the gathering of people who had come to take part in the séance. They were mostly pensioners. Perhaps Tom was right and they did come to such events to try and make contact with those they had lost. I guess there comes a time in our lives when we’ve lost more people close to us than we have left. I had lost my father, but I knew that no psychic with a sweet tooth would ever be able to raise him from the dead. It was just a lot of tricks and nonsense and that’s what Tom had wanted me to prove. Most psychics used a stooge to pass amongst the crowds gathered before a séance or reading. The stooge would engage some in conversation, telling some heart-breaking story how he had come to the séance in the hopes that he might make a connection with his sister who passed just a few weeks before. The stooge would casually ask others who it was they hoped the psychic was going to make contact with. What did Aunt Mildred look like? I bet she was a sweet lady. She loved to knit, did she? How wonderful. Married to Brian, who passed just a month ago, how tragic.
    Just like Tom had said, nothing but a big con, but who was I to judge? I suspected I might see how the trick was done, but as I had said to Tom, I would only share that secret with him. As I stood and sipped my drink and watched the group, I saw a man come from a narrow passageway beside the bar that I hadn’t noticed before. Just like the others, the man carried a plastic box under his arm. He was younger than the others, about thirty-five, and wore a dark suit as if he was attending a funeral. He was thin in the face with a neatly trimmed goatee beard. He caught my eye and smiled. I glanced away, fearing he might think I was watching him. From the corner of my eye, I could see him heading across the bar toward me and Tom.
    “ What have you brought?” he asked, eyeing the box Tom had under his arm. “Cake, is it? Thought as much. That’s why I made cookies. Thought I’d do something different.” The stranger pulled the lid back off the box he was holding. I caught a sudden whiff of almond cookies. They did smell delicious. What a waste. No little girl would be eating them tonight. He replaced the lid but it hadn’t fastened securely. The lid was open all along one side of the box. I was just about to point this out to him when he started talking again. “I’ve never been to a séance before. Have you?”
    Tom shook his