Once Upon a Grind by Cleo Coyle

and—”
    â€œBefore you had this dream, did you drink my coffee?”
    â€œExcuse me, but this is no time to discuss the quality of your—”
    â€œAnswer me, Clare! Did you
drink the coffee
in the gypsy’s tent?”
    â€œYes! I had two cups and the dream came after that. I must have dozed off because—”
    â€œYou didn’t doze off. And you didn’t have a dream. What you experienced was a vision.”
    I studied Matt’s face. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”
    He nodded, and I realized he looked more than serious. He looked
excited
. “Are you telling me those so-called ‘magic’ beans you brought back from Africa really are—”
    â€œThe beans don’t work on everyone. In Ethiopia, the village shaman told me the drinker must have a ‘special spirit’—essentially a natural gift of insight. Let’s just say she convinced me.”
    â€œHow?”
    â€œTrust me, Clare. After what I witnessed, I became a believer.”
    â€œA believer in
what
exactly?”
    â€œIn the coffee beans’ ability to . . .” He looked away. “I know it sounds crazy, but I sent a sample to a friend. He’s a chemist—and a coffee aficionado. I want to know what properties in these beans help certain people read . . .”
    â€œRead the
future
? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
    â€œ
Now
do you understand why I was trying to get you into that fortune-telling tent?”
    â€œNo. I do not understand. Mike’s kids didn’t go missing until the end of the day. What kind of future were you hoping I’d see?”
    â€œYours.” Matt shifted from one pointy boot to the other. “My mother and I were both hoping the fortune-telling session would help you make an important decision . . .”
    My stomach clenched.
They couldn’t know about Mike’s question. I was keeping it from them.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    It was a weak lie, and Matt knew it. “Come on, Clare.”
    Oh, for heaven’s sake.
“How did you find out?” I demanded. “Did Tucker tell you?”
    â€œThat’s not important. What
is
important is your peace of mind.”
    â€œListen,
now
is not the time to discuss my future!” I walked away.
    He gently grabbed my arm. “You asked me to be a good partner. I failed at that in marriage, but I won’t in business—or as a friend. After we know the kids are safe, you and I—and mother, if you like—will sit down and help you figure out what to do, okay?”
    I took a deep breath. “I just hope those kids
are
safe.”
    â€œWhat makes you think they aren’t? Talk to me. After you drank the coffee, what did you see?”
    I told him my vision, but not from the beginning. It was the
end
of the vision that disturbed me most.
    â€œI remembered being very cold. Not so much temperature as temperament. It was a black, empty cold, the kind that chills you from the inside out. And there was a presence . . .”
    â€œWhat does that mean?”
    â€œIt was a feeling at first and then I saw this black specter . . .” I described how it first appeared human and then transformed, twisting into a beastly thing.
    â€œYou saw Death in the woods?”
    â€œNot Death. Someone who has no problem using it.
Now
do you see why I’m so desperate to find Mike’s kids?”
    Matt grimaced and his tone changed. “Tell me more about your vision. You said something about a traffic sign?”
    â€œA giant oak tree was blocking my path. A sign hung on it with blinking bulbs. The lights spelled out
Bridge Detour
.”
    Matt pulled out his smartphone. “Let’s try something . . .”
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    He tapped the phone’s screen a few times and showed it to me. “These are photos and