Yesterday's Gone: Season One

said, a half-step behind Mary.  
    Mary couldn't smell Paola, not exactly. But she did know which direction to go. She was following a feeling more than a scent — her daughter’s emotional bread crumbs. She’d first sensed them in the kitchen, and the trail seemed to be growing stronger with every step. 
    “Paola was here. She left the kitchen, crossed the parking lot, and then went that way.” Mary pointed to a small brick sandwich shop across the street on the corner of State and Trough.
    “How do you know?”
    “Because she went through the kitchen, I felt her there.” Mary paused to see if Desmond’s eyes gave question to her certainty or sanity, and was relieved to see they didn’t. “Earlier, when we were searching the hotel, I thought maybe she’d come outside for some fresh air or something before heading back inside the hotel. But now I’m positive she left and walked this way. I’m just trying to understand why she left in the first place. I can’t for the life of me see why she’d run off. That’s not like her at all. Paola always thinks she’s right and she loves to be the boss, but she’s a perfectly sensible girl.”
    “Any chance she went off to find her dad?” Desmond asked.
    “She wouldn’t do that without me. But once we get to the base, I ought to at least see if he’s still here, whether the rest of you want to go with me or not.”
    “I can’t speak for the others, but I’ll take you anywhere you want to go,” Desmond said.
    They crossed the street then turned onto Trough.  
    “Once we were back outside, I felt her immediately, like the wind was carrying her trace.” She looked back at Desmond again. His eyes were still receptive to her weird ramblings. “And I swear it’s getting stronger.”  
    “Is it possible you’re wrong?”
    “Nope,” Mary walked faster. “Well, of course it’s possible . And I’m not claiming I can explain why, but I know she went this way.”  
    “What do you mean? How can you know ?” Desmond asked.
    Even walking at a half sprint, Mary had time to love the way Desmond asked, not skeptical, just curious.
    “I just do. It’s like being hungry or remembering where you left your keys or getting turned on by a brush on your skin or a whisper in your ear. You just know — the feeling is there and as soon as it is, your body knows exactly how to respond and what to do next. Mostly animal, I suppose. Never noticed it before Paola, but I was so tuned into her patterns as an infant, I think I somehow learned to tune into the world around me. With Paola, tapping into the feelings and just knowing things has always been as easy as breathing. But now I find myself knowing other stuff too, and with an almost terrible certainty. It’s great when I’m lost without the GPS, terrible when it makes me know stuff like my husband is sleeping with Natalie Farmer.”
    “It’s instinct. Everyone has it,” Desmond said. “Sounds like you listen better than most, though.”
    An explanation so simple, Mary felt stupid. “Yeah,” she nodded. “ Instinct , that’s exactly what it is. But it’s more than that, too. Especially lately. For the last year or so, I feel like I’m picking up on Paola’s actual thoughts every now and then, and before you call me crazy, I fully admit it might be my imagination. But I don’t think it is. Sometimes I feel like I can hear her thinking. And she’ll say stuff which confirms what I thought she was thinking.”  
    Desmond nodded, still interested.  
    “Things have been different since the divorce, obviously, but I think it hit us harder than most families. I know that sounds arrogant. Divorce sucks for everyone. But we were happy. Ryan was a good husband and a great dad. We were married for 15 years and best friends for five before that. What he did was really, really stupid, and it made me hate him...no,” Mary shook her head, “...not trust him, enough to end it, but that’s the only thing I can put on his list. Otherwise, he was a great guy. He even left the seat down 95% of the time. I have one unbreakable rule and he broke it. Since the divorce, things have been a lot rougher between Paola and me. She’s gone from my sweet little angel girl to my ultimate foe half the time. Her attitude is endless and most days, I wake up and fall to sleep feeling like I’m fighting a losing battle. She knows what her father did to me and to us, but still blames me for breaking up a happy family. Half the