“What are you doing?” asks Bruce.
“She’s talking crazy about some girl been attacked in the woods. I don’t know what she expects us to do about it.”
“She see it happen?”
“Dreamed it. Ain’t like real evidence. Now, if we had a missing persons’ report it might carry a little weight.” He wipes a drip of tobacco juice from the side of his mouth and spits into the wastepaper basket.
“I don’t know, Don. A lot of folks around here swear by them visions of hers. She told my sister her husband was going to leave her before Thanksgiving and it came true.”
“Anybody could have figured that one out the way he’s been carrying on with that cocktail waitress from the Leprechaun Lounge.”
“I guess you’re right. Here, you want to read a good article about fly fishing on the Klamath?”
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